We managed to check in on-line with SriLankan Airways, but only by borrowing the resort's computer. The tablet refused to operate the control which showed seating in different parts of the plane, and all the window seats in the zone it was stuck on were unavailable. The phone browser couldn't get that far, the 'continue' button for logging in was masked by special offer adverts. Luckily not only did the resort's browser function perfectly, but we were able to get pairs of window and aisle seats on both flights and print our boarding passes.
I had a brainwave about fish photography. What we needed was bait. What we had was a paper wrapper with crumbs adhering to it. The wrapper had surrounded a bun purloined from breakfast. I wrapped it around a piece of coral and secured it tightly with a rubber band. Out we waded to the sandy lead through the atoll where the fish congregated. Then, camera ready, I dropped it in the water. Immediately it hit the bottom, it was set upon by hordes of fish, and in no time the whole thing was carried off in the mouth of a particularly avaricious black specimen. But the taste must have lingered in the water and for five minutes or so the area was overrun by fish. I eventually retrieved the piece of coral with the rubber band still tight around it, but of the paper wrapper there was no trace, let alone any bun crumbs. The camera turned out to have had only room for one photo, but the spectacle will remain in our memories.
As we sat with gin and tonics at the bar at sunset, a six foot long reef shark silently glided beneath the decking we were sat on. What a great way to end a holiday.
Thursday, 3 March 2016
Wednesday, 2 March 2016
Penultimate day in Eriyadu
Another perfect day in paradise. Arose, ate breakfast, went snorkelling. Coffee, more snorkelling. Coffee and buns, snorkelling. Mocktails, siesta, tea, snorkelling. Circumambulation of island, rest, supper and so to bed.
Learnt more about the underwater camera today. Christine had given it to me as a birthday present but I'd not paid much attention to it previously. Now it was telling me its battery was low, so I opened up the casing expecting to have to insert a few AAA size cells. Instead I discovered a rechargeable battery. Strange, it definitely hadn't come with a charger. Then on closer inspection I found it also sported two sockets, a mini-USB and a mini-HDMI. Plugging in my phone charger to the mini-USB socket brought up a pictogram of a battery and a red indicator light. Hooray, problem solved.
Taking pictures of fish whilst snorkelling is much more time consuming and less productive than fishing itself. First, they don't keep still. Second, even if they did, you don't. The waves or the wind or longshore drift moves you one way, the fish you want for the subject of your photograph perversely moves another. Only the pretty backdrop of coral you have selected is static, but that is immaterial when everything else is moving. You need your hands to both operate the camera and swim at the same time. You can't see the image in the viewfinder because the sunlight is too strong and even if it wasn't you haven't got your reading spectacles on under your face mask. You need to get very close to the fish in order to get a decent picture, even in these crystal clear waters things get hazy rapidly with distance, and fish don't like you close to them, they swim away. Eventually on the rare occasion when everything is correctly aligned, you find you are in danger of being impaled on some hitherto unnoticed protuberance of razor sharp coral and have to abandon your position, paddling frantically to avoid it. All this whilst remembering to only breathe through your mouth. No, I haven't managed to take many pictures of fish.
Learnt more about the underwater camera today. Christine had given it to me as a birthday present but I'd not paid much attention to it previously. Now it was telling me its battery was low, so I opened up the casing expecting to have to insert a few AAA size cells. Instead I discovered a rechargeable battery. Strange, it definitely hadn't come with a charger. Then on closer inspection I found it also sported two sockets, a mini-USB and a mini-HDMI. Plugging in my phone charger to the mini-USB socket brought up a pictogram of a battery and a red indicator light. Hooray, problem solved.
Taking pictures of fish whilst snorkelling is much more time consuming and less productive than fishing itself. First, they don't keep still. Second, even if they did, you don't. The waves or the wind or longshore drift moves you one way, the fish you want for the subject of your photograph perversely moves another. Only the pretty backdrop of coral you have selected is static, but that is immaterial when everything else is moving. You need your hands to both operate the camera and swim at the same time. You can't see the image in the viewfinder because the sunlight is too strong and even if it wasn't you haven't got your reading spectacles on under your face mask. You need to get very close to the fish in order to get a decent picture, even in these crystal clear waters things get hazy rapidly with distance, and fish don't like you close to them, they swim away. Eventually on the rare occasion when everything is correctly aligned, you find you are in danger of being impaled on some hitherto unnoticed protuberance of razor sharp coral and have to abandon your position, paddling frantically to avoid it. All this whilst remembering to only breathe through your mouth. No, I haven't managed to take many pictures of fish.
