Travel Biography Photo Extravaganza - Part 54.

 Our Day Trip To Eilat Continues.

Rather than put all the underwater photos in one week's album, to avoid or lessen the risk of monotony, I thought it would be better to split the album into two sections. And so, here are the rest of the underwater photos I took at Coral Beach, in the resort of Eilat on the Gulf of Aqaba, close to the border with Egypt.

However, I have also reposted the location as seen from the pierhead, which I consider to be the star photo of the entire Israel 2000 album. The same image also appeared in one of my reviews of the Holy Land on the TripAdvisor website. For a while, it featured as the star photo of all reviews from worldwide, on Coral Beach. 

Star Pic. Looking at Coral Beach from the Pierhead.

Compared with the whole of my life, snorkelling was relatively recent. Yes, I tried it out for the first time ever in 1972, just off a rocky ledge at the Spanish Costa Brava. Back then, I panicked and nearly got into trouble after a rogue wave entered the breathing tube, as I was out of my depth. Fortunately, I whipped off the mask and snorkel and hurriedly swam back to shore. I then handed the borrowed equipment to its owner and decided not to go near any snorkelling equipment again.

That was in 1972. It took another 25 years before I plucked up the courage to handle snorkelling equipment. In 1997, while I was on board a catamaran from Cairns, Queensland, to Green Island Coral Cay, I rented the gear. The goggles were lighter, and with separate lenses, one for each eye, I was able to "bed in" quicker, unlike the single oval screen characteristic of scuba divers. Hence, at the reef island, I managed to gain confidence with the snorkel before handling the underwater camera.

Two or three days later, while I was still staying at Cairns, I boarded another catamaran for Low Isles Coral Cay, with the need to change boats at Port Douglas. The sea surrounding the Low Isles was deeper, and the corals were richer and more vibrant. But at both venues, the water was slightly cloudy, as very fine grains of sand were carried by the current. The third venue where I snorkelled was at Border Island, a Continental Island at the Whitsundays Archipelago, a group of islands reached from Arlie Beach, also on the Queensland coast. Here, the water was deeper and quite clear. By then, snorkelling became my second nature.

One more venue where I snorkelled with an underwater camera, other than in Israel, was at Puerto del Carmen, on the Atlantic island of Lanzarote. However, there were no corals in the true sense at that venue. Rather, the little cove consisted of solidified basaltic lava forming a couple of black ledges slanting into the sea. So far, I have not posted any of the Lanzarote photos in the Biography, as this 2006 trip was a single-venue package holiday, and not truly backpacking. However, I am considering whether to post these pics here in this Photo Extravaganza.

I took photos at four of the five snorkelling venues. The exception was at Border Island, as there were no shops or kiosks where I could have bought a camera. The catamaran from Arlie Beach was small enough to be classed as a motorboat and carried a limited number of people.  

What was the underwater camera I used on all four occasions like? If I wanted to snap underwater life at present (2025/6), I would need to be well-off financially. Digital underwater cameras are very expensive, and I believe, fiendishly complicated to operate for the best results. Furthermore, I'm rather technophobic. I could spend a small fortune on a device and still return with poor results, or no results at all. But in my day, the average camera carried a cellulose acetate strip on which light-sensitive chemicals respond when the shutter opens. To me, that was real photography. Its results often came with double exposure (forgetting to wind to the next frame after the first picture was taken), fogginess, camera shake, and out-of-focus (soft images). Some of the pics I have taken with acetate film show shaded areas as nearly black, and areas under sunshine too bright.

The underwater camera I used for all four venues was a single-use cardboard box, looking very much like a carton of jelly beans, with a plastic shutter mechanism. The whole device was sealed with a transparent plastic casing, making it entirely waterproof. If accidentally released from my hand while snorkelling, it floats and is easy to reach. When I was in Australia, I recall paying up to twelve dollars for 24 frames. Very cheap indeed, and no professional photographer would even consider using such a device. Yet, due to the excellent calibration of the lens, the submarine photos came out very well, and are fit to be posted here.

This week's album contains the remaining underwater photos of the Gulf of Aqaba reef. These are followed by land photos of Ein Gedi, near the western shore of the Dead Sea.

The area is a nature reserve, which is literally a crevice plunging down from the desert plains of Judea, 200 metres above sea level, to the Dead Sea valley, 400 metres below sea level. Hence, I could describe the crevice as a 600-metre side canyon feeding into the Rift Valley, itself a wide canyon. Two streams flow through the Reserve, which empty into the Dead Sea. One is the Nahal Arugot. The other, which we were more familiar with, was Nahal David. Hiking trails circulate between the two streams, and extend as far as the Calcolithic Temple, a building dating back to Abraham's day, and even earlier. Here, I thought about reposting one of my photos of the Calcolithic Temple, which I took in 1993.

