The plane touches down on the tarmac, and time starts to slow ... ahhh ... we’re in Bonaire, where the diving is 24-7, and you only have to come out of the water for happy hour.
At Buddy’s Dive resort, the holiday started with an orientation talk followed by a dive on the house reef, after which we were free to explore the rocky coastlines and dive as much as we liked. For me, that meant I was in the water at every opportunity, clocking up 29 dives over the nine days we were there, and earning the title of scubaholic!
I started cracking the dive whip over dinner on the first night, when I persuaded my room mates Sue W, Sue S and Barbara to join me for a pre-breakfast dive. We found a small sea turtle, numerous eels, and beautiful sponges and corals – both Sues were keen photographers and were already coming out with some marvellous photos.
After a well earned breakfast, we had a nice slow start to the day, congregating around 10am in our trucks to load up with nitrox tanks at the drive through. Somehow everything was organised but relaxed, and finally we’re all set to go and get wet.
The first site we stopped at was Jeff Davis memorial, which had a fairly difficult looking rocky climb down to the beach, so we carried on to Weber’s Joy, which looked easier. The coastline around Bonaire is made up of coral rocks with some sandy inlets that provide slightly easier entry, and although the wind was high the sea was relatively calm. As a large group, it took quite some time for everybody to get in the water in their buddy pairs, then we descended on to the reef and were off! We were all excited to see another sea turtle, which was to become something of a trend over the next few days.
On the second dive at Andrea II, Kate’s amazing spotting skills found us a seahorse at about 17m. The tiny creature was wrapped around a soft coral and camouflaged within the plant. With so many photographers in the group we were there for quite a while, but finally everybody had taken many photos and we were off again.
We trooped home for lunch, then it was back off on the house reef for a last dive of the day for the hard core divers, another turtle, and this time a spotted stingray! I’ve seen blue-spotted rays in the Red Sea before but nothing quite as magnificent as this one as it glided through the shallows.
The next day was much the same, with a smaller group heading out to Andrea I for the final dive of the day. We were kitting up when, “Bollocks!” Collin had left his regulators behind – oh no! He entirely redeemed himself though when, after he had returned with them, we descended to find three sea turtles, who obligingly swam together for us as we looked on in awe. Had our fearless leader been more organised, we would have missed this beautiful sight altogether :)
On day three, there were several of us out for the last dive to Alice in Wonderland (link to my blog post), and Collin asked me if I wanted to lead it. “Sounds like a fairytale to me,” said Sparkles. I was keen on the leading, but nervous not to mess it up! Luckily I managed to get us all back just fine, and we even saw two spotted stingrays! We got out to find that Mike and Elaine’s truck had a flat tyre, which took the combined effort of the men to fix it, while the ladies loaded up the kit. Thank God we still got back in time for our happy hour cocktails!
After several more days of clear blue waters, picturesque reefs, and sea turtles, a smaller group of us split off to do the wreck course, which Collin and Penny would be teaching, and I would be assisting on. We ranged from the more serious wreck heads (Mike and myself), to those who were more indifferent, through to the almost downright terrified! The wreck course supplied plenty of opportunity for innuendo around penetration, helped along by the “slippery dick” fish that we had identified from the reef guides, and not to mention the fun we had tying people – well, mainly me – up with knots and lines. Depending who you are, this could certainly be one of the perks of the TDM role!
The wreck course (see my blog post on the Divecrew blog) ran over two days, including navigation, mapping and penetration, as well as some extra skills thrown in – a practice of DSMB release (no, Sparkles, do not attach the SMB directly to the reel – that’s what the line is for!) and swimming with the alternate air source. I was able to demonstrate this with Penny, while trying desperately to remain still on the sandy bottom while the waves crashed above me!
With the wreck course complete, it was time to enjoy the manager’s Rum Punch party, and fun was certainly had by all as the free punch flowed, well, freely! So many photos, so few that are suitable for public consumption ... it was definitely the most enjoyable assessment I have done!
Our penultimate day of diving was Sunday, the most exciting of the whole trip, with Tina’s DCP in the morning followed by an afternoon on one of the Buddy Dive boats. The brave divers who volunteered to role play for Tina sweltered through a half hour briefing, during which time we tried every trick in the book to put her off, but she covered virtually every single thing. Gutted!
Acting as a new open water diver with thousands of pounds worth of brand new kit, Collin managed to put several pieces together the wrong way around while eagle eyed Tina corrected him, then he jumped in and sank to the sandy bottom tank first. Meanwhile, Penny the BSAC diver was hard at work looking for some kind of unexpected tool to take on the dive, and finally found a plastic cutlass, coming at us shouting ... “I kill you!” I was laughing so hard I nearly had a damp wetsuit before entering the water, while Collin almost choked when she came at him with it!
I was “unable” to descend, but as Tina had not briefed the “abort dive” signal I continued to try. Her husband was my buddy, and he was distraught at the thought of the bollocking he would receive later, as he accompanied me to the surface.
But Tina survived all of our efforts, and we went on a mission to hunt down the seahorses. I spotted a porcupine fish on a rock, and as Collin photographed it I hovered along the nearby rocks. There was a bright orange blob in front of me ... hold on a minute ... that’s a bloody SEAHORSE! I’ve found it, I’ve found it! Collin turned to tell the others and found its mate, curled around the soft coral just behind us. What a dive! We all signed the cutlass afterwards, which Tina kept as a souvenir.
In the afternoon, the first dive site the boat took us to was my namesake – Joanne’s Sunchi, which means Joanne’s kiss. Luckily I got away with not having to kiss anybody! Our dive guide Scott took us to see another seahorse, before bringing us back to the boat, where we hovered upside down for a while before clambering out. Well, why not?
The second dive was at Something Special, which was a pretty reef with a fair current driving us along on the way back, so that I barely had to fin at all. Cue the Superman poses! We were almost back at the boat when our guide banged his tank – he had found the elusive yellow frogfish! Several thousand photos later, and we were headed back to Buddy’s again, for happy hour!
Monday concluded our diving with Kate’s 150th at Oil Slick Leap – a wonderful site characterised by a particularly high entry point. Although I’m slightly scared of heights, I chose to step from the highest point – the water really does slap the back leg as you hit it! My navigation point for the beach was a pair of sponge corals in a ‘V’ sign at 9m, which was amusing. We didn’t see anything spectacular, but it was a nice last dive.
With no more diving and a late morning ahead of us, the evening was earmarked for some drinks. We congregated in the bar in time for happy hour, drinking rum punch and half price Hula Hula before we meandered on to the restaurant up the road. I chose Pink Panties from the cocktail menu, while Sue sipped something with Blue Curacao and we took photos of Sparkles with a pink frothy concoction.
