So started diving yesterday - booked a group of ten dives as a package. Now, you never really know what to expect when booking lots of dives somewhere you've never been before, but according to my research, the diving is not at all bad here. It's completely dependent on the tides as to the times you leave, as the tide is WAY out by midday, so we started really early, at 0700 for our first dive. After throwing a tiny...well, a bit bigger than tiny, but not as big as huge, tantrum, about not being able to find any fins to fit my peculiar feet, but being assured by the next day a lovely set of fins would arrive that my boots would actually go beyond the toes in, I nervously waded out to the tiny fishing boat, weighed down by a huge , heavy, bag of gear, joined by the usual group of Danes and Germans (divers are always Danish or German...). I say nervously, as every time I haven't dived for a while, the first time I get in the water it's like I have never dived before, I flap about like a beginner (although I now have 70 dives to my name), panic a bit, and promise myself that I won't ever dive again. Five minutes after I have failed to descend due to breathing like an idiot, I eventually get down, recover my buoyancy and my composure, and remember why I love it so much.....
Today we went to Mnebma Island, some 2 hour drive to the north of the island. For some reason I could not quite fathom, you are not allowed on the island, something to do with German prisoners??? No idea, but it was a shame as the island looked perfect, palm trees, white sand....picture postcard. (edit - I have just discovered that I completely misunderstood our guide, and actually the island is privately owned by Germans, and there is a hefty fine if you set foot on it, unless you need the services of the clinic they own too, to administer help to stricken divers).
Our first dive my regulator (breathing apparatus) had a wet valve, so on every intake of breath it sounded like I was an old man with emphysema - once I had reminded myself that it was the valve,and I was unlikely to end up on home oxygen for the rest of my life, all was ok, we battled fierce currents to get to the coral garden, which was beautiful, although with the speed of the current, we whisked by at almost too fast a pace to inspect any nooks and crannies for anything interesting. Now the whole reason I am posting this, is that my second dive was simply ...well, I'm a bit lost for words - and that doesn't happen very often. While we were bobbing along, no current, bouyancy restored, we heard a persistent high pitched beeping sound. I looked to our guide with what I hoped was a questioning gesture ( it's really easy to be misunderstood under water, I probably looked as if I was asking him what time it was). He indicated something passing above (or he could have been saying how lovely it was that the visibility was good), and I looked up, to humour him mostly, to see a pod of about 35 dolphins passing about 10 metres above our heads !!!! I think I used up about half a tank of air squeaking with delight - my nose filled up with seawater, and I didn't care. There were mothers with babies, and one curious youngster came for a quick peek at us, before deciding we were not worth playing with, and rejoined the pod. Smiling so hard is not the most water resistant thing you can do in a mask, but I really didn't care. Just as we finished the rest of the dive, we passed the biggest green turtle I have ever seen, he must have been at least 5 feet across, just chilling out, being old and lovely. What an amazing day.
The drive there was also very beautiful. We drove through a forest with the infamous Red Colobus monkeys peering at us through palm fronds, through increasingly poorer and poorer villages. The huts are made of mud, cow manure and sticks, and have holes in the walls that serve as windows. The men are dressed in the traditional " Thawbs", a white robe that reaches to the floor, covering, surprisingly, a full set of Western clothes underneath. The women are uniformly in long black dresses, with headdresses that reach to their elbows - like Russian dolls. The further we went, the more sparse the living became, with chickens and goats scratching around in the dust and inevitable rubbish that lies further away from the tourist areas. The privilege that we are afforded, being able to dive with dolphins, is starkly contrasted by the poverty in which these people eke out their existence. The only consoling thought is that the young lads of the village have at least some income, carrying our oxygen tanks from the boat. It's not a lot, but it's something....
Reminding myself how very lucky I am again, I will sign off and have a cold beer.
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