Ruins of the Calcolithic Temple, taken in 1993.

It was in En Gedi where the shepherd boy David hid from the wrath of King Saul, who was jealous of David's superior military feats. The more famous of the two streams is Nahal David. Issuing from a spring, the creek cascades over a series of waterfalls. One of them is David Waterfall, and beneath it, a waist-deep pool at the time, offered free bathing in the cool, fresh water. Because of the freshness of the spring water, I was happy for Alex to swim with me. However, I believe that entry into the pool is now forbidden due to falling rocks.

I visited Ein Gedi in 1993 and again in 1994. In 1993, I hiked to the ruins of the ancient Calcolithic Temple, but in 2000, with Alex approaching 20 weeks of pregnancy, we kept our hiking very short. We kept by Nahal David, and after the swim, explored the environment on a local level without ascending any gradients. 

Click here for the Index link for the main Biography, covering Weeks 123-128.

Underwater pics of the Corals at the Gulf of Aqaba (cont).

I spotted a Surgeon Fish, popular among reefs.

A dash of colour.

A school of Zebra or Sergeant Major Fish.

More coral detail.

A school of Fairy Basslets.

More Sergeant Majors? Or of the same classroom?

The peaceful marine environment is undisturbed by us.

The coral seen here thrives on an underwater ledge.

Contrary to the GBR, fish thrive here in abundance.

More Zebra Fish.

I would have loved to see these corals at night...

At night, the polyps open to feed.

 At daytime, it's like a shopping mall on Christmas day.

Our Day Spent at Ein Gedi.

We arrive at Ein Gedi

'Gedi' is Hebrew for 'Kid', including Ibex, seen here.

Ein Gedi is a side canyon of the Great Rift Valley.

Alex kneels beside the Nahal David.

She shows off her bump.

David Waterfall.

At this waterfall, water collects in a pool.

Alex sneakily took this one of me.

Alex, too, has a dip.

Alex loves standing under a waterfall.

Hi there!

Dried out and dressed, we pressed on.

Another fall at Nahal David.

The trail follows the stream.

Relaxing on the canyon's floor.

Posing at one of Nahal David's falls.

Lush vegetation turns a desert into an oasis.

The tallest waterfall of the Nahal.

A close-up of the waterfall.

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Next Week, the final part at Tel Aviv Beach, plus a look back at Israel, 1976.

A Short Blog - a Christmas Day Extra.

It's Christmas Day, December 25, 2025. My 73rd since birth, to be precise. I would like to write and post a brief article about this.

I woke up to a clear sky, but with a chilly east wind waving the branches of the trees behind our backyard to and fro. All was quiet. Alex and I remained in bed until around 11.30 am, before making an effort to rise. Not that I slept that long. I served breakfast at 9.00 am before returning to bed. As I write this, it's about tea time, and the cloudless sky was beginning to darken as the night arrives from behind to lay its hand upon the daylight's shoulders.

It has been very quiet in our street throughout the day. A few of our neighbours' homes had plastic snowmen on display in their front yards, Christmas lights illuminating the street-facing kitchen windows, and now and again, a resident with no issues with energy bills would cover his entire house with a dazzling array of coloured lights. Not a soul could be seen. Our street looked as if evacuated. Rows of parked cars stand side by side. Not even a bird chirping or a domestic cat sniffing around. And so, the world turns on its axis as it flies in a big circle around the sun. And the clock keeps on ticking.

And throughout the day lies a sadness in my soul, indeed, on a day when I should be happy.

Our street on Christmas Day, 2025.

Like the Christmas days of the past, say around 60-65 years ago. On the night of Christmas Eve, as I was sent to bed, my excitement was pulsating enough to evade sleep. I even peered through the curtain for a hope of a glimpse of Saint Nick, dressed in red, a white beard, and his wheelless chariot pulled by a team of flying reindeer. Never mind that, since those quadrupeds were wingless, flying would create aerodynamic problems; I wouldn't allow a scientific fact to get in the way of childhood fantasy.

Such were these fantasies of Father Christmas calling in the middle of the night, that by the time I was in my thirties, I left the window of my bachelor pad open with a mince pie on the windowsill. By Christmas morning, the window was still ajar, and the mince was still there, untouched. And no presents.

It seemed that Old Nicholas had forgotten that I had grown up, and he left my presents at my parents' home. You know the type of presents - ill-fitting clothes that have to be returned after the holidays are over. 

But the magic of Christmas was back in the early to mid-sixties, my pre-teen years, and during the early teens. On Christmas Day, my father's brother and his wife would arrive. Unfortunately, they had no children approximating my age. Just as well. If on one occasion, he told me off for not wearing a tie on a Saturday morning, heaven help his poor offspring!