With the meal out of the way, it was time for the diver awards – everybody on the holiday was recognised for some fun that they had added. Tina’s achievement on her DCP was closely followed by Steve’s “Sparkles” award – he had not noticed the misspelling of his name until almost a week in, which would cost him a nickname for life!
Frank’s award reflected his outstanding ability to eat steak every night, mostly in Patagonia. Steve N’s talent for karaoke was recognised (just wait for the Christmas party), and he quickly lived up to it with an ad hoc performance at the table. Sue W’s legendary mobile medicine cabinet will not be forgotten, and Sue S was considered the most improved holiday diver on her first Divecrew trip alone, after successfully mastering both her computer and camera.
Elaine, who had managed to remain below the radar for most of the holiday, will be remembered for the one occasion she left her computer behind on the truck; while Mike was the deepest penetrator from the wreck course ...
Kate’s milestone was her 150th dive – the last of the trip – and the swashbuckling Pennyfish would forever be immortalised after her performance on Tina’s DCP!
Poor Barbara had never quite managed to fight off the jet lag, so she snoozed over her plate while Collin produced her certificate for the most ever bikinis seen on a single holiday (one for every single day!) I was recognised as a genuine scubaholic, and for “skin diving” at 30m – well, I might have been posing for a photo ...
And of course that only leaves one award ... our esteemed Course Director Collin (Do You Know Who I Am?), without whom we would never have been in the sunny Caribbean! We had presented Collin with his well earned plaque and thanks earlier in the evening.
So now as the plane edges ever closer back to the UK and my thoughts are turning back to the murky waters of Wraysbury and the delights of Slough pool, I’m feeling a mixture of sadness that the holiday is over, delighted with the memories and friendships that I’m taking with me, and impatient for the next one. And did I mention that I now only have one more confined water assessment left to complete my Divemaster? Nearly there ...
It only remains to say a huge thank you to Divecrew for making the holiday not just smooth but bloody awesome!
I didn’t take all of the photos in this post, so many thanks to Tina and Steve “Sparkles”, Penny, and Sue S for the underwater shots!
Update: my Bonaire Trip Review is now also on Divecrew, and running again next year!
The toughest part of getting my Master Scuba Diver turned out not to be getting fifty dives under my belt. Nor completing the five required specialities. In fact, getting around to posting the application, and then locating my certificate once it had arrived in the dive centre was far more challenging!
My journey towards MSD began with my Open Water and Advanced courses in Egypt in June and July, 2007. On returning the UK, I completed my first speciality - a Drysuit course in Leybourne Lake, where we visited the garden gnomes and sweated through a sunny day in woolly bear undersuits.
After some pleasure diving in Hawaii and Thailand, followed by a chilly dip in Stoney Cove and a day in the classroom for my EFR course, it was off to Chesil Beach for the Rescue course - still one of my favourite ever diving experiences. The next tick in the box was for my Deep course in September, another fantastic weekend, and a qualification that enabled me to go to 40m - handy when I dived on the Rosalie Muller in the Red Sea shortly after.
Shortly after the deep course, I finally hit fifty dives, thanks to many weekends assisting and pleasure diving at Vobster and Chepstow.
With two specialities down, I spent an evening playing with numbers and learned to analyse the contents of my tank to get my Nitrox course - the first dry course I'd done. I found the Nitrox course easy and fun, mostly because of my geeky affinity for maths and numbers, including dive tables.
I was desperate to complete my wreck course and learn about laying lines, partly because I wanted to be able to assist on future wreck courses, but I was alone in this among the Divecrew customers. I signed up to do the course while on my liveaboard trip last October, exploring the Chrisoula K (my favourite wreck to date), mapping the Salaam Express and laying my line just inside the Thistlegorm.
The last course was the Drift Diver, which was a bit of an easy ride (in more ways than one). We rode the currents around The Brothers, and with knowledge reviews signed, I was all done!
Now for the hard part: obtaining, filling in, and posting off the forms. Sigh. It was mid-January when I finally completed the paperwork. I would be misrepresenting it if I claimed it was a long and arduous task, but it did entail actually looking up information from my logbook and buying a stamp. At last it was sent, and then it arrived back at the dive centre!
I turned up one Monday with a list as long as my arm of things I needed to sort out with Collin, a tank to return, a slate belonging to one of the other DMs to give back ... as I got in the car to leave, I realised the MSD had been forgotton - dammit! I returned on Saturday with a long shopping list, but this time it was not forgotten: Terry located the certificate and a frame, the photo was done (thank God I was wearing a nice top and make up!) and I am now immortalised on the Wall of Fame.
Check it out on the Divecrew Wall of Fame.
"If you don't feel well after your dive, tell me straight away, and we'll get you on to the O2," the skipper pointed towards the white cylinders in the front of the boat. "I'll have to notify the coastguard, and well ... you know where you're going after that."
To the pot ...
Blunt as it was, it's all part and parcel of a normal briefing - I never expected it to happen. It was something of a shock when Ashley and I got back on the boat to see the young diver who had been diving with his dad breathing from the O2. I wondered if he'd just had a bit of a scare, but it quickly became apparent that he had sadly got a real bend.
After diving to 27m, they had ascended to around 14m when his integrated weight fell out of his BCD. Unable to prevent a fast ascent, he bobbed up to the surface faster than he could breathe out the excess nitrogen, booking himself a swift helicopter ride to the recompression chamber.
While all of the divers were surfacing and getting back on board the boat, drinking hot chocolate and chicken soup, the coastguard helicopter was already on its way. As it approached, it swung down behind our boat, kicking up the spray behind us until we had to turn our faces away. The skipper pushed the boat faster, while a man was lowered on a winch, dangling steadily closer and closer, until he was able to step on to the boat and release the cord. He looked around and announced, "well, divers certainly don't get any better looking, do they?" Charming, I must say.
The helicopter looked close enough to touch, I couldn't believe they could get so close to the boat. It rose and moved away, and the boat slowed down while they made preparations to carry the injured diver and his father away to get medical help.
The helicopter returned a few minutes later, even closer than before. The diver's father was first to be lifted up into the helicopter - with a harness strapped around his chest he was swiftly wound in, until we could see people helping him through the open side. The injured diver was lifted together with the other man who had been lowered on to the boat, and they were gone.
I was amazed at the speed and efficiency of the rescue, and how calm and organised all the people involved were. Even following safe diving practices doesn't always prevent accidents, so my thoughts were with the young diver and his family, and wishing him a speedy recovery.
On a positive note: the coastguard were filming the incident for television! If I find out when and where, I'll post a link ... 
I might have been quiet for the first few months of this year, but that's not to say I haven't been busy nibbling away at what's left of my Divemaster course.
