Twenty years ago, or so, a group of female friends and relations would take ourselves off for a warm week in the early part of the year. We called them “Girls’ Holidays” – although the ages of the “girls” varied between about 20 and 80! I often had at least one daughter along, and also my Auntie Elsie came a few times. Other friends brought family members too. I think on one occasion, there were as many as twelve of us, all staying in a cheap hotel on an all inclusive basis.
One of the first of these holiday was to Eilat on the Red Sea. Eilat is in Israel and is tightly sandwiched between Egypt and Jordan: both countries are almost within walking distance. The sea was warm and the weather was beautiful. We spent quite a lot of time swimming. Jae was with us and also her cousin Louise and they decided to acquire a couple of masks and snorkels – or maybe they brought them with them. They were very excited to be able to see coral and told us that it was teaming with fish of all sorts of exotic colours and patterns. One day, they decided that some of us oldies should go snorkeling too. They put their gear on to us and pushed us into the sea. It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life! The coral was amazing, the fish and other sea life were like nothing I had seen before – and I loved the absolute silence and stillness under the waves. We were so pleased that we had a younger generation along: we would never have discovered the other world under the sea without them.
When we got back home, we discovered that there was a Scuba diving course available, which was actually government sponsored! It seems very strange to think now, with education like all public services being pared to the bone, that there was a government initiative to offer NVQ courses to adults at very reduced prices – and that Scuba diving came under this umbrella! Having loved the snorkeling, we thought Scuba diving was a natural progression. I signed up, as did Jae, her sister Gwen and my friend Mary. We had five full days training over several weekends, which included both classroom study and practical diving in various bodies of water.
I recently dug out the paperwork from the course, which I have to admit has stayed in a cupboard untouched for nearly twenty years. I did this because I have this memory of being taught by two young boys – well, I suppose they might have been about 20 – and that we students behaved like children, falling about laughing by some of the terms used. The one thing I remember we laughed about was the continual reference to “sandy bottoms”, but couldn’t remember what else we had found so funny. Well I now see that there were frequent mentions of backrushes, trapped air, reverse blocks, bottom compositions and water movement, which I dare say provided fodder for a few jokes.
The practical diving took place in three locations, that I can remember. One was a local public pool, where I was horrified to see the amount of debris lying on the bottom. When you are above the water in a pool, it looks so lovely and clear: not so below, I can assure you. One dive took place in a pool in the back garden of one of the instructors. The pool clearly had a bit of a problem: it was like swimming in semolina. Well actually, that wasn’t actually the word we used to describe the consistency of the water, but the word starts off much the same. This blog is intended for family reading! The third location was a gravel pit near Maidstone. It was cold, forbidding and dark – a far cry from the wonderful blue sea or rather Red Sea, which had initially inspired this venture. The only wrecks we were able to see there were old cars, which had been dumped in the water – no romantic ship wrecks for us. One of the most important things we were required to do was read the dials on the SPG – the submersible pressure gauge. (No – I didn’t really remember the name of it – I looked it up in the handbook!) Mary was starting to get long sighted then, and needed to hold the gauge at arms length to be able to read the dials. However, the water was so muddy that when she held the SPG away from her, it disappeared into the filth! The young lads teaching us just couldn’t understand this problem, nor did they realise how horrified we were at having to swim in this cold dark dirty water.
Neither Mary nor I have been Scuba diving since that day in the gravel pits, but I have been snorkeling and loved it. I also have jumped off the deck of quite a big boat into the sea and generally felt more confident in water, since completing the course.
How lucky am I to have had the opportunity to share such experiences with my family? In August, I am going to go off again with two generations – I am the old generation this time, not the middle one, as I was on the “Girls’ holidays”. I consider myself privileged to have this chance to do something so exciting with my daughter and grandson. You could say I have been to the depths of the ocean with my family – well the gravel pits at least – and now I am to attempt to scale the highest freestanding mountain in the world again with my family to hand. I would and will go to the ends of the earth for them if that was what they wanted.
