Diving adventures

I want to learn to dive.

I know I decided against it 18 years ago, but I'm willing to make the investment, and put myself on the line now.

I went for a try dive at the Wycombe SAC on 22 August. I didn't feel wonderfully comfortable or relaxed, but there were a few moments where I stopped thinking about all the things I was supposed to be doing, which felt good, and I took away the satisfaction of not panicking, and also learning a couple of things in the drills (yes, I can duck dive with a snorkel and not drown, and I can take the regulator out of my mouth and put it back while underwater and not drown), and even swimming better than I thought I could. We did a breathing exercise lying on the bottom, where we took deep breaths in, and rose up, and breathed out and sank down. It was a bit of a revelation as far as buoyancy physics went. We did a lot of swimming around and around the pit, but I was rocking around a lot from side to side, and my buoyancy was awful (Len was in charge of inflating and deflating my BCD). So I was happy with what I did, and took away some positives, and was keen to have another go. One of the biggest problems was my ears. When I got near three metres deep, my ears blocked, in a rather uncomfortable way, and I couldn't unblock them. It didn't hurt, but the pressure was unpleasant.

A week later I had my left ear syringed (the right didn't need it), and could suddenly hear an awful lot better, and so was ready to try another dive to see how my ears would behave.

My second try dive was 5 September. Len didn't need me to do the swimming again. He got me in snorkelling gear to try a stride entry first. Once I'd practised and got it right, I put on the dive gear and tried it again. A slightly alarming thing to do, but I managed it. Once in the water, Len put me in charge of my buoyancy, so I was to inflate and deflate my BCD. He said that after having deflated it to go down, I had to inflate it again to stop hitting the bottom, but I couldn't get the hang of that (and got sore knees). We did some more swimming around and around near the bottom again, and some more of the lying on the bottom drill. He even had me doing a somersault underwater - it was difficult, and so I had to kick myself around. My ears blocked again, and I made a superhuman effort to clear them. Grabbing my nose and blowing out just doesn't work. I realised that swallowing was the answer, but that seems to destabilise my mask seal because of movement through my nose. We did more reg changes underwater, including dropping it, and twisting yourself wildly to make sure you were scooping up the hose with your arm. We did some buoyancy control exercises using the lines of tiles on the pool wall, which again I wasn't great at, but by the end of it, I was much better at making small changes by just using my breathing. At the end we did some mask clearing drills. I was fine until he had me break my mask seal to let water in. I somehow ended up with it straight up my nose, and so shot to the surface to cough and splutter. I'd had enough by then anyway.

I felt like I hadn't done very well immediately after the session, but after a while I realised it wasn't that bad. I'd managed most of the drills, still not panicked (apart from the nose full of water thing), and had been brave enough to try the mask clearing. I was also rocking from side to side a lot less. I didn't really think about my trim, so no idea how rubbish that was. Anyway, I was sure enough that my ears would be OK.

I found that my ears were a bit reluctant to clear on the flight we had to Malta, but that by the end of the flight home, they were much better.

I had another pool session last night, 19 September. Christian took his twinset to do some drills, and I planned to swim and snorkel. I started with a swim, and surprised myself by doing 200m in 7.33 (though I was worn out), meaning that I could probably do the GUE 275m within 14 minutes with practice. I then got my mask and snorkel and followed Christian around on the surface. It was a fun thing to do - feeling the bubbles hit me, and grabbing them with my hands. I did a few duck dives, trying to get right to the bottom. My ears blocked up, but unblocked quickly. Christian said that that was because I wasn't breathing underwater. The other guys said I should swim down to him and give him an 'out-of-air' signal so he'd give me one of his regulators. He was too deep for me to do it comfortably, and it turns out it could have been quite dangerous. We tried it when he was in a more shallow bit, but without weights on, I couldn't stay submerged for long enough. I should have left my lungs empty, but I didn't think of that at the time. I swam around a bit more, and then tried a breath hold underwater with my mask on. I managed to do the length of the short shelf of the pool, which I think was probably 10 metres. It's a start. At least I know how it feels to desperately need to breathe and have to stop yourself. My lungs were expanding and contracting, despite not taking in any air. That seemed to help. Anyway, I'll keep up the practice like that and hopefully I'll get stronger and better.