Tuesday, 1 March 2016
Coral Island
Woke up in much more pain than usual around the left ribcage. I've been taking the tramadol tablets the Indian doctor prescribed night and morning, but am running out and skipped last night's dose. I took two paracodols during the night instead, but they obviously weren't as effective.
After breakfast felt a bit better and managed to photograph the reef edge before pain drove me back to bed. Christine suggested taking some of the aspirin we have with us as well, and half an hour after taking two tablets the pain just vanished and didn't return all day.
We spent all the rest of the morning snorkelling. There was a small rain shower but we were in the sea and it was warm anyway. So many fish of such variety, not to mention the corals.
Instead of lunch we settled for mocktails, then as the tide was high and the wind on our side of the island was making the water rough, we set about exploring the other parts of the beach.
The leeward end of the island, probably all of 200 metres away, was calm but the waters weren't as clear. However as we sat at the waters edge, a curious stingray investigated our toes and allowed me to photograph him. Egrets were perched on a nearby breakwater scanning a shoal of myriads of little fish like a dark swirling shadow in the water beneath, sometimes skittering across the water's surface when a predatory fish darted amongst them.
After breakfast felt a bit better and managed to photograph the reef edge before pain drove me back to bed. Christine suggested taking some of the aspirin we have with us as well, and half an hour after taking two tablets the pain just vanished and didn't return all day.
We spent all the rest of the morning snorkelling. There was a small rain shower but we were in the sea and it was warm anyway. So many fish of such variety, not to mention the corals.
Instead of lunch we settled for mocktails, then as the tide was high and the wind on our side of the island was making the water rough, we set about exploring the other parts of the beach.
The leeward end of the island, probably all of 200 metres away, was calm but the waters weren't as clear. However as we sat at the waters edge, a curious stingray investigated our toes and allowed me to photograph him. Egrets were perched on a nearby breakwater scanning a shoal of myriads of little fish like a dark swirling shadow in the water beneath, sometimes skittering across the water's surface when a predatory fish darted amongst them.
Notes from a small island
We resumed our snorkelling after breakfast, revisiting the area we were in yesterday. Today I took the underwater camera too, despite not having brought its hieroglyphic instructions.
We saw lots of fish and corals, but the camera refused to take any pictures of them. Apparently Chinese logic dictates that you have to press the mode button twice before the shutter button is enabled.
After a consolatory cup of coffee we tried again. This time the camera functioned perfectly until a big blue square started to appear in the viewfinder window whenever the shutter button was depressed.
As I stood waste deep in the lagoon pondering this unexpected development, I suddenly realised something else was amiss. I seemed to be lacking my bottom set of dentures. They must have attached themselves to the snorkel mouthpiece rather than my gums and fallen out when I removed the snorkel.
I replaced my mask and could see the escaped prosthetic lying on the sandy seabed only a metre from my feet, but how to retrieve it? I couldn't reach down for it as not only did the buoyancy of my snorkelling vest preclude that course of action, but my lack of dentures also meant that I now got a mouthful of brine whenever I ducked my head underwater. The rescue had to be performed quickly as already fish were beginning to nose around the teeth and it was only a matter of time before a large piscine bandit made off with them. I tried to grab them with my toes, but evolution had robbed me of sufficient prehensility. I noticed that this action did however scare off the fish, so I resorted to repeatedly kicking the teeth upwards until I could finally catch them. What a relief, I had visions of spending the rest of the holiday mumbling, dribbling and sucking soup through a straw. For some inexplicable reason, Christine found the whole episode intensely amusing.
Upon examination with spectacles, the camera was complaining that its memory card was full, mostly with trial shots of the floor whilst I was discovering how it worked. I deleted the lot and will try again tomorrow, unless by then the batteries have run out too.
There is something soporific about afternoons here. Maybe it's the strength of the morning sun, maybe the (presumably) insecticidal fog that is blown around the buildings early afternoon, maybe it was a plate of fish and chips for lunch, but the next thing you know is the clouds are changing colour, the light is fading and it's sunset again.
We saw lots of fish and corals, but the camera refused to take any pictures of them. Apparently Chinese logic dictates that you have to press the mode button twice before the shutter button is enabled.
After a consolatory cup of coffee we tried again. This time the camera functioned perfectly until a big blue square started to appear in the viewfinder window whenever the shutter button was depressed.
As I stood waste deep in the lagoon pondering this unexpected development, I suddenly realised something else was amiss. I seemed to be lacking my bottom set of dentures. They must have attached themselves to the snorkel mouthpiece rather than my gums and fallen out when I removed the snorkel.
