You don't get on a liveaboard to
Musandam for superior diving. You do it to get away, to totally
relax, to be pampered in a cycle of dive, eat, sleep, repeat.
I put my deposit down and let myself flow into the break from real life back on dry land. On Thursday I lingered at work till about 2:30 and then hit the road, direction Dubai, moving slowly over to Dibba driving alone 3 hours in my
car. I got torch batteries on the way, gas at the pump in Oman, took my
time, and arrived at the Dibba Oman port well before dusk, in time to
check out the large sharks hauled up on the boat landing slab at the
impromptu fish market. One was a guitar shark. I was one of the
first on board, others trickled in from 6:00 to as late as 7:30, and
when all were present, we were invited for dinner on the top deck in
the harbor. It's not practical to eat al fresco on a moving boat, so the first meal is served in the harbor. This being the case, there was no need for anyone to get there before 8 pm.
I was along because one of my
ex-students, Greg Golden, had assembled a group of his buddies for
one more stage in a “summer of diving” while their spouses were
away for the summer. I'd had to miss their trip to Kassab because Bobbi and I were
in Malapascua, but two weeks before they'd been in the Daminiyites.
I was finally able to hook up for this big splurge liveaboard trip,
much more affordable while my spouse was away in Houston, though I
miss Bobbi as a dive buddy. The cabins on the liveaboard are cramped
but fine for a couple, and with Bobbi, all our dives last an hour.
On this trip I was buddied with the dive guide, and he was obligated to end his dives at 50 bar or 50 minutes, whichever comes first.
We motored up to White Rock overnight
where aboard the brown dhow I got a lie in till almost 7 a.m and awoke to a brilliantly clear
morning moored in a fjord surrounded by stark mountains rising from
the blue sea.
The dhow stayed where it was and we got in a speedboat and went to the seaward side of a ras called Kaisah. I don't think I'd ever dived that side before, but the current was ripping. We all got buffeted along until we'd hit an underwater cove and the backwash created a back-current that we had to struggle into till we reached the other side and hitched a ride on the rip current again. The current gave us good vis, but there wasn't much to see, nothing unusual at any rate, until we got out to the point. Just before the point we hit another back current and this was the end of the dive for Greg and his buddy, another Greg (Perry). Both were low on air from the hard finning into the back currents, and I myself was at 75 just 35 minutes into the dive, but pulling myself along on the rocks, so when Greg and Greg went up, Brian joined me, and we rounded the point. Here we saw a barracuda, and sheltering in the relative slack around the point, a turtle. It was a nice start to a 4-dive day.
Thanks to Simon Lange for contributing the photo |
The dhow stayed where it was and we got in a speedboat and went to the seaward side of a ras called Kaisah. I don't think I'd ever dived that side before, but the current was ripping. We all got buffeted along until we'd hit an underwater cove and the backwash created a back-current that we had to struggle into till we reached the other side and hitched a ride on the rip current again. The current gave us good vis, but there wasn't much to see, nothing unusual at any rate, until we got out to the point. Just before the point we hit another back current and this was the end of the dive for Greg and his buddy, another Greg (Perry). Both were low on air from the hard finning into the back currents, and I myself was at 75 just 35 minutes into the dive, but pulling myself along on the rocks, so when Greg and Greg went up, Brian joined me, and we rounded the point. Here we saw a barracuda, and sheltering in the relative slack around the point, a turtle. It was a nice start to a 4-dive day.
Breakfast was waiting on the sun deck,
and when we'd had that we still had an hour and a half to kill so I
went and laid down in my cabin and completed my lie-in with a morning nap. Then at 11
we all piled back in the boat for a second dive on the inside of Ras
Kaisah.
This was the same place we'd overnighted
last time Bobbi and I had come out with this company, only on that
trip the dive leader had taken us inside Ras Kaisah on the first dive
and then on the headland opposite for the second, and I recall that all
aboard were a little disappointed in the choice of dive sites,
especially once we'd seen that White Rock lay just off the mouth of
the khor. But White Rock has variable currents. Whereas many people
who shell out for this kind of trip are committed and experienced
divers, there are also divers with limited skills, so dive sites are
selected conservatively. Ironically you could get a speed boat from
Sultan Qaboos Harbor to advertise a trip specifically to White Rock,
if you wanted to dive it, but it doesn't seem to be on the Al Marsa
agenda. They've been in the area a while, I'm sure they have reasons
for avoiding it.
