Dive the Saskatchewan off Snake Island

The Saskatchewan is a sister ship to the Chaudiere, a 366-foot Restigouche-class destroyer. The Saskatchewan was brought to Nanaimo and sunk on the mud flats which lie between 60 and 120 feet of water, off the Vancouver side of Snake Island.

The sinking of the Saskatchewan is only the first phase of a five-part vision called Project Reef.

The project, which should unfold over the next five years, includes finding two other ships to sink in local waters and creating two marine dive parks. Such parks, would include washrooms and change rooms for divers as well as facilities like educational interpretive centres to introduce non-divers to the world beneath the sea and the living creatures found there. One likely location for such a park would be a portion of the newly-created Neck Point Park where many divers already go. Having such a long term and comprehensive vision will mean the benefits derived from the wrecks and diver parks will be enhanced.

Divers are taking detailed pre-sinking marine life inventory in the proposed location for the wreck. This way in future they will have a baseline to work from when trying to compare things on how the marine life is doing in the future.

Environmental concerns are a priority for most divers. The whole sport has changed a lot in the past 15 years when diving was advertised as a way to cut down your food budget and when a spear gun was the first purchase many divers made. Now very few divers have a spear gun and many charters won't even consider letting you take any marine life.

Installing artificial reefs helps to increase marine life by giving fish and other sea creatures additional habitat space. Divers, dive charters and related businesses have all dramatically changed their attitude to the sea over the past 15 years. Now they all realize that conserving and protecting the marine environment is good sense and good business, as well as making for more interesting diving.

Diving in Nanaimo - one person's account . . .

There's nothing quite like gearing up and heading out each morning from a harbor city that is dedicated to messing around in boats. Under pale bright skies we slip by throngs of fishing and pleasure craft, masts and rigging cling-clanking. Beaver and otter bush planes on seafloats are getting checked over as a super-ferry greets the morning with a blast from its foghorn. We motor past rolling woodlands back-dropped by snow-capped Mt. Benson to the west, then under the glacier-carved cliffs of Newcastle Island, thick with spruce, fir and hemlock. High in the trees, a bald eagle eyes our departure with stoic reserve. Harbor seals poke their heads up, glistening, escorting the dive boat out to another day on--and under-- the waters off Nanaimo, Vancouver Island....

Vancouver Island on Canada's western coast is part of a huge and jumbled series of islands, rivers and mountains stretching south from Alaska to Washington state. Deep glacier-carved fjords, combined with plate tectonics, make for spectacular topside scenery and deep wall diving close to shore.

Some 270 miles long and up to 65 miles wide make Vancouver a big island with lots of coastline to explore and dive. Well over a thousand ships have wrecked along the west coast alone. Highest altitude along the island chain is just over 6,000 feet, with nearby Mt. Washington serving up great skiing in the winter, hiking and camping in the summer. Situated in a long and beautiful natural harbor on the island's east coast, Nanaimo boasts Canada's mildest and sunniest climate. Serviced by ferry systems from six major centers in the United States and Canadian mainland, plus air and rail links, Nanaimo is a great starting point for any island diving adventure.

But despite Nanaimo's mild and sunny reputation, there is still the business of getting wet. Although I trained to dive right here on Vancouver Island, I've been getting fat and lazy in the tropics for years--with the accompanying fat and lazy dive habits. Dry suits, layers of long underwear, thick gloves, hood and 30 pounds of lead are an abrupt reminder, a rude awakening. Feeling fairly inept, I'm the bumbling, fumbling, stumbling marshmallow man. Loose on the back desk, I do my best not to wipe out all the other divers. "You do this for a living?" one inquires with studied innocence and thinly veiled mirth. Dripping with heat, I gladly flail into into the cold water, retrieve my camera and drop below.

Passing through the plankton bloom the undersea-scape opens into cold, clear waters. I always like that about diving British Columbia, sort of like a stage curtain opening to reveal the first act. Make the effort to push through the crowd to the front and you will be rewarded. We are anchored on the west side of Snake Island to dive the wall. A resident group of harbour seals observes our progress as we descend. Emerald green becomes black as dive lights pierce the dark. Then the show begins. Jumbled rock formations covered with pure white, giant plumose anemones, some almost two feet high. Pausing to look under a rock ledge, the ceiling is entirely white like a mirror, leaving spots dancing across my eyes. Within 30 minutes I'm cooled off, out of film and exhilarated.

Being a natural and very protected harbour made what later came to be called "Nanaimo" an obvious choice for habitation by humans. The area's rock petroglyphs indicate human presence starting at the last ice age some 10,000 years ago. The harbor coast became home to a thriving five-village Coast Salish Indian community. Calling themselves Sneneymeuxw--meaning great and mighty people-- Nanaimo is and English attempt at the native name.

In the 1850s the Hudson Bay Company discovered coal in the region and imported English and Scottish miners to work the deposits. Sandstone quarries, shipyards and a herring saltery were further added, and visitors today can still observe the ruins. But it was the lumber industry that emerged as the economic backbone of the region--and it is still a huge employer. Fishing, both sport and commercial, adds to the economy, as do the more than 20 companies involved in aquaculture.

