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Dolphin Dive
By Kate Hardy on 15 September 2008
My only dream in life was to swim with wild Dolphins. I have never agreed with captivity and exploiting them in the way that they are. To be able to swim with or be with any animal in their natural habitat must be breath taking. And my first experience of it was!
The First Time
It was November 2003 and we had just clambered back into the rib after our final dive on the Thistlegorm. We all started to take off our kit to head back to the boat when one of our divers grabbed my knee with one hand and pointed with the other.
“Dolphins!” he shouted.
My head shot around. I didn’t see anything. I suppose he thinks he’s funny. But hold on. What was that breaking the surface? I threw my mask on, not even thinking about grabbing my snorkel or fins and rolled back into the water, followed by five others from the rib. We all swam excitedly in their direction, hoping for the slightest glimpse. I took a deep breath and put my face into the water, just in time to see one of two dolphins glide past me, out into the blue. Then the second swam past, but stayed for what seemed like an eternity, darting between each one of us. In truth, it was only moments.
I had grabbed my camera and started clicking frantically, just hoping for one good picture. This was exhausting! Take a deep breath. Try to stay under for as long as you can. Here it comes. Quick take the picture. Quickly. Quickly. Exhale! I got one! It wasn’t fantastic, but I was happy!
Butterflies
That had been two years earlier but now I had my second opportunity. The anticipation was growing second by second as I kitted up. I could feel the butterflies getting ready to burst out of my tummy. Minutes before we had been given a choice by our guide; do the entire dive on the Ghiannis D and get collected by the rib or circle the wreck and make our own way back to the boat. Silly question! En route from our previous dive in the rib, we had been joined briefly by a pod of dolphins. We all knew exactly what we wanted to do and the smiles spread eagerly over our faces.
I was going to be diving with the guide this time. Because I was the most experienced of the group, he asked if I would be comfortable keeping to the tail end while he led the dive. This was because the other divers had a rather bad tendency of swimming off solo, into the blue!
Eight of us piled into the rib, clambering over one another’s fins, trying to keep our balance as the surf tossed us up and down like a washing machine. As we sped out to the wreck I had a quiet chuckle to myself. The expressions of these relatively new divers; the apprehension, the excitement, the surf being thrown into their unmasked faces!
Two by two we fell backwards into the water and swam straight towards the shot line then descended to the wreck. Because the water was quite choppy the wreck just seemed to appear out of a curtain of bubbles. I kept an eye on my buddy who was slightly above me, ushering the rest of the group towards and down the shot line. As we circled the wreck, I spotted a nudibranch, so switched on my camera. I went to take a photo, but noticed there was no image through the housing. Perhaps I hadn’t turned it on properly; I do have a tendency of not looking as I switch the on button. This time I watched as I pressed the button. Nothing! Then I saw it; the smallest of bubbles leaking from the corner of the housing. I turned the camera to an angle and saw that it was half filled with seawater and battery acid. It had flooded and was ruined. I could have died!
Camera Catastrophe
Since I begun diving properly in 2003, I have kept my camera firmly by my side, clicking away at more or less anything I swam past; fish, rays, coral, sand! I loved having something that would enable me to hold onto my experiences forever and my camera was the ideal tool for the job. Unfortunately, I was starting to realise, my luck with cameras wasn’t very good.
On that Red Sea holiday in 2003 (my first) I was very kindly lent a digital camera and housing by a fellow diver and family friend. Throughout the holiday I took it down with me on every dive; Thomas Reef, Shark Observatory, Dunraven and Thistlegorm to name but a few. And of course with the dolphins! But on the second to last day of my trip, disaster! I took a giant stride off the back of the boat I was diving from and descended to 25 meters with the rest of the group. This was a night dive and my guide thought it would be an ideal opportunity to practice my navigation as I was doing my Advanced Open Water. With my camera attached to my BCD and my compass pointing in the right direction, I shot off like a bullet, unaware I was leaving my fellow divers struggling to keep up.
I reached the reef I was aiming for; five other divers catching up. The group split into the buddy pairs and I reached for my camera. It wasn’t there. Nothing! I swam frantically over to my buddy, trying to tell him that my camera had gone – disappeared. He couldn’t understand me. I had to slow down. I tried again. Still he didn’t understand. Frustrated I snatched his wrist and wrote, “I’ve lost my camera!!!” on his slate. We quickly tracked down another dive pair and proceeded to do a sweep of the area. It wasn’t there. It was positively buoyant, it wouldn’t be anywhere we were looking, but I had to try to hope!
Eventually we had to end the dive and I climbed back aboard, de-kitted and ran to the top deck and bust into a flood of tears! It wasn’t even my camera!
Two years later, seeing my own camera destroyed, those same emotions came flooding back. I was desolate!
As I got myself together I heard them. Clicking!!!!
Dolphin Delight
Part of me begged for them not to come; not now! But they did. Eleven beautiful dolphins, including a young calf, swimming next to me at arms length! Then they even came within my reach, looking at me just as I was looking at them. My heart didn’t know what to do; sink to the bottom or jump with joy! I just started crying – uncontrollably!
When I opened my eyes I saw through my tears that one of the dolphins was looking as me, no more than a foot from my face. More than anything I wanted to reach out and touch it, but didn’t. I just looked back at it with amazement! I thought of all the times I had watched television programmes on how intelligent these creatures were, so turned upside down, my fins pointing towards the surface, still looking straight into the dolphin’s eye. It did the same! It copied me! I laughed, became horizontal, but with my back towards the seabed. It copied me again! This was amazing! How about if I cork screwed? Low and behold, it cork screwed! I couldn’t believe it. Incredible!
I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh out loud with excitement or cry with the disbelief of not being able to get any pictures.
I had completely forgotten about everyone else. What if they had swam off? I watched as the dolphin swam to the surface with three others for air and then looked around me. Everyone was still in front of me, in as much awe as I was, except they were touching them. I wasn’t happy! Neither was the guide. He shook his shaker violently trying to get their attention, but to no avail. I swam towards each individual, pulling them away from what they were doing. It wasn’t right! These are wild creatures! I was shot filthy looks by every single one. I didn’t care. They got the message.
The dolphins stayed with us for about twenty minutes, only leaving us to surface for air. The calf stuck firmly by its mother’s side throughout, occasionally feeding, but was as intrigued as the rest of its family.
I indicated for those closest to me to let me know how much air they had left. Everyone was getting low, so we slowly ascended to five meters for our safety stop, still watching as the dolphins darted aimlessly between us. I didn’t want this dive to end, but it had to. I surfaced at the stern of our boat and lugged my heavy gear to de-kit, still full of euphoria and adrenaline, followed by six fellow divers who were experiencing the same as me.
I was silent, still trying to take in what I had just experienced. I heard nothing but the muffled sounds of excitement.
“Kate. Kate!”
I jumped, “Yes?”
“Did you get any photos?” the voice said.
Ah. My camera! I had completely forgotten about it being destroyed two minutes into the dive.
“No, unfortunately not”
“You didn’t?! Why on earth not?!”
The disbelief in his voice shook me from the cloud I was sitting very happily on.
“Because it broke at the beginning of the dive”
“Tough luck” he said to me as he walked towards the rest of the group, who were still congregating, telling each other what they had all witnessed.
Tough luck was right, but it is an experience that will stay with me forever. I don’t need pictures taken by a camera to remember. I remember it just as clearly today as I did when I climbed back onto the boat!
Contact
Author: Kate Hardy
Email: info@travel-dive.com
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