Brian explained that current would come
from the north and strike the headland and diverge in such a way that
current would be going out to sea from a particular spot and running
inland on the other side of that spot. If the current had slackened
we could dive to the left toward the point where we'd seen the turtle
and had good visibility, but he seemed concerned when we reached the
spot that the current was too strong, so he had us head inland with
the reef on our left. This took us into poorer vis away from the point, and though it was
a comfortable, pleasant dive, we didn't see much apart from lots of
fishes, though Tom Longo, another instructor along with us, saw
turtles in his buddy pair (with my cabin-mate Guy).
So now it was time for lunch, and after
that I lay down on the cushions on the aft deck for an afternoon nap,
really shaking off stresses from a week at work where we were short
of teachers and creaking at the seams to keep that ship afloat. Sleep
was facilitated because the dhow was under way and the ships engine
and the slop of the sea on the hull lulled me. When it came to
anchorage in Khor Habilain, and the engine stopped, I awoke to the sound of Led Zepplin from
someone's iPod playing from the top deck above.
Three p.m was time for our third dive,
this one on the inside of Ras Dilla at a site Al Marsa have named
Muqtah (no telling why). Brian again outlined a conservative
profile. We would go in the speedboat a little ways out the headland
and then work our way back towards the dhow. By not heading seaward
out the point, we would avoid any threat of current (and the
interesting animals that like current that one might encounter at the
ras, or point, itself). As some people say, “it's all good”, and
Brian is a good dive leader. We were settling into each
other's dving styles, and the Lebanese named Roland whom Brian was
shepherding was proving to be good on air consumption. So I didn't
mind joining him again. Apart from Roland, I was the odd diver out.
Everyone else was paired. Rather than assign me to Roland, Brian had
had Roland buddy with him, leaving me to be a free agent, to attach
myself to whomever I pleased. The last two dives I had ended up with
Brian. This third dive I started out with him and Roland.
The direction we were heading had hazy
visibility, but to compensate if Brian was looking in the coral walls
I would look out in the sand, and if Brian moved to the sand I would
keep an eye on the corals. The corals were teeming with fishes but
the interesting stuff was out in the sand. At one point I saw a big
fish there, the only time I had tapped my tank up until then. It was
a yellow finned barracuda. On Brian's watch he tapped to show us a
sting ray, a large marble one like the one I'd seen at Lima Rock two
weeks before. He rippled fast along the sand but when we chased it,
it wheeled toward the reef and the passed slowly before us, so I
could clearly see its marbled dorsal side. It headed slowly toward a
hole so we followed it there and shined out torches on it.
There was more in the sand. Brian
showed us a scorpion fish I would likely have missed. He also
noticed a small jaw fish and pointed it out just as it slipped deep
into its hole, where I could barely see it in my torchlight. He also
pointed out some tiny arch-backed harlequin shrimp in one of the soft corals.
Brian is from Philippines so when he showed me that he took me back
to Malapascua, where the dive guides were so good at finding the
small stuff like harlequin shrimp time and time again.
When that dive was done we got back
aboard the dhow and it headed south toward Lima headland where we
would do a night dive and two dives the following day in the area
where we normally visit on day trips from Dibba.
However, one great difference in
liveaboard diving is that when we arrived at Ras Lima, it was dusk (signalled by a booming canon shot from the seafaring town of Lima at the start of Ramadhan),
and we were about to do a night dive there. This turned out to be
one of my best night dives ever. We had a large group and people stayed together
and called each other over to their discoveries, which seemed to
happen one after another. We saw lots of eels, including one
peppercorn or geometric moray, hovering lion fish, and a couple of trumpet fish.
There were lots of squids that were attracted to our lights. They would swim into them, right in our faces in other words, and then escaped in a cloud of ink when we touched them. There was a scorpion fish that was walking along the bottom on his lower set of fins, and a baby one just a centimeter long, very hard to see. I found a small crab in a rock and nearby a cuttlefish that became agitated when lit up. There were large pufferfish resting on the bottom that just ignored our lights. There was a rope running down to depth encrusted in marine life and at 18 meters deep we found a seahorse on it.
