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Thanks to Tom Daley, interest in diving is at an all-time high. So why is it increasingly difficult to find a board? My palms are giving me those little pangs you get when you’re about to do something you find particularly frightening. It’s no surprise. I am standing half-naked on a board seven-and-a-half metres above a pit filled with water. This is the diving pool at Crystal Palace national sports centre , and I will shortly fall head-first into it. At the command of Hugo, my instructor, I stretch my arms to the ceiling. Then I pivot at the waist, and gently roll forward into thin air. A beat. Another beat. Splash. I hit the surface at nearly 40mph. I am, I note with some shock, unhurt. I am also, in a way, unique. Not for my diving ability (this is my first lesson, and I am beyond awful) but by my presence alone: normally, members of the public are not allowed to walk in and use what is currently the only 10m and 7.5m diving board in London. Interest in the sport is at an all-time high – thanks largely to the success of teenager Tom Daley , one of Britain’s best hopes for a medal at London 2012 – yet the UK has far fewer boards than it did 30 years ago. In 1977, there were 296 high-board and springboard diving facilities in the country, according to the Great Britain Diving Federation (GBDF). Today, there are fewer than 100 , though there is no consensus on the exact figure. Wales has just one usable high-board, while Norfolk, Suffolk, Birmingham and much of the north-west have none. “The GBDF has for some time been concerned over the loss of facilities across broad swaths of the country,” says Jim McNally, president of the GBDF, an amateur group that offers support to clubs and divers, and not to be confused with the Amateur Swimming Association (ASA), Britain’s governing and funding body for most pool-based sports, including diving. “In the past every town had its own pool, and every pool had diving boards and diving clubs. Now the pools that do have boards very rarely offer any public time and clubs that try to provide structured learning are hampered by the lack of coaches.” The BBC announced last week that it would be screening more pool-based sport events in the run-up to the Olympics, including this month’s Fina World Series in Sheffield. But people whose interest is aroused by increased coverage may not find any diving boards in their area. McNally, who grew up in south London in the 60s, remembers four or five diving boards within striking distance of his home. “There was Ladywell baths, Downham baths, Eltham baths, and Crystal Palace, all within half an hour’s journey.” Today, London has only 14 boards, down from 96 in 1977, and some, such as Crystal Palace, are only open to local diving clubs – if they exist – rather than the general public. Those that do welcome casual divers don’t do it often. Before the club at Crystal Palace kindly give me a lesson, I tried to join a public session at Fullwell Cross pool in Ilford, east London. It’s open to walk-ins for only three hours a week, and just one at weekends. So I turned up at 3pm one Saturday, only to find the session had been cancelled. Not enough lifeguards. Some have it much worse. Helen Abernethy lives in Cockermouth in Cumbria, and her seven-year-old son Rhys wants to learn to dive. But while there is a board 20 miles away, there’s no teaching scheme attached to it. So the Abernethys face a five-hour round trip to Harrogate, Yorkshire, or a four-hour there-and-back to Teesside, if Rhys wants some proper coaching. But, says Abernethy, “there’s absolutely no point. If he did really want to do it, I’d have to make loads of trips every week, and there’s just no way I could do that.” It’s a real shame, she adds. “It’s something he genuinely wants to do, and he’s an incredibly agile, nimble boy.” Neil Sinclair’s seven-year-old daughter, Scarlett, is in a similar situation. The Sinclairs live in Hampton in south-west London, and Scarlett wanted to learn to dive after taking a shine to the sport on holiday. “I thought, ‘Oh, there must be some handy facilities’,” says Sinclair. “There aren’t.” Putney, 45 minutes away by car, has some diving slots in the late afternoons. But, says Sinclair, “life’s just too full, and time is too short to make that kind of journey.” When your daughter does express an interest in a sport that isn’t particularly dangerous, [and doesn't require] a large amount of kit, it’s a bit frustrating the facilities aren’t regularly available.” Does this constitute a wider problem? Daley thinks so. “There isn’t enough access for people across the country,” he tells me. Daley points out that it’s his love and commitment to diving that has played the biggest part in his success, but he also modestly acknowledges that living near Plymouth’s 10m diving board also helped. “I was lucky to get into diving – there were facilities nearby, it looked like fun, I tried it out and next thing I’m competing for my country. There could be another British diving world champion out there but if they don’t