Of Dining, Diving and Driving (or Bottles, Bottles and Bottle); part two

On the first morning we made our way to the dive shop. After a brief briefing, we packed our kit into crates and headed for the harbour. There we had our first taste of our boat "Emperor I" as we set out to sea. A short while later, we stopped at Temple and kitted up for our first dive. After a hesitant start (how can a thin wetsuit need so much weight?) we finned gently off around the reef, the temple pinnacle and through the swim through. Anyone within earshot of Chris will know the phrase but "It looked just like an aquarium". After a brief pause for lunch we motored around to Ras Caty and repeated the experience.

Another aspect of motoring which took some getting use to was the Egyptian way of driving at night. I don’t know whether they think they are saving energy but most drivers drive with no lights (or occasionally just sidelights). When they see another car or a pedestrian, they switch full beam on. Of course since the other car is also driving without lights they tend not to see each other until the last minute…

By the third day some of us were beginning to tire of reef diving. The expression "not another B***Y Lion fish (or turtle or wrasse or whatever)" began to creep into our vocabulary. We greeted the announcement of our first wreck dive (the Dunraven) with enthusiasm. We had our usual excellent briefing (see later) from Nicky and Denise and off we went. Lovely wreck! Over the decks in 15-25 metres, drop over the rudder and round the stern. Quick view of a Napoleon Wrasse (the fish are always with us) before we swim up through the inside of the wreck. Best part was squeezing between the boilers and emerging into a huge cloud of Glass fish. Second dive was just as good and was only marred slightly by the group of Italians who insisted on swimming (through the aforementioned narrow hole) the wrong way past the boilers. It grates eventually when you keep going "OK" to a diver coming the other way, enter the space and have to reverse out again (and again, and again).

On one day, our adventure started before we reached the dive site, before we even reached the boat! Our minibus left as usual from the dive shop and headed for the harbour. Hardened as we were to Egyptian driving, even we were surprised when a fruit lorry pulled out in front of us, forcing us on to the central reservation. Our driver did a superb job of keeping the ‘bus upright as we lost, roughly in that order, two tyres, most of the right hand panels, the sump and the tailgate. As we juddered to a stop in our now wrecked vehicle a dry voice from the back commented "I suppose we have to pay extra for this". Thankfully no one was injured and, while the traffic hooted to get through, another minibus (a taxi) screeched to a halt and beckoned us in. The whole affair was too sudden for us to be worried and it was only later that we realised how close we had been to major disaster. One worrying aspect was our guide telling us, despite our proximity to the lovely shiny new hospital, not to let ourselves be taken inside!

Our next dive was a mixed reef and wreck dive. Actually, although I say wreck, of wreck there was not a trace although it had left plenty of its cargo scattered about. This was the Jolanda, a cargo ship which sank with a cargo of bathroom fittings in 1981. It is quite entertaining to swim, in good visibility, round several hundred sinks, baths and (of course) toilets. Remember what fabric looked like in the late 70’s? Well several rolls of bright purple shower curtain were there to remind you. Our guide had warned as about posing over the toilet bowls as several moray eels had set up home in them. For variety, one of the bathroom fitting containers now houses a grouper being cleaned by lots of small wrasse. In case you got totally bored with the wreck, the adjacent reef had glass fish, a swim through and the usual lion fish etc.

We ate in a different restaurant every evening. One day Italian food (sorry Denise), another American (Hard Rock Café). One evening we went to a Mongolian Barbecue that was, shall we say, different. You picked your own veg, meat and filling (either rice or pasta) and added sauce. You then gave the lot to a chef who tipped it onto a griddle about nine feet across, stirred it a few times and thrust it back into the bowl. This was the evening where we celebrated, even if on the wrong night, the birthdays of two of our party. If you ever want to feel ridiculous, I suggest carrying an iced birthday cake along an unlit Egyptian road (see previous remarks about night driving). I think every taxi in Sharm must have stopped and offered me a lift (and that was after I climbed a wall with the cake to avoid going out through the hotel reception!)

Throughout the week, we had gradually become accustomed to the strange "wailing" Egyptian music. We therefore ignored the "muzak" from behind the bar. It was only later that we realised it was the Spice Girls played on a very dubious tape player!

If we had thought the normal days diving fun, whether on wreck or reef, we had seen nothing until the night dive. Our boat set off gently into a sheltered bay where we had been assured we would be the only boat. As dusk settled, we were joined by craft after craft until there must have been a dozen of us. Fortunately our boat was easily identifiable (at least from underneath) as it was the only one with twin screws. As night settled, we dropped into the water and into a magical scene. Chris remembers the Spanish dancer and the lion fish (again) but for me there is only one thing. At one point, we turned our torches out to sea and saw eight (yes, eight) masked puffer fish. In perfect synchronism they swam backwards and forwards in a line. As one they then turned tail and belted out to sea again.

None of us will quickly forget our two Dive Guides, Nicky and Denise. They looked after us, organised things, translated (especially the swear words, thanks Denise) and generally made the weeks diving the success that it was. Apart from a superb briefing before every dive, they filled the time in between with quips and anecdotes. Special thanks should be given for the new signals they taught us, including ones for Nudibranchs and Squirrel fish (ask someone who went). We were also disappointed to miss Denise’s description of her colleague as The Nickyfish which "inhabits cabins, drinks tea and goes ‘its cold innit’"

And so to our last dive. In it’s way, I was glad it was the last dive because anything after would have been an anti-climax. The Thistlegorm (for those who don’t know) was a Merchant Navy ship sunk in 1941. It carried a cargo of bombs, rifles, trucks, BSA and Norton motor bikes, steam locomotives and other war supplies. It lies in fifteen to thirty metres and is a superb dive. Sorry, I just can’t describe it, ask to see the photos. The only problems were twenty-eight other dive boats (one of which tried to run our guide over), approx. four hundred divers and those B***y fish again.

On the last day, we did not dive, to be honest we were dived out after twelve dives in five days. So we went quad biking in the desert. We had the most un-road worthy bikes in the whole Sinai. My headlight pointed at forty five degrees to the direction of travel, others had no brakes, flat (or bald) tyres or just engines that stopped for no good reason. On these we (with the exception of Chris who hated it and went pillion) roared off into the desert. Having seriously upset a group of tourists on camels (who had looked forward to a quiet ride) and a group of Bedouin (who wanted to sell us jewellery) we watched the sun go down as we sipped tea. Then it was back to Sharm, a day by the pool and the flight home.

A big thanks to all who went, to our two guides Denise and Nicky and of course to Chris for organising the whole thing.

Adrian