The Great Barrier Reef

Some of you may have noticed that the speed in which my wife and I have been publishing our posts has slowed down somewhat. Indeed this is true and I see little point publishing a post when I have nothing of any consequence to report on. During the last few weeks our time has been absorbed by matters of insatiable bureaucracy, general time wasting and distinctly average culinary activities. I am pleased, however, to advise that we have one activity worthy of your literary digestion: scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef.

You may remember that Ju and I have a list of the five things we want from our meanderings in Australia and scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef sat firmly on the top of that list. Happily, we were not disappointed. The number of dive companies on the Barrier Reef easily excels the number of flies that can be found on an odorous backpacker at any one time. So choosing a company took a while. Due to prior concerns regarding my wife’s ear problems and my inability to open my eyes under water, we selected the most reputable operator to teach us our PADI Open Water qualification, Deep Sea Divers Den. Of course, their five star, new build catamaran and renowned cuisine had nothing to do with it. The promise of comparative luxury has never been a factor in any of our decisions.

In its entirety, the course composed of two days pool and theory followed by three days and two nights and 11 dives on the reef itself. Our instructor was slightly impudent and uncouth but proved to be an excellent teacher. Our class mates, while not necessarily people we would initially choose to spend time with, became good friends. Julie’s ears presented her with no problems at all and thankfully I wasn’t adversely affected by the 25 degrees cold water (thanks to wearing two wetsuits at a time).

Our catamaran, Ocean Quest II (I never did find out what happened to Ocean Quest I), was clean, comfortable and provided us with our first night on a real bed in over two months. The food was everything it promised and the particularly satisfactory portions were gargantuan.

Scuba diving is a truly wonderful experience that is the closest one can get to flying without being catapulted into the sky via a medieval trebuchet. Diving, however, has the distinct advantage that one does not risk being smashed into the wall of a fortified stone-walled bastion. Moments before jumping into the water, you are standing on the boat with all of your heavy equipment, each movement checked by your wetsuit, tubes, breathing equipment and buoyancy device. Your balance is brought to question by the rocking of the boat and ungainly flippers. The waves are larger than you would like and the sea is about as inviting as a cold slap in the face. The wind is blowing hard. Your breathing compressed air from a tube and your vision is restricted by your clouding face mask. As each diver splashes into the water, a sense of urgency increases and things feel chaotic as your heart starts to race. It’s your turn to step off the platform and before you know it, you’re in the big blue. The weight of your equipment takes you under and soon all you hear is the sound of your own breathing and all you see is the colour blue. It is peaceful and it is wonderful. There is no experience like it on earth.

Actually, there is one: night diving. If you can imagine closing your eyes so that all you can see is black and all that you can hear is the kwoooo kwshhhhh of your own breathing, you are close. You have one torch that fights to penetrate the blackness. You cannot see your dive mates and you know that there are very large and particularly hungry looking sharks very close to you. You know because there were at least twenty of them right there, by your feet, moments before you jumped into the water. You know because sometimes your torchlight catches the reflection of their ungodly eyes as they swish past. Your breathing becomes too rapid and too shallow as you fight to rationalise what you are doing. The instructor’s assurances that the sharks are harmless fade as flashbacks of Jaws flood the mind. That is night diving and that is why next time I go in the water at night, I want chainmail.

We were so taken with scuba diving that we were truly upset to finish our course. The voyage back to land felt like the day after Boxing Day. Diving is an expensive hobby and not one we can afford to indulge in on a regular basis. But we have the bug and where there is a will, there is a way. So we have asked to volunteer on Ocean Quest II for four nights and five days, doing light cleaning and cooking in exchange for three dives per day. Our request was granted and we leave on the 10^th of July. So in the meantime we will potter about looking for a way to kill time.

Can you spot the sleeping shark?