

Post breakfast, Mrs M snorked and chased barracuda, while Mandy spotted osprey perched on the end of poles protruding from the stern (or was it the bow?) of the dhows. It was then she revealed she thought she heard a marathon rumpy-pumpy session last night in a neighbouring hut. Mr. Freud may have had an alternative explanation.

That evening we went to the ‘turtle beach’ at Ras Al Jinz. Under a full moon, Simon and I hauled the sand chair over abandoned turtle holes to watch one turtle lay her eggs, bury them with her back flippers and then begin the exhausting process of covering everything with sand with her front flippers. In contrast to our previous visit, the guides showed little interest and had very little control over the group, particularly one small gang who joked and chatted on phones with seemingly little respect for the sublime creatures. Hopefully things will improve when the new visitors’ centre is completed.
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