The next day I decided to have a day off, so camp out, under a parasol, alternatively staring out to sea and reading. The breeze is constant off the water, next time I catch sight of myself in the mirror I note that my hair has a volume and a backsweep of heroic proportions, I look like Martin Sheen after a nasty surprise.
Later in the day I decide to go for a snorkel, I pick up the camera, anoint myself with suntan lotion and roll into the sea. I snorkel out to the reef, and, after an interesting time in the surge, exit over the edge and start snapping like a madman. After nine shots, strange things happen with the camera, I come back to shore and look through the viewfinder, the water on the inside bodes ill. I retreat under the bedclothes and open the back, the film is wet - "Bollocks!". I consign the film to the bin and put the camera in the sun to dry.
A new guest has arrived today - Ralph, he is off with Roxy for the next few days taking photos, this is how he makes a living poor soul, warm water diving with a camera, sounds awful, you can visit his websites here (check out "latest"). When he returns I collar him with my damp camera, he suggests Said may have the appropriate jewellers' screwdrivers. Said does, takes the camera to pieces, air blasts it, desalts the electrics, and miraculously gets it to fire - what a star.
In the evening I eat in town, and return to drink the recently departed Joey and Nick's last beer, which they have kindly left for me, I decide to wait for a shooting star, and park myself on one of the loungers. Three satellites come past and the moon rises drowning out a lot of stars, I decide that three satellites may equal one shooting star. Then, an evanescent streak as a piece of dust donates its atoms to the Earth, I feel a pang of joy, tempered with the fact that this is also, inevitably, our fate.
Morning comes, and I discover that I'm deaf in my right ear. As Roxy applies drops I apply courage,
"Umm, Roxy, I, umm, do you think you might umm, like to have, um, dinner with me before I go?"
"That would be very nice, you're very kind."
"Well it's hardly expensive." Damn! Damn! Damn!
"I'll choose somewhere 'young.'"
Damn, damn, damn.
So there I was, committed to an evening of several hundred people chattering to Roxy while I ate dinner.
I decided to have another day of doing nothing, and then decided to start my novel:
"The Regent's Canal winds through North London like a ribbon of pustular snot streaming from the nose of a cold-ridden child....."
or
"Tom Landrover, flicked his tail, stretched his back, brushed down his whiskers, and, staring at the rainclouds gathering, decided it was a good day to go to the barn and torment some mice."
or
"I ran my hand down Roxy's naked flank, watching the skin dance and shiver as my touch excited her, she rolled onto her back, her green eyes steeped in lust, guiding my hand, she arched her ba...."
Hang on! Now I was completely deaf, apart from a mosquito whine of tinnitus, plus it hurt. I decided to go to the Doctor. Said and I head off in a taxi to the recompression chamber and surgery. The Doctor is a quiet man, who after a brief interview produces some sort of jeweller's/torturer's tool and picks (as in axe) at the tamponade that used to be my earwax and, that since I have repeatedly exposed it to depth, has become a sort of crown cork. This hurts like merry hell but on the third mining trip into the fudge sundae, there is a pop, and sound rushes in. I leave with the advice that I should soften the remaining wax with olive oil three times a day, so it is that I go to town able to dress salad with a mere tilt of the head.
In town, in the evening, a local lands a 2m plus shark, there is a mixed reaction, the locals, who after all have been fishing here for quite some time, are ecstatic, some of the visiting diving sorority are in tears.
The next day I am deaf again, I suspect the trauma from the Doctor's gouging, even so we all head off for the Full Moon, with our driver Sallah taking a route known only to him. This was doing Ralph's back no good at all, as he seemed to have done something to it the previous day. Even so he seemed impervious to my sympathetic explanations of how bad mine was, and that if he thought he had a bad back he should try the 17 kilos of lead I was now burdened with.
My first dive of the day is Moray Gardens left, a trawl through a set of pinnacles with the big Giant Clams. On the way I litter pick, accidentally exchanging two kilo's of lead for some trash, consequently my safety stop consists of me finning to the bottom with Said holding me down.