The next challenge is working out what to do with my actual training. The best way would be to do GUE training intensively in Malta with John, but Christian found out recently that the training alone would cost £750. With transport and accommodation and food, that figure will probably double, just for me. So we're now thinking that BSAC through Wycombe might be better, but if John gets other takers for the course, the price might drop. Not sure what to do. Wait and see for now.

Stupidly early start for Malta -> Gatwick -> Hazlemere

The alarm was set for 4.50, and I think we managed to be awake just before it went off. Such is the plight of those who know they must be awake at a certain time. We lay around for a little while, as we had time, then finished the packing, and headed downstairs for the 5.35 call.

There weren't many people there, but there was a continental breakfast for us, which was very welcome. Turned out that others were making their own way, so only eight of us got on the coach for the airport. We trundled in silence through the quiet city, and disembarked at the busy airport. After lining up at the wrong desk (Air Berlin), we found the slowest queue ever, and then the stupidest woman behind the counter. Firstly she gave Christian James's boarding pass, and then after we'd gone back to correct the mistake, put Christian in the row in front of me. We went back again, but she insisted it had been pre-booked and couldn't change it. We tried at the enquiry desk, but they said they couldn't change it either.

Fairly disgruntled by now, we went through security, and headed straight for the nearest Air Malta gate staff. They were able to fix the problem within two minutes, though they couldn't print another boarding pass. Very silly business.

We sat waiting for the flight. Christian went off to buy some jigsaw puzzles. Then we went through passport control (?) and to our gate. We sat for a bit in the freezing room, and then went to Costa for a tea for me and a toastie for Christian. The flight was finally called (late), and we walked onto the plane. I sat in between Christian and Olaf - the Rackers were generally co-located again. It was a quiet flight. The breakfast they served was awful, but they got us there OK, even with a pretty strong cross-wind at Gatwick. We went through passport control (again?), collected luggage, and headed for the train station, saying goodbye to a few Rackers as we went.

We bought tickets to Horsham, got some sausage rolls from the pasty shop, and after some difficulty, found ourselves on platform 5. The Littlehampton train arrived, after two Brighton trains, and we got on for the short journey. It started to rain. Heather pulled up in Christian's car just as we walked out to the car park, and we jumped in. She drove us to Chesworth Gardens, and we only stopped briefly (with Christian sabotaging Heather's key ring), before heading for Hazlemere. The M25 was sadly broken. We called in at the office to collect a delivery (which wasn't the new laptop) and then for some fuel and shopping at Hayes Tesco. And then we were home between 1 and 2pm. Exhausted.

What a great trip. Brief, but very enjoyable, and carefully planned by the wonderful Emma.

Malta, Gozo, and Comino

Neither of us had slept wonderfully well (the click of the air conditioning kicking in was quite loud), but we stayed in bed until 9am, which was a bit luxurious. We got ready slowly, and got downstairs for breakfast before 10am (it finished at 10.30). I hadn't been sure whether I'd be able to eat much, but I managed a decent breakfast. It was tasty. Michael and I had a brief conversation about the Australian election. I made my views clear, but didn't quite work out what his were.

Christian and I packed for our day out (including leaving the SLRs behind and packing our phones in the waterproof box), and headed back downstairs for our 11am rendez vous. By the time everyone was there, it was predictably late, but it was a short walk to the closest side of St Julian's harbour. We walked down to the dock, and there was a large black RHIB, and two more sedate white launches with forward-facing seats. Christian and I ended up on the RHIB. There were padded seats down the middle, and so we didn't have to sit on the edges.

We pootled out of the harbour, and then the skipper jumped on the throttle and switched on the deafening dance music. It was fun for a while, but got a bit much with everyone shouting and the wind beating in my ears as well. We headed in the general direction of Gozo, but stopped off near Comino on the way to look at some caves, driving up into one of them that had a beach at the end - pretty cool - and to look at the crystal lagoon. We kept on to Gozo, and the two other boats were waiting for us, having not stopped off apparently. We joined them on the pier, next to the giant ferry on the other side.