I've completed three more pool assessments, taking my total now to four. I worked with a few different instructors, so it's been interesting to see the different styles. We've had some larger groups of students, up to five or six, which makes it more challenging to complete the course.
I've shivered through another Open Water course in early March at Wraysbury, making a total of three. At least we had good weather, except for the dive during which I was surface cover. Under the water, the students missed the dramatic but short lived thunder and lightening, while Terry's coat and Alan's umbrella kept me dry.
I earned a 4.8 for co-ordinating and rotating four students through a navigation and CESA underwater. I was particularly proud given that they were all a similar size, and wearing similar drysuits. I have to admit I didn't really know who was who underwater, but I at least kept track of who'd done what.
While spending time in the pool was useful to keep up the diving over the winter, I still felt the effect of a two month break between open water dives on my first dive at Wraysbury - it was a bit disorientating. Next year, I have my fingers crossed that it won't be quite as cold! I'll also try and get out for a pleasure dive if I have a long break again.
I've also done my Rescue assessment, Kit Exchange, and Mask removal skills. The Rescue took a bit of practice, which I was lucky to get time to do one afternoon with Andrew. After three attempts, I had still missed out various vital points while trying to drag Neil out of Slough pool, but I was at least more confident that I knew the sequence. After the previous Rescue practice, I had also nailed bringing the unresponsive diver to the surface.
It took another three attempts with Terry one Friday night to get to the standard I needed to, but I made it. I just hope I only get to use it to teach other people.
I was pretty terrified of the kit exchange. I was paired up with Alison, who I hadn't met before. From the very beginning, I could feel the adrenaline start to kick in. On our first attempt, we lost our rhythm fairly early on, and she went to the surface. On the second attempt, I lost it when we tried to swap our BCDs.
I messed up the third go as well, although we got as far as exchanging fins and BCDs before trying for our masks. By this time, my breathing had got fairly heavy, as we had been buddy breathing for quite some time. I needed more air than I could get while we shared the regulator, and I panicked and bolted up.
Time was ticking away, but we were determined to keep trying, and on our fourth attempt, we got it! Brilliant.
Mask removal was completed on another Friday, and I scored a 5. Well deserved, even though I say it myself! (And even though it did take a good few practice runs)
So, what's left?
I still have three assessments to do - two open water, and one confined. I have to complete a skills circuit, and my Divemaster Conducted Program (lead a group of certified divers). After that, all that stands between me and my Divemaster is a health assessment.
It's been a long and challenging course, and I'll be so happy when I finally get to wear the prized green t-shirt!
Ashley had made arrangements for a small group of us to visit Nemo33, near Brussels in Belgium, some time before it started to snow like crazy ... not that a bit of bad weather ever stops us! We set off at 4am - yes, 4am - on Saturday with Martin behind the wheel of the minibus in thick snow (rather him than me).
Breakfast was at the entrance to the Eurotunnel before we drove on to the train, which was a novel experience for me! I slept most of the way, and before I knew it we were almost in Brussels ...
Nemo33 doesn't look that big from the outside, and it's difficult to imagine that it houses an indoor swimming pool over 30m deep - or rather, a diving pool, since that's really all it's used for. We crowded inside to wait in the small bar for our turn, exclaiming over the price of drinks with the sorrowful exchange rate. Through the window we could see an endless stream of bubbles - Ashley explained these were coming up from the 33m deep pit below. We craned our heads against the glass but couldn't see all the way down.
The bell rang and the six divers in the group headed excitedly into the changing rooms, feeling strangely bereft of kit with only our swimming gear and masks. Nemo provides the rest of the kit, and the water is so warm (well over 30 degrees) that wetsuits are not necessary - I was warm even with just my rash vest over my swimsuit!
We were briefed on the edge of the pool. The first ten minutes or so is for free diving only - there is a small area with a step of 5m and 10m depth. I managed to swim down to the 5m platform but it seemed a long way back up, I wasn't brave enough to go for the 10m one! I'll definitely stick with SCUBA for now ...
After the previous group had cleared themselves out, we were free to get our kit together and hit the pit! Ashley and Martin were off before we knew it, heading for 33m with Chelsea flag and camera. Chris, Mark, Tim and I descended through the bubbles, the light waning as we got closer to the bottom. We only had a few minutes there before we had to start ascending again though, as Nemo doesn't allow decompression diving. The volume of bubbles as we ascended was incredible - so many divers in such a small space - it took no time at all to feel like we were in the middle of a bottle of coke being shaken and released!
We explored the underwater caves and air pockets, it was weird to come to the surface with my computer still reading 8m deep! Our voices were slightly high, but not quite the helium-like hilarity I'd been hoping for.
For the remainder of the dive, we swam around, practiced some skills, and enjoyed being able to relax and actually dive and swim around in a controlled environment - it beats the 2m of water at Crowthorne hands down!
The second dive was much the same. We were first into the pit again, and at the very bottom I started to experience what was probably mild narcosis. I larked about laying on the bottom and posing for photographs (well that's normal behaviour, anyway). After a few minutes, Ashley started to pull me up - we were almost at the limit of our no deco time. My computer was still showing a minute or two, it's amazing how little time you have at that kind of depth.
It wasn't until we surfaced that I found out they'd been signalling that I was narked - I still remembered the dive, and hadn't done anything really daft, (no more than usual) but I did feel unusually happy, so perhaps they were right. I've never knowingly experienced narcosis before, even on dives below 35m at Stoney Cove and in the Red Sea, or even "descending" to 42m on a dry dive.
Diving at Nemo is fun - it's so relaxed, and as long as you stay within their guidelines and watch your time in the depths of the pit, it's a great opportunity to just enjoy being underwater without having to worry about visibility, getting cold, getting lost, or anything else ... except trying not to bump into the numerous other divers, and making sure you look good for the people taking photos through the windows into the bar!
I experienced my second freeflow at Vobster while assisting on an Advanced course recently. I still find it difficult to deal calmly with these situations underwater - the step I always miss is to take a moment to assess the situation and think about the best thing to do, instead of just doing what comes into my head first
Here's what happened ...
It was our last dive of the course, a multi-level dive that we would do following a 2 hour surface interval since the deep dive that morning. We'd start just below 20m, moving up to 15m and following the wall around until we reached our ascent point, close to the slipway that we'd use to exit.
Each of the three assistants were assigned to a buddy team. The buddies I was working with were close to completing a textbook descent - slow enough to be comfortable, but fast enough not to keep the divers below them waiting, facing each other across the rope they used for reference. All three of us were within close touching distance as we reached the bottom of the rope, and my regulators began to gurgle.
