Most ships get wrecked in tragic or unfortunate circumstances. Often they sink in mountainous seas, or get pounded to pieces on some treacherous shore during a howling gale. The sinking of the Glen Strath Allen however, couldn’t be more different, as she was deliberately sunk during a flat calm, to honour the wishes of her dead owner.
In 1928 the shipbuilding firm of Cochrance and Sons of Selby, Yorkshire, won a contract to build a steam trawler of 690 tons displacement. She was to be 150 feet long by 24 feet beam, have a speed of ten knots, and generally be one of the most modern and efficient vessels of her day. Unfortunately before she was finished, the firm that had ordered her went bankrupt and for a while things looked pretty bleak. However the millionaire Colby Cubbin, who knew a bargain when he saw it, snapped up the unfinished vessel, had her converted to a pleasure yacht, and gave her the name Glen Strath Allen.
Glen Strath Allen....going
At the outbreak of the Second World War, the Glen Strath Allen was lent to the Royal Navy and refitted as an escort vessel, a duty she carried out for nearly four years. When the War was over, Colby Cubbin got his yacht returned to him, and he used it extensively for cruising between the Isle of Man and Scotland. He must have become very fond of her, because when he unexpectedly died his Will revealed that he wished the Glen Strath Allen to be used as a floating school room. But he also stipulated that if no useful employment could be found for his ship, she was to be taken out to sea and sunk.
For years the Glen Strath Allen was used as a training ship for future officers of the Merchant Navy, but finally her age and escalating costs made her an uneconomic proposition. Faithful to the wishes of the late owner, the trustees decided to sink the Strath Allen in the Hurd Deep, way out in the English Channel. Plymouth Ocean Projects of Fort Bovisand got wind of the project, and appealed to the trustees to sink the ship near the entrance to Plymouth Sound instead. Here they said the ship could be used as an underwater classroom and so still be of some educational value. This scheme was agreed to, and after taking out the Strath Allen’s steam engine, (which is now on view at the Science Museum, London) her seacocks were removed, and on 27 April 1970 the Glen Strath Allen gently slipped beneath the waves about 200 yards from the Shagstone.
Glen Strath Allen....going....going
A lot of good ideas often go wrong through lack of foresight and this was to be the case with the Glen Strath Allen. Sinking where she did became something of a hazard to the many fishing boats returning to Plymouth, and in the end Trinity House placed a buoy on the wrecksite. However a wrangle blew up about who was responsible for paying for the maintenance of the buoy, and in the end Fort Bovisand was ordered to render the wreck safe to navigation. In due course the Glen Strath Allen was dispersed and its value as an underwater classroom destroyed. A great pity, and something I am sure that Colby Cubbin would not have approved of.
The wreck now lies under fifty feet of water on a sandy bottom strewn with large rocky outcrops. Although well dispersed the main parts still make for a fairly compact drive. The bow section is still recognisable, and you can just about follow the outline of the hull by tracing the ribs back towards the rear cabins. Near the cabin lies the main boiler. This is quite massive, standing some twenty feet above the sand, and you can swim partway into it via some large inlet holes. You can also swim into the cabin but it is rather confined, and there is a lot of jagged metal about. Strewn all around this area are parts of the companionways, the rudder, and a section of decking still with its planking and large deck pulleys. Amongst the tumbled iron plating roam some friendly wrasse, the most impressive being a rather large red one with big white spots. He wouldn’t accept our offerings of chopped mackerel, but the rest seemed quite used to it. On the outskirts of the wreck, in amongst the sand and rocks, can still be found the odd fork, a piece of tableware, or some of the tiles used in the toilets and galley. On the way back to the bows, there are still lots of debris for you to sift through including some ladders, a large deck winch, and many other bits and pieces of broken machinery. Around the bows are masses of steel plates, under which lurk lobsters. They are not very big so they are not really worth taking. However, with a bit of patience and bribery they will come out and allow you to take their photograph.
Glen Strath Allen....gone
All in all the Glen Strath Allen provides some very good diving. The visibility is usually very good, and currents present no problems. The wreck is prominently marked on the latest charts, and because of its close proximity to the Shagstone, it is quite easy to find. The marks shown here should put you directly on the bows. However if any difficulty is experienced I am sure that Fort Bovisand will be pleased to help. They put hundreds of divers on her each year, and with any luck you will be able to team up with a group about to dive on her.
The engines are still in the Science Museum in London
Don’t wait too long to dive on this one. I am sure that Colby Cubbin, wherever he is, would much rather you visit his ship while there is still something of her to see, rather than wait until she breaks up and is scattered all over the seabed.
I dive on this wreck all the time, and although it is now getting a bit scattered, the main features are still there. it is still a nice little wreck with plenty of photo opportunities. These were taken by Peter Rowlands around Feb 2009.
Over the years I get quite a lot of feedback from people who have info about the various wrecks.
Here is an account of what it was like to be on board the Glen Strath Allen as a cadet, sent in by Roy Phillpot.
