Written by Christopher Bartlett | 19 November 2009

Turned off by the bright lights, pseudo-palacios, and rows of Bedouin bars of Sharm yet want to explore the wonders of Ras Mohamed and the Tiran reefs? 15 minutes from the airport to the south and north of the glitzy naffness and fast food chains of Naama Bay, Sharks' Bay boasts its own jetty on site, an excellent PADI resort dive centre, and no Russians.

The warm night-time breeze was a welcome change from the wettest British August on record. Transport was awaiting us and, as a virgin visitor to Egypt, I was surprised by the small group. I had had visions of being squeezed into a large coach like the proverbial sardine, but there was room to spare in the air-conditioned minibus, and getting acquainted with my companions was easy. Of the six others, four were a non-diving female group out for some R&R; only Jean-Marie and Brendan from the People's Republic of Cork would be indulging in my wet neoprene fetish with me.

After an efficient and organised arrival, the slightly bemused porter led me to my room (as I insisted on lugging my bags up the coral ragstone steps), switched the air-con on as the bed passed my backward roll entry mattress test, and bade me good night with a worried smile.

Up with sunrise to fiddle with camera gear, I stepped onto the balcony overlooking the bay and the jetty. One of the attractions of Shark's Bay is that the boat is only a couple of hundred metres walk from the dive centre, and requires no minibus or taxi-ride before embarking.

After a healthy and fruity breakfast (I had no difficulty resisting the chips and beef frankfurter), I met my shipmates for the day. We were a small but eclectic, bling-free bunch from around Western Europe, and our dive guides, Mohammed and Mohammed, split us into two groups of six, pairing me with Marcella from Miiiilano. After passing through the disconnected metal detector and a comically inept bag search conducted by a bored conscript, we boarded the Freedom III. Having done almost all of my diving from RIBs and dhows the space onboard this ex-diving safari boat was wonderful, with a dry area inside for cameras, hot and cold drinks, and all the luxuries that Red Sea divers take for granted.

We were heading for the Tiran reefs, and stopped along the way at Ras Bob, one of the local sites, for a check dive. Going down the slope of the reef there were plenty of the usual reef inhabitants, but beyond 15 metres the site seemed relatively barren bar a large patch of garden eels, possibly due to the proximity of building sites and their accompanying dust. It was still a world away from Stoney Cove, and was an excellent introduction to sea diving for the young Brummie Mum, Dad, daughter and son combo in Big Mohammed's group, but was hardly the bounty promised by books and brochures.

The four reefs close to Tiran islands, partially obstructing the straights of the same name and the entrance to the Gulf of Aqaba, are a pleasure to behold. There is something captivating about the view of the virtually intact Lullia perched on top of Gordon reef, and the rusting ship is in stark contrast to the myriad of life below it. The 30-metre plus viz and the brightly patterned roving coral groupers assuaged any doubts that Ras Bob had created.

In the course of six days' diving, four were spent on Woodhouse, Jackson, Gordon, and Thomas reefs, with Jackson's southern side getting three visits in total. Besides its well-known attraction of the red anemone at 28 metres, there was an abundance of life; from the majestic and mean-looking giant trevallies, delicate gorgonian fans, and brick house brindle bass, to tiny ghost pipefish and nudibranchs.

On the first day, during a long a gentle drift along Woodhouse, the longest of the four reefs, two-bar clownfish nestled in bubble-tipped anemones, a school of blue-spotted trevally cruised past, and a white-spotted puffer chugged along. Some big boys were around too: two coral groupers grinned their menacing grins before a Napoleon wrasse seemingly ambled by, until Marcella tried to catch up with it.

Whilst we were down, the deck and galley team of, you guessed it, Mohammed and Mohammed, rustled up some fine home cooking with platters of vegetables, pasta salad, chicken, and tahini that were wolfed down with much appreciation.

A third dive was offered and accepted after leisurely lazing on the top deck for an hour or more, and this was to be the format for the rest of the week: cruise out, two dives, a varied buffet of tasty treats, digestion, off-gassing and tongue-wagging, another decent dip, and a cruise home. Boats were always back at five in the afternoon to avoid the wrath of the local Marine Police chief.

Gordon reef and it’s interesting currents made for good out and back drift dives in the right conditions. Dropping down to 28 metres the current took us northeast along the lip of the drop off, past a hungry hawksbill turtle and a group inexplicably going into the reasonably strong current. Coming up towards the corner of the reef, Mohammed minor judged the ascent right and at 12 metres we started drifting southwest back towards our entry point. My only fin work was to stay stationery to take a few snaps of the abundant marine life.

The guides throughout the week were excellent, with a full briefing given every time. Whilst it may seem unnecessary to some, Marcella, an advanced diver with 120 logged dives, provided ample proof that you can never repeat some things enough. After the sixth dive together we were running through some fish ID with Mohammed. “Hey, Mo, one ting eh, thissa sign” she said, holding out her right palm parallel to the floor with fingers extended and touching the palm with three fingers from her left hand underneath, “whatta fish is dis?”.

The upper section of the south side of Thomas reef was awash with colourful soft corals, some of the best in the Sinai region, with Dendronephthya, or soft branching corals, all over the shallower sections. The smallest of the Tiran reefs, Thomas’s currents can be very strong and variable. On a good day, it is possible to circumnavigate the reef, but there are also days with strong counter currents. Many of it’s charms are at around twenty metres depth, though it’s canyon and arches also makes it a popular spot for tekkies.

“This afternoon we dive Jackson’s backside” said Big Mo, referring to the north side of the reef by the wreck of the Lara, “It is  good for hammerheads”. Diving away from the reef into the blue, we dropped to 30 metres, fanned out, and started scanning, like an army patrol. Of course we were looking for beautiful sharks and not an enemy, but despite putting on out best pouts and come-hither looks, our first attempt yielding nothing but a jellyfish. We finned towards the reef, and were greeted by the rather unexpected site of the innards of the Lara draped down the side of the reef, a massive jumble of pipes and cables that were an intriguing sight. We had more luck two days later with a larger group and therefore more eyes, the left flank of our arrowhead spotting twenty-odd far away but distinctive hammer shapes moving across our front, alas out of camera range, but proof that they are out there.

As a third dive the 80-metre long Kormoran, which struck Laguna Reef in 1984 with a cargo of phosphates from Jordan, is rich in hard corals and fish life and at an ideal depth. Lying in the shallows from four to 12 metres, the diesel engines, winches, portholes, and mastheads are still in excellent condition. Sohail surgeonfish skittered hither and thither, a one metre plus starry puffer bumbled by, and a tiny sea cucumber, no bigger than a little finger padded along the structure before we headed back to base.

On the second and fourth mornings we headed west rather than east, towards the Ras Mohamed National Park and its well-documented wonders. July and August are generally the best months to be here for quantity of marine life, and we were not disappointed.

Jackfish Alley started as a wall dive, the bottom invisible in the deep blue as a moray swam along a small ledge below us. The porous wall had created a 40-metre swim-through, the light jabbing into the cave like silver knives. On exiting at 20  metres down, a school of trevally (or jacks, hence the site’s name) cruised past including two one metre-thirty plus monsters. The topography and corals, hard and soft, were stunning, and a whit-tip reef shark rested on the sandy alley below us as we off-gassed on our safety stop.

The twin mounts of Shark reef and Yolanda reef extend for hundreds of metres below the surface, starting from Anemone City, and make one of the signature dives of Ras Mohammed National Park. Starting at the aptly named City, the current took us across to the underwater mountain that is Shark reef, its peak sitting at 26 metres, its eastern flank dropping away hundreds of metres into the inky darkness. Engulfed by a school of barracuda moving so fast I couldn’t focus a clear shot, we came to the Yolanda and its scattered cargo of lavatories. Try as I might, I couldn’t get Marcella to understand that I wanted her to pose in the bath, as her attention was drawn by a large school of bluespined unicorn fish and their evil looking pre-caudal hooks, and a posse of emperors. As we worked our way to the shallows, a crocodile fish posed under a coral-encrusted crossmember, and a moray with a neck larger than Mohammed’s head. An astounding site that we dived in both directions on different days, and was a firm favourite.

 

There were other fine sites, such as Paradise with its impressive and numerous coral pinnacles and their gorgonian fans, and Ras Umm Sid with its sheer drop off and pelagics on the corner, and they all made the first dive at Ras Bob a memory so distant it seemed to have never occurred. And all this with no post-dive aggro to get to the hotel, just a short stroll to for sensible rehydration and story telling.