have facilities nearby they might never discover their talent.” So what has happened? Changes to pool-depth regulations are one answer. When Fina, the worldwide diving authority , decreed that pits must have a minimum depth of 13ft, a lot of British diving facilities came up six inches short, and had to be removed. “There is no doubt health and safety legislation has adversely impacted on the sport of diving,” says McNally. “There remains a legacy whereby pool management seem to regard diving boards as inherently dangerous and prefer to close them rather than properly manage them.” Additionally, he argues, leisure centres prefer to use diving pools for other activities such as swimming lessons or water-polo classes, because these are more lucrative options. Matt Prosser, strategic director at South Oxfordshire and Vale of White Horse district councils, agrees up to a point. Diving pools are very expensive to run, he says. “Councils are looking at [diving pools] and saying, ‘We can’t afford to run that.’ It’s a lot of water, it’s a lot of heat, and you have to heat it 24 hours a day.” I ask him whether the cost of extra lifeguards is also a factor, as I found at Ilford. “It depends on the layout of the facility,” Prosser says. “If you’ve got a second piece of water [a diving pool], you may need another one or two [lifeguards], so it may not be very cost-effective.” Generally speaking, if his council wanted to build a new swimming facility, it wouldn’t include a diving pool within the plans, “unless we got significant external support from the governing body [ASA] or through the lottery scheme, or unless we designed it in such a way that we could use the diving pool for things other than diving.” But not everyone views the current situation with doom and gloom. In fact, David Sparkes, the chief executive of British Swimming, whose jurisdiction includes the ASA, is incredulous that there’s anything negative to say about the state of British diving facilities. “If you look at the standard and quality and spread of diving facilities in Britain today, it’s never been better.” He admits that some parts of the country still lack facilities, but disputes the scale of the GBDF’s board-closure figures. “What has happened is that a number of Mickey Mouse facilities where you could do recreational diving, particularly in the London area, have closed due to understandable health and safety reasons.” Sparkes then points to how the ASA has recently overseen the construction of new, world-class facilities. New, pristine centres in Southend and Corby, to name but two recent projects, have already been built, while those in Luton and Portsmouth are nearing completion. Unlike many old diving pools, these centres, crucially, have fully functioning “dry-land gyms”: gymnastics rooms where divers practise their moves, and actually complete more than half of their training. “We are at an all-time high with the numbers of divers participating in the sport,” continues Sparkes. There are 10,000 people enrolled with diving clubs today, he suggests, compared with just 1,400 30 years ago. But what about casual divers, I ask, people who just want a bit of fun, the Mr Beans of this world? Aren’t their numbers down massively? “It’s a law of supply and demand,” he argues. “If there were hundreds of recreation divers wanting to use a facility the management would say, ‘Well, OK, we’ll try and find more time for you.’” In other words, diving is a minority sport – though it seems strange to hear the man in charge of the Amateur Swimming Association say that. I try again. Cometh the longer opening hours, I suggest, cometh the diver? No, says Sparkes. “Cometh no one.” Still, I’m not entirely convinced. At Guildford Spectrum pool in Surrey, where the boards are open for an unusually high number of hours (13) a week, management say there is still a large appetite for diving. At peak times, says Spectrum’s marketing manager Rob Price, there are “queues forming on poolside to access the 3m springboard and 5m platform.” But when I visit the new Southend diving pool, where the Great Britain team will prepare for the Olympics next spring, I can see why Sparkes is proud of his approach. To my untrained eyes, it seems the perfect facility. The new coach there, Damian Ball, explains how it’s currently the only venue in Europe which allows synchronised divers to practise from three separate heights. (It sounds niche, but it’s a big deal.) The pool’s got all the latest gizmos: safety harnesses, underwater air bubbles – and a purpose-built dry-land facility that houses the only foam-pit in the country. Most importantly, perhaps, Ball is at the start of a huge talent- spotting programme that will see him visit many schools in the wider area and test children for their diving prowess. The most successful will be invited to elite training, while everyone, talented or not, will be offered a free diving lesson and have the opportunity to join the amateur programme. Lindsey Fraser, head coach at the Southampton diving academy, is equally upbeat about the direction in which diving