Leaving the whitetips behind, we moved on, taking time to inspect the other fish and some lovely soft corals. The rhythmic hiss of air combined with the gentle progress was mesmeric: Diving, I said to myself, is meditation in rubber. I lost track of time. Fortunately Kenny was keeping an eye on his watch and signaled the ascent.
The moment when you break the surface is always a sad one. The undersea world is instantly gone, like a dream on waking. Instead there is the graceless fumble with equipment, the awkward snatch for air above the slapping waves. I pulled the mask down, spat out water, gasped for air, and heard the diveboat’s engine gunning hard about 50m away.
But then Kenny was pointing. “Dolphins!”
They were coming directly towards us. Rising up in the swell, I caught a glimpse of sleek dark bodies curling neatly from the water. I finned hard to get higher, grabbed the mask and got it back on, got the regulator in. I sank down just in time to see the dolphin pod pass sleekly beneath us. Now they looked silver and utterly graceful, slicing through the water without any apparent effort, then they were gone.
Half an hour later we were back at the dive center. I rolled back the cuff of my wetsuit to let a dozen shark’s teeth clatter to the table. In my skin were the scarlet impressions of their triangular shape. It was less than an hour since I had been watching the raggies glide past — feeling a bit sea-sick from the wild weather. Nevertheless I was already starting to wonder: “What would it be like — to be out there with tiger sharks?”
On the Net:
aliwalshoal.co.za and diveworldwide.com
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