I was quite sad to hear the old girl was semi broken up on the bottom, but I suppose it would be a sad affair if she caused a fishing boat to sink - even though they should know where they go with modern nav systems as they are. I am not sure what more I can tell you. You seem to have done your research well, and unfortunately as a poor radio officer student, I did not have much of a camera, and did not risk it on that first trip. The few pictures I did have are gone with thevarious moves and family upheavals.
Roy on the bridge (not the Glen)
I remember the ship sitting at Millwall dock in London, with a black painted hull - the paint being many layers thick, and applied generously over various chipped areas where the rust had been removed. Riveted hull, so that when standing on the dockside at the bow, you could see the lines of rivets curving away towards the stern. A wide well formed hull, obviously designed for strength and good sea handling. The accommodation was white - with some rust streaks, and a big yellow painted funnel - at least that is my memory, with two high I think also black painted masts and the radio antenna between them. The accommodation doors heavy, watertight, and with dark narrow stairs leading up and down into the various accommodation areas. She had been converted for carrying cadets. Our bunk area was in the two fore holds - what used to be fish holds. 2 tier bunks, with the top bunk not far from the deckhead. There was not much headroom up there!
Light was from a few deckhead light fixtures, but I remember the light was dim and yellow - each held a 40 watt bulb, it could not have been more, and was probably less. The single switch was at the entrance to the hold. Our instructor would come and turn it off around 8 or 9pm, just before the engineer turned off the steam driven donkey generator. It then became extremely dark and very silent - apart from the remarks and various pranks from our assembled company! Smoking was forbidden, so anyone wishing a smoke had to go outside. Without a torch, this was an adventure in itself! The main cabin, which was also the chart room, below the bridge, had warm dark panelling, with a number of rather dirty windows, which could be covered with heavy red curtains. These were closed when we did navigation exercises using the Decca navigator.
Navigating (not the Glen)
From the main cabin, a narrow half winding stair led up to the narrow bridge above. Here was the wheel, engine telegraph, radar, and speaking tube to the engine room and chart room below. Maybe there was also a phone to the engine room, but I can no longer remember. I was always fascinated by how well the old speaking tube technology worked. We even had it in more modern ships I sailed in later! Simple and foolproof. We used it on the Glenstrathallen to give navigation commands to the bridge when we were "playing" navigation below.. Blow, listen, and speak. Navigation was done on the chart table at the fore end of the cabin, and at the aft end, was a longer table for school work, with bench seats. The simple old radio equipment was on the Port side bulk head and small table, with a large rotary transformer in a cupboard below. Gleaming copper tubing led up to a ceramic antenna feed through insulator on the Port side bulkhead, going out to the antenna above.
I can remember nothing much more about the accommodation, I believe our instructor had his own small cabin, but I never saw it. The captain , engineer , and bosun obviously had theirs, but again I know nothing about them. The showers and toilets were somewhat primitive dark and small. I am pretty sure the toilets went straight over the side. Pressing the flush mostly brought a rusty trickle, sometimes however a loud burp and a spray of water and air. It was a bit risky using them! The engine room was something I will never forget. It was really a large space for such a small ship. Lit sparsely via the skylights, and a few yellowish glowing bulbs in safety fittings.
The centre piece being the really huge compound triple expansion steam engine. To get into the enginroom, I think from the starboard side, was a steep narrow stairwell, this led to a platform above the steam driven donkey generator on an intermediate platform. Maybe we had a second main generator, but I only remember this one, with a large flywheel covered by a flimsy wire mesh guard, driven by a couple of pistons. The whole thing leaking steam from various joints and valves. It was surprisingly quiet, but then it probably only had a power of a few kilowatts. I remember our power supply was 220v DC. Down some more ladders to the engine room main plates. Foreward to the huge boiler and the engine controls. Various pumps, mostly steam driven, a few electric as humps sticking up from the plates. She had been converted to oil burning, so the oil burners flickered, and when running, the enginroom fans roaring and the thickly insulated steam pipes vibrating, made it seem like something from Dante's Inferno.
We all had to do some watches down there, but it was not something I enjoyed. Wiping down the main engine in the evenings after we stopped was far better. At least then there was no high pressure steam in the pipes. I was always a bit nervous about that. On deck, we were set to chipping and painting. The paint locker in the forepeak, cramped, dim, and full of tins, tools, and smelling heavily of tar and solvents. we were only allowed in there with the Bosun, who dolled out the things we needed for our allocated jobs. He collected and checked them again when we had finished. We always had to clear up after what we had done, and the deck must be swept or hosed down. Considering her age, the ship was in good condition. The Bosun made sure she was kept that way. The deck I seem to recall was quite cramped too. Not a lot of space, and somewhat rusty. I am only 59, but all this was around 40 years ago, and the memory dims with time. I tend to mix the Glenstrathallan up with some of the other earlier ships I was on, so I cannot guarantee that the above impressions are totally accurate.
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A very interestng tale,thank you.I was fortunate enough to sleep one night on her in 1957 when I went back to see the Are. I often wonder what happened to the steam dingy as I am sure that would not have gone down with her.all the best,ian.
My dad was in the last crew to have been trained on her, he knew what had happened to her and was sad to see her go. sadly he died in april of 2007. Its nice to see he had a claim to fame, 1 of the last to operate the engine that now sits in the science museum :)