It
took me a few seconds to realise that they were freeflowing, as I was concentrating on the two students. After my last freeflow, my first thought was to grab somebody else's alternate and wait for one of the instructors to turn off my tank to see if this sorted out my own regulator, so I turned to Emily and used the Out of Air signal, thinking that she would understand from her open water course that I needed to share her air, rather than me trying to point out my freeflow. I was starting to panic as I grabbed at her alternate, forgetting to move it over her arm, which meant that there wasn't an awful lot of hose.
Somewhere along the way, Emily's own regulator came out of her mouth, and her buddy helped her put it back, while she stayed remarkably calm. I, on the other hand, was desperately clinging to her and the rope, trying to slow my own breathing down as Ian turned off my tank. He waved his own regulator in front of me (Ian dives with a twinset, meaning his primary regulator has a 2m long hose so is much better to donate to a diver needing air) and I swapped over again, remembering to line up the new regulator before taking the old one out, and blow bubbles - all that open water training hasn't gone entirely to waste!
My freeflow slowed and stopped, and as Ian turned the tank back on, I took my own second stage back and tried to breathe from it again. Sadly, it only took a breath or two for the freeflow to start up again. This time, I was closer to Kevin, Emily's buddy, and took his alternate instead, and Stuart showed up to turn off my air, again donating his own regulator on its long hose.
He gave me the signal to ascend, and we started to rise, leaving Ian and his two remaining helpers to complete the dive. We hadn't gone more than a few metres when I saw Stuart's first stage start to freeflow! I looked at my computer, we were still 18m or so from the surface, and I had no idea how long the air would last. Divers above us were trying to descend as we continued up the rope, Stuart below me trying to turn his freeflowing tank on and off again, but to no avail. My computer was bleeping at me, but it is set conservatively to ascend at 10m per second, and we had barely reached the bottom before going back up, so I was less concerned about that.
We surfaced, and I inflated my BCD manually as my tank was still turned off. We got out and discussed what had happened, what went wrong, what I should have done instead. Some time later, Ian and the others surfaced, and I became the subject of many post-dive jokes about sucking on long hoses ...
Why did it happen?
I bought my regs new last October, and I've done 40+ dives since then in both warm and cold water. The freeflow happened in 6 degree water, which is pretty damn cold, but I have dived in 4 degrees and 6 degrees in December and March at Wraysbury, so they have performed fine before.
The first stage is a ScubaPro MK25, set to output 9 bar, which is about the right setting for the cold water I was diving in. The freeflow came from the second stage, an S600, which has a setting to control the air flow. This was turned right up, so the air would be flowing as fast as it would allow. This is the main thing that Collin and Terry attributed the freeflow to when they checked the regs the day after.
Some other causes could have been that I have left the regs in the airing cupboard to dry in the past, that they were outside in my dive kit overnight in the cold, or perhaps while I was assembling or disassembling my kit, some nasty piece of dirt crawled in and caused it to stick. The learning here is that these are sensitive regs that need looking after - not just cleaning at the end of the weekend, but more care over where they get stored and left at the side of a muddy dive site.
What should I have done differently?
Aside from the obvious answers (stay calmer, don't knock other people's regs out), here's what I think I should have done this time.
First, assess the situation.
- I'd just descended, so I had plenty of air - it wasn't going to run out that quickly.
- I have a pressure gauge would tell me how much air I have and how fast it's going down.
- Breathing from a freeflowing regulator is possible.
- I was very close to two students, both of whom had alternate air sources.
- There were two instructors, both diving with twinsets.
- My octopus was not freeflowing.
Second, identify my options.
- Make it clear to the instructors what's happened, then ascend normally, breathing from the freeflowing regulator.
- Switch to my own alternate.
- Calmly take one of the student's alternates.
- Try and stop the free flow - turn the second stage to face downward.
- If I can't fix it, find one of the instructors, switch to their alternate, and signal to them to try and fix the freeflow by turning the tank off and back on.
- If it can't be fixed, ascend normally, breathing from the instructor's alternate.
Or, option 4: carry a backup option of my own, and switch to this in the event of an emergency. I've already decided to buy my own pony tank from Divecrew for any dives I'm doing over 18m in future.
A few last notes ...
The PADI courses teach you the skills early on to handle an emergency: how to share air, how to do a CESA, how to breathe from a freeflow. In the Rescue course, you learn how to deal with a panicking diver and how to rescue somebody in trouble. In EFR, you learn to assess a situation before going to help somebody who's hurt.
When you start training to be a Divemaster, you're expected to have better judgement - to be able to assess a situation and decide the best way to handle it - whether it's you in trouble, or somebody else. Learning judgement skills is hard though, and I think it's only through experiencing it, seeing or hearing about somebody else's experience, that you can do that.
Whether this is best achieved by having a more structured Divemaster course to share learnings, or by trainees being proactive about talking to other people about their experiences, and doing more to anticipate and plan for emergency situations, is still an open question in my mind.
One last thing I plan to do sometime in the future is to calculate how long my air would last in a freeflow situation. The internet hasn't offered me any answers, so I'm going to have to do an experiment of my own sometime ...
It's been a long time since I came back from a weekend of diving feeling like I can't wait to get back in the water. I drove home on Sunday feeling just a bit sad that it was all over (while singing loudly along to my iPod), spent a Monday surfing dive websites in between emails and meetings, and drove my colleagues mad all day going on about my fantastic weekend ... jumping into a cold lake.
Collin warned us all, way back when I had more trouble with my equipment than the students I was supposed to be helping - but enough excitement for all of them - when my knees knocked at the mere thought of doing a site briefing, that one day we'd hit The Wall. It wasn't how I expected it to be. I thought I'd know what was happening, deal with it, brush it off. But I didn't even really recognise it.
It was the cold, murky dive at Chepstow in November that first got to me. After that, a weekend of diving began to mean getting up at an ungodly dark hour instead of having a nice lie-in, dragging a heavy kit around and getting cold instead of shopping. I forgot how much fun it was seeing a bunch of new Open Water divers emerge from the anxious students who'd started out and dreaded the weekends I was diving.
For a while, I blamed work - I was tired from travelling a lot - and the winter, being cold and dark. But I was travelling and working hard last summer, and I can't blame the cold when I'm diving in the pool. At one point, I wondered if it had just been another short term craze, if I'd ever get back into it and enjoy it the same way I used to.
It's not to say that I didn't enjoy it at all, because I did, once I got there. But I couldn't be bothered any more with showing up early for a course if I didn't have to; I didn't want to give up a night out partying to get a decent night's sleep; I wasn't really interested in helping to unload the van if I had somewhere better to be. Just an assessment will do, thank you. I was determined to keep going and trying to finish the Divemaster course by May, the target I had originally set myself. I should have taken a break, chilled out, had some fun with it. Then again, that just isn't me - I'm way too stubborn :)
I learned the hard way that if I'm not enjoying it as much, it shows. Luckily, nobody has stopped talking to me yet, but then again, there's still time ...
I don't really know what happened over the weekend to re-ignite the my passion for diving, but it's back at last. I'm happy.
Maybe it was the glorious sunny weather, the sense of community from spending a weekend away on a course, the spirited post-dinner debates, or maybe just getting stuff off of my chest over a beer. Or maybe I finally just hit the bottom and bounced back up again. The funny thing is, it wasn't one of the best courses I've done - it was cold, chaotic, my regs freeflowed, and I got thrown in the water for making a rude comment. Wait - actually, that bit was fun.
I've debated whether publishing something this personal on a blog that isn't anonymous is a good idea, but I figured after all this time I've probably lost my loyal readership of three, so there's not too much potential for future embarrassment.
Anyway, it's my blog, and I'll cry if I want to. So there. Thanks for listening :)
With the cold snap before Christmas came reports of a good snowy start to the ski season in Europe, so I decided to trade icy water for powdery slopes and spent a week skiing in Gosau, Austria. I was lucky to find a friend who had an apartment available to stay in and what looked like cheap flights with Ryanair, who then tripled the price with their fees for check-in, paying and luggage. Ouch. But still, it was fairly cheap, and I convinced Ashley to come along and join the fun.
Gosau is a tiny village in Upper Austria, fairly close to the German border. Almost all of the other skiers were German or Austrian, and it was hard to make ourselves understood since we don't speak German - I can just about manage "zwei Gluhvein bitte" (which usually gets me through a day of skiing!)
The journey out was surprisingly smooth despite a 3am start to drive the two hours to Stansted (how they can refer to that as London is still beyond me). We landed at Salzburg and caught two buses and a train to get to the Sporthotel. We discovered our room, left our cases and went to explore the area, hire skis and buy lift passes. Food first though - I ate a tasty Austrian stodgy dumpling and sauerkraut at the small eaterie at the base of the slopes, while Ashley feasted on Austrian sausage and fries. As the sun descended behind the mountains the air took a cold turn, and we headed to get the ski bus back to our hotel.
Next morning was an early start to get the first bus, but it was worth it! The slopes were almost empty for the first few runs. Gosau is part of the Dachstein West ski area which also includes Russbach and Annaberg, and although there are a lot of runs they stretch for a fairly long distance across the mountains. After a couple of warm up runs, we skied down to Russbach, then started to explore across the mountain to Zweiselalm and Annaberg. Along the way we tried the area's three black runs, which were fairly steep but very short.
Almost all of the ski runs are red, and most are very wide and combed perfectly with steep drops combined with gentler breaks. There are a few mogul runs that we tried a few times (including late on the first afternoon when our legs complained bitterly!) but they were generally fairly low. There were few beginners in the resort, and also few really excellent skiers which made for reasonably good conditions even when the slopes got busy. There are a lot of ski schools though and many small skiers to avoid!
The snow conditions were fabulous. The low temperature combined with excellent snow making facilities meant the pistes were mostly packed powder with only small patches of ice here and there. Ashley turned out to be as good a ski buddy as he is a dive buddy; he has an amazing sense of balance (he fell over once all week, while I fell about eight times in all) and likes to go pretty fast. I managed to keep ahead of him mostly, although in the early morning runs he would often zoom off leaving me to eat his snow. His best time was skiing from the top of the gondola down to Russbach in four minutes (an average speed of about 40mph); I was not amused that he hadn't waited for me at all!
For lunch on the first day, we ate lasagne at the Rottenhutte, while next to us, a group of Austrian men ordered Kaiserschmarrn with Apfelstrudel. My mouth watered as the waitress set down a large plate of thick cut up pancakes, covered in icing sugar with an apple sauce that they dipped the pieces in.
"Tomorrow," I told Ashley, "that's what I'm having for my lunch!"
For the second day, it snowed on and off although it never really came down so heavily that we had to abandon the mountain. The clouds closed in though and it was too foggy to ski towards Zweiselalm, so we remained on the main ski runs to Gosau and Russbach, and only ventured a short way from the top of the Gosau chairlifts. Luckily these are great runs but in the afternoon they became incredibly busy.
The third day was foggy and the snow spun around us in mini flurries in the afternoon, but we were tired of doing the same runs so we skied through the clouds anyway. It wasn't really much different from diving at Wraysbury, we just moved a little bit faster :) In fact although it was quite weird at times skiing into a white cloud and hoping that there would be a good place to turn just in front, I was so used to diving in murky conditions that I wasn't all that uncomfortable. All the diving has also taught us to stick closer together when we can't see each other, which is what we did. I concluded that diving and skiing aren't really that much dissimilar after all ...
Our last two days brought beautiful sunny weather, and we rejoiced until we realised that it was even colder! When our fingers and feet got too cold to stay out, we skied to our favourite stop at the Rottenhutte and enjoyed more tasty pancakes as well as Germknodel - a stodgy sweet dumpling with custard (in Ashley's case) and butter and sugary poppy seeds (for me). It was funny how the ski runs seemed so different without clouds obscuring so much of our view ...
All in all it was a great start to 2009! Not to mention a good warm up for my upcoming trip to Whistler in February, when I'm hoping my legs will stand up better to the soft snow thanks to the trip to Gosau!
I was impressed at the number of people who turned up at Stoney Cove on December 29th, where the air temperature was hovering around 3 degrees C. Ashley and I were typically late, although only by a half hour this time, it was the first time since before Christmas I'd been up before 9am.
We missed getting a space in the main car park and wandered down with the tanks to get them filled. We found a battered old trolley outside the tank filling station and hastily commandeered it to move the rest of our stuff. Ashley caught me on camera trying to mimic moves from Strictly Come Dancing, or perhaps it was Dancing on Ice, on the edge of the trolley.
Back in the car park we had found Terry, Mark and the rest of the group but we weren't ready in time to join them for the first dive. As we dropped down on the submarine, we found them finishing their safety stop. The water was clearer than I'd ever seen at Stoney, with at least 10m visibility, and I set my compass on the bearing to find the Stanegarth.
As we descended deeper over the ridge visibility declined although it was still pretty good ... unlike my navigation! We found the other side of the quarry before we found the boat, but turned around and persevered and eventually Ashley found it. We'd been in the water for about half an hour by the time we got there, and it wasn't long before the cold got too much and we exited the water, shivering through our safety stop on the rope.
I almost didn't do a second dive, but Terry was determined to try and find the armoured personnel carrier behind the Stanegarth, which I'd not seen before, and it all sounded like quite good fun so I warmed over a little shopping at Underwater World and got back into my kit. Oh, the pain of putting my gloves back on!
