It’s 4.30 in the morning, the sky is changing from a murky black through the spectrums of soft violet. Feeling good after a solid 5 hours sleep, Yellow enjoys this transition with a real not milk coffee flavored coffee drink can. Although White isn’t exactly asleep, Yellow chooses not to disturb him. He tidy’s up the campsite to the sounds of 90’s R’n’B. Some girls from the ex-pat camp stroll by en-route to the water tank. “Thanks for the music” one of them said with a smile, unfortunately the gratitude could not be reciprocated after last night’s offensive playlist. Yellow checks the time, 6 o’clock, time to wake White up from a total of 1 and a half minutes sleep.
Team Banana has spent a considerable time amongst goats, so we are not alarmed when a jamboree of soft hoofed quadrupeds gather around us. Goat Jesus has arrived in the form of a furry man with a face that resembles an alpaca. He quenchethed the thirst of his thirsty goat brethren, and the word spreads through the Omani mountains like wild fire.
“Goats come near, they peer, they have no fear.
Their Messiah has arrived, it’s good to eat all that he provide.
Soiled wipes, apple bites, crackers lip to lip,
Aluminum wraps, bog roll snacks, smoking fags lit at the tip.
Goats flock in a horde, to praise their new lord, the greediest of all earthly beasts.
So the noble banana, blessed this armada, with a feast to end all feasts.”
It is still early as we set off on our coastal clamber. The sun has not yet cleared the cliffs, the air is warm, the day is perfect. We stop several times to appreciate the views. After yesterdays initiation we feel comfortable in our new marina, so we plan to dive with confidence and discover as much as possible.
Trying not to dawdle, we submarined to the rocky point which was the extent of yesterday’s exploration. The low trajectory of the morning sun probes illuminating fingers into the water. The water is wonderfully clear. We dive beyond the rocky drop offs to the cold currents of the sandy sea floor. These dives exhaust the diagonal capacity of the 20m cord which tether’s us back to the buoy.
We continue along the coast losing sight of our camp. We cross a span of sand scattered with boulders. A large monolith balancing on a corner rises out of the water with overhangs on all faces. The underside is a tapestry of epiphytic life. We swim on. The terrain changes again, it has now become shallow and rubbly. Diving down the terrain reveals itself as a graveyard of bone bleached coral. Intermittent splashes of color are supplied by solitary living stations, each of which is accompanied with an entourage of small tropical fish. A shimmer appears in the water, there is a drop in temperature and saltiness. Fresh water springs are injecting themselves, creating a refreshing tepid brackish. We wonder what caused the devastation of the coral, maybe it was the change in ecology due to the presence of fresh water, perhaps the coral had been chomped by parrot fish, we hoped it hadn’t been the effects of man.
Beyond the graveyard the floor drops away from us, like an underwater bowl. The banana’s kick anxiously through the deep expanse, fantasizing of a whale shark gliding out of the blue curtain, or a mermaid. A structure of rocks begins to appear revealing similar terrain to that of the first location. White shoot’s Team Banana’s first Hamour. A bulls-eye shaft lodged deep between the eyes of a 4 kilogram specimen. “Do you think it’s dead?” The rotund fish is doing the 3rd perfect plank of the trip, except belly up.
What sounds like a stuck pig and looks like a spastic chicken? White when he gets cramp.
There is much comic value had in this (for Yellow), but the reality is a painful and potentially dangerous paralysis for White. We are both feeling the effects of fatigue and dehydration, so decide to make this spot our last point of call. We stop for a rest and a play. Guns dropped, weight belts removed, Team Banana are free from the binds of their more cumbersome equipment.
White, stalking his victim, moves silently behind a boulder. With timing akin to a great white he propels himself forward in a silent ambush. White scares the shit out of Yellow. Embarrassed by the visible extent of his shock, Yellow retaliates by giving White a lengthy dunking during his fit of laughter. This brings the onset of yet another cramp. With this dramatic climax, the bananas call it a day.
We covered a considerable distance by the time we stepped out of the water. Utterly exhausted and abhorring the fact of carrying our heavy gear back to the jeep we windmill our towels in a desperate S.O.S to attract a good samaritan. Praise Neptune. Our efforts catch the eye of an obliging fisherman right across the other side of the bay, some 500m away. Observing the boat make a decisive right angle turn we cheer and perform one of the most animated Team Banana high fives to date. We are quickly learning the benefit to be had in getting to know friendly locals.
It was time to say goodbye to Khasab. We hadn’t achieved the ultimate goal of seeing a whale shark but we had seen some notable aquatic fare, such as the beautiful but deadly lion-fish. We had witnessed a symphony of fish, and only shot 3, all of which were for food. We had roughed it in the desert, navigated some rugged terrain, survived the searing heats, but none of which was as challenging as the drive home. With both White and Yellow blinking out and exhaling audibly through floppy horsey lips, we devised a sleep/drive roster, in 20 minute cycles. Once we reached Ras al Khaimer, both banana batteries were recharged and Team Banana cruised safely home to Abu Dhabi.
W&Y
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