On deck it was a grey day with the tip of Fair Isle ascending into a low cloud base, just visible through a light mist. The sort of mist that gives damp air that is not quite drizzle. There is something fascinating about chugging along a totally wild and remote stretch of coast. Seabirds soaring from the cliffs and spiralling round the boat, the gentle chug-chug of the motor and otherwise no sign of civilisation.
Our dive site was at Swartz Geo, a deep bay about one sixth of the way up the east side of Fair Isle. Apparently “geo” translates to “cut” or “cleft” and “swartz” translates to “black”, so another name would be “black cut”. As we entered the bay, looking to the north I could see daylight through two slot caves that cut right through the headland. Perhaps these were the origins of the name “Swartz Geo” and not the bay itself?
As I enter the slot the marine life instantly changes. Sites like this are nearly always a good bet for dense riots of colour from anemones and soft corals. I was not disappointed. The kelp vanishes to give a tightly packed covering of strawberry tunicates, biscuit coloured hydroids and anemones. This is the sort of dive where I could do with a string of porters carrying spare cameras, like some of the staff photographers on National Geographic.
A few days days later we approach an impressive double arch on the cliffs called “Giant's Leg”, towards the tip of Bressay from Lerwick. The main arch here is built on an altogether different scale. There is some plankton in the water, but even so I can look up and see the arch above me, sky either side of the shadow of the rock.
Further on another opening appears in the wall. It is much smaller than the arch, but still a fair sized hole. Inside there is no sign of light from the other end, if indeed there is another end. There is no way this could be the second arch seen from the boat; I must have passed the entrance without realising it. The marine life looks interesting and there is plenty of air. I am drawn inside.
About 100 metres in and the entrance is disappearing into the gloom. Further on the cut narrows and shallows. I can feel a strong surge running across the rocks as the gentle ground swell outside funnels through. Further still and a twinkle of daylight breaks the distance. Water now just one metre deep I poke my head up for a look. The exit is still 50 metres or so away, but the route is obstructed by jagged rocks breaking the surface. At an estimated 300 metres long, this entrance must be well along the cliff from the Giants Leg arch where we started. OK, I could scramble across at a risk to suit, hands and camera, but it is much easier and simpler to turn back and retrace the way in.
Back outside I follow the wall back towards the first arch, this time in the shallows rather than hugging the seabed. The second arch seen from the boat opens immediately to our right. Earlier I had swum below the entrance without even realising it.
This arch turns out to be shallow and scoured. Not a patch on the first arch or the long tunnel. Funny thing is, if I had found it as intended I may never have explored the magnificent tunnel. It all goes to show that sometimes a navigational error actually makes for a better dive.