Emma had arranged for a bus tour to the town and the beach for €10 pp. Christian and I decided we didn't want to go to the town, and so we decided to get a taxi to the beach at Ramla l-Hamra for €4 pp, along with four others. The drive was nice enough, though going through the town was a bit scary, what with narrow roads, oncoming traffic, and unannounced road closures. We got out of the nastiness, and headed downhill to the beach. The driver agreed to pick us up at 1.40 so we'd be back at the harbour for our 2pm departure.

The beach didn't look like much. It had orange sand, and no waves. But it was quite large. We found a spot and ran into another splinter group, including Sab, Ron, and James, who'd also got a taxi. Christian and I got our snorkelling gear out and headed for the water, moving up slightly to avoid the rocks. It was quite warm and the water was crystal clear. We pointed our faces at the bottom. The coral and the fish were a revelation to me. The coral wasn't too exciting, but it was only in a couple of metres of water, so clearly visible, and the fish were plentiful and not shy. Many were silver with black tails, but there were some beautiful purple and yellow ones, and some beautiful stripy ones feasting on the coral. A bit further out, it got deeper and more interesting. I did a few duck dives to look closer. We didn't have fins, but it didn't matter, I was able to float on the surface with no effort, and cover distance with a lazy breaststroke. It was heavenly.

We had to get out in order to dry out for the taxi. James had borrowed Christian's mask and snorkel, and the snorkel somehow died. So Christian went up to the shop to buy another. I did my best to dry out, and got burnt. Christian came back, having paid €18 for a mask and snorkel, and then it was time to go. We found the taxi driver, and our four companions, and headed back to the harbour with no issues.

As not everyone was there, we got an ice cream. We then boarded the RHIB again, this time at the back, and headed off to Comino, going through a narrow opening in the rock on the way for fun. The blue lagoon on Comino was packed, and as we got off into the relentless heat, with no space, and no possibility of shade, I felt uncomfortable. We found some lunch and cowered on the shady side of the public toilets to eat it, watching the lizards. From that vantage point, we could see a nicer place to go swimming, and headed for it. We left our gear on the very sharp rocks, and submerged ourselves. It was less clear here, because there was so much more activity, but it was still pleasant. I couldn't help wishing we could have stayed on Gozo for longer.

Time got away, and so we had to get out, and walk back to the pier. All the Rackers met up, and waited for the boats. The RHIB came first, and so we got on (again at the back) and departed. Christian pointed out how sunburnt I was. I'd put cream on my face, shoulders, and what of my back that I could reach, but had forgotten to ask Christian to do the rest. We roared off back to St Julian's harbour, with the skipper throwing in some tight corners and racing jetskis just to liven things up. He then had to try to fix one of the motors, which had lost its fuel injection and so was only operating on two-stroke. He said we only got back by the grace of god. We pulled into St Julian's harbour, but early, and so he changed his mind, and went back out into the open sea to do some figure eights and 360s. It was such a manoeuvrable boat.

Back at the dock, Mark and Christian tipped the skipper and we walked back up to the hotel. Christian and I didn't even bother going to our room. We went straight to the main pool and got in. It would have been rude not to make use of the wet bar, and so we sat on the submerged seats - I had a vodka and cranberry juice, and Christian had a gin and tonic. There were quite a few other Rackers around. After we'd finished our drinks, we got out and headed for the lido.

There were a couple of other people around. We donned our masks and snorkels and got in. It felt cold to start with, but in reality it was warmer than the main pool. The water was quite deep, with a fair bit of movement, but there was coral on the bottom, and a good number of fish. It was a different feeling from the beach, as the environment was more expansive. There were steel frame things and bits of concrete on the bottom, and I got an inkling of what it felt like as a diver to see a wreck. The fish were similar to the ones at the beach, but Christian thinks he saw a lion fish, and we saw two very large fish that looked a bit like tuna, but Christian said they were probably sea bream. I did a couple of duck dives. It was a lovely experience.

We got out, and got into the first of the saltwater pools. It was warm, and pleasant. But then we spotted the slide. We had to get out and go to the higher of the two pools, but it was fun. Christian did it twice. We went back up to the main pool to 'rinse the salt off' (?) and got some beers at the bar. We chatted to Andy and Mark. And Andy's daughter Georgie. She wanted to know why Christian wasn't going to eat the lime in his beer. She had also decided that ladies don't drink beer, despite the fact that her mother was drinking some. Then she thought Christian falling off his stool was hilarious, and wanted him to do it again. So I 'pushed' him off and he did a melodramatic disappearing under the water. She roared at that.

