THE NUMBERS OF FISH haveincreased, no question,” says Vinnyas we watch the low October sun

rise over the Maddalena Archipelago, offthe north-east coast of Sardinia.

We are moored at the tiny islet ofBarrettinelli, one of those rocky speckson a map that, thanks to an accident ofgeography, deserved a lighthouse.

The light protects vessels passingbetween the larger Isola Spargi and thelarger-still – and well worth exploring –La Maddalena. This is the island thatgives its name to the smattering of craggygranite rocks, reefs, islets and islands thatmake up the archipelago.

I had just enjoyed my last dive of theweek and wanted to find out from Vinny,

Pictured: Small triplefin.

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co-owner of Nautilus Diving Centre, justhow things had changed for the better forthe local diving community after the areawas designated a National Park in thelate 1990s.

“There are more, bigger fish, moregrouper and more amberjack,” he toldme. “We see some fish more at differenttimes of the year, more jack in autumn,but we see more since they’ve controlledfishing”.

The Med has been exploited (perhapsover-exploited) for centuries, so it wasgood to hear that the protection affordedby the park is helping to preserve thearchipelago as a fascinating dive-location.

I’d seen that for myself, at a dive theguides sometimes and justifiably callMoray City. I had seen more of the eels atthis one site than I had ever seen before.

A jumble of huge boulders, looking asif they’d been thrown down by giants,seemed to provide a perfect home fordozens of Mediterranean morays.

These are quite attractive fish, with �

THE MEDAT ITS BESTSeek out the marine reservesaround the world and divers shallbe rewarded: RICHARD ASPINALLfinds evidence of what time andenforcement can achieve

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tan-to-golden markings along theirflanks. Not that they usually ventureforth during the day, but we did get towatch one impressive specimen grabbingand consuming an octopus, thrashing itfrom side to side like a terrier. Powerful jaws crushed the life out of

the unfortunate mollusc.Around the larger rocks, thousands of

small damselfish shoaled. As we passedthe large boulder field and droppedlower, we hit a thermocline and saw thetell-tale blurring of the water. Thetemperature plummeted from 23 to 17°C,and despite my two layers of neoprene, I started shivering. No matter, as we came across a

towering wall my lights picked up thevivid violet of a nudibranch, a type ofFlabellina, and I forgot the cold a littleand tried to get some shots, glad to have a macro lens fitted to my camera.

MY GUIDE WAS WAITING patientlyand his local knowledge and,

perhaps, much younger eyes, paid off. Hepointed towards a smallish fish resting ina crack in the wall, a red-lipped goby. I’ve seen these before, but never

managed to get a decent shot of one.They’re appropriately named, with avivid red pout, and camouflage thatmeans you can easily pass them by.It had been a fine last dive, topped off

by the arrival of a shoal of amberjack,recognisable by the “slash” markingthrough their eye. This marking has beenturned into a hand sign – a finger makinga slashing action across the eye – by thedive-guides to indicate these powerfulpredators. It’s a truism in biology thatgood numbers of predators indicate ahealthy and thriving eco-system.I hadn’t been sure what to expect on

this trip. When I arrived in the port townof Palau (nope, another place), theheavens had opened and seemed intenton remaining agape for some time tocome. The occasional rumble of thunderand a stiff breeze hadn’t helped.Next morning, bleary-eyed and a little

under-caffeinated, I had met Vinny andStephanie, the other owner of Nautilus. We picked out some kit for me and

made our way to the harbour, which waspacked with smart yachts belonging tothe well-heeled who make this stretch ofcoastline their nautical playground.As we pulled out on the centre’s well-

appointed boat, Vinny noted my dome-port and we chatted about thephotography options for the week,suggesting that shooting macro might bethe way to go, at least for the next fewdays with the drop in visibility caused byrecent storms. “After tomorrow it’ll get better,” he

said. “The wind will swing round.” We dived off a small rocky islet near

the island of Spargi, a well-sheltered sitethat was a favourite of the guides. Itturned out to be a townhall-sized edificethat rose from the 30m seabed to 5-6mbelow the surface. Cracks in the rock held anemones and

all manner of life that scuttled out of mytorchlight. As we dropped to the lowestpoint of the dive, three large grouper

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lazily swam away into the gloom. Weslowly circled the rock, rising to oursafety stop. It was all a little gloomy, andthe rain was still pounding the choppysea as we surfaced.Vinny proved to be a man of his word.

As we left Palau and headed east past theCapo d’Orso the next day, the sun waslifting itself over the skyline and thenatural sculpture of the Roccio dell Orso(Bear Rock). It was still windy but nottroublingly so, and we would be able todive with ease. The site, Cala d’Orso, was great for

nudibranchs. The bright violet of white-tipped and purple nudis was easy to spot,as were the white-bodied migratingaeolids, with their red- and blue-tippedcerrata (the projections that cover manynudibranchs’ bodies).Damselfish were everywhere, though

keeping closer to the gaps between thejumble of rocks were shoals of thejuveniles, with the electric-blue stripesthat they would lose as they reachedadulthood.

DEEPER DOWN AND FURTHERunder the rocky overhangs, the

bright red of cardinalfish glowed undermy torch. These fish are easilyoverlooked, blending in and lookingdecidedly drab until illuminated. On that note a good torch, with a wide

beam, is essential to see the life here in“true colour”. Wherever the sun can’treach, the rocks are covered in yellow and orange polyps and cup corals,growing within a jumble of blue andvivid red sponges. The colours can bebreathtaking.

