Quick on the draw
By Pete Harrison
Pete Harrison After dropping out of art college in 1990, Pete Harrison studied marine biology at the University of North Wales. Here he learned to dive "as the best way of avoiding the rain".
After graduating, he left Britain to work on the Red Sea liveaboard dive boat Poseidon's Quest, and for the past two years he has worked at the Shark Bay dive centre at Sharm el Sheik, while writing about diving in his spare time.
1 May
Sharm-el-Sheikh, Egypt.
Jim Yanny of the Hurghada Environmental Protection and Conservation Association (HEPCA) phoned today. He has seen my first book, The Sinai Dive Guide, and is interested in something similar for HEPCA. He has in mind an illustrated guide book to the top 50 dive sites of Hurghada and Safaga to serve as a fund-raiser. He is arriving here in Sharm tomorrow and has suggested that perhaps we could meet for a beer at his hotel to talk it over...

2 May
Just back from the meeting. The beer stank (Egyptian "Stella local") but as it was on Jim's tab I drank whisky. We seem to agree on most things - contents of the book, costs, logistics and royalties - but one problem remains: the timing.
Ten weeks from now my girlfriend will give birth to our baby. That leaves me only nine weeks to research, write and illustrate the book and get back to England for the birth. The timing is tight, but I should be able to manage it with a few days to spare.

5 May
My girlfriend, Jo, looking extremely pregnant, saw me off at the ferry to Hurghada. I will not see her for two months until I am back in England.
As the ferry rolls and lurches under the soaring desert cliffs of Ras Mohammed, Shadwan Island and the Gubal Straits, a pilot whale tags along, surfing close to the bow.

7 May
HEPCA has done me proud, accommodating me in a local dive centre's staff flat. I have not met my flatmates Tom and Sacha, but a brief scan of the fridge paints a fair picture - two bottles of Scotch, one can of Budweiser, a bottle of Tia Maria, Grand Marnier, cola (presumably as a mixer), one carton of rancid milk and a lone can of ketchup. They seem like fine people. I have re-evaluated my time schedule and am regretting it. I realise that if I dive twice a day and illustrate and write by night, I will finish by the 29th. My flight home is on the 26th, so I will have to work quicker.

8 May
My first day diving. HEPCA has arranged a place for me on a number of local dive boats. It seems like a workable arrangement, although I can foresee a possible clash of interests with the guides. Time will tell.
To the other guests I must present something of an enigma. I explain that I'm here on business, but they see me doing two dives a day and two hours of scribbling - what kind of job is that?
And what do I look like, with my sun-bleached drysuit, unsuitably warm for the season (my wetsuit ripped the day before I left); a 15-litre tank and pony bottle on my back; twin Aladin computers, slates and pencils dangling from every clip? I am more tooled up for a technical dive than an easy dip in the Red Sea. My excuse is that I'm diving solo and do not want to take risks.

10 May
Today we dived the El Mina, an Egyptian minesweeper sunk in 1969 by Israeli fighter planes. She measures around 70m long, bristling with heavy machine guns and strewn with live ammunition. Slightly to the west we found a deep crater and inside it a hefty shell.
I spent the first 20 minutes sketching on my slate, creating a mess - guns here, winches there, depths and distances all scrawled down. When I was finished, I headed to the bow. The wreck is largely devoid of fish, but beneath the port-side anchor thrives a small oasis of life. A thicket of black urchins harbours a colony of cleaner shrimp among its spines. I slid my hand along the hull towards them and waited. Cautiously, three or four marched forward.
For the next ten minutes I was bewitched as I received a full manicure. The shrimp dug their tiny claws beneath my nail beds, tore out loose strips of dead skin and crammed them into their mouths. They retreated, chewed a while, then scuttled forward for more. Were it not for my computer's timely reminder to surface, I would probably still be down there.
I still haven't met my flatmates - they seem to come and go in the night. In the early hours, I hear their voices as I sit frantically scribbling in my room, and the Scotch is gradually disappearing, so I know they exist.

13 May
Still worrying about the time schedule. Forty-eight sites in nine weeks is an impossible task but I console myself with the knowledge that a dozen sites are already under my belt from previous visits.
Another asset comes my way with HEPCA's blessing - I am told the local dive centres are behind me. I have already started picking their brains, and am amassing a substantial file of dive guides' maps. Some of the boat captains and fishermen have revealed the whims of currents, local wind patterns and the haunts of particular fish.

Umm Gamar 15 May
We visited this morning. I had already done the illustration for this one so I dived for pleasure.
Umm Gamar is Arabic for "mother of the moon", which is perhaps a reference to the crescent-shaped island above the reef. To the south is a wide plateau, which merges with a steep buttressed wall to the east, and is well supplied with HEPCA's orange mooring buoys. Here stand three coral towers swathed in mauve alcyonarians and a swirling mist of glassfish.
The most northerly tower is taller and more sculpted than the others. In its shadow there squatted a stonefish, its toothy upturned grimace defining it from the surrounding rubble. In the cave below, at 27m, a huge jade-green Napoleon slept on the sandy floor.
This evening I finally met my flat-mates. Apparently, my reclusive nocturnal habits have earned me a nickname: the Ghost.

20 May
A bizarre thing happened this morning. I was sketching reefs as usual when my pencil snapped. As I was not carrying a dive knife, I carefully selected a chunk of dead coral to rasp the pencil to a point. The next thing I knew, I was jerked violently backwards, twisting, tumbling, and was finally up-ended. I picked myself up, somewhat shaken, to find a female divemaster waving an indignant forefinger in my face.
Behind her, a group of students looked on in silent condemnation. Touching coral is definitely taboo around here.
Back on board, I noticed her on a neighbouring boat and crossed over to settle the misunderstanding. She was taller than me, amazonian, which unsettled me. Sheepishly, I explained my situation and told her that I was working with HEPCA. Well, in that case, she said, I should definitely know better. Shame on me.

21May
I rose early this morning and headed to Safaga, where there are 16 sites that require my attention, but some of them I am already familiar with.
In the afternoon, we visited Middle reef to dive a site called Hal-hal, which is Arabic for "restless sea". It was atypically calm but the current was howling. The site is composed of a narrow ridge with twin summits brushing the surface. A shallow plateau lies to the west, and to the east is a ledge and drop-off.
As we descended the mooring line, a whirlwind of fish tumbled and chased in the current. An unruly pack of yellow goatfish had rooted themselves among the corals, a school of bannerfish hugged tight to the reef for shelter, and everywhere orange clouds of anthias clung to the slopes. From beneath a mushroom of coral protruded the tail of a white-tip shark, and along the drop-off cruised a prehistoric-looking bonito tuna.
For over an hour I fought the current to cover ground and finish my maps, earning myself a banging headache - a headache well worth it for an unforgettable dive.
8 June
I am finally getting on top of things and have only a handful of sites left to research. This morning's dive menu featured Shaabruhr Umm Gamar. Shaabruhr is Arabic for "thin reef". It lies to the south of Umm Gamar, comprising a narrow coral wall towering up from the depths.
A slender north plateau extends seawards at 25-30m, and a ledge at the same depth runs the length of the east and west walls. On the southern drop-off between 27m and 40m lies the smashed wreckage of an Egyptian army supply vessel. Here I saw a grey reef shark, gliding silently along the thermocline, heading north. Beyond the corner a powerful current caused the water to shimmer, and behind this hazy curtain loomed the shadows of trevallies and Spanish mackerel.

16 June
Every morning I rise and head down to the jetty. As I round the corner at the end of our street, I catch my first hopeful glimpse of the sea. The last four mornings it has been peppered with angry white-capped waves. They sweep across the open sea, crashing on the outer reefs and islands. The boats will stay close to shore again.
Only three sites remain unresearched, all of them far out and exposed. Had I thought properly, I would have bagged them earlier but now it's too late. I turn and head home.

17 June
I am short on time but HEPCA found the ideal solution: a boat to myself. The sea was still rough and, as we headed beyond the shelter of the islands, we left the other boats behind. The further we went, the more the sea picked up. The crew began to curse me under their breath.
I had been told that Erg Abu Ramada was good, but what I found was beyond all expectations. I had the site to myself but for half a dozen morays, a couple of which guarded dark crevices in the reef face. The rest were free-swimming, their sinuous black bodies rippling across the white sand.
Three small towers join to make Erg Abu Ramada. It is a compact formation, so by hanging back I could sketch the whole scene from a distance. This was my last dive of the trip, so I took my time, revelling in the solitude. A group of unicornfish was suspended beneath the waves as a mirage of silversides glinted in the sun, and a hawksbill turtle coasted by. I noted the colours of the Red Sea: coral pinks, fusilier blues, and anthias gold against a backdrop of the deep.

25 June
I walked away from the HEPCA offices this evening feeling strangely lost, having just handed over my baby - a baby of 96 pages, including 50 hand-painted illustrations and several tens of thousands of words. HEPCA is its guardian from now on.
The past week has drifted by in a haze of scribbling as I fretted to finish on time. My only companion was a slowly growing pile of empty pizza boxes. Occasionally I would emerge, blinking into the sunlight, and wander down the shore to clear my head. Mostly, however, I withdrew to work in my room, lulled by the sultry beat of an overhead fan.
Tomorrow I return to England to another baby, a real one this time, one that demands just as much time, much more attention and many more wakeful nights.

The HEPCA Official Dive Guide for Hurghada and Safaga is out this month. Details from HEPCA,
tel. 00 2065 445035, e-mail: hepca@intouch.com or website: www.intouch.com/redsea/hepca
Appeared in DIVER - November 1997
Back to