I am a bit of a water babe. Not a great swimmer, by any means, I nevertheless feel comfortable and at home in water. I cannot understand people who when they go on holiday to a seaside resort, spend the time just lying on the beach, or even worse, lying round the pool. Still, chacon a son gout...
One of the major attractions of Sinai is water sports. The coral reef is supposed to the best in the world, surpassing even the Great Barrier Reef in splendour, if not in size. All along the coast are Dive Schools. I am particularly amused by Camel Dive Safari, who have branches in Sharm and Dahab, and perhaps elsewhere. I have visions of riding to the bottom of the sea aboard a camel. It is possible to buy t-shirts of camels kitted out in snorkel gear.
The Red Sea is salty - not quite as salty as the Dead Sea, which is extraordinary - but still saltier than any other sea I have swam in.
On the Monday of our visit we embarked on a Lazy Day boat trip. The purpose is to have the opportunity to dive or snorkel, or just relax on the boat.
On our boat were seven customers and three staff. The captain and crew were Egyptian, the dive instructor Israeli. The four Egypt-based customers were British, except for the woman who was a London-based Italian. The Eilat-based customers were Dutch, American and Australian. Together, the ten of us were nationals of five continents. Quite extraordinary, I think.
I wasn't going to get any snorkel gear, but the man in the shop insisted, pointing out that its hire was included in the cost, anyway. I see no fun in snorkelling - I really don't like that thing going in my mouth and being round my face.
The other passengers included a very strong swimmer who had gone to Eilat to destress, post-divorce, and two people who wanted to log some more hours diving. The couple we got friendly with had paid some extra to have twenty minutes one-to-one introductory diving with the instructor. Elisa enjoyed it; Charles absolutely loved it, especially the sense of timelessness, and he waxed lyrical on the behaviour of an octopus he had seen. We chatted about our day to a couple in our hotel, Judith and Andy. They hadn't been sure, but hearing how I had just played around, not diving, not snorkelling, they went for it. And ended up having their arms twisted to try the introduction to diving, which they adored.
I decided to go into the water. The captain persuaded me to wear flippers. Doubtfully, I obeyed him. It was just so cool. I spent so long in the water. Not especially swimming, not making much effort to float. Just letting the natural buoyancy of the water keep me afloat. Loving it! I got quite far from the boat, but despite being in deep water I was unperturbed. I just swum back at my leisure.
The most amazing thing is breasts. The water was so buoyant it forced my breasts up higher than they have ever been and more than any corset could ever manage - the evidence is here
The next day I was swimming off our hotel's beach. Because of the coral reef, which is highly protected under Egyptian law, you cannot go into the sea directly off the beach but must use a rubber pontoon jetty that floats, moored, over the reef.
I was swimming happily and happily jumping the waves when it began to dawn on me that I was a long way from the pontoon and well out of my depth. The current was running at a sharp diagonal, and taking me away from the pontoon, and the wind had whipped up. On a normal beach, I would have just waited for the waves to crash me back into my depth - even if I ended up half a mile away - well, one can always walk back. But, legal aspects aside, the thought of being crashed onto the reef was unwelcome. The cuts and excruciating pain would have been the least of it - coral is a living organism and will spew out poison in self-defence.
So, I figured, I just needed to swim back to the pontoon. I set myself clear targets - level with the end of the dive school, level with the other end, level with the goalposts etc. But I began to tire, and I realised that if I rested and trod water, I would undo all the progress I had made. If only I could have rested on the bottom. But the water was at least ten feet deep. "Keep calm," I told myself. "Breathe in, use the adrenaline..." Then I panicked, which took away all my strength.
For a moment I thought. Maybe I could make it. But if I got into trouble what then? There were people on the jetty, but what if they realised it was getting choppy, and went back to the beach?
"Help" I shouted, and again. They looked round, they could hear but couldn't see. I shouted again, and waved my arm in the air. The man stood, thinking what to do. "Please go for help!" I said. He jumped in, "Please don't risk yourself," I said even more urgently.
He swam towards me. Then, from under the jetty emerged a snorkeller. He zoomed to me, and took my arm. The other man told me to take deep breaths, the snorkeller pointed to a handy rock and told me to rest. Then, as he supported me, I swam back to the jetty. The snorkeller disappeared.
Nobody knew who he was. I didn't recognise him, I didn't see him again. I think he may actually have been a water-borne Aladdin, appearing when a lamp was rubbed, and literally vamoosing into thin air. I expressed my thanks to him, and, more profusely, to the chap who had jumped in. Jimmy had heard my voice and assumed I was having a go at someone (who? me?), then realised what was happening, but figured if he jumped in it would just double the trouble. Lucy thought the same - she said if no one else had been there, she would have done, but she had already come out because it was too cold. She told me to have a stiff drink, and was really sweet and reassuring, and throughout the rest of the day checked I was okay.
In truth my major reaction was embarrassment. And annoyance at myself. I was taught at a young age to watch the current, to be aware of where I am in relation to the beach. I've never had problems in the water before, and here I am, nearly 37 and nearly drowning. The shame of it.
Jimmy's brother Terry was on holiday in the Bahamas last week and went out in a small boat to do some snorkelling with a local man he had befriended. The boat came loose from the moorings, and slowly it dawned on Sharon, back on the beach, that Terry - and the local man - were a long way from the boat or the beach. I have only heard what Jimmy told me, which was told to him by Lawrence, the Champion embellisher wind-up merchant - he spread it round the neighbourhood we were lost in the Maldives. No one believed him. However, the rescue involved a helicopter being scrambled.