It was good to havean enjoyable dive aftera long journey andsome poor weather,and as we atechocolate cake andbiscuits along withhot sweet tea, I suspected that I might enjoy myselfafter all. Nautilus seem to

have a good thinggoing – a decentratio of guides todivers (a dozen or soguests seemed to bethe norm) waswelcome, as was theguides’ willingnessto help you kit up. Again, I thought about how hard dive-

guides work. After looking after a boatfulof divers on a morning, they had coursesand try-dives in the afternoon, along with all the other daily duties of a busydive-centre.The next dive saw us back at Spargi,

and how different it was. In betweenpassing clouds the sun was burstingthrough, and the shoals of bream wereglinting silver. Cow bream were grazingon the turf of algae, living up to theirname, and shoals of damsels flockedconstantly around us.Nudis were present again, in great

number and quite large. Purplenudibranchs looked like explosions oftentacles. Small but delicately markedtriplefin fish rested on their fins. A jumble of shells around a crack

would indicate anoctopus, hiding within its garden.This dive would be a little shallower, so

we missed the grouper, but the macro lifewas helping me out, and as we spentsome time with a dahlia anemone I managed to get some shots of an animalwith which I’ve always struggled – theanemone shrimp. Often tucked well intothe anemone’s tentacles and almost toosmall for my ageing eyes, these arechallenging, and while I’m not saying I managed, it was the best I’d ever done.The weather continued to improve,

albeit slowly. To be fair this isn’t normalfor Sardinia, with rain and storms usuallyconfined to the winter months and notthe autumn, when the waters should bealmost at their best. Despite this aseasonality, the following

day’s dives would be my favourite. Wehad travelled to the eastern coast of Isolade Caprera, to a site where seahorses hadbeen spotted. I crossed my fingers.I’ve only ever seen one seahorse before,

in a seagrass bed, and that’s what I wasexpecting on this dive. So when my guide started scanning

a sponge- and polyp-encrusted rock wall, I wondered what was going on.

FAIR ENOUGH, I THOUGHT, andbothered a few wee fish, accepting

that I’d go seahorseless. How wrong Iwas. Julie started squealing and wavingme over, and there it was, tail wrappedaround a growth of weed, its mane ofprojections looking so much like thealgae around it that I’m not sure I wouldhave spotted it. The demure little animal was difficult

to shoot but I focused on its eye, willing itto rotate a little and face me. It didn’t,alas, but still, I had doubled my seahorsecount.The weather had determined my

diving somewhat, but it had had amore serious effect earlier in the year.

Above: Long-snoutseahorse.

Above, from left:Cardinalfish; red-lippedgoby.

Below: Moray eel

Below, clockwise fromtop left:White-tuftedworm; white-tippednudibranch; migratingaeolid; spotted doris.

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German aircraft during the last war. Therest of the plane has yet to be found, andis perhaps somewhere on the floor of theBonifacio Strait that separates Sardiniafrom Corsica.The engine is photogenic, colonised by

the ever-present colourful sponges of theregion, and a well-positioned buddy ordive-guide can help the image stand out.But, sadly, I can’t tell you any more aboutthis little chunk of wartime history. It didn’t take long to be charmed by

the Maddalena Archipelago. Once theweather had cleared and the sun returnedI could understand why all those yachtswere here. I’m glad I didn’t let the Medfool me – there’s an awful lot of life andcolour down there.

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The warm temperatures that theMediterranean region had experiencedover the summer had meant warmconditions for divers but troublesomeconditions for some of the areas’ mostattractive residents – gorgonians. Long periods during which the

temperatures reached into the mid-20s atthe depths in which gorgonians thrivehad stressed them to the point that manyhad died. I had asked if I could see some, and as

we explored a site at around 30m, I wassaddened to see the many gorgonians’skeletons showing creamy white wherethe purple flesh and polyps haddisappeared. Vinny assured me that theywere recovering, however, and indeedmany still held purple patches where theanimal was regenerating.For years I was unaware of these

species, which often lie that bit deeperthan many holiday dives in the Medreach. How many UK divers are aware ofthese beautiful eco-systems, which rivalany tropical location for colour andcomplexity? With luck, a cool summer next year

will ensure that they recover well. Vinnytells me that below 40m the gorgoniansremain in fine fettle but it’s telling thatthe warmth is penetrating deeper.

IWOULD USUALLY CHOOSE a reefover a wreck (though of course somewrecks can be full of life), but I did hopethat I’d be able to find some iron or steelto add to my critter shots. Vinny obligedwith the most unusual wreck site I’vevisited, Il Motore.This is exactly what it sounds like, a

motor, though in this case a 12-cylinderradial aircraft engine, sitting alone at20m or so. Apparently it was shot off a

FACTFILEGETTING THERE 8 Richard flew

to Olbia with easyJet from LondonGatwick. Nautilus can help arrange taxis

to Palau, a 30-minute journey, withSardegnatours, sardegnatours.eu.

DIVING & ACCOMMODATION8NautilusDiving Centre is a PADI 5* Gold Palm and BSACresort, divesardegna.com. Nitrox is available.

ACCOMMODATION8Choose from apartmentup to 4* hotels. Richard stayed at a Le Gemmeapartment, palauappartamenti.com

WHEN TO GO8Best times are either side ofsummer, May/June and September/October.

PRICES8easyJet flights from around £80, taxitransfers 150 euros (both ways). Le Gemmeapartment for two from 220 euros pp forseven nights. A guided 10-dive package atNautilus costs 385 euros pp.

VISITOR INFORMATION8sardegna.com

Top: WW2 aircraft relicIl Motore.

Above right: Harbour at La Maddalena.

Left: Anemone shrimp.

Right: Recoveringgorgonians.

HOLIDAYS SARDINIA