It was time to go, and so we took our gear upstairs and had showers. I'd thought it would be nice to go into Valletta for dinner, but it turned out to be a journey on the bus of over an hour, and 20 mins in a car. We abandoned that, and decided to do what Christian had preferred, which was to eat in one of the hotel's impressive looking restaurants. So we chose the barbecue buffet over the a la carte bistro, walked in, and were seated outside in the balmy evening.

We ordered a glass of prosecco each, and started with antipasto, including marinated calamari, spinach tart, salmon, cheeses, cold meats, salad, and bread. It was a perfect amount. We then had some mussels. I had the traditional ones in white wine, and Christian had Spanish style, with chorizo. We had to ask for finger bowls, but they were very good. We ordered a bottle of beaujolais to have with the mains, and headed for the barbecue. I had swordfish, tuna, beef, and pork belly, with salads. It was extremely good. Then it was time for dessert. We had a selection of petit four style treats, such as white chocolate delight, a choc mint mousse, apple and cinnamon mousse, pistacchio and mascarpone cake/mousse, and a rich chocolate mousse cake (can't remember all their pretentious names). Then Christian had a coffee. We couldn't finish the wine.

It was a lovely dinner, and a perfect end to an awesome day. It was peaceful and relaxed, and we talked about prospective wedding plans. :-)

We wandered back upstairs, and Christian was keen to go for a walk, and a late night swim. My swimmers were still quite wet, and so I wasn't keen, but I engineered a plan to wear pants and a top. We wandered back down to St Julian's beach, choosing a path beside the water that resulted in a dead end, which meant that I clambered over a railing, and Christian walked through the water, but we got to the beach in the end. It was difficult getting in, but not too cold actually. We had a bit of cuddly mooching in the water, and then, having proved our point, made our way back to the hotel, where we had another shower. We did most of the packing, and got in bed at about 11pm.

Hazlemere to Gatwick to Malta

The alarm was set for 6am (eeeek), but we got ready slowly, finished the packing, and were on the road at 7.15. We got to Horsham before 9am, collected Heather and Dorothy, and drove to Gatwick. We dropped ourselves off, and Heather drove the car back to Horsham.

We found the right desk, and checked in easily, bumping into a couple of Rackers. It was then time for second breakfast, so we went through security, found a cafe, and I had a sausage, bacon, and egg bap, with Yorkshire tea, and Christian had scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, watching the big planes out the window, and listening to the annoying drilling that was happening either above or below.

We had a wander around the airport, looking for a lock-up bag for the camera bag (and failing), and looking at some shiny technology (but not buying it). There was a caviar, salmon/seafood, and champagne place that was insanely expensive, and I couldn't help wondering what it was like to have enough money to actually eat there. They had foie gras and all sorts of amazing stuff.

It was time to go to the gate, and we had a decent walk to get there. The Rackers arrived steadily, and we got on the plane, in a vaguely geographically located group. The flight was fine (very little turbulence). We could see some Swiss and Italian alps through the window, with a reasonable amount of snow on them. Then we saw the west coast of Sicily, which had a noticeable cloud shape over Mt Etna. The only turbulence we had happened here. We landed in Malta just after 4pm EU time - on the approach, all the fields were very brown. We got through passport control, and Sab (carrying his fins, as ever) failed to find our transfer people among the sea of signs being held up. Some of the rest of us found it (at a shopfront right at the back) and started to congregate in the right place. Once everyone was there, we walked out to the coach and headed out into Malta.

The first thing that struck me was its continued brownness. It was hilly, and there were a lot of small square buildings. More like the middle east than Greece. The first vegetation I saw was oleander, palms, and pampas grass. And then as we went along, we saw what was the more native cactus. All the buildings (with a few exceptions) were brown and boxy. Even the new ones were built in the same style. I was surprised that they drive on the left, and also that all the road signs were in English, despite Malta declaring as a republic in 1964 (though still part of the Commonwealth). We spotted sea after a while, and the coach pulled into the impressive frontage of the Radisson Blu. We filed off (not enough people to justify a coach), and were presented with a welcome drink in the foyer. It was brown and vile. It managed to give the promise of sweetness with every mouthful, but ending in a horrid bitterness. It was apparently a traditional Maltese drink, but I have no idea whether it was alcoholic.

