It's a pity that the Maldives will have disappeared below the sea in a few years. They sit on the equator in the warm Indian Ocean and there are few places more idyllic, relaxing, or friendly.
Our chalet on Kurumathi Island stood on stilts in the lagoon. Steps led directly into the sea. Every evening the housekeeper would scatter flower-petals on our bed.
The diving was superb. There was none of that riding on the edge of a rubber dinghy for half an hour and getting seasick from petrol fumes. In the Maldives one sits in a grand boat that chugs sedately to the dive site, where you stand, someone helps you get your gear on in comfort, then it's a simple long stride into crystal-clear water of a constant 26ºC, so warm that I wore only a lycra wetsuit with no buoyancy: I needed no weight-belt.
MY WHAT BIG TEETH YOU HAVE
For my most memorable dive there were just five of us, including the dive-master (actually, the "dive-mistress").
At our designated spot, where the seafloor was 60m below us, we dived straight down to 30m, the maximum one can go without additional safety measures or, in my case, extra training.
This depth is magical - often referred to as the "big blue" - because of a unique set of circumstances. The visibility was 25m, just about the maximum in sea water, which made both the surface and the seabed indiscernible. In addition, at this depth the light has dispersed and refracted so much that it appears to come from all directions, while the only part of the spectrum not yet absorbed by the water is the bit between blue and violet.
The overall effect was one of swimming in royal-blue ink, with only our bubbles to show which way was up or down. You really have to experience it to appreciate it.
After finning gently for two minutes we stopped and formed a pod, all five of us holding hands and facing outwards.
Below us we could see the vague outline of five or six hammerhead sharks. As we watched, one of them swam up gently but directly, then took up orbit around us, his sticky-out eye checking us over.
I shan't lie: a 5m predator at close quarters is scary
I shan't lie: a 5m predator at close quarters is scary, especially when not in one's natural element. It took all my nerve not to breathe so fast that I ran out of air and not to fart, which, as you may know, in a wetsuit has the effect of propelling you upwards like a Polaris missile. It was two minutes - although it felt much, much longer - then he left us, descending again to his pals below, satisfied that we posed no threat.
"Carry on. Mind you don't frighten the fish."
The rest of the dive was a gentle ascent back to the island. It became gradually lighter. Soon the coral appeared below, sloping upwards ahead of us, and I had the sensation of flying over an undulating landscape. A turtle cruised alongside me for a good minute and I could make out every marking before he outpaced me.
"Busy, busy, busy; got to go."
Shallower and shallower we went, almost without realising. After a dive totalling an hour my head suddenly broke the surface. So engrossed had I been that this came as a bit of a surprise. I stood up, took off my mask, and looked around.
"Well, I be damned," I said to myself. "There's our chalet."
I waded across the lagoon, took my gear off at the foot of the steps, and walked up to find my wife lying on the bed, reading a book. She marked her place with a hyacinth.
I've just narrowly escaped being eaten by a sea-monster with eyes out here and a mouth this big
"Hello," she said, removed the flower, and carried on reading.
"I've just narrowly escaped being eaten," I said.
"That's nice."
"... by a sea-monster with eyes out here and a mouth this big."
"How lovely. I'm hungry. Would you like some breakfast now?"
We walked hand-in-hand to the restaurant on the beach under the palms where the tame stingrays came to feed in the evening, and I thought, some time soon, not too far away, a paradise, a slow, lovely, completely non-threatening Garden of Eden, will have disappeared, and Mr Hammerhead and Mr Turtle and all the fish will be glad, at last, to be rid of us.
Share your travel experiences with us in Readers' World and you could win R1,000
Send your photos - at least 500KB - and a story of no more than 800 words. Include a recent photo of yourself. Please note that stories should not have been published in print or online. ALL winners receive R1,000. Only winning entrants will be contacted.
E-mail travelmag@sundaytimes.co.za
