 |
JUST DESERTS
LOUISE TREWAVAS
THE SINAI DESERT IS BEAUTIFUL. Without diving, I may never have found a reason to visit this part of the Red Sea, and I'd have missed out on this fabulous pink sunset against the jagged rust-coloured majesty of the desert mountains.
You can understand why people have these deep, spiritual experiences in deserts. It's so gorgeous, it's making my jaw ache.
Well, that was what I believed, until I was awoken at 4am with a throbbing pain in my tooth. Yeah, yeah, the desert is cute but let me tell you: it is not a good place to find a dentist.
In true British diving style, I'm not about to let a rotten tooth stop me. Or so I believe until I find that I can barely hold onto my mouthpiece during the dive. So stuff the desert, I'm praying to the god of Ibuprofen to help me out.
Part of the reason I love diving is because it takes you into another world. Cares and worries melt away, because I am just so "in the moment". I never think of anything other than being on the dive - except now, all I can think about is my bloody tooth and how much it hurts. A school of whale sharks could be frisking with dolphins and manatees before my eyes and I doubt if I'd even notice.
Death and dentists occupy about the same level of concern in my consciousness; I'd rather steer clear of both. So it's a measure of my desperation that I ask Poseidon Divers if it can find me a dentist in Dahab. Unfortunately it's Ramadan and the dentist doesn't work during Ramadan - that's a whole month!
"Just go down the pharmacy and get some antibiotics," advises the dive-centre manager. Genius! Suddenly I love Egypt again. You can walk into the pharmacy and buy almost anything: Viagra, amphetamines, broad-spectrum antibiotics... fantastic.
A journalist once asked one of the Boesmansgatt cave divers what they saw down there. The reply came back: nothing. It's total darkness. We dive because of what isn't there.
And I guess that's why people find deserts interesting as well. Vast, empty, you have to look very closely to appreciate what little life is there. It's just you and your thoughts, and a heightened focus on detail. That's how fans of night-diving often describe the experience.
As for me, diving at night and looking at sleeping fish is interesting for about two minutes. It's all a bit pointless, like turning on 24-hour Big Brother after they've gone to bed. And deserts - well, fine for a sunset but they're a bit short on facilities for my liking. I'm beginning to suspect that this means I'm spiritually lacking.
"Do you think I'm spiritually lacking?" I ask Marky Mark as we watch another sunset from the dive-centre café.
"Don't know about that," he replies. "But if you're looking for inspiration you should visit St Catherine's Monastery at the foot of Mount Sinai. It's just down the road from Dahab and it's the home of the Burning Bush."
"Oooh, sounds dodgy, no wonder they sell antibiotics over the counter round here!" I reply. Probably not a clever thing to say, but I wasn't struck dead on the spot, so God must have been on a tea-break.
I'm watching the dusk gathering, and the other memorable thing that comes to mind about deserts is Ice Cold in Alex, WW2, and the fierce campaign fought by Monty and his Desert Rats. I'm thinking how peaceful it is, when the terrible sound of fighting fills the air.
Dark shapes flit around the edge of the dive centre. Low growling is followed by yowls and shrieks. Right on cue, it's the desert cats.
|
