Reef Encounter

by Debbie Rolls (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find Egypt

Six days ago I should have boarded a flight. Whilst reassembling my belongings, checking under the bed for stray shoes, I became aware of the images of volcanoes on the wall mounted television. Adjusting the volume I learnt of the volcanic ash cloud that had grounded flights across Europe. If you are to be stranded then there are worse places than a resort on the Egyptian Red Sea. We had dived for a week, staying in a small hotel with a beach strung along a river inlet. You could walk the beach or take a water taxi service across the lagoon to a marina, other beaches, hotels and restaurants. I liked it there but we could not stay. In order to ensure everyone from our plane was together, we were moved to an all-inclusive resort. Every morning we were told not to leave the premises. This might be the day our plane would arrive. Completely self-contained, away from any village or town, the only possibility of exploration was in the water. We had been diving, but flying and diving are dangerous bed fellows. Snorkeling the hotel reef became my world. I got to know every contour. Hollows where octopus blended with rock and bleached coral. The overhangs under which lion fish hovered; in suspended animation. The round coral formation, home to eels; a medusa head when in late afternoon they extended to feed. The tide, winds and currents traced distinct patterns. Early morning would see the octopus hunting, morays snaking across the sea bed, lion fish on their last patrols. Mid morning the tide was in, the water formed warm pools on top of the reef. Brightly coloured parrot and picasso fish poured in to feed and luxuriate in temporary lagoons. The afternoon saw wind. Surges on top meant it was time to snorkel the reef walls. A jigsaw of vibrant coral reflected the sun using a rainbow spectrum. Swarms of tiny green and orange flew in and out of intricate coral heads whilst angel fish floated past. Down below grouper plucked at the wall and blue spotted eagle rays glided along the sandy floor. Occasionally a turtle would visit. Day five brought welcome news. The holiday rep had been told there was little chance of flying the next day so we were given the go ahead to arrange a diving trip. Four of us planned ta trip further up the coast where dolphins had been sighted and where sea grass attracted green turtles. Around midnight a letter was slipped under the door. A good news, bad news situation. We had finally been given a flight time, tomorrow morning, no diving. I woke before dawn; there was still time for one last snorkel. An orange glow lit the east as I stepped out, dressed in neoprene suit and boots. My mask and snorkel slung across my shoulder. Two gardeners turned on sprinklers, drawing egrets but no other guests. Even at this early hour the water was refreshing rather than cold. I swam across the incline of the reef, checking out the octopus which had returned to one of its familiar bolt holes. A large moray crossed my path. I found the reef wall and made a last inventory of fish and coral. About ten minutes had passed when I found myself staring into open water. I am not sure why, perhaps it was just the habitual checking that all divers tend to do, or perhaps I knew something was coming. Out of the blue three shapes emerged. The pod of dolphins swam directly towards my goggle eyed face, and then turned in line with the reef. As I swam to catch up with them they veered and executed a perfect semi-circle, re-establishing their original trajectory just behind me. For a few glorious seconds we were swimming in parallel. Their silver smooth bodies moved effortlessly through the water next to mine. Aerodynamics meant that they were soon ahead. I stopped and watched them disappear. I no longer cared that I could not dive. I had swum with dolphins, not the dolphins of caged aquaria or reserves, but dolphins who had chosen to honour me with their presence.