Aussie on Walkabout

part uno- Liveaboard

I touched the hybrid man-god-made heaven last trip.  A place where dining is a magnificent underwater affair with fishy waiters.  A place where private jets link up with private islands and private helicopters escort to private mega-yachts all in a space of downtown Manhattan.  A place of such perfection you wonder why normal life is still valid.  Made ugly and obsolete by this wonder of an archipelago consisting of 1,200 islands dotted around the equator.    

I was thinking never to return yet as oft is the case with life there was more to do.  Much more and very differently this time around.  Not the ubiquitous romantic over-water-bungalow with sea plane and island hopping, this time was oceanic action taken to the extreme.  And how.  This trip was about tapping into the Maldivian roots of pirates and plundering, sharks and deserted islands, monsoons and wicked currents.  The natural yin to the 5 star yang.  

Booking the day before I popped into the Maldives ready for a scuba live-aboard the fantastic 42 meter aggressor with three decks including a hot tub, bar, and salon dining room.  In and out of the water life was but a dream. Seems you cannot escape luxury in these parts.

Such diving… Night dives. Drift dives.  Deep dives.  Wreck dives.  Wall dives.  I dove so much I felt underwater when on the boat. 

Lost count along the way but pelagic’s were back in town with Whale sharks, Tiger sharks, Oceanic Manta Rays and their cousins, Turtles, Dolphins, Nurse sharks, Tuna, Barracuda, and schools of incredibly cool fish of all colours, sizes and to my surprise, attitudes.  If anything my attitude towards seafood as a dining category has changed. No longer just a food source but a wonderful aqua companion. Except eels. Scary creatures. So go ahead my Japanese friends, ‘Unagi’ sushi away!

Diving can sometimes feel like dropping into a boring mid-west town with no where to go and a few dull things to look at apethetically.  Not here.  This was the hot downtown scene where everyone and everything is flash-worthy.  Sea was illuminated with plankton, fins were popping all over the joint.  Señor turtle was pumping out Seatinis.  Oceanic club was pumping.  Nurse shark night dive was and elegant affair, uptown ballet.  Manta Rays akin to an artists eve in the Brooklyn Museum of Art.     

The only problem with these liveaboards is that you can’t choose the company.  Into trip the issue of people arose.  After nearly two years pretty much solo in India in terms of friends and like-minded conversationalist it was a shock to hear my American and Euro folks.  So much “I, I, I” and zero awareness around how their dull and repetitive stories are slowly killing you.  There was comic relief, a couple of 72 year olds with thousands of dives and not much else going on, always bickering like school girls.  I’ll never forget Bruce who wore a top-to-bottom zebra skin suit and told filthy jokes like its was his job.  Senior citizens these days are legit.  Remarkably these old folks are getting tied to the bottom of the ocean floor in wild currents to come face-to-face with apex predators.  Respect.  The only man that I truly did not get along with, a rude French prick, got bit by an eel on the last dive.  That was wonderful.  This is why you need money.  To do exactly this but on your own boat with guests of your choosing.  

Back on land an every time I get out of the pool I expect to see my friendly Maldivian chap with a fresh towel and cold beer waiting for me

Part DOS:  Deep South Tiger Sharks

Took the cruise directors advice and jumped the prop plane to Fuvahmulah.  Tiny southern dot of an island on the equator.  One reason to come and that’s Tiger Sharks.  I got lucky and caught the short window of the out-of-this-world Oceanic Manta Rays which were the size of a mini van.  Dozens counted every dive of these majestic creatures, even witnessing the rare all-black manta.  

The who’s who in the shark diving world are coming in now which means the empty shops and ‘nothing for foreigners to do’ but dive and sun gaze is likely to rapidly change per the rules of social media exposure to this relatively unknown world.  Fuvahmulah isn’t currently on the top 10 lists of wild encounters- going to Guadeloupe, South Africa, Cocos island and Socorro.  It will be soon.  These IG ‘conservationists’ come here to participate in the zoo- feeding the animals to a point they are dogs so they can post on instagram with their asses out in the name of saving the sharks.  They hyprocrisy is wild.  I must say while I found the experience thrilling with pelagic divers their ethics left me cold, both in and out of the water.    

My first tiger shark came into sight just as I was clearing my mask upon entry- 12 foot queen.  Not scared a bit.  Just thrilled to be a part of the same space.  Land tigers and aquca tigers… I worship them.  

The people on my trip were fascinating.  I suppose you have to have something going on to find this joint floating in the middle of the world with a common goal, tiger sharks.

Chris is a mid-age, ex aviation guy who goes back to London only to buy new equipment for his scuba life, when he’s not in Patpong with the boys.  Asian girls only kinda old white man. You know the type. 

Hawaii Mike is missing a leg from a tiger shark and now a huge conservation guy with a massive following including Alicia Silverstone who wants to have his baby. 

Harriort in her golden chariot, young, fun, a candy shop owner who makes everyone smile, and the boys go hard.  Just picked up scuba and moves like water.  She loves the island boys and dancing in Dubai.  Has that carefree spirit which can only exist in a perfect 26 year old’s body.

Stephie from Germany has a mysterious element to her.  Stylish’ish’ with her Kenndal and Kyle bag, black silk dress on the beach, and make up when she occasionally dives.  Flew to the edge of the world for only for a few days before going back to make a movie.  May also be fucking the dive shop owner. 

PK from India who studied in the US with a horse voice and penchant for partying.  Every day here pushing the locals to get him the ‘toddy’ booze and some weed.  Typical over-confident US educated Indian who constantly refers to himself in the third person.  Not easy on the eyes but thinks he is Prince Charming.  More girls need these fools level of self-inflated ego.    

Levi from Israel with those alluring brown eyes and long lashes.  Rolling cigs and expressing himself in that almost flamboyant way that is stero-type Israeli man.  Over 2000 dives and qualified tech diver.  Always getting into trouble for going to deep and chasing after the sharks and mantas.  He cares not.  Wears a white robe after diving that he picked up from a hotel.  Hugh Hefner of the seas.     

The owner is a small ugly bloke but gets more pussy than a basketball player.  There were three women on the boat he had slept with.  Big island man attitude and tiny penis to go with it.

Survived the tiger sharks but managed to crash my scooter, sober.  Heart as full as the tiger shark’s hand-fed stomach, it was time to keep cruising.  

Part TRES-  Resort Time

Living under da sea for so long it was time to dry out on land.  Post the Muslim ‘no alcohol’ experience I was ready to get wet.  Bring on all inclusive with infinity pool to the sea.  Cruising with the windows down some Deep South Maldivian island with pirate heritage and tribal languages.  Smoking under the stars, swinging like children that were forgotten about by civilisation a long time ago.   

Resort life was fine but lacking in everything that I care about.  I do love my champagne by the pool but it will never compare to rolling back head first hitting the ocean waters and descending into an unknown adventure in a liquid alien world. Everything in balance, so they tell me.

During my month the Maldives started to rocket with new Covoid cases.  Local islands closing down.  Resorts not taking foreigners.  Information was coming in hard in fast.

Huge drama over my lack of pcr test- mad rush to the airport and hourly phone calls to check status and finally the hotel GM called a higher up and boom, results came in as we started boarding.  

Crazy part is no one asked to see the report.

I leave having touched the local culture I didn’t even know existed and saw the real natural beauty of what lies beneath. I perforated my eardrum and now will be on land for 3 months to recover. 

Such is the give and take required of the journey