So, another holiday piece I am afraid.

We went on a boat trip.

It was billed as a few hours in the lovely waters of the Ras Mohammed National Park, with stops to snorkel among the coral, have lunch on the boat and go to Egypt’s little Maldive-like island in turquoise sea.

Well….

First of all, it was windy and I mean gale force windy. Unusual by even the usual winds of February.

The captain, crew and fellow passengers were surprised, but we given our history of bringing bad weather to bemused fellow holidaymakers, really shouldn’t have been.

Very luckily, the sea was not rolling so no seasickness, phew.

But it was cold. 

The crew were fleeced up and sensibly stayed in the downstairs room when they could.

The passengers were out to get their money’s worth and stayed out on deck – at least for a while.

Most of us were British and included a range from those of us (not just me) who decided pretty early on that as a poor swimmer and novice snorkeler and already quite chilled (not out, just cold) not going in was the best option, to those who wild-swam in northern England and were going in come hell or high water.

Including one young woman who was determined to get a waterproof case for her phone and film every minute of her snorkel from the moment she jumped in.

( Her travelling companion got her swimsuit on twice and twice decided not to get in, causing a noticeable soupçon of friction.)

We were motoring along in the wind when I noticed a couple of birds just above the high rigging.

Gulls? no, wrong noise, wrong look but then what do I know about Egyptian birds?

The captain noticed them too and shouted down to the crew, presumably, ‘Oi someone up here now!’

He took one of the higher wires and the summoned crew member took another.

They gently flicked the wires which kept the birds away from the boat but they still wheeled around for quite a while and were lovely.

Turns out they are white falcons which are a sight to see.

But the reason they were flicked at was because if they poo and it lands on your clothes you will never get the stain out.

Presumably tourists must be protected in every and all ways.

There are protected ares of the park at certain times to let turtles breed and areas where tourist boats are banned to let coral recover.

Mind you, bearing in mind this is the quietist month of the year and plane-load after plane-load arrive in the summer, it was quite a shock to see the size of the ‘flotilla’ of tourist boats on the same route as us.

I counted nineteen.

However, it is a navy military area which means like military areas in the UK, they are a haven for wildlife. 

All kinds of different fish including an eagle ray which I was called to the side of the boat by a crew member to see.

Actually, I had a) never heard of an eagle ray and b) could only see a darker smudge in the water.

Needless to say though, a crew member was sent in with a waterproof camera to go and get some decent shots so we could all see it. 

Meanwhile, our lovely and tactful excursion guide needed rescuing.

He was sitting next to a British woman who clearly did not do tact, had embarked on a conversation with him about the current Israeli war and I overheard her saying something along the lines of, ‘ well whatever, you have to feel sorry for those poor Israelis….’

I guessed her understanding of Middle East politics was not extensive.

I interrupted them with a question about the timings of the trip – something anodyne and a chance to change the subject.

‘We go to the White Island then back towards Sharm and there is another snorkelling stop,’  he said.

‘What?’ she said, ‘ I thought we were going to the national park.’

‘We are in it, ‘ I said.

‘But we are at sea,’ she said.

‘It is a maritime national park,’ I said.

‘Are you sure? I’ve never heard of one of those. Is it just in Egypt?’

I was even more convinced she probably was not the best person to break the unwritten code that everyone else had stuck to of not asking awkward political questions of the Egyptians we met.

Anyway, we got to the famous Maldives look-alike White Island. 

I have to say that a sandbar in an admittedly lovely turquoise sea will not have the Maldives’ tourist authority quaking in their sandals.

There are sharks in the Red Sea, the BB’s daughter told him.

And I was told by the excursion guide (once rescued) that parts of the national park could be shut when there are sharks around.

That evening the Best Beloved admitted that he had wondered about sharks and had thought he might strap some nail scissors to his ankle in case he met a shark and apparently they don’t like to be stabbed in their gills.

OK, so he is being attacked a shark who is being asked to wait just there until he could swim behind its massive mouth fitted with hundreds of very sharp teeth, and hold still whilst he stabbed at its gills - with some nail scissors.

I laughed fit to burst my corset stays