Christian checked us in, and we took the lift up to the seventh floor, room 728. It was big and comfortable, with a balcony looking to the north-east (i.e., plenty of sea view, with lots of boating activity). We did a little settling in, and gathered our things to do a bit of exploring and socialising. I discovered that my sunglasses frame had cracked, but I didn't have any tape to stick it back together. So we asked the concierge for some sticky tape, and Christian won the engineering contest by taping the frame back up before putting the lens back in. We walked through the restaurant upstairs, then took the external stairs to the main pool area. There was a wet bar (that closed at 5.30) and loads of sun lounges, though the sun had gone down behind the hotel building by then. We walked to the edge of the pool area to look out over the sea, and then turned right to explore the rest of the property. There was a dive shop (who would only hire out fins to us for the princely sum of €15 pp), and two more pools (salt water, with a slide from one to the other), and a 'lido', which consisted of a ladder into the sea at the corner of the land.

We headed back up to the bar, where most Rackers were congregated, and ordered cocktails: me a frozen banana daquiri, and Christian a lavender G&T (which was apparently quite good). My slushy was huge and difficult to consume, but very nice all the same. We sat for a while, chatting a bit (I met a few more people), and at 7pm, went back upstairs to get ready for the night out. We all congregated again in the foyer for 7.30 (after another cheeky beer in the bar), and Ron and I had a chat about how good Christian is, and what a bright future he has ahead of him, then a fleet of taxis took us to Tapaz, which, unsurprisingly, is a tapas restaurant. Upon arrival, we were presented with a glass of bubbly. The restaurant was very classy, quite dark, and beautifully decorated.

We walked around and chatted, mostly to Michael. We found a spot at a table, near Michael and Huegot, and were offered wine - a choice of two whites and two reds. Christian and I went for the local merlot, which was delicious. The staff then brought out a procession of the most amazing food I've had for a long time. Everything from sushi-style salmon, to marinated anchovies, to pate, to chorizo in sauce, to meat skewers, to calamari, to meatballs in pepper, to bread filled with pesto and topped with spinach and tomato, to patatas bravas covered in bacon, to asparagus wrapped in prosciutto. The wine was kept flowing at an alarming rate, and the service was excellent.

The food stopped, about which everyone breathed a sigh of relief, because everyone was full to bursting. But then they started bringing EVEN MORE FOOD out. I managed a piece of everything, apart from the pork ribs. The final dish, the paella, was amazing.

Then came the presentations. Each manager gave a speech singing the praises of each Racker there, and got them up on the stage. They got Christian and Michael up together, which was a bit of a fizzer, but then again, they aren't sales staff. Olaf started going on a bit, so another, even drunker Racker (Mark) got up and tried to stop him. He ended up going on even more, and they switched off the mic on him. They finally got through everyone, and moving on to the salsa club was announced. But then the staff brought out the ice cream! There was a scoop of pistacchio, a profiterole, and a chocolate mousse ball sealed and wrapped in vanilla ice cream. Stunning! And THEN they brought us some limoncello. The staff were trying to shoo us out by now as it was midnight, so I drank my limoncello a lot faster than I would have liked.

We were all finally out on the footpath, in the loud, crass St Julian's strip, and made our way down the road to the salsa club. They'd set aside a room for us, with the roof drawn back, and couches, and a screen with the Rackspace logo swinging around. It was a nice space, and was still lovely and warm out. The first drink (something red in a champagne flute) was even more horrible than the welcome drink at the hotel. I couldn't finish it. Christian had a vodka and tonic (much more wisely than me). Christian and I spoke mostly to Nathan and Ellie. Nathan had a go at taking some photos of us, and despite not knowing what he was doing, some of them turned out well.

As we were tired, we headed back to the hotel at about 12.30. It was a very short walk, past the beach in St Julian's harbour (so tempting to go in). Once back, we put on the air conditioning and fell into bed.