Over lunch - a "Tunisian Salad" - couscous with tomato, Said straps another kilo of weight to the bottom of my tank to "hold it down". Hoorah a new record at 18 kilos! The first dive of the afternoon is in Three Pools, there are three pools, as we exit from one a fish attacks Said who has invaded his territory, nipping at the wrist of his wetsuit, Said 1M 75, fish 8cm! I manage to spot a Shrimp and Goby combo, these are described in the book as commensals though symbiotes may be nearer the mark, this particular combo is a Graceful Goby and Red-Spotted Goby Shrimp by the time I have signalled to Said, the Shrimp has gone to hide, so there I am being excited by a fish, while diving, whoop-de-doo! As we slump on the bottom for our safety stop, a snakefish comes to hunt. I return to shore with my full 18 kilos, having been unable to shed any surplus due to Said's careful monitoring.
After a tea break, dive three (Moray Garden Right), Ralph had pointed out a pinnacle on the way out which he said was "stuffed", it was. We also saw a couple of Trevally (a relatively large predator) patrolling the shoals.
Got back to base and met two more guests, Del and Chris. Del a recently qualified lawyer from Pembrokeshire and husband (?) Chris from Australia (Norfolk Island, about halfway between Oz and New Zealand, so not really Australia at all). Del was due to do a course with the other instructor Ollie, and Chris, after an assessment dive, was due out with Said and myself. They looked about 12. I ate and went to bed early.
The next day - more diving. Today I waited for Chris's assessment, having exhausted the possibilities of the Lighthouse (they, of course, saw a Napoleon Wrasse, which can grow up to two metres in length, described by Said as "enormous", though I had come to learn that Said saw a lot of "enormous" things. I did wonder whether he'd realised that things look bigger underwater, though I was still revelling in the purchase of my prescription mask, where they don't). Then we went on to Canyon to do the Coral Garden, which was very pretty with the biggest clams yet seen ("Enormous" Said) and a lot of clownfish. At one point I was minding my own business when I felt something at my throat, after waving my hand about I was confronted by two Cleaner Wrasse who looked distinctly reproachful. When I told the boys about this at lunch, Said said this was not uncommon and asked if I hadn't seen his signal. This turned out to be rubbing one index finger up the side of the other. Yes I had seen the signal and was pretty sure that in other cultures it meant something distinctly different to "Look there's a Cleaner Wrasse!" so rather than enquire too far, had ignored it. My mind now at rest, I put my body into a similar state of repose.
After lunch we move on to the Blue Hole and the Bells (I was going to put a link in here but most of the links appear to be dedicated to the showing of bodies of people who have died in the Blue Hole, if you're interested you can Google "Blue Hole Dahab") The Blue Hole is just that, a hole, it is used by extensively by freedivers, and also by idiots who think they can push the limits, there is an exit at about sixty metres, which proves too tempting for many people. Their memorial plaques appear on the walls of the amphitheatre surrounding the hole, here's one, "To James. Who didn't let fear diminish his dream." - Twat.
We walk (with my extra 18 kilo's I waddle) to the entrance to the Bells, this is a rift that descends, that's exactly what it does, it just descends until you exit on a cliff that does exactly that as well- descend. It is called the Bells, as you bang your cylinder on the side walls as you go down. I manage, to Said's relief, not to drop anything into the void, and we emerge from the crack at ten metres and then contour round the cliff. Under an overhang Chris points out a large Octopus, the drop-off itself is covered with fish, millions of fish, it becomes clear that as Des Res's go, the piscine equivalent of Hampstead/Seattle is a drop-off. On the edge of visibility the bigger predators patrol.
A Cornet Fish falls in love with Said , lurking behind him and occasionally swimming between his regulator hose and his head, apparently they're renowned for using divers as cover when hunting, though Chris and I were convinced it was love. Just as we turn to enter the hole, Said points, Chris follows his pointing finger and contemplates, just in case, I grab Chris's arm, point wildly and yell, "Turtle". The "Enormous" Turtle looks at us with faint disdain, surfaces for a breath and then slides gently off into the coral. We fin over into the Blue Hole. In the centre of the Hole you can see - blue, nothing below, nothing to the sides, but blue, at ten metres the surface is still visible but not for much longer, this is why people die, with narcosis they swim off the wrong way, never to return. Said floats perfectly still at ten metres, and starts to move up out of my field of vision, I put air in the jacket and monitor my depth gauge, Said goes higher, the needle on the depth gauge goes higher, I inflate, and inflate, Said comes back into my field of vision and then passes, I deflate and sink past him again. This carries on until we reach the other side for our safety stop, where we sit surrounded by bottle tops. At one point I am startled by a school of small fish that suddenly make a ceiling above me, and then just a quickly disappear, however, Chris is terrified by the end of his weight belt appearing by his chin with the sole intent of drinking his life blood.
