Diving in the Red Sea, Hurghada, Egypt
– Sea Life at 69

February 2002


Editor’s note: I wrote this article based on my father’s first experiences of scuba diving which he tried on this trip.

Standing at the back of a boat, I was wearing enough scuba diving equipment to sink Jacques Cousteau. They wanted me to step into the raging sea below. “Just step forward and look at the horizon” I was told. You’re kidding, I thought. I’ll admit I was terrified. I felt like Blackbeard about to walk the plank. How did I get talked into this?

It was going to be a family holiday in Hurghada, Egypt. Our two sons were going to scuba dive in the Red Sea. Bob, the elder, is a very experienced diver. Richard, a beginner, was going to take a PADI Open Water Diver’s Course. The old couple would spend the week sunbathing, with a little gentle swimming and sightseeing.

We arrived in Hurghada on the Friday evening and were taken to the very comfortable Sofitel Hotel. Next morning, the two boys were collected by minibus and taken to the multi-national Voodoo Diving Centre to start their activities. When they returned in the evening and told us of their day’s adventures, I said to myself ‘You are missing out old son. I could do that!’ So the following morning I accompanied them to the dive centre and my adventure began.

Oscar, the Italian Course Director was very welcoming and friendly. “You know” he grinned, “we once taught a 62 year old to dive”. I wasn’t sure how to break the news that I would be 69 in a month. I also had another problem. I had had a knee replacement three months previously and was still trying to get full mobility from my left leg. Michael, my amicable Dutch instructor, said “Don’t worry about that. Last month I taught a girl with one leg” which rather raised my confidence. Age is not a problem for this diveschool. They feel honoured that you are willing to give it a go.

Before I started the course, I was taken to the local hospital, which specialises in diving illnesses and accidents and was given a full medical check-up. Happy with my blood pressure and general fitness, the efficient Egyptian doctor warned me “not to lift any heavy weights”. Some hope, when you hear about what I had to wear just to do some diving. If you get a doctor’s certificate before you come, this visit is unnecessary.

The PADI Open Water Diving Course is a basic four-day training course for all beginners. It is broken into theoretical and practical sessions and if you succeed, you can dive anywhere in the world. The theory is learnt over a day and a half from videos, short lectures and background reading. A final test ensures that you have taken it all in. Most of it is common sense.

I was taught how to assemble and put on my equipment. I wrestled to get into a tight black wetsuit. Then I strapped on a belt with lead weights. The Red Sea has high salinity and you need plenty of weight to sink to the bottom. I needed 14 kilos! My ‘BCD’, an inflatable lifebelt that allows you to control movement underwater and supports you on the surface was connected to the oxygen tank, respirator/emergency respirator and depth and air gauges.

Once I had struggled into this, it was just a matter of fighting my feet into the fins and pulling a mask over my face. I’m told that my first attempt to stand up and balance with all this gear was like watching a drunken man staggering around. I needed Michael to support me as well as convince me that this was fun, but soon discovered that in the water all this gear is weightless.

The dive school had it’s own sea area to practice in. I stepped into the water and once I had the respirator in my mouth, I followed instructions on how to sink below the water surface while ‘equalising’ (holding your nose and blowing to clear your ears). On the sandy seabed, I learnt to do some basic skills such as clearing my mask of water and switching to an emergency air supply if I ran out of air. It’s not as complicated as it sounds. Once you become used to breathing oxygen through the respirator, you start to feel rather at home underwater.

My two sons had been out on the boat for a few days now and were used to the choppy Red Sea. At least I would have their support for my first real trial at sea. The stern of the diving boat was full of oxygen tanks, wet-suits and equipment. You could sit inside a comfortable dry lounge or sunbathe on the roof. The waves were rough in February, and for the first time in years I felt rather queasy.

Bob helped squeeze me into my wet suit and get my gear together. I looked like a character from a science fiction movie, ready to take on the universe. To enter the turbulent water from the boat, I had to look at the horizon and step off the back and drop about 5ft. “You want me to do what?” I spluttered. Eventually, with my two sons eagerly waiting to see their father make his first proper entry, I stepped forward, only to do the best prat-fall into the water since Norman Wisdom.

Michael took me down 15 metres to the sandy seabed. I was immediately mesmerised by the clear water, multi-coloured, multi-shaped coral and an endless aquarium of fish varieties. Richard and Bob joined us under water and for the first time in history, two generations of the Jack family went scuba diving together.