However, the Christmas air was electric. While my brother and I were engaged in play, Mum and Aunt were in the kitchen, preparing the turkey, with its roast potatoes, red cabbage, Brussels sprouts, and gravy. Oh yes, sprouts. The green veg is detested by many children, and even on Christmas day, their joyful play with their toys was interrupted by the Christmas dinner table, with the child's tears rolling down his cheeks at the sight of the sprouts served in front of him.

But not me. I always love sprouts, and to me, Christmas wouldn't be complete without them. Alongside our plate lay the crackers, those funny paper things that were meant to go bang when pulled at each end. Too many times, there was no sound at all, except that resembling a kiss as the cracker breaks in the middle. Then the Christmas pudding and cream. Dad had a tradition of pouring vodka or whiskey onto the pudding and setting it alight. And the blue flame still flickered in our bowls.

Then followed nuts, both walnut and hazel nuts, along with Torrone (an Italian nougat) and panettone. And with our toys on our mind, whether a Hornby battery-powered train set, a Meccano set, or even for one year, a chemistry set. No, you can't buy these any more, due to elf-n-safety, but chemicals such as copper sulphate crystals and other similar substances were packed neatly in the same way as the train set. The one disappointment with the chemistry set was that the methylated spirits for the burner came separately; thus, I was denied full use of the set until after the holidays were over.

Very much like the child with an exquisite toy but no batteries.

After dinner, the ladies returned to the kitchen, and the two men relaxed with a cigar. Oh! That cigar aroma! As it filled the room, it was so connected with Christmas. My brother returned to his toys, and I returned to finish off that functioning Meccano model or the train set.

As a boy, how I loved Christmas with its joyful atmosphere. As far as I remember, there were no quarrels or disagreements. I think their joy was watching us play with our toys with enthusiasm.

Today, so many years later, as we snuggle up to each other, these Christmas memories return, and as I watch my beloved open her Christmas presents, I let out a sigh.

Travel Biography Photo Extravaganza - Part 53.

An Issue with Mary, Mohammed, and A Day Trip to Eilat.

When we flew to the Holy Land to celebrate our first Wedding Anniversary in 2000, our aim was to spend our time in Jerusalem soaking in the archaeological sites and the churches, especially those directly connected to the life of Jesus Christ. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, located in the Christian Quarter of the Old City, was one such church.

Our hostel on Souk David was 180 metres from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, yet every morning, while still in bed, we heard its bells chime. It was a distinct sound - de-clung, clung, de-clung, clung, de-clung, clung - a rhythmic sound lasting up to three minutes. The sound was unique, a reminder each morning that we were in Jerusalem, as such melodic bell-ringing as I had never heard in the UK.

The Roman Catholic Church of the Dormition on Mt Sion, the highest hill in Jerusalem, was another venue where I took Alex. Despite my previous visits to the Holy Land as a singleton, this was only my second visit there, as well as my beloved's first, as I had visited this abbey in 1993. As its name suggests, which means Sleeping, it's supposed to house the tomb of Mary, the mother of Jesus, sleeping in death as she awaits the resurrection of all believers. However, the authenticity of the site I have reservations, and this is why. 

At the foot of the Mount of Olives, there is the Tomb of Mary, an underground church close to the Garden of Gethsemane. This is an Eastern Orthodox church used by the Greek, Coptic, Armenian, and Syrian groups. Like with the Dormition, the body of Mary isn't there either. I visited the Tomb of Mary in 1993, but I couldn't take Alex in 2000, as it looked to be closed to the public. However, there is also a tradition that Mary accompanied the Apostle John to Ephesus in Turkey, and she died there while she was in her fifties.

Alternatively, she wasn't buried, or even died, but was taken bodily to Heaven; this is known by the Catholic term The Assumption of Mary. It was a tradition going back to the Church Fathers of around the second or third Century AD, but it wasn't finalised as official Catholic doctrine until Pope Pius XII in 1950. 

I find all this of interest, how these traditions parallel those of the Muslims, whose Quarter is also part of the Old City. The bones of their prophet, Mohammed, lie in the tomb in Medina, Saudi Arabia. However, two traditions say that he ascended to heaven. One was from the Kaaba in Mecca, or nearby, and he ascended on foot on a ladder. The other tradition says that he ascended to heaven on horseback from Al Quds, where the Dome of the Rock now stands at the Haram Al Sharif. However, unlike Mary,  it is said that Mohammed returned to Earth before he died.

It's stories like these that we often receive ridicule from the secular world, whether educated in science or not. But as I became very familiar with the sites in the Holy Land, and especially in Jerusalem, I could understand the basis of such traditions. They keep hope for the afterlife ongoing.