We return, Roxy, preoccupied with having to see the "Management", blows out dinner but promises breakfast. So my non-romantic client/teacher tete-a-tete has been turned into a power-management experience. To console myself, I stump off to Friends for Kofta and a Shisha, dowsing every cat in sight mercilessly, and return to the Furry Cup for a bottle of Stella (an Egyptian as opposed to Belgian beer). At 11.00, the universe turns a switch, the sea-breeze drops and dies, A few seconds later a hot wind comes roaring out of the desert behind me, snapping the flags out straight, rather like having an energy efficient dragon creep up behind you.
My last day and the paying of the bill, as a lot of you know, parting with money, for me, is a painful experience. I stayed with Dive Urge who I felt were keener to get my money out of me than the restaurant touts down the strip. my food bill was remarkably round, and the transfer from the airport was £25 each way, when I query that it might be an idea to tell people this, the Manager consults her computer and informs me that it is in the first e-mail I received, seeing as I have no computer to prove this, and that I am too weak to say, "Show me!" I let this pass. ("No it wasn't Lindsay, by the way!").
Later in the day I decide to go for a snorkel, I pick up the camera, anoint myself with suntan lotion and roll into the sea. I snorkel out to the reef, and, after an interesting time in the surge, exit over the edge and start snapping like a madman. After nine shots, strange things happen with the camera, I come back to shore and look through the viewfinder, the water on the inside bodes ill. I retreat under the bedclothes and open the back, the film is wet - "Bollocks!". I consign the film to the bin and put the camera in the sun to dry.
A new guest has arrived today - Ralph, he is off with Roxy for the next few days taking photos, this is how he makes a living poor soul, warm water diving with a camera, sounds awful, you can visit his websites here (check out "latest"). When he returns I collar him with my damp camera, he suggests Said may have the appropriate jewellers' screwdrivers. Said does, takes the camera to pieces, air blasts it, desalts the electrics, and miraculously gets it to fire - what a star.
In the evening I eat in town, and return to drink the recently departed Joey and Nick's last beer, which they have kindly left for me, I decide to wait for a shooting star, and park myself on one of the loungers. Three satellites come past and the moon rises drowning out a lot of stars, I decide that three satellites may equal one shooting star. Then, an evanescent streak as a piece of dust donates its atoms to the Earth, I feel a pang of joy, tempered with the fact that this is also, inevitably, our fate.
Morning comes, and I discover that I'm deaf in my right ear. As Roxy applies drops I apply courage,
"Umm, Roxy, I, umm, do you think you might umm, like to have, um, dinner with me before I go?"
"That would be very nice, you're very kind."
"Well it's hardly expensive." Damn! Damn! Damn!
"I'll choose somewhere 'young.'"
Damn, damn, damn.
So there I was, committed to an evening of several hundred people chattering to Roxy while I ate dinner.
I decided to have another day of doing nothing, and then decided to start my novel:
"The Regent's Canal winds through North London like a ribbon of pustular snot streaming from the nose of a cold-ridden child....."
or
"Tom Landrover, flicked his tail, stretched his back, brushed down his whiskers, and, staring at the rainclouds gathering, decided it was a good day to go to the barn and torment some mice."
or
"I ran my hand down Roxy's naked flank, watching the skin dance and shiver as my touch excited her, she rolled onto her back, her green eyes steeped in lust, guiding my hand, she arched her ba...."
