Typhoons, Snorkelling and Men With Funny Shaped Balls: Japan 2019

Miyakojima Island: A DSC Quick Guide

Who are you looking at?

It’s only April and already 2020 is turning into a year to forget. The Covid-19 virus is front and centre in everyone’s mind with half the world’s population going into house arrest, economies going bankrupt and every Tom, Dick and Harry coming up with designs for new ventilators, which it turns out may not be the best way to treat patients. Then there are journalists, politicians and academics the world over systematically blaming China, Donald Trump and each other for the handling (or lack of it) of the situation.

So, to try and take your mind off the calamity unfolding outside of your window let’s take you back to 2019. You remember 2019, it was the year that journalists, politicians, academics and media commentators the world over told us we’d all die of starvation because of Brexit or that bearded Jihadis’ would brutally murder any man who let their wife go shopping without covering their ankles first and of course, it was all Donald Trumps fault. Oh and a certain Jeremy Corbyn would become Prime Minister of the UK. We’ll give you a minute to stop laughing about the last one….

In September 2019 we were boarding a flight from Paris to Tokyo eagerly anticipating the thrills, spills and crunching tackles of the Rugby World Cup. We would have loved to flown direct from Heathrow but such was the draw to this particular tournament that half of England, two thirds of Scotland and Ireland and seemingly the entire population of Wales were heading in the same direction. Consequently flights from the UK were either full or so expensive that we would have had to re-mortgage our own homes and most of our neighbours ones as well. Fortunately the French clearly believed their team had little or no chance of doing well in the tournament and so flights out of France were bereft of rugby fanatics and consequently very reasonably priced. At least that’s what we thought, turns out the reason our flight was so reasonably priced and so bereft of rugby’s hordes was because it was an Air France flight and no one it seems wanted to travel Air France. Something we now fully understand. Air France has the hardest, most uncomfortable seats you could imagine, the in-flight entertainment was appalling, the food inedible and they only had one can of beer aboard which apparently was being shared amongst the first-class passengers. We were offered wine of course, but since we consider wine to be at best, a drink for old women and children and at worst, even less appealing than badgers spit we declined and settled down for a cramped, grumpy sleep.

Japan is a long, long, long way when your buttocks are imprisoned in a seat that would make a spiked railing feel comfy, but our aching behinds were forgotten when we finally arrived in Tokyo. Fans from twenty nations mingled gleefully with the locals sharing beer and jokes whilst bemused Americans wandered around the neon lit streets wondering what on Earth was going on. The whole city throbbed with expectation. Japan has been involved in the world’s greatest rugby tournament from its inception but had only recently made its mark, having beaten the South Africans (rugby royalty) with a last ditch try in the previous tournament in 2015. Now every citizen of Japan seemed to have donned the red and white striped samurai shirt of the national team and confidence imbued by their teams coming of age against the Springboks, felt they too could now discuss the finer points of a rolling maul, line out plays and the need to earn the right to go wide with their peers from England, Australia, New Zealand and of course South Africa – all former world champions. Japan awaited, electric, primed, glory really could be theirs. This was going to be a tournament to savour. However, anyone who knows much about Japan would probably tell you that holding an international sporting event in the middle of Typhoon season is not a very good idea and they unfortunately would be proved right but that was in the future and as the tournament progressed and Japan began dismantling reputations with their fast and relentless style of rugby we took the opportunity to take a break from the beers and funny shaped balls to head south to Japan’s version of the Caribbean. We are the Dangerous Snorkelling Club after all and never miss an opportunity to get wet on the outside as well as the inside. So we boarded a flight to Okinawa and then onto Miyakojima.

Marine Garden

Miyakojima is a green jewel embedded in an azure sea. Its beaches are wide strokes of pristine white sand and its waters are crystal clear. This at least, is what the tourist guff will tell you and in normal times we are sure it is true. But we arrived on the island between those two future typhoons that had suddenly loomed onto the radar, the first having only just cleared the island as our plane touched down at Miyako airport, the next was due to make landfall within forty eight hours. So the air was dense, clammy and claustrophobic and the water would be murkier than a Chinese government report but we’ve snorkelled in worse conditions and Miyakojima boasts some of the best coral reefs in the world. So braced for disappointment and yet keen to dive in we headed to the southern coastal resort of Shigira. Japan can be a perplexing place at the best of times, its language seems to hark back to the days of hieroglyphs and although the Japanese have developed a taste for all things modern and electric they haven’t managed to master the art of using a knife or fork yet. That said nothing could be more perplexing than finding a colossal Bavarian castle smack bang in the centre of Shigira. To make matters worse it's pink. And no, we weren’t drunk; there really is a giant pink German castle in Shigira. It’s part of what’s called the Ueno German Cultural Village and it was closed for the duration. Our first thoughts were a knee-jerk assumption that it was linked to Japan’s military past when they were part of the Axis alliance but not wanting to upset the locals (Japan’s WW2 history is a sore point at the best of times) we avoided too many questions on the subject. Turns out our assumptions were wrong and its existence is all down to an act of heroism by the locals when they rescued survivors from a German ship back in 1873. Read about it here.

There are many great spots to go snorkelling in Miyako but in the short time we had on the Island we opted for three spots we’d been told by the locals were the best. The first is Yoshino beach located on the Island's Southeastern corner and a short drive from our base in Shigira. Yoshino beach is one of the most famous snorkelling spots on the island. It sits beneath a precipitous cliff face and is reached by a steep, winding road off highway 83. You can drive straight down to the beach but since parking spaces at the bottom are limited it’s more prudent to park up at the top and pay a few hundred Yen to use the shuttle service that operates from the small diving shop. The beach is long enough to find a quiet space all to your self and although the recent typhoon had done considerable damage to the reef, the marine life was still there in abundance, including several green turtles who patrolled the coral with languid strokes, our presence in their midst prompting little more than the occasional nonchalant glance. Yoshino is a spawning ground