Today a burgeoning population of urban refugees from large cities are high-teching in town and building homes on the coastal hill, adding a further mix to the city's culture and commerce. But more important to scuba fans, a solid, experienced and dedicated diving community is well established in Nanaimo, ready to host traveling divers.

After Snake Island, the next stop was a dive at Five Finger Island, and then out to Olebar Point, off nearby Entrance Island with its classic lighthouse, cluster of red and white buildings, and resident seals.

With each plunge my comfort and ease returned, allowing me to concentrate on the spectacular photo opportunities. Large tides mean big currents laden with nutrients--and the cold, rich waters build 'em big. When it comes to critters, this is the Texas of diving. Everything is bigger than anywhere else. A giant octopus, the largest ever recorded, had a radial spread of over 60 feet, they're still substantially outsized compared to their warm-water relatives. Tube worms get so big they could eat their Cayman Christmas cousins for breakfast. You get the idea, big and colorful. They range from dazzling orange and vermillion reds to transparent turquoise, with all the pastel shades of peach, pink and strawberry in between.

Finally I'm comfortable enough to risk it and boldly call for the 'sea anchor'. Grunting (The Captain) hands down my old, thick aluminum housing/rig, convinced it will literally be my own personal ticket straight to the bottom. Not to worry--it's just macro time! And this is land of nudibranchs. On a single dive and in just five minutes, I swam over a sand patch and counted 25 giant Spanish Dancer nudibranchs. In case you don't understand giant, these guys ranged from eight to twelve inches long and four to eight inches high. Big. On another dive I had three forearm-sized orange peel nudibranchs motoring around on the rocks like WW1 army tanks. However, the crowd favorites are always the delicate alabaster nudibranchs, especially in their translucent orange stage.

At times the brooding anemones cover the entire bottom like a very-berry shag rug. A great find, my buddy hooks up with a juvenile Puget Sound king crab, all squeaky clean in its Keith Moon orange suit complete with orange top hat. Rockfish in the ugly-is-beautiful category are the gentle and preposterously ugly wolf eels. Pairing up for life, these eels' faces give away their secret cravings. Their favorite food is the roe found inside the giant urchins, and years of hunting and crunching show in the numerous scars around their heads. I never fail to laugh and enjoy their company whenever we meet.

Our final day approaches with excitement for the guests, apprehension for me; we have one final dive. Tomorrow we're to be part of the first wave of divers to dive and explore the 366-foot HMCS Saskatchewan, sunk amongst great fanfare the day before east of Snake Island. It's a one-shot, one-roll-of-film deal to bring back the goods. Covering my end fully, I've got a fresh strobe, fresh film, correct settings, all gear accounted for, back-up film and tools in place.

The morning brings clouds and a chilly wind. It's going to be dark--especially at a hundred feet. Divers stir things up even on a fresh wreck, and the contrast of black water and pale blue-gray paint will be striking. Descending as a group ..., I'm happy for the company, as the line is our only reference. Suddenly the ship is below, too late, bang, thud we're at 80 feet on the fore deck. Getting organized, we begin with two giant metal tube sponges threatening from the dark; the forward gun keeps me for a third of a roll. Then we're onto the bridge area where the ship's official commemorative plaque is posted.... The funnel sports a huge mural of divers descending onto a wreck, the Artificial Reef Society's logo. Drifting farther aft into the black and gloom of the rear--her stern sits at 125 feet--we approach the rear guns. All over the wreck yellow warning signs advise divers to be cautions and well-trained before penetrating wrecks. Sturdy advice. Out of film I wind my way toward an ascent line. It's been a strange experience, a wreck just hours old, cleaned, gutted and environmentally scrubbed, large square holes all along her hull, just sitting there in the dark.

I look forward to a return visit in a few years when the currents and nutrient-laden waters have worked their magic. As an underwater photographer, there's nothing like the captive subject of a shipwreck to present you with endless opportunities.

On the ferry ride back to Vancouver we had two hours to reminisce over the past few days. Nanaimo's physical setting is simply stunning, especially after my present home, flat Florida. That great mix of character and setting give the harbor, and therefore the city, life and soul. There is an almost decadent abundance of wildlife, from bald eagles to nudibranchs. Fabulous food and wonderfully friendly locals, who probably find yanks infinite subject matter for mirth, round out the invitation.

And Nanaimo is definitely pro divers, with full service and everything from single dives to live-aboards. The Nanaimo Dive Association is a thriving contributor to the community. Hotels and restaurants offer deals and coupons to divers, plus the area is serviced by a dedicated dive travel agency.

With all that taken into consideration, I had not expected the unexpected--the great group of divers who make me feel part of the gang as we discovered and dived together. Their sense of humor and fun reminded me of how special and lucky we are as divers. After traveling thousands of miles, we meet strangers who, through shared experience and laughter, bring tears to our eyes when we have to say goodbye just days later.

The experience, ambiance and charm of diving Vancouver Island's harbor city, Nanaimo, will be calling me back for years, to come.

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