At one point a marble
ray without a tail appeared and rippled through the divers lucky enough
to see him. I was the last in the group so I saw him plop down in
the sand away from the lights, raising a cloud around him as he did
so. This dive lasted just 40 minutes, by order of our dive leader.
At the end I wondered why my buddies, usually so meticulous about
time, hadn't gone up yet, and then I discerned from their unfamiliar
gear that they were divers from another dhow mooring in the same cove
that night.
Peppercorn moray, photo by Simon Lange |
There were lots of squids that were attracted to our lights. They would swim into them, right in our faces in other words, and then escaped in a cloud of ink when we touched them. There was a scorpion fish that was walking along the bottom on his lower set of fins, and a baby one just a centimeter long, very hard to see. I found a small crab in a rock and nearby a cuttlefish that became agitated when lit up. There were large pufferfish resting on the bottom that just ignored our lights. There was a rope running down to depth encrusted in marine life and at 18 meters deep we found a seahorse on it.
Seahorse at night; photo by Greg Perry |
Fluids tasted so much better after a
night dive, and I'm not sure how long after dinner I went to bed, but
crew hands were stomping on the foredeck overhead of our bunks at 6
a.m so there was little chance of oversleeping the 7 a.m dive. This
was planned for Octopus Rock, and during the briefing Brian mentioned
that if there was current present at the dive site he would abort
that site and take us to Ras Morovi. When we arrived at Octopus Rock
there were two boats there already with divers preparing to enter the
water, but Brian pointed at the obvious current and told the boat
driver to take us over to Ras Morovi. I was disappointed on the way
over but at least Brian's choice of Ras Morovi sites was the
seawardmost face of Jilly Island, which I have dived only once before. I had been
planning to join Brian and Roland on the Octopus Rock dive because
the dive site is complicated and I've never led a dive there and knew
where I was accurately. I was first kitted up at Ras Morovi before
Roland had started to put on his tank, and Brian was helping others
enter the water. First in were Tom Longo and Guy, my cabin-mate, so
since I was ready I decided on the spur of the moment to join them.
I didn't have time even to ask. I just let Brian know what I was
doing and descended with them, and after a while they understood we
were a threesome.
We hit a sand bottom at 17-21 meters
and went along in fine clear water, each of us using torches to see
better. There wasn't much to see apart from beautiful blue soft
corals, a moray or two, and lion fish in the crevices. But soon Tom
started banging on his tank with his torch, pointing to a ray in the
sand. As he started to ripple he stirred fine silt and it was even
then hard to see what was causing the commotion, but I arrived
overhead in time to see a large cow tail ray, minus his cowtail,
heading away from us divers. He was too fast to follow for any distance.
We went the length of the island north
to south and where we turned the corner we encountered strong head
current. No one communicated not to go so we clawed our way forward.
Tom signalled 100 bar at this point and it was hard breathing to get
through to where we were heading north on the other side. Guy pulled
even with me and we found ourselves surrounded by bat fish, some
undergoing complete makeovers from the administrations of the tiny
wrasse. We were just entering that slack space, me in the lead by
now, when a ray shot past me over my left shoulder (reef on my
right). I thought it was an eagle ray from its speed but it was more
brown spotted and diamond shaped (I think), but I remember the tight
body, long tail, and speed so fast there was no point in having a
camera. The guys strung out behind me would have seen it for a few
more seconds as it overtook me. Tom said he thought it was an eagle
ray.
I doubt that because I saw two more
eagle rays later in my dive, and the one that shot past me was not
one of those. I was just passing through 100 bar at this point and
my buddies were rising higher on the reef. Below me I saw a turtle.
Vis was decent but not superb so animals were vanishing into the
haze. I could see my buddies were ascending, I could see their fins
near the surface. We were only 40 min into the dive and my air was
holding. I was still at ten meters and I had an SMB and I signaled that I was deploying it and I
think it must have been obvious that if they wanted me I'd be below
the SMB. We'd been finning into a mild current, it seemed to be
bringing out the animals, and I decided I'd just hang out literally
at 12 meters, and let the current carry me the way we had come. I
figured I might encounter other divers from our group coming up that
way, and I could join them.