Circumnavigation of Portland, and home to Hazlemere

We'd set the alarm for 7.30, but had again slept fairly fitfully. I asked Christian for a few minutes to wake up properly before getting up, and he responded by pulling the plug of the ready bed and letting it go down. How rude!

We packed up all our gear and the tent. I went to the amenities block while Christian readied his kit, and he was waiting outside when I'd finished. We drove again to the Aqua, and sat eating our breakfast with Fiona and Paul. The others arrived, kitted up, and the RHIB arrived at about 9.45. I left them to it, and set off on my walk around Portland.

The south west coast path started just off the nearest roundabout. The first bit of the path was quite long and steep - the Merchant's Incline. There was a sign saying that the path via the east cliffs was 5 1/2 miles. Brilliant, I thought. I'll be back in two hours, have some lunch with the divers, and then head back to Weymouth beach for a sunbathe. At the top, the sign pointed to the Merchant's Railway to the right, I began to follow it, but it wasn't in the direction I wanted to go. So I went back and followed a path in the other direction, but ended up at a dead end on a road. So I went back the first way. After going under a bridge, the walking was pleasant and grassy for a while. I saw a sign about the quarry's and transporting stone, and then after walking up some stairs and seeing a fortress-style thing, read about the prison.

After a little more walking, I came across a family farm park, with goats. And wallabies. Hmmm. A mountain bike posse passed me. I followed the east cliff for a way, seeing the breakwalls of the harbour, and the view out to sea, and then walked alongside a youth offenders institution for a while. The path then zigzagged steeply downhill towards the water, and the vegetation got a bit more lush. The cliffs rose to my right, and I came across some rock climbers. I saw a RHIB that I thought might be our lot, but later found out it wasn't them. I then came to Church Ope Cove - a stony beach with a few huts and people on it.

I followed signs to a thirteenth century church, which was quite cool. It must have been around then that I took a wrong turn. I headed up through vegetation that was suddenly rainforesty. The path went uphill, away from the sea, and emerged beside a big, posh, castle building, with a lot of 'private' signs around it, and then at a road. In the absence of signs, I crossed the road and walked past a quarry, and then through an equestrian centre, passing some girls on horses (one with pink hair) (the girl, not the horse). I came out on a road and had no idea where to go, so I consulted the technology. I was nowhere near the path. I was somehow confused into thinking that I had turned the corner at the end of the point and so had to go cross country to get to the west side. Wrong! I didn't want to cut the end off because I wanted to see the lighthouse, and all the bits in between. So I walked on roads for a good half hour, through Southwell, and joined the path not too far after Church Ope Cove. Oh well.

I then followed the path through a stony section of coastline, with large ancient cranes hanging over the edge. I could now see the end of the point, and it got grassier, with huts, and a lot more people. I stopped on a seat, let Christian know I wouldn't be back for lunch, and finished the walk to Portland Bill and the lighthouse. I had a cheeseburger from the Lobster Pot, sitting for a while eating it, and then went on my way. I followed the path past the lighthouses, some lovely rocky features, and a military installation. The path after this was simple, and along the grassy edge of the cliffs. I was conscious that I needed to be back in time for the end of the dive, and thought there was a chance, given the second dive had had a ropes off of 1.30.

I saw a few eagle/kestrel type birds just hovering on the wind, and then diving a little, then hovering again. They were beautiful, but I didn't have a big enough lens to capture them. As I approached Chiswell, there were some some sections of the path closed because of instability. But the six-month ban was up that day, so I just went past the barriers. I found out then that ropes off had been delayed until 2pm, so slowed down a little. My feet and legs were really struggling by now, but I came down off the cliff and went through the streets of Chiswell back to the Aqua. I only had time to rinse my feet, put plasters on my heels to cover the giant blisters, buy a soft drink, and sit in the car for a short while before the intrepid divers came back.

Christian rinsed his dry suit, but just packed the rest to rinse at home. We left fairly quickly, after saying goodbye to those who were left. Niamh had apparently got loads of scallops, so we tried to find the boat ramp to pick some up, but failed to find it. So we kept driving. The traffic was a bit icky, but we kept on, and got home at about 7.15.