With my right hand across my chest holding my life jacket in place and my left hand plugging my nose, I stepped off the ledge and plunged into the 2.8 metre-deep sea survival training pool.
The water is 20 degrees – a little warmer than what you’d experience in the open waters, but a good deal colder than a public swimming pool. Large, red hooded wetsuits take the edge off the chill but at the expense of making trainees look like a collection of Teletubbies – all the colour of Po.
There are seven of us on today’s course at the new national sea survival training pool at the National Fisheries College of Ireland in Greencastle, on Donegal’s northern coast. The Irish Times is joined by a crew from Donegal – five men and their skipper, Philip Cavanagh – who fish on the MFV Father McKee, a pelagic vessel.
Built at a cost of €2.16 million, the Greencastle sea survival pool is Ireland’s second such facility. The other is almost 500km south at the National Maritime College of Ireland in Co Cork.
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Caroline Bocquel, chief executive of Bord Iascaigh Mhara (BIM), explains that sea survival training is mandatory for every crew member of an Irish-registered fishing vessel.
The Donegal college, which has been in operation for more than 50 years, already has a state-of-the-art navigation simulator, a radio suite, a fire Training Unit with a search and rescue feature, and an engineering workshop. Since the new pool opened in May, fishers and others in the seafood sector can do all of their training under one roof there.
For trainees, the first challenge was making it on to a safety raft – initially when dry and then wet. A sprinkler was directed on to our faces, simulating rain, as we swam across and clambered aboard.
After that, we rehearsed pulling someone who was immobile or unconscious from the water into the raft. While designed for 12 people, the raft felt squashed with just eight aboard, as safety instructor Larry Kealey also joined us.
Large, red hooded wetsuits take the edge off the chill but at the expense of making trainees look like a collection of Teletubbies
But what if the raft turned over? That was the next thing to practice. One by one we had to flip the raft back into position while in the water. We trod water with, and without, life jackets to show the difference in effort it takes to stay afloat.
Next was to remove the wetsuits and put on a personal flotation device (PFD). It is a smaller type of life jacket which goes around your neck and has a cross strap that goes between your legs. It inflates when it comes into contact with water.
One by one we stepped off the ledge. Fully submerged in the pool, there was a moment of anxiety but the PFD inflated and brought us back to the surface.
“There’s no substitute for reality, but it’s definitely good training and the practice is good,” says Cavanagh once we are back on dry land.
“When you do get into a situation, God forbid, at least you have that level of training and confidence that you don’t panic, and hopefully it will stand to you.”
Praising the facilities at Greencastle, Cavanagh recalls a number of emergencies he experienced on the water. When he was aged 13, he was on a boat that sank and he had to swim ashore. More recently, he was involved in rescuing a man who had fallen overboard from a boat.
Having just arrived back from eight weeks of fishing, Cavanagh explains how the fishing season has been significantly cut from when he first started full-time in the industry 29 years ago. He used to fish for 300 days a year. More recently, this is down to 30 to 40 days a year, he says.
When asked why he began fishing, Cavanagh said: “It’s a way of life. It’s in the blood, it’s the family business. I followed in the footsteps of my father. I love what I do, it’s not a job, it’s what I am.”
He describes the EU-UK fishing deal after Brexit as “the latest nail in the coffin” for Irish fishing. It hit Ireland particularly hard, he says, ”especially our sector, the pelagic sector. We lost 27 per cent of our mackerel quota for access to UK waters. Fish in UK waters are worth more money but not 27 per cent more money. We took a hit, more so than any other of our EU neighbours”.
When you do get into a situation, God forbid, at least you have that level of training and confidence that you don’t panic, and hopefully it will stand to you
His full crew consists of nine people. Before Brexit, he had 11 crew members. “There’s more paperwork now than I care to talk about. It’s got to the point now where you’d nearly need a legal degree to go to fish, never mind a fishing qualification,” he adds.
But the new Greencastle facility is one bit of good news. “We had training in the past, but you would’ve had to travel maybe in to Derry or Bundoran for a swimming pool, so you don’t have the same opportunity,” Cavanagh says.
BIM aims to make the experience as realistic as possible for someone facing an emergency at sea. For that reason, the 12-metre-long pool is filled with water that is not just cold but also dark in colour. A wind and rain machine are on hand, and a wave simulator is to come.
Bocquel says: “Being prepared for any emergency at sea begins with training, reinforced by sea survival drills.”
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