However, on one Sunday morning, we attended a Christ Church service, just inside Jaffa Gate and facing the Citadel Archaeological Museum. This was an Anglican church with Hebrew flavouring. While the service was held, the Call to Prayer rang out from the minaret of a nearby Mosque. We tried to drown it by singing aloud.

Entrance to the Tomb of Mary near Gethsemane, 1993.

In the Tomb of Mary, 1993, I encountered a tour group.

However, one afternoon, we were walking along Jaffa Street when I was thinking; Is it possible to board a bus for a day trip to Eilat? The idea grew on me, and I shared my idea with Alex, who was with me. She, too, was keen. After asking at the Egged Bus Station, I found out that there was a four-hour journey to Eilat from Jerusalem, a trip 315 km (196 miles) long, departing at 8.00am.

The morning of the next day, we made our way to the bus station and bought return tickets for the journey. The return journey to Jerusalem left Eilat at 4.00pm. This allowed us four hours in Eilat, where I had an opportunity to snorkel over the corals of the Gulf of Aqaba, a finger of the Red Sea.

The monotony of the bus ride was broken by a twenty-minute stop at En Gedi, on the western shore of the Dead Sea. Due to Alex's pregnancy, we didn't bathe in the Dead Sea, unlike during my previous visits. Instead, we admired the view across the ribbon lake, the lowest body of water in the world, around 425 metres below sea level in 2000. At present, the level is still falling due to the industrial use of the water. Alex and I looked across the Rift Valley, where the lake sits, and saw the mountains of Jordan on the other side, a phenomenon running along the whole of the Gulf of Aqaba, the Negev desert, the Dead Sea, the River Jordan, and the Lake of Galilee.

Around noon, we arrived at Eilat Bus Station. As we walked through the town itself, I wasn't too impressed. Despite existing during the days of King Solomon, around 960 BC, Eilat appeared as a modern town with the runway of Eilat Airport cutting through the town itself. Further down, its beach was lined with huge, multi-storey hotels. This beach is on the "fingertip", the most northern stretch of the coast, where it's possible to walk to the border with Jordan, and the town of Aqaba.

We caught the bus to the Coral Beach, close to the border with Egypt. Despite it being October, the resort was under a cloudless sky, and we bathed in warm sunshine. The rich blue finger of sea was backed by the pink mountains of Jordan, the section of the Rift Valley once occupied by the Biblical nation of Edom.

A hotel served Coral Beach. It was here that a public locker room was located, along with a snorkel hire kiosk and shop. It was here that I had to submit my passport to rent the equipment. I also bought an underwater camera. However, Alex felt a little low about not snorkelling with me, but not only had she never snorkelled before, but I was also concerned about her unborn child. After all, to legally impregnate her after 47 years of childlessness was a miracle! A wonderful miracle!

For the next hour or two, I relived my Great Barrier Reef experience. I took a break in the middle, and we enjoyed a picnic at the pierhead, with the waves splashing gently against the structure. After that, we strolled along the beach to digest the food before my second session underwater, peering at the beautiful tropical marine life so close under me.

Click here for the Index link to the main Biography covering Weeks 123 to 128.

Photos of Jerusalem Churches and Secular Life.

Christ Church Anglican.

Posing outside the Dormition Abbey.

At the Abbey. The tomb of Mary is in the Crypt.

The Damascus Gate.

A fruit market at the Damascus Gate.

A Sukkot Tabernacle at Ben Yehuda Street.

The Day Trip to Eilat Begins.

A 20-minute stop at En Gedi, by the Dead Sea.

We arrived at Eilat town.

Eilat Town as we approach the beach.

The runway of Eilat Airport is seen on the left.

The mountains of Jordan are seen from the town.

View of Coral Beach from the pierhead.

I face north as Alex poses at Coral Beach.

Facing south towards Egypt from the pierhead.

The mountains of Jordan back the finger of the sea.

A pleasure boat sails by.

Look carefully to see the town of Aqaba in Jordan.

How the coral appears from the pier.

During a break in Snorkelling.

Not exactly an athlete, yet a middle-aged father-to-be.

A close-up view of the coral from the pier.

Underwater Photos of the Corals.

Unlike the Great Barrier Reef, the fish here are abundant.

The corals are richer here, too.

Striped Zebra or Sergeant Major Fish.

A school of Jewel Fairy Basslets.

The corals are more on a submerged cliff than on the seafloor.

Sergeant Majors are the most seen fish on the reef.

Time for lessons? A school of Fairy Basslets swim by.

I'm looking at an underwater wall of coral.

The water here is less cloudy than over the GBR.

The result is aquarium-quality underwater photos.

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Next Week, more underwater pics of the Coral Beach, and a trip to En Gedi, a site of Biblical proportions.

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ALEX AND I WISH YOU A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A PROSPEROUS YEAR AHEAD.

GOD BLESS YOU ALL, AND I THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT.