Boat Diving In Oman

First Encounters In A New Sea

Having gained my PADI Open Water certification with Qatar Divers, I was close to completing Advanced Open Water, with just one speciality dive remaining - the Deep Dive. I had reason to take a trip to Oman for a few days, and, hearing that the conditions there were excellent, I discussed it with Abdullatif, and we decided that it would present the perfect opportunity for me to complete the course. So I duly packed my scuba kit (minus tanks and weights) into a large suitcase and off I went.

Abdullatif had arranged an introduction for me with Global Scuba, a dive club based near Muscat. They're licensed to organise tours to all the best locations, run training courses, and provide a full equipment rental service, which is all included in the package. They also run several dive boats of various sizes and a team of highly knowledgeable and capable instructors.

Having arranged a time over the 'phone, I caught a complementary bus from my hotel with a couple of other guests who had booked to dive, and we headed off to Global Scuba. Upon arrival there was some paperwork to be completed detailing our previous experience and level of certification, and a medical statement to be signed.

Next, the other divers were sized up and kitted out with equipment. Having brought my own, it was carried to the boat for me, a 26ft craft with a pair of large outboard motors. It was still sitting upon its trailer as we climbed aboard, and once we were seated, it was reversed down a jetty into the sea and off we went. Our destination was Fahal Island, a prominent outcrop of rock 4km off the coast of Muscat.

The boat was fast and skimmed the water, throwing up spray from time to time as it caught the waves. I have to admit to great excitement at the prospect of diving in a new location, from a boat for the first time, and witnessing the abundant marine life of Oman, of which I'd heard so much.

At a signal the engine was cut, and we were motioned to gather closer, as I imagined, for a briefing. But no! Our pilot had been reading the sky and the wind, and apparently things weren't looking good. We were given the option of continuing, but advised that this might incur some adverse conditions on the dive and a very long and bumpy return journey, and so it was called off. I felt more disappointed than I can describe!

Early the following morning I headed back to Global Scuba alone, as the other divers from my hotel had a flight to catch. The previous day's procedure was repeated with a fresh set of faces, and thankfully this time the weather was much better.

Once at Fahal Island we dropped anchor, and began to bob up and down gently on the waves. The sudden change of motion felt awkward to me, unaccustomed as I am to the motion of boats, and I found myself focussing my eyes on an outcrop of rock to keep my head together. We had a short briefing and were then organised into buddy pairs. Tanks were strapped to BCDs, and we kitted up. I felt comparatively overdressed in my full suit and hood, with the other divers in shorties.

After some quick instruction in how to enter the water with a seated backward roll, we were in. The first strange sight (and there were many) was of what looked like long strands of orange rope floating in the water, about 10 feet deep. I soon found to my cost that these weren't as harmless as I'd initially supposed, when one brushed across my face. They were jellyfish! Luckily I was wearing my hood, so I came off lightly, and quickly descended beneath them.

The coral was magnificent, soft, alive, and blowing gently in the current beneath me, full of pinks and greens. I felt as if I was soaring above a forest. Gaps in the coral appeared like paths and roads, teeming with marine life going about its business. My buddy tapped me on the shoulder, and as I turned my head towards him, he gestured towards a huge moray eel poking its head from a hole and snapping its mouth in our general direction. Its black and white spotted body was in great contrast to its more organic coloured surroundings, and I felt mesmerised.

As the ocean floor descended, my vision exploded in a riot of colour. It was aquatic rush-hour! Shoals of fish wheeled and turned around us, a kalaedoscope of life of infinite varieties. I tried to count the different types of marine animal, but gave up in seconds, my senses overwhelmed with ever more amazing varieties. Every few moments a predator-prey pair would flash by in front of me, locked in their ritual of survival, and disappear into the distance.

We followed the contour of the sea-bed as it sloped downwards. I checked my computer and blinked as it read 85ft, the deepest I'd ever been, and well below the depth I needed for my Advanced Open Water certification. It was then that I noticed the three octopi ahead of me, coiling and twirling themselves around each other. I wasn't sure whether they were fighting or mating, but stilled my movement for several minutes to watch this amazing scene unfold.

As we headed off again, a long (6ft?) and very thin silver transluscent creature flicked across my vision and as I tried to track its movement I was suddenly aware of a looming shape in the water ahead. Our guide stopped and we held station beside him as he gave us the hand signal for "Warning". It was a large stingray, prehistoric in appearance, which had lifted off the bottom and was flapping its way through the water like a bird beating its wings.

All too soon the dive was over as our tanks began to run down, and we surfaced to the boat, picking our way through the orange jellyfish. I was so glad of my full suit, hood and gloves when I saw the stings some of the other divers had collected in their rented shorty suits. The boat had a bottle of vinegar on board which quickly did the rounds to calm down the inflammation.

We rested for an hour or so, drinking water and catching a few rays, and the boat was moved to another bay for the second dive. This one followed a similar pattern to the first. I saw plenty more moray eels and, again, an incredible abundance of fish of every shape and colour. I'm amazed that marine biologists and other divers can remember all their names!

Towards the end of the dive we came across a large coral reef, over which lay a discarded fishing net. It had obviously been there for some time, and many of its holes held the skeletons of fish who had been trapped, perished, and become lunch for other species. Most of the divers had surfaced, but myself, my buddy and our guide stayed and ran our tanks down as we did all we could to break the net up and let countless creatures escape their rope prison. Our guide spent a good 10 minutes working to release a very large crab whose claw had become tangled, and I felt a pang of relief when he finally succeeded.

A pair of moray eels poked their heads out of a hole at me, intertwining and seemingly nuzzling each other. It was a very sweet sight. As I turned to draw my buddy's attention I noticed him transfixed, and as I followed his gaze, I could see why. About 15ft away lay the largest stingray of the dive, about 8ft wide, with an enormous tail, resting in the sand. At that exact moment it lifted itself clear and flapped effortlessly away, and I realised that, no matter how fancy our gear, nor how good our training, we can never be anything more than clumsy visitors to this incredible and alien environment, like fish out of water.

by Alastair