facilities are heading: “Southampton’s fantastic.” The pool is state-of-the-art and the pool management, she says, is very accommodating of diving training. There are no public sessions here, but this, Fraser feels, is a good thing. “Time and sport has moved on. It’s not Joe Bloggs coming down to the diving board any more with his mum, and leaping off. Diving is a dangerous sport, so for me it should be done under controlled circumstances. When we first opened here, we had public diving, and it was an absolute nightmare letting people hurl themselves off the top of 10m boards.” On a wider basis, Fraser thinks we should build new facilities only where a good coaching structure is likely to be attached. And as Britain has a shortage of top-class coaches, this might not always be possible. There are roughly only 20 elite coaches in the country, and though that figure has doubled in the past decade, it needs to be higher. “We need,” says Sparkes, “to invest in coaches to ensure that those facilities that we’ve got are properly and fully utilised.” He’s referring to somewhere such as Coventry, where there is a 5m board, but no club – which is a bit of a waste. “It’s hard to argue that [Birmingham] should put in a brand new diving facility,” he says, “when down the road at Coventry, there is a diving facility growing cobwebs.” But in Reading, this argument doesn’t wash. Here’s a place where there is already a thriving coaching programme, in the form of the local Albatross diving club, but without the highest level of diving facilities. Sally Minns’s son Charlie, 13, is a member of the club, and came third in national competition a few weeks ago . But his progress is hindered because Reading has no proper dry-land training rooms, and no 10m board in the area; the nearest is in Southampton. “He may have the potential to be an international diver,” says Minns, “but unless we transfer him to Southampton, which I can’t really do because of the commute, it’s probably not meant to be.” It’s a reminder that, away from the main diving hubs, there is still much work to be done. “Don’t let them quote you health and safety,” says Minns. “I’m a health and safety adviser [at a local council]. I’m not going to be doing with all that ‘We can’t have them because of health and safety.’” She describes, by way of counterpoint, visiting diving pools in Italy recently. “They’re open to the public all day long, and the public throw themselves off, they belly-flop, they do somersaults. And nobody dies, and nobody hurts themselves.” Back at Crystal Palace, I call it a day on the boards, and watch some of the youngsters show me how it’s done. It’s inspiring. Diving already looks stunning on TV. But up close, watching the divers flex and twist and bend in mid-air, it’s awesome. What’s even more impressive is how far many of them have travelled just to get here. Fourteen-year-old Emily Moses comes five times a week from High Wycombe – a car journey of around two hours each way. “If I was a single-parent,” says her mum Jane, “it would be impossible. As well as our coaching and pool fees, petrol is about £200 a month.” The show is run by Gill Snode, a one-time mentor of Blake Aldridge, Daley’s partner at the last Olympics. She has managed to enlist as the club’s chief coach, Chen Wen, the GB coach at the last Olympics; there are several 2016 Olympic hopefuls; and the club also runs a thriving non-elite programme. But there are no public diving sessions here. And, until the Olympic pool in Stratford, east London, opens to the public in 2013, this will remain the capital’s only high-class pool. Elite boards and coaches are crucial, but for those of us who aren’t going to be international stars, diving, like all sports, should also be fun and accessible. I don’t quite buy that it’s too dangerous to be enjoyed on a casual basis, or that the demand isn’t there. As I found, diving from even a 5m or 7.5m board may be a frightening experience, but it is also very rewarding and exhilarating – and didn’t actually seem particularly dangerous. With Daley-sparked interest in the sport, it’s clear more and more people want to dive. They shouldn’t have to travel the earth, or pay expensive club subscription fees, for the privilege. A five-step guide to diving 1 Stand up straight with your toes at the edge of the board, and your legs together. Extend your left arm. Your fingers and thumb should be tightly together, and pointing forwards. Rotate your wrist to the right so that you’re looking directly at your knuckles. Grip them with your right hand. 2 Stretch your arms straight above your head. Look up at your hands, and lock your neck. 3 Bend at the waist so that your torso, arms, and neck are all pointing at the water at an angle of about 45 degrees. This is called a “pike”. 4 Gently raise yourself on to your toes, and slowly fall towards the water – don’t be tempted to jump. Keep your legs locked tightly. 5 Once you’ve hit the water, keep your body firm until you’re fully submerged. Diving Tom Daley Public sector cuts Public finance Patrick Kingsley guardian.co.uk