That's when I saw the eagle rays. This
has happened to me on wrecks in Abu Dhabi when for some reason or
another I've been left alone and had the opportunity to watch the
rays come back to the wreck. They seem to avoid groups of divers but
they don't notice one diver hovering until they're already on the
scene and then in the case of eagle rays, they shoot off like a jump
jet. The first eagle ray did that and I thought like wow, when
moments later another happened along. Just like the first, he
rippled toward me, noticed that I was not one of them, and departed
in an impressive display of power and grace. Two eagle rays, rare
and sublime.
I played no games with time or bar. I
ascended with 50 bar and reached the surface with 53 min. on my
computer. I had heard the boat gears grinding just minutes before
but when I reached the surface I was alone with my SMB. I was just
on the far side of a gap in the rocks, so I swam through the gap and
saw the boat, as well as a turtle passing on the reef below. The
boat happened to be downcurrent, so I was there in no time.
Back at breakfast on the sun deck you
could feel the anticipation of the upcoming whale shark dive. Peter
was wondering what dive he could do with his advanced student and we
were talking about a whale shark specialty dive and how in case the
WS didn't show up, we could drag an object through the water and
students could practice not touching it and how to keep buoyancy
while keeping up with it and keeping the correct distance from it,
and photographing it without flash and so on. In his briefing Brian
always tried to avoid mentioning the something big so as not to jinx
the dive, and he explained how he liked to dive the south side but if
there was any current he'd switch the the north.
We headed over to the rock in the
speedboat and Brian checked the current north, east and south of the
island, and found one midway along the south side. But it was
pushing to the east, he figured we could drift with it, and he
figured on the east point we could round the rock to end the dive on
the north side, and that was our plan.
I was planning to dive with Brian but
Tom and Guy were in the water first and shouted for me to join them,
so I jumped and went with them. There was a major current, more than
I would have tolerated if I'd had to make a decision based on my
usual method of jumping in the water and seeing if there's current,
and if there is mid rock, go to the other side. But it was turning
into a nice dive. My buddies kind of deferred to me so I followed my
whale shark strategy of keeping at about 12 meters, though the
current was pitching us all about, and we were sometimes at 16 meters
or more. Meanwhile the other divers had gone deeper, to 20 meters
and were diving deep. Vis was very poor. I didn't think they'd be
able to see a whaleshark overhead whereas at 12 meters you cover
where the WS is most likely to be.
But the problem is when vis is bad you
can't see far enough out into the water to see where the WS is likely
to be. We saw lots of interesting things. There were shoals of
barracuda passing and we finned back against the current and managed to join them. At times we found ourselves in the midst of playing
trevally darting about. Always we were carried by the current, at
times faster than at others, but always cognizant of the fact that
the current might want to sweep us off the rock and make us miss our
turn through the gap to the other side. So I was playing this dive
12 to 16 meters and close to the rock.
Other divers were playing it deeper and
farther from the rock, due to the slope at that depth. Consequently
we heard their tank banging but I thought maybe a divemaster was
warning a student to get in out of the current. But no, that was
their first whale shark sighting. They said it passed overhead. They
were too deep at 20 meters, the WS was at 16 and moving against the
current, and they couldn't chase it, so they didn't get a great look.
But we were at 12 and couldn't see to 16 and that far out to sea.
When I saw Brian at the corner he signalled me a definite WS sighting, so I knew then that we had missed it. Back on the boat he told me they'd seen a second small WS as they were doing their safety stop at the corner. Meanwhile guy and Tom and I were heading for the spot on the north side where I'd seen a WS two weeks earlier, but we had no luck on our outing this day.
Except for the missed whale shark, in aggregate it was a
phenomenal dive weekend. When we came up and the boat came to pick
us up, we saw a pod of a dozen dolphins breaking the surface just
beyond the boat. I tried to swim over to them but they dived and
moved further away, always out of sight. They and the barracudas and
trevally on the Lima Rock dive made it a better than normal Lima Rock
dive. I've seen my quota of whale sharks already the summer. I had a
great weekend out, relaxing and highly charged in spurts, challenging
diving, nice company, nice time.
Chasing dolphins, photo by Simon Lange (with thanks) |