The great thing about scuba diving is that the slower you can do it, the better it is. You use less air and can therefore stay underwater longer as well as see more sea-life. After golf, it seems the perfect sport for the average healthy senior citizen to take up. The four of us explored the coral and the different marine specimens were pointed out. Then I went through some of the exercises with Michael and headed for the surface after about 45 minutes.

My seasickness was still there and once I reached the fresh air, I lost my breakfast, my dignity and my false teeth. Watching them disappear down towards the coral, thoughts went through my mind like ‘how do I tell my wife about this’ and ‘maybe this was a stupid mistake after all’. Fortunately, underwater, Bob had seen a sparkling object drop through the water and went to investigate. He surfaced and holding my teeth aloft pronounced loudly “Has someone lost something?”

Getting back up into the boat was as bad as losing my teeth. Steps had been lowered down, but their design was ridiculous for my knee. I took off the tank, BCD and weightbelt in the water and still needed two people to pull me back onto the boat. “Are we having fun yet?” I exclaimed on all fours on the deck, feeling as sick as a dog. It took three people to get me out of the wetsuit. Apparently, it is not usually this hard to exit the water.

I watched everyone tuck into lunch and, tempting fate, took a seasickness pill and had a cup of coffee. No sooner had I put on my wetsuit again, than I was learning back over the side to lose the coffee. “As soon as you get back in the water, you’ll feel a lot better”, I was advised. “Tell me about it”, I replied as I heaved again.

At least I made a decent step into the water this time and followed Michael down for some more exercises. My sons followed and once again, the reward was a leisurely dive over the coral and a myriad of fish darting around our faces. It was like swimming through a vast aquarium in 3-D vision.

Just as I was starting to enjoy myself and get the hang of it, I started to float upwards – unintentionally. I tried deflating my BCD, I tried to remember what I’d been taught, I tried everything and kept rising to the surface like an astronaut floating out into space. It was a learning experience and most beginners have the same problem. You get so excited underwater, your lungs fill with air and up you go. I expected to be criticised but Michael was very supportive. “Everyone does it eventually. It’s better to find out in your first two dives. You never do it again.”

So, on my final day, you can imagine my excitement at another day of seasickness and ineptitude. I took a seasickness pill at breakfast, and once on board, got my gear set up before we started. The sea was as rough as ever but I felt a lot better. I could even get into my wetsuit without orthopaedic surgery or manipulation from others.

I leapt off the back of the boat confidently and my Swiss Instructor, Phillipe, probably pulling the short straw today, took me down to try some new exercises. Before any diving, you are briefed about what you will do, and the hand signals that will be used underwater.

The dive was an unmitigated success. I followed my instructor, and completed the set exercises. For the first time, I felt in control and realised that despite my age and relative lack of mobility, I could pass this course. The diving was fine. It was just getting up those blasted steps without feeling stupid. But the Egyptian boat crew and other divers suppressed their laughter, gave me support and I was back on deck. – like a marooned dolphin.

For my final dive, my instructress was Arianna, a young Trieste-born Italian lady. Before we descended, she had said “Your first dives are like falling in love for the first time. You never forget it”. We dropped to the seabed while a strong current swirled around. I did some navigation exercises using a compass and we pottered along a spectacular coral escarpment past fabulously coloured marine life. Every dive was in a different location in the Red Sea.

When we surfaced, the boat, buffeted by the current was moored 100m away. As Arianna towed me towards it she said “Lie back and enjoy it”. So I did. Well, you don’t get many offers like that at my age do you? The romantic moment was eventually destroyed by my heroic attempts to climb back on board. It’s difficult to look sexy with all the gear on and a dodgy knee.

I was rather surprised when I was presented with my logbook and formal recognition of passing the course. Arianna said “We think that you are the oldest person to have ever passed the course in Hurghada” with a gleam in her eye and a kiss on the cheek.

So… to all those people who think that you can’t take up a sport in your retirement: think again. If I can do it, you can. There is also the attraction of being surrounded by scantily clad young women - but don’t tell my wife. My biggest regret? Not taking it up 10 years ago.

Further Information:

Tom Jack dived at Voodoo Divers Centre in Hurghada, Egypt. Their website is www.voodoodivers.com where you can see photos, get information and also contact them.

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