I replaced my mask and could see the escaped prosthetic lying on the sandy seabed only a metre from my feet, but how to retrieve it? I couldn't reach down for it as not only did the buoyancy of my snorkelling vest preclude that course of action, but my lack of dentures also meant that I now got a mouthful of brine whenever I ducked my head underwater. The rescue had to be performed quickly as already fish were beginning to nose around the teeth and it was only a matter of time before a large piscine bandit made off with them. I tried to grab them with my toes, but evolution had robbed me of sufficient prehensility. I noticed that this action did however scare off the fish, so I resorted to repeatedly kicking the teeth upwards until I could finally catch them. What a relief, I had visions of spending the rest of the holiday mumbling, dribbling and sucking soup through a straw. For some inexplicable reason, Christine found the whole episode intensely amusing.
Upon examination with spectacles, the camera was complaining that its memory card was full, mostly with trial shots of the floor whilst I was discovering how it worked. I deleted the lot and will try again tomorrow, unless by then the batteries have run out too.
There is something soporific about afternoons here. Maybe it's the strength of the morning sun, maybe the (presumably) insecticidal fog that is blown around the buildings early afternoon, maybe it was a plate of fish and chips for lunch, but the next thing you know is the clouds are changing colour, the light is fading and it's sunset again.
Eriyadu
We started the day slowly, and the pace of life decreased from that point on.
Our lodging at Eriyadu is a spacious air conditioned villa a few metres from the sea, with an open air bathroom containing a real bath, the first this trip.
The resort is a small island about four and a half degrees north of the equator whose shores are lined by such villas, but ours is on the tip of the island and enjoys spectacular sea views. The whole island is just pure white coral sand, and is surrounded by about 100m of turquoise blue lagoon before reaching the boundary atoll reef, marked by a change to deeper blue water beyond. The island's size is such that one can circumnavigate it around the beach in about ten minutes.
We donned our garish new snorkelling vests, masks and snorkels and set off down a sandy lead which brought us to the edge of the atoll. The view below us was amazing. Not just for the diversity and number of fish, but the way the coral scarp tumbled away into the deep blue depths of almost transparent water. It was like watching an underwater documentary film except it was real.
Lunch was a three course buffet, followed by a three course sleep, so the afternoon passed somnolently. We decided that such lunches were not advisable and were glad we had only booked half board.
We sat on the deck outside the bar for the traditional sunset beer, with egrets peering avidly into the shallow water beneath and a lone black silhouette of a ray patrolling the water's edge.
Supper was a similar format to lunch, and we retired to bed at about nine. Or rather we would have had I not accidentally locked us out. I couldn't lock the villa door by key, so had left the villa with the supposedly useless key inside. When we returned neither front nor rear door would open. When he came to let us in, the villa boy explained that to lock the door you just push the inside button and close the door. It doesn't lock with a key, only opens with one. I had accidentally managed to lock both doors before leaving for dinner.
Our lodging at Eriyadu is a spacious air conditioned villa a few metres from the sea, with an open air bathroom containing a real bath, the first this trip.
The resort is a small island about four and a half degrees north of the equator whose shores are lined by such villas, but ours is on the tip of the island and enjoys spectacular sea views. The whole island is just pure white coral sand, and is surrounded by about 100m of turquoise blue lagoon before reaching the boundary atoll reef, marked by a change to deeper blue water beyond. The island's size is such that one can circumnavigate it around the beach in about ten minutes.
We donned our garish new snorkelling vests, masks and snorkels and set off down a sandy lead which brought us to the edge of the atoll. The view below us was amazing. Not just for the diversity and number of fish, but the way the coral scarp tumbled away into the deep blue depths of almost transparent water. It was like watching an underwater documentary film except it was real.
Lunch was a three course buffet, followed by a three course sleep, so the afternoon passed somnolently. We decided that such lunches were not advisable and were glad we had only booked half board.
We sat on the deck outside the bar for the traditional sunset beer, with egrets peering avidly into the shallow water beneath and a lone black silhouette of a ray patrolling the water's edge.
Supper was a similar format to lunch, and we retired to bed at about nine. Or rather we would have had I not accidentally locked us out. I couldn't lock the villa door by key, so had left the villa with the supposedly useless key inside. When we returned neither front nor rear door would open. When he came to let us in, the villa boy explained that to lock the door you just push the inside button and close the door. It doesn't lock with a key, only opens with one. I had accidentally managed to lock both doors before leaving for dinner.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)