Hang on! Now I was completely deaf, apart from a mosquito whine of tinnitus, plus it hurt. I decided to go to the Doctor. Said and I head off in a taxi to the recompression chamber and surgery. The Doctor is a quiet man, who after a brief interview produces some sort of jeweller's/torturer's tool and picks (as in axe) at the tamponade that used to be my earwax and, that since I have repeatedly exposed it to depth, has become a sort of crown cork. This hurts like merry hell but on the third mining trip into the fudge sundae, there is a pop, and sound rushes in. I leave with the advice that I should soften the remaining wax with olive oil three times a day, so it is that I go to town able to dress salad with a mere tilt of the head.
In town, in the evening, a local lands a 2m plus shark, there is a mixed reaction, the locals, who after all have been fishing here for quite some time, are ecstatic, some of the visiting diving sorority are in tears.
The next day I am deaf again, I suspect the trauma from the Doctor's gouging, even so we all head off for the Full Moon, with our driver Sallah taking a route known only to him. This was doing Ralph's back no good at all, as he seemed to have done something to it the previous day. Even so he seemed impervious to my sympathetic explanations of how bad mine was, and that if he thought he had a bad back he should try the 17 kilos of lead I was now burdened with.
My first dive of the day is Moray Gardens left, a trawl through a set of pinnacles with the big Giant Clams. On the way I litter pick, accidentally exchanging two kilo's of lead for some trash, consequently my safety stop consists of me finning to the bottom with Said holding me down.
Over lunch - a "Tunisian Salad" - couscous with tomato, Said straps another kilo of weight to the bottom of my tank to "hold it down". Hoorah a new record at 18 kilos! The first dive of the afternoon is in Three Pools, there are three pools, as we exit from one a fish attacks Said who has invaded his territory, nipping at the wrist of his wetsuit, Said 1M 75, fish 8cm! I manage to spot a Shrimp and Goby combo, these are described in the book as commensals though symbiotes may be nearer the mark, this particular combo is a Graceful Goby and Red-Spotted Goby Shrimp by the time I have signalled to Said, the Shrimp has gone to hide, so there I am being excited by a fish, while diving, whoop-de-doo! As we slump on the bottom for our safety stop, a snakefish comes to hunt. I return to shore with my full 18 kilos, having been unable to shed any surplus due to Said's careful monitoring.
After a tea break, dive three (Moray Garden Right), Ralph had pointed out a pinnacle on the way out which he said was "stuffed", it was. We also saw a couple of Trevally (a relatively large predator) patrolling the shoals.
Got back to base and met two more guests, Del and Chris. Del a recently qualified lawyer from Pembrokeshire and husband (?) Chris from Australia (Norfolk Island, about halfway between Oz and New Zealand, so not really Australia at all). Del was due to do a course with the other instructor Ollie, and Chris, after an assessment dive, was due out with Said and myself. They looked about 12. I ate and went to bed early.
The next day - more diving. Today I waited for Chris's assessment, having exhausted the possibilities of the Lighthouse (they, of course, saw a Napoleon Wrasse, which can grow up to two metres in length, described by Said as "enormous", though I had come to learn that Said saw a lot of "enormous" things. I did wonder whether he'd realised that things look bigger underwater, though I was still revelling in the purchase of my prescription mask, where they don't). Then we went on to Canyon to do the Coral Garden, which was very pretty with the biggest clams yet seen ("Enormous" Said) and a lot of clownfish. At one point I was minding my own business when I felt something at my throat, after waving my hand about I was confronted by two Cleaner Wrasse who looked distinctly reproachful. When I told the boys about this at lunch, Said said this was not uncommon and asked if I hadn't seen his signal. This turned out to be rubbing one index finger up the side of the other. Yes I had seen the signal and was pretty sure that in other cultures it meant something distinctly different to "Look there's a Cleaner Wrasse!" so rather than enquire too far, had ignored it. My mind now at rest, I put my body into a similar state of repose.
After lunch we move on to the Blue Hole and the Bells (I was going to put a link in here but most of the links appear to be dedicated to the showing of bodies of people who have died in the Blue Hole, if you're interested you can Google "Blue Hole Dahab") The Blue Hole is just that, a hole, it is used by extensively by freedivers, and also by idiots who think they can push the limits, there is an exit at about sixty metres, which proves too tempting for many people. Their memorial plaques appear on the walls of the amphitheatre surrounding the hole, here's one, "To James. Who didn't let fear diminish his dream." - Twat.
We walk (with my extra 18 kilo's I waddle) to the entrance to the Bells, this is a rift that descends, that's exactly what it does, it just descends until you exit on a cliff that does exactly that as well- descend. It is called the Bells, as you bang your cylinder on the side walls as you go down. I manage, to Said's relief, not to drop anything into the void, and we emerge from the crack at ten metres and then contour round the cliff. Under an overhang Chris points out a large Octopus, the drop-off itself is covered with fish, millions of fish, it becomes clear that as Des Res's go, the piscine equivalent of Hampstead/Seattle is a drop-off. On the edge of visibility the bigger predators patrol.
A Cornet Fish falls in love with Said , lurking behind him and occasionally swimming between his regulator hose and his head, apparently they're renowned for using divers as cover when hunting, though Chris and I were convinced it was love. Just as we turn to enter the hole, Said points, Chris follows his pointing finger and contemplates, just in case, I grab Chris's arm, point wildly and yell, "Turtle". The "Enormous" Turtle looks at us with faint disdain, surfaces for a breath and then slides gently off into the coral. We fin over into the Blue Hole. In the centre of the Hole you can see - blue, nothing below, nothing to the sides, but blue, at ten metres the surface is still visible but not for much longer, this is why people die, with narcosis they swim off the wrong way, never to return. Said floats perfectly still at ten metres, and starts to move up out of my field of vision, I put air in the jacket and monitor my depth gauge, Said goes higher, the needle on the depth gauge goes higher, I inflate, and inflate, Said comes back into my field of vision and then passes, I deflate and sink past him again. This carries on until we reach the other side for our safety stop, where we sit surrounded by bottle tops. At one point I am startled by a school of small fish that suddenly make a ceiling above me, and then just a quickly disappear, however, Chris is terrified by the end of his weight belt appearing by his chin with the sole intent of drinking his life blood.
We return, Roxy, preoccupied with having to see the "Management", blows out dinner but promises breakfast. So my non-romantic client/teacher tete-a-tete has been turned into a power-management experience. To console myself, I stump off to Friends for Kofta and a Shisha, dowsing every cat in sight mercilessly, and return to the Furry Cup for a bottle of Stella (an Egyptian as opposed to Belgian beer). At 11.00, the universe turns a switch, the sea-breeze drops and dies, A few seconds later a hot wind comes roaring out of the desert behind me, snapping the flags out straight, rather like having an energy efficient dragon creep up behind you.
My last day and the paying of the bill, as a lot of you know, parting with money, for me, is a painful experience. I stayed with Dive Urge who I felt were keener to get my money out of me than the restaurant touts down the strip. my food bill was remarkably round, and the transfer from the airport was £25 each way, when I query that it might be an idea to tell people this, the Manager consults her computer and informs me that it is in the first e-mail I received, seeing as I have no computer to prove this, and that I am too weak to say, "Show me!" I let this pass. ("No it wasn't Lindsay, by the way!").
At breakfast Roxy helps me with my pancake before going off with Ralph. I head into town with Ollie and Del and have a final snorkel, where I am rewarded by two Scribbled Razor Fish, about 70 cm and shifting between dark blue and silver.
I return and drowze, before distributing tips and the contents of my wash bag, as I put the last of my Egyptian Pounds in the tip box I am presented with a request for my lunch money, "About £10." Actually about £6.20 mate. So it is slightly disgruntled that I leave my Life-Partner-To-Be (I just have to talk her round) to drive through the desert in the gathering dusk, before arriving at Gatwick in the small hours. I get to bed at four, today is Open Day, I will be in at 11.00 to talk to schoolchildren and their parents, I will only hear the ones on my left.
I return and drowze, before distributing tips and the contents of my wash bag, as I put the last of my Egyptian Pounds in the tip box I am presented with a request for my lunch money, "About £10." Actually about £6.20 mate. So it is slightly disgruntled that I leave my Life-Partner-To-Be (I just have to talk her round) to drive through the desert in the gathering dusk, before arriving at Gatwick in the small hours. I get to bed at four, today is Open Day, I will be in at 11.00 to talk to schoolchildren and their parents, I will only hear the ones on my left.
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