I've been using 3mm Fourth Element gloves which do a fantastic job in the summer. I feel the cold though and really need something heavier for the winter - I had asked Santa to bring the highly rated 5mm version for Christmas, but it seemed he was out of stock ... I'm still hoping the January fairy doesn't forget me!
Mark and his buddy joined us for the second dive and Terry led the way, finding the Stanegarth effortlessly before leading us on to the tank, which was pretty cool. We went back to the Stanegarth, by which time I was starting to get cold enough to want to surface - we were just over twenty minutes into the dive, and the water was around 6 degrees C.
Just as Ashley and I were about to ascend, Terry was leading the group on a swim through the bottom of the boat, and I decided to stick around for another five minutes as I'd never seen right inside it before. My wreck diving over the summer has given me a taste for exploring inside wrecks, and it was worth hanging on for. As we came out, we made our way up the rope, stopping for a safety stop at 5m. Ashley's computer is more conservative than mine and seemed to take a long time to count down, but finally we were out of the water with a bit of a surface swim to the shore.
Terry and the others caught us up as we got out, they'd swam back underwater and done the safety stop along the way, so we could have stayed with them after all! I've always been taught to end a dive if I'm not comfortable though, and I didn't know how much longer the others were going to stay underwater, so we made the right decision. I was quite happy to get out of my cold gloves and back into dry clothes, even more so when the car heaters got underway on the way home!
Between Stoney and my recent adventures with students at Wraysbury, my confidence that I could be a winter diver after all is restored a little bit! I'm definitely looking forward to trying out my new gloves. I'm also planning to complete my Underwater Navigation speciality in 2009, and hopefully Search and Recovery as well in the hopes of improving my compass skills.
I was delighted just before Christmas to see that Divecrew have set up a new blog! (and linked to me - thanks!) So far I've been enjoying the posts and photos, hoping there's lots more to come. Collin has also set up Twitter updates on the site, which is equally impressive - I've never been able to maintain the dedication to micro-blogging despite trying more than once.
So please go and check out their new blog!
Six brave and determined students joined us at Wraysbury on December 13th and 14th for the last open water course of 2008. As I had shivered all the way to work on the icy mornings over the last few weeks I'd started to wonder what madness had possessed me to sign up to assist on this course! My last dive experience had been a less than enjoyable one at Chepstow, and I wasn't really sure that winter diving was for me.
Saturday arrived bringing rain; well, we were going to get wet anyway. Sam would be the instructor for our group, and TDMs Ivor, Dan and Mark would be assisting along with instructor Ian, so we had plenty of support. Ian and Sam are a husband and wife team, so we even had added entertainment value from their banter. There was also a second group of five students from Divecrew led by Tim - I couldn't believe we had so many students!
The students gathered in the small and rather packed cafe, gazing nervously at us over their hot drinks. There was no shying away from the fact that the water was going to be cold, but we had to make sure that they stayed warm between dives and got through them quickly. Most of them were there to pass the course so that they could go on holiday, but we still had to make it as much fun as we could.
I had volunteered to do a site briefing since I would be asking Sam for an assessment towards my Divemaster for the weekend, and this is one more thing that I can get marked on. For a site briefing that doesn't include the dive, I had to cover the site background, facilities, emergency procedures, and the role of the TDMs and instructors. I started in the shop (Collin would have killed me, must remember not to mention that next time) and then we walked outside in the rain for a wander around, pointing out tank fill facilities, toilets, where to get food, and the entry point into the water. We returned to the warm and Sam briefed the first dive.
Then it was time to get ready. Ivor had laid out tanks and weights, but their was some confusion over whose box of equipment was whose (they were all using dive school equipment). Eventually we were all kitted up and headed over to the entry point. I was carrying all of my weight - 12kg, since the water is shallow and I wanted to be slightly overweighted - in integrated pouches, so my kit was really heavy, and I couldn't wait to get in the water.
We splashed our faces with cold water before getting in, to lessen the shock a little bit. As a group we were slow getting into the water. Putting fins on while wearing a heavy tank and lead weights - not to mention the awkward factor from the drysuit - takes a bit of practice, and as Ian pointed out later we really needed to be more organised with it being so cold.
Ivor was on shore cover for the first dive, which would be relatively short. We swam out to the marker buoy, but one of the students was having difficulty even before we got there. He had a problem with his shoulder, and ultimately he was in too much pain to continue with the dive, which was a real shame. I swam back to the exit with him, and left him with Ivor then rejoined the group down on the platform.
By the end of the first dive, my toes and fingers were aching with the cold. We had much needed hot chocolates, and cheesy chips, which were less needed but very tasty. Then it was time to get wet again.
Back out in the car park, I was reaching into the back of Mark's van for my gloves and kneeling on his dive kit box when - crrrrrrrr-ack! My knee had gone straight through the thin plastic lid. I debated for a split second, but there was no hiding the massive hole. Ivor, meanwhile, thought it was hilarious. Luckily for me Mark didn't get cross, he just teased me relentlessly for the rest of the afternoon, refused my offer to replace it but did accept a post-dive beer instead.
Dan was on shore cover for the afternoon, while the rest of us went down for a slightly longer dive and more skills. This time I found my feet weren't really all that cold. My hands were, partly because I was wearing 3mm gloves, something I plan to resolve in the very near future! (Dear Santa ...)
As we de-kitted by the van, Divemaster Chris - who was working with the other group - came running across the car park, wearing full dive kit! It turns out he was really cold :)
We debriefed the dive, and day one was over - for the students, at least. The rest of us headed back to the dive centre to empty the vans and fill the tanks. I headed home feeling happy and relieved to watch Alexandra win the X-Factor final.
Sunday arrived and Sam was not feeling well at all. We tactlessly regaled her with stories we'd heard of people vomiting through regulators, and she soon decided that it would be better for all concerned if Ian took over and finished the course for her. Terry had arrived to teach a student her drysuit course, so he would also help us out.
Dive three is the longest because there are the most skills to cover, including navigation both on the surface and underwater. Ian and Terry worked together to get through the students as quickly as possible, but they were clearly getting cold from being so still. With two of the students on the surface after completing their CESA, Terry returned our youngest student back after she had completed her navigation swim, but he had already left with the next one as she turned to me with her weight belt slipping down to her knees.
I grabbed her legs and opened the vent on my drysuit to make sure we didn't shoot off to the surface, and struggled to try and get it back to her waist while holding on to her. Dan swam across to help, but it wasn't going back on. Ian returned from the CESA at this point, and indicated to us to lie her down on the platform, then tried to put the belt back around her waist. I was breathing quite heavily by then and still hadn't managed to get all the air out of my suit, my tank was only about half full by this point and with all the commotion I was unable to sink back down quickly enough. Terry then returned too, and eventually the student's belt was back in place, but somewhere along the way her suit had let in some water from her neck and she was slowly getting colder. Ian indicated to me to surface to help Sam, who was putting the students through weight belt and kit removal at the surface.
A few minutes later, Ivor returned towing the young student who was shivering from the cold. We got her out and Sam and I helped her out of the drysuit and into warmer clothes and hot chocolate. I was amazed and impressed when she jumped back into the water in the afternoon to complete her course - and didn't look any the worse for wear from her mini adventure!
The final dive was fairly short, and I think everybody was relieved to have completed it. All of our brave, bonkers students had passed their course! I definitely prefer diving when it's warmer, but I did enjoy the weekend far more than I'd thought I would and am already planning Christmas dives! Bonkers or what?
Ashley and I headed out to NDAC at Chepstow early one Sunday morning in November after a Saturday night when it had rained cats and dogs during Tim's fireworks, and I had overdosed slightly on wine.
We would be meeting up with John, Leman and a couple of others, although they ended up arriving far earlier than us and had already dived by the time we rocked up. We had detoured to McDonalds for breakfast (I was disappointed to find that they ONLY serve breakfast until 11am, as I was craving fries and Big Mac to cure my hangover)
"The vis is rubbish," people were saying as we arrived.
I was gutted, but hopeful, perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as all that. The previous day - before the rain - it had been as far as 20m, you could see all the way from one attraction to another.
Ashley and I kitted up and got the bus down, then descended on to the plane, where the visibility really was less than a metre. At about 20m it was as dark as it was at well over 30m on the hydrabox at Stoney Cove, where I completed my deep diving course.
I could feel the panic rising as I could only see such a short distance in front of me, and I had to take a few moments to get it under control. We swam around the plane and Ashley went inside it; I poked my head and shoulders in but it was just too dark, murky and unfamiliar - without a line or knowing exactly where the exit was, I just didn't want to put myself in that small space, so I didn't.
Ashley tried to set his compass to go to the next attraction, but so close to the metal plane it was not working properly. A few metres away, it righted itself. I held onto his shoulder as we swam through what may as well have been cold pea soup - it really was that thick and murky, and it was not pleasant.
We didn't manage to find the attractions. I saw a fish or two and a lot of rocks as we swam around the edge of the quarry. Eventually we got to around 11m and I wasn't able to vent the air from my drysuit quickly enough to prevent my ascent. I tried to hold the rocks but there was nothing to grip, and I ended up at the surface. It wasn't a particularly fast ascent and we hadn't been that deep, for that long, but I was more annoyed with myself for still not being able to control it. On top of that, my toes were freezing.
Out of the water, John was going for his second dive of the day, but I'd had it. We de-kitted and decided to ditch the diving for the pub for today.
This was probably one of my worst diving experiences, and sadly it put me off diving for a good few weeks as I wondered whether I was really cut out to be a winter diver at all. But even the bad experiences teach you something, I learned a bit more about how to handle bad visibility and situations that are not quite in my diving comfort zone, and I didn't panic. I also learned the importance of tracking the weather when planning a dive :) I'll certainly be taking advantage of the cold clear weather that results in great visibility for some good UK diving, and avoiding the days after heavy rain!
Once we'd all "found our fins" at Ras Katy, we were off for some real fun! The itinerary for our trip was the Brothers' Wreck Special, which was a perfect time to complete my wreck course - something I'd been wanting to do for a while. I did the reading in advance of the trip and arrived ready to lay lines!
The first dive of the course required me to descend, swim around the wreck and navigate back to the ascent line with the assistance of my instructor. In other words, it was really little more than a pleasure dive :) This would take place on the Chrisoula K, and was also our first real wreck dive of the week.
As we descended, massive propellers loomed out of the blue followed by the rest of the wreck and I was awestruck. At over 100m long, she was by far the largest wreck I'd ever dived.
The visibility was brilliant, so we only needed to navigate by the features of the boat. We saw a beautiful lionfish by the edge of the boat, and I was made up! Lionfish are my favourites of all the different life I've seen underwater, with the possible exception of sharks ...
Since I didn't have anything special to do on this dive beyond navigation, Helen, Faye and I were diving all together with Sonja, who guided us into the wreck and through it. It was a relatively short penetration, with no line since we would not return the way we'd come and the wreck was generally quite open.
We swam right the way along the ship until we reached the bow, where we fought through a current to reach the other side. Although relatively mild, it was still a reminder of the sea's potential power as it tried to tear us away from the direction we wanted to go. On the other side of the bow, comfortable again, we made our way back to our starting point, and bimbled about a bit looking at the fish until our air ran low.
Giannis D would be our final dive that day and the second of my course. Sonja explained that we would do the dives slightly out of order, and complete the wreck mapping later in the week; instead, this time we would navigate the wreck and then lay a line outside of the wreck. Faye and Helen would again join me for the first part of the dive, but would do their own thing while I practiced with my line.
The ship is split into two parts which lie separated by a short trail of debris from the wreck. The dive started with a swim around the beautiful corals growing across the bow. Sonia led us inside the wreck, which was the deepest and most challenging wreck penetration I had done so far, if not to date. We swam into the engine room, parts of which were pitch black, and gazed through the open windows. Other divers were silhouetted against the bright blue sea as they swam across.
We progressed through a number of rooms, with floors, walls and doors tilted at angles that would have been impossible out of the water. I had a momentary panic when I lost the rest of the group, and instantly lost control of my buoyancy as I floundered, which up until then had been pretty good within the overhead environment. I followed another group of divers through a doorway, the words from my wreck reading echoing in my head: I had no line, and I didn't really know my way out of here.
I found the group close to the exit, and we left the swimthroughs. I mentioned it to Sonia after the dive, and she pointed out that the wreck was generally quite open with lots of exits, and the water was clear. I had kept my head and found my buddies, but even if I hadn't, finding my way out should not have been a problem on a wreck like that. It did make me realise the importance of mapping a wreck and laying a line, unless (a) I know it well and know it's safe or (b) I have a guide.
Outside of the wreck, Sonia and I paused so that I could lay my line, while Helen and Faye took off on their own to enjoy the rest of their dive. I "tied" it off using the metal clip, and swam slowly along laying it out. Keeping it taut took some skill, and finding suitable places to wrap it was also a challenge. My buoyancy was not too bad, but still something I need to keep working on, especially when I'm trying to do something else at once. And they say women can multitask ...
I followed my line back, winding it in, and then the rest of the dive was just for pleasure. We swam across to the stern of the boat using the bits and pieces of it to find our way, in the clear water this was relatively easy. Back up the other side, and again we stopped near to our ascent point to enjoy the fish and the rest of our air. A giant Napolean fish was also out for a bimble, and seemed to be quite enjoying the company of a few divers.
For the third dive of the course, I would map the Salem Express. I dived with Sonia, Faye and Helen; although I mostly made my own way along the wreck counting fin kicks and measuring depths. With several other liveaboards there, it was covered in divers.
Somewhere near the crows nest I was checking the depth when I heard somebody screaming. Sound doesn't travel well in water, so this must have been loud. A group of divers had gathered around a large red fish balanced on the wreck, and the noise turned out to be Sonia going bonkers! She had found a highly unusual frogfish known to live on the Salem Express, and both she and her friend from another liveaboard were incredibly excited at the discovery.
I continued with my mapping, and after we reached the stern of the boat I swam back and tried to record the various windows that were open to enter and exit the ship and which were glass. Sonia had warned me in advance of the divers who had tried to penetrate the wreck and misjudged their way out because so many of the windows let in the light but did not provide an exit.
Back on the boat, I drew up my map from my notes and handed in my homework, which luckily passed the test! The final dive would take place on the Thistlegorm, where I would penetrate a small part of the boat and lay a line.
The line laying exercise was perhaps not as realistic as I would have liked, but with the excellent conditions, swimthroughs, and large numbers of divers that characterised almost all of our wreck diving in the Red Sea, it would have been difficult to do a proper penetration. Instead I swam slowly around a small cavern at the edge of the Thistlegorm, carefully laying my line.
As before, it was a challenge to control my buoyancy, find suitable places to secure the line and handle it all at once. I hit the ceiling with my tank more than once! As we were 15m deep, the maximum penetration I would have been able to do was 25m to avoid ever being more than 40m from the surface. I had marked my line at 5m intervals using marker pen, but for the first 5m or so I forgot to track how far I had gone, until Sonia reminded me. At the fifth mark, I turned around and followed the line back. 
It wasn't particularly light inside the wreck, and I deliberately turned off my torch so that I could practice following the line itself - also it gave me one less thing to have to co-ordinate. Keeping the line taut while I wound it in was a challenge, with other divers using it, this wouldn't be easy - definitely a skill that needs a bit of practice to get it right.
With the line laying out of the way, we swam through the rest of the wreck through the old motorbikes, coal and rubber boots gradually rotting away, it's an incredible sight to see. Finally back on the line, we ascended back to the boat, and I'm now a qualified wreck diver!
We were rudely awakened at 6am on the first day of our holiday to the sound of Sonia rapping on our cabin door and calling "Mooooorniiiing!" (this would quickly become a familiar sound and also a source of much fun and mimicking).
I threw myself out of my bed before I had time to consider ten more minutes of shut eye, and climbed the stairs to the upstairs deck bleary eyed to find out that we were had not yet travelled out of the harbour. This was apparently expected: we would travel a short distance to Ras Katy this morning for our first warm up dive of the holiday.
Faye had decided to dive with the boys, which left Helen and I as buddies. Most of the group were diving with twinsets, and a couple of guys had rebreathers, so we were in a minority with our single tanks, but far less weighed down! We agreed to swim along the reef and turn back when we reached 100 bar. I was quite surprised that from the first dive we were let loose alone in our buddy pairs on an unfamiliar site, but the visibility was amazing, it was a straightforward swim out and back, and all of the divers were reasonably experienced.
It was an incredible free feeling to be diving in a wetsuit and to be able to see so far! I had some problems equalising around 19m, so Helen descended alone slightly deeper while I swam above. I was experimenting with a new strobe on my camera, but it was very bright and was overexposing most of my photos and bringing out the red a little too much. I tried to set it to underexpose, but the camera doesn't allow enough manual control (it's a Canon Ixus 75) and I couldn't set the white balance with the strobe on. More practice needed!
We saw huge parrot fish munching on coral, beautiful formations covered in smaller fish, and a puffer fish perched quietly on a rock. We found Nemo, or perhaps it was his brother :) Towards the end of the dive, we saw the biggest moral eel I have ever seen in my life - I didn't even know they really grew that big!
After a safety stop, we climbed up the ladders back up to the boat and removed our kit with the help of the ever present crew. Initially I tried to say that I was perfectly able to sort my kit out all by myself, but it quickly became rather nice to have somebody to do it for me. We were on holiday, after all!
The bell rang, and we went to breakfast - with still two dives left to go today, in warm clear water! Does life get any better?
Standing in line at Gatwick Airport, it seemed unthinkable that a few weeks ago after the collapse of Excel Airways we were all terrified that we might never make it on to our Red Sea liveaboard holiday! Until suddenly as the fire alarm began to screech, it was called into question yet again. We stood literally feet from the security desk for about half an hour, growing increasingly annoyed as the same announcement played over and over again, warning us that the alarm had been set off in another part of the building, and demanding that we stay where we were.
Finally, finally, it was resolved and we got through, with just enough time to visit the duty free for vodka, gin and wine gums. Helen and I decided to wait for the flight for our first holiday drink, while Faye somehow managed to squeeze in a pint. Good girl! We boarded the tiny plane operated by Viking, found our seats, and we were off. The plane was so small that it did not have enough fuel capacity to get us all the way to Sharm, so we had to make a stop in Athens.
We waited thirstily for a good couple of hours while the stewardesses teased us by walking up and down the aisle with random snacks, but we saw no sign of alcohol. This was not amusing; we were on holiday, we were stressed from our airport experience, we needed wine. Surely, we mused, they would serve real drinks on a five hour flight? At last during a visit to the toilet I decided to end the uncertainty and asked if there was any alcohol. The answer was a resounding No :(
We endured the remainder of the flight, during which the stewardesses grew increasingly rude and inefficient, until we finally landed in Sharm and disembarked.
"Toneeeeee!" trilled an Egyptian man in the airport holding a Tony Backhurst board and handing out visas. I found a blank page and stuck mine in myself. We queued for immigration, only to find when we reached the front that we were missing our landing cards!
After we finally cleared passport control, we joined another similarly trilling Egyptian man with a group of divers, and eventually found our way onto a coach, through a further security X-Ray check at the harbour, and on to the boat ... by which time it was gone 10pm.
They served us with small glasses of mango juice, to which we immediately added large slugs of duty free vodka. We're not alcoholics, honest, but it had been a really long day of travelling.
Our dive guide was Sonia, and while we kicked back and relaxed on the back of the boat, enjoying the warm weather and the fact that we could see the fish in the clear water behind the boat, she introduced us to the crew, the boat, and what the next week would hold - in short: diving, diving and more diving! Eighteen dives in all, including a bunch of wrecks throughout the Red Sea and a visit to the Brothers' Islands.
All this diving would start somewhere between 5 and 6am every day ... and we call this a holiday? Are us divers crazy or what?
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