There are some exceptions but for most land dwellers sunrise is the most precious gift. A big orange ball in the eastern sky signals that the old day is history and the new day is off to a fresh start. But, for millions of creatures that live in the sea, sunrise is bad. So little cover and so many bigger things make them hide in holes and wait anxiously for the sunset. The cover of darkness offers safety. Their ability to slither and flitter about the reef, unseen by bigger eyes and bigger teeth is priceless. It keeps them alive and kicking amongst others in their particular layer of the food chain. I learned long ago that few things in the ocean die from old age.
There are times, sunrise and sunset, when those animals that are day feeders are trying to get that last meal and night feeders that have been without eating all day are scurrying for food. Vice versa happens at sunrise. The ambiance during this change of shift is in no way relaxed. Dusk and dawn are two very exciting times to be in the ocean.
Night dives were always filled with adventure but some places were special their very mention brought a sense of excitement of history of something extra. We longed for a place where life had value and the beer required an opener. Such a place was Eilat, Israel.
Late in the afternoon, everyone else had gone back to the hotel except Dave and I. He shared a lot of my sentiments about maximizing bottom time. The sun was setting behind us and we patiently waited for dark. He kept staring at an Israeli patrol boat while I strained to hear a conversation between two sunbathers. They were attractive, tanned all over, German girls who were packing after a long day of soaking rays. I had noticed an almost wormy looking British guy talking to them a few minutes before. With my very elementary German I could hear them saying But I dont like this guy, I want to catch the bus. And the other replied. Quiet, well ride back to town in his car. Well let him buy us a Falafel for dinner. Then Ill get a headache and you will have to go home and take care of me. They left with him and I was wishing I could tag along to see what happened.
Dave interrupted and told me that the patrol boat was using captured Russian ammunition for target practice. I asked him how he knew and he related that Russian tracers are green where ours are red. That information would only be important to a Special Ops guy; however, I began watching them too. Machine gun tracers and forty-millimeter flack is actually pretty from a distance. It was kind of like a menacing fireworks display. We sat quietly because, as professional soldiers, both of us knew what it felt like to be up close and on the other end of it.
Darkness finally reached the point that the red string appeared the same color as the blue string so the man in the mosque started his prayer. We knew it was time and we were happy. Our gear was already assembled and within minutes we were where all true divers want to be at least two atmospheres of pressure between the sky and us.
Our plan was to skim across the top of the reef on a heading to Moses Rock, circle the rock at 60 feet and return along the front of the reef at less than 30 feet. You must realize that these were the days before the computer and legal multilevel diving. We would spend most of our bottom time above 30 feet. The reef was healthy and alive and there was a lot to see.
We cruised along on top of the reef not in any particular hurry slowly making our way to the rock. We first heard the sound as a faint crackle that rapidly increased in intensity and then BOOM! The pressure of the explosion felt like a hard slap and then it was gone. The fish appeared not to have paid it any attention. We looked at each other and could hear the props from the patrol boat speeding toward the south. Both of us knew we had been depth charged from a distance. We smiled, gave each other the high five, and thought cool. Undaunted, we continued our trek toward Moses Rock.
We left the reef about 100 yards from the rock and began a slow descent, intersecting our destination at about 60 feet. As planned, we began a counter-clockwise pattern around the pinnacle. We were between the rock and the reef when the second crackling came. Louder and louder then BOOM! We laughed, recorded it to memory and continued to circle the rock. Outside the rock, we heard the patrol boat once more. Then the familiar crackle but this time there was no reef to block or deflect the force. When the BOOM came it was like being hit directly in the chest breathing was difficult for a moment and I realized that I had been rolled onto my back. My ears roared but somehow I managed to get a look at Dave and saw a big smile on his face. We both laughed and headed northwest toward the reef. Being depth charged by the Israeli Navy would make for some great stories around future campfires.
Slowly we swam along looking and taking pictures just enjoying the beauty. We reached the permanent marker and knew that the time had come that all divers hate. The hardest thing is to break the bonds between the sea and the surface ending the dive returning to gravity. Just as my head cleared the water the sky lit with a volley of forty-millimeter flack explosions. A magnificent fireworks display almost as if it was in my honor, welcoming me back to the gaseous atmosphere. I trudged toward the jeep and glanced at my bottom timer two hours and seventeen minutes. Wow!
