Our jeep is parked within a goat’s throw of the Omani ocean. White and Yellow step into the heat and agree that it’s hot. It’s even too hot for sun-block. Your skin rejects it, sweating it off in streaky dribbles as it tries to breath. The first impression of our destination is absorbed. We are in a gathering of trailers, old fishing boats, the odd weather beaten 4x4 and a group of local fishermen. The beach ahead is not fantastic. Small and shitty, with a spattering of litter. At the end of the gravel patch we identify a likely but not ideal camping spot, it’s flat.
Beyond our immediate vicinity, the surrounding vistas are spectacular. We are standing at the apex of a dramatic amphitheatre of ginger igneous (gingneous) rock. The cliffs look like petrified landslides careering into the sea. Towering around us they consist of diagonally sloping earth slices that appear to have sheared off one another, as if the glue binding them had somehow been compromised in the heat. We test the acoustics with a quick yodel. Good echo.
The sea gets a double thumbs-up. The blue hues look refreshing in the otherwise harsh environment. The surface twinkle beckons us like Santa’s index finger beckons a child to sit on his lap. We peer in hoping to see things, but the oceans opacity suspiciously guards its secrets. There are a million cormorants either bobbing on the surface, or practicing their high speed formations; the wave, the vector, the classic flying wedge. Some white birds, maybe gulls, cartwheel in diving sorties attempting to gobble a fish. A massive turtle, as broad as a coffee table, is spotted taking a breath. This is all good stuff, and we are encouraged by the action on the water.
Yellow waves at some local fishermen, White decides to waste half bottle of drinking water on another goat, “he looks thirsty”… no shit it’s hot. Unsure of the accessibility along the rugged coastline, team banana decides to conduct a quick rec-y to see if there is an alternative camp site, and more importantly to scope out a dive; but first we get back into the jeep and blast the air-con hoping our sunblock streaks will adhere to skin that now has the texture of soggy haggis.
The rec-y reveals several things. That the only flat land is by the car, the water quality improves further away from the bay, and that Yellow would begrudgingly have to take off his globally hated grey, fluorescent pink and lime green flip flop slides, in favour of appropriate rock-wear. So the banana’s Lock (the car) ‘n’ Load (their shoulders with all the necessary items) and set off to navigate a kilometre of rubble and clifflet to the furthest accessible point along the coast. On the more treacherous passages, Yellow feels the urge to say “be careful”; the need for care is of course obvious, but this gives him the peace of mind that he would be able to say “I told you so” if a slip did occur. After a half hour of trekking, Team Banana is ready to dive.
When we dive there is usually a period of time dedicated to finding our lungs and finding our comfort zone, this is especially the case in unfamiliar waters. We hadn’t yet consumed any milt, so to make use of this temporary lack of testosterone the Banana’s decide to examine the shallows. Sticking close together we slowly kick along the sheer cliff that has prevented further expedition by foot. Submerged in the sea, we hope for some respite from the soaring temperatures. There is none; the water is a bath. Nevertheless, the visibility is good and noticeably bluer than in Abu Dhabi. Close to the cliff the floor is white and sandy with sporadic boulders. The aquatic life is lush. You can see a lot of detail when you are a nose length away from things. What appears to be an ordinary rock from the surface reveals itself as a nucleus for life. It is humbling to zoom in on these micro ecospheres and watch the tropical fry busy themselves around their homes, or to see the intricacies in a coral formation. It is pleasing to see living coral. Along the way, we discover a dark submerged cave… “are you scared to go in?”, “a little, are you?”, “a little”, “what if there’s a giant octopus inside?” “tentacle rape!”… The banana’s giggle like girls.
Fifty meters from our entry point the cliff makes a decisive right angle turn creating a projection for the current to bump on. Underwater it is clear that the terrain is a continuation of the cliffs above, with repetitive drop offs, each tier stepping down about 5m. The concentration of current, the rapid drop in depth, and aggressively structured terrain all compounded into a prime 5 banana dive spot.
The underwater scene is teeming with fish, the majority of which are species that reside in and around the rocky structures, or small shoaling fish seeking protection not offered in the open sea. There is a noticeable absence of the large pelagics that are typical in gulf waters. These predatory fish patrol the upper to mid water columns, so we are not surprised that they have absconded to deeper and cooler hunting grounds.
We continue diving and start to feel like potatoes being brought to the boil. This sea-fever is increasingly obvious when we dive deep. 10 meters down and the temperature halves, like stepping into an air conditioned space off the street. This was a good incentive to practice proper free diving technique and try to stay down that little bit longer. This also aligned with our prior decision to put spearfishing on the back burner as we were more than content just to explore this intriguing new territory. Nevertheless, fish were yet to be caught and the thought of single-milt-whisky for dinner was starting to apply pressure to our hunter-gatherer egos. We had been observing a butt-load of large colourful Parrot fish fining around the coral. Team Banana had often struggled with the morality of shooting colourful and attractive looking fish. Probably their stints in London had taught them that outward appearance was the only quality used to quantify substance. Ironically shallow. Luckily we had since been informed that Parrot fish were not only delicious, but were also responsible for turning coral into sand-poos. These Parrot fish had become fair game and before long Yellow shot a fat one that looked like a fruity rugby ball. The night’s menu was complete soon after when a sizeable rubber lip, another tasty feed, was caught. We dive until dusk, stash our gear behind a boulder and make a less laboured journey back to camp.
Although White had spent hours at work locating this paradise on Google earth, we had no idea what to expect. Our adventurous/reckless attitudes had paid off and we felt blessed by Neptune’s Trident. Perhaps tomorrow we would see a whale shark.
Y&W
No comments:
Post a Comment