Since the night was young, we decided to do another dive and moved to a site near the Egyptian border. Another ninety minutes of bottom time, beautiful and healthy coral, colorful fish, eels, rays, and a fight with an octopus did not come close to the excitement of the first dive. I did run into a curious creature sort of like a tiny submarine. He had a round body and blunt tail with two dorsal fins on the tail. As I took several pictures, he appeared shy and kept retreating for the safety of a hole. I successfully blocked his escape several times with my strobe. Here I am, a country boy from Alabama, living in Germany, and traveling to the Red Sea. I kept asking myself, What kind of silly creature are you? I finally reached down and tried to block his escape with my bare hand. He nudged me with his nose and told me in a language that could be understood anywhere, I am an electric ray! Needless to say, after that I respected his shyness and left him alone. The Gulf of Aqaba is cool. A volcanic fissure causes constant upwelling and the water temperature stays in the 70s. We were getting cold by now and decided to give it up break that surly bond and become land creatures once again.
I was mad at first because my towel had disappeared from the jeep. Then I realized that I didnt need one. I stood on the edge of the desert, my bare skin feeling the warmth of superheated wind coming from the rocks sucking moisture from anything it touched. My body dried quickly but I was left with a terrible thirst.
We packed up the jeep and headed north along the coast road. I remembered a bar that sat off the road about halfway to town. We pulled into the parking lot and a single red neon sign announced COLD BEER. The lot was full of vehicles parked in no particular order and the muffled sound of someone singing a familiar Hank Williams Junior song in Hebrew filtered through the walls. Now you understand that all I had between God and me was a pair of nylon running shorts and some sandals. We tossed to see who would go in after the beer and who would wait in the jeep and keep the motor running. I lost.
I eased up to the door and pushed it open. All sound stopped, even the jukebox paused. Every eye trained on me. The bar was deathly quiet for what seemed like an hour but was actually about 2 minutes. I had visions of someone walking up and saying, Boy, you aint from around here, I can tell. I walked to the bar my back to the wall and ordered six beers. It turned out that the bottles cost more than the beer. As I backed out the door, the jukebox and conversation resumed. Folks who knew firsthand the value and fragility of life were enjoying that life to the fullest. Dave was in conversation with two Israeli girls. I realized that I didnt have a bottle opener and one of them offered to open my beer. She used her Swiss Army Knife to snap the cap right off.
The long swig of ice cold Gold Star was the best liquid I have ever tasted. Every cell in my body absorbed the moisture. I propped my feet on the dash knowing I had two more Gold Stars and six more days of diving to go. One of the girls said nonchalantly, We need a ride to town, are you going that way? I smiled and thought to myself, Life is good!
There are times, sunrise and sunset, when those animals that are day feeders are trying to get that last meal and night feeders that have been without eating all day are scurrying for food. Vice versa happens at sunrise. The ambiance during this change of shift is in no way relaxed. Dusk and dawn are two very exciting times to be in the ocean.
Night dives were always filled with adventure but some places were special their very mention brought a sense of excitement of history of something extra. We longed for a place where life had value and the beer required an opener. Such a place was Eilat, Israel.
Late in the afternoon, everyone else had gone back to the hotel except Dave and I. He shared a lot of my sentiments about maximizing bottom time. The sun was setting behind us and we patiently waited for dark. He kept staring at an Israeli patrol boat while I strained to hear a conversation between two sunbathers. They were attractive, tanned all over, German girls who were packing after a long day of soaking rays. I had noticed an almost wormy looking British guy talking to them a few minutes before. With my very elementary German I could hear them saying But I dont like this guy, I want to catch the bus. And the other replied. Quiet, well ride back to town in his car. Well let him buy us a Falafel for dinner. Then Ill get a headache and you will have to go home and take care of me. They left with him and I was wishing I could tag along to see what happened.
Dave interrupted and told me that the patrol boat was using captured Russian ammunition for target practice. I asked him how he knew and he related that Russian tracers are green where ours are red. That information would only be important to a Special Ops guy; however, I began watching them too. Machine gun tracers and forty-millimeter flack is actually pretty from a distance. It was kind of like a menacing fireworks display. We sat quietly because, as professional soldiers, both of us knew what it felt like to be up close and on the other end of it.
Darkness finally reached the point that the red string appeared the same color as the blue string so the man in the mosque started his prayer. We knew it was time and we were happy. Our gear was already assembled and within minutes we were where all true divers want to be at least two atmospheres of pressure between the sky and us.
Our plan was to skim across the top of the reef on a heading to Moses Rock, circle the rock at 60 feet and return along the front of the reef at less than 30 feet. You must realize that these were the days before the computer and legal multilevel diving. We would spend most of our bottom time above 30 feet. The reef was healthy and alive and there was a lot to see.
We cruised along on top of the reef not in any particular hurry slowly making our way to the rock. We first heard the sound as a faint crackle that rapidly increased in intensity and then BOOM! The pressure of the explosion felt like a hard slap and then it was gone. The fish appeared not to have paid it any attention. We looked at each other and could hear the props from the patrol boat speeding toward the south. Both of us knew we had been depth charged from a distance. We smiled, gave each other the high five, and thought cool. Undaunted, we continued our trek toward Moses Rock.
We left the reef about 100 yards from the rock and began a slow descent, intersecting our destination at about 60 feet. As planned, we began a counter-clockwise pattern around the pinnacle. We were between the rock and the reef when the second crackling came. Louder and louder then BOOM! We laughed, recorded it to memory and continued to circle the rock. Outside the rock, we heard the patrol boat once more. Then the familiar crackle but this time there was no reef to block or deflect the force. When the BOOM came it was like being hit directly in the chest breathing was difficult for a moment and I realized that I had been rolled onto my back. My ears roared but somehow I managed to get a look at Dave and saw a big smile on his face. We both laughed and headed northwest toward the reef. Being depth charged by the Israeli Navy would make for some great stories around future campfires.
Slowly we swam along looking and taking pictures just enjoying the beauty. We reached the permanent marker and knew that the time had come that all divers hate. The hardest thing is to break the bonds between the sea and the surface ending the dive returning to gravity. Just as my head cleared the water the sky lit with a volley of forty-millimeter flack explosions. A magnificent fireworks display almost as if it was in my honor, welcoming me back to the gaseous atmosphere. I trudged toward the jeep and glanced at my bottom timer two hours and seventeen minutes. Wow!
Since the night was young, we decided to do another dive and moved to a site near the Egyptian border. Another ninety minutes of bottom time, beautiful and healthy coral, colorful fish, eels, rays, and a fight with an octopus did not come close to the excitement of the first dive. I did run into a curious creature sort of like a tiny submarine. He had a round body and blunt tail with two dorsal fins on the tail. As I took several pictures, he appeared shy and kept retreating for the safety of a hole. I successfully blocked his escape several times with my strobe. Here I am, a country boy from Alabama, living in Germany, and traveling to the Red Sea. I kept asking myself, What kind of silly creature are you? I finally reached down and tried to block his escape with my bare hand. He nudged me with his nose and told me in a language that could be understood anywhere, I am an electric ray! Needless to say, after that I respected his shyness and left him alone. The Gulf of Aqaba is cool. A volcanic fissure causes constant upwelling and the water temperature stays in the 70s. We were getting cold by now and decided to give it up break that surly bond and become land creatures once again.
I was mad at first because my towel had disappeared from the jeep. Then I realized that I didnt need one. I stood on the edge of the desert, my bare skin feeling the warmth of superheated wind coming from the rocks sucking moisture from anything it touched. My body dried quickly but I was left with a terrible thirst.
We packed up the jeep and headed north along the coast road. I remembered a bar that sat off the road about halfway to town. We pulled into the parking lot and a single red neon sign announced COLD BEER. The lot was full of vehicles parked in no particular order and the muffled sound of someone singing a familiar Hank Williams Junior song in Hebrew filtered through the walls. Now you understand that all I had between God and me was a pair of nylon running shorts and some sandals. We tossed to see who would go in after the beer and who would wait in the jeep and keep the motor running. I lost.
I eased up to the door and pushed it open. All sound stopped, even the jukebox paused. Every eye trained on me. The bar was deathly quiet for what seemed like an hour but was actually about 2 minutes. I had visions of someone walking up and saying, Boy, you aint from around here, I can tell. I walked to the bar my back to the wall and ordered six beers. It turned out that the bottles cost more than the beer. As I backed out the door, the jukebox and conversation resumed. Folks who knew firsthand the value and fragility of life were enjoying that life to the fullest. Dave was in conversation with two Israeli girls. I realized that I didnt have a bottle opener and one of them offered to open my beer. She used her Swiss Army Knife to snap the cap right off.
The long swig of ice cold Gold Star was the best liquid I have ever tasted. Every cell in my body absorbed the moisture. I propped my feet on the dash knowing I had two more Gold Stars and six more days of diving to go. One of the girls said nonchalantly, We need a ride to town, are you going that way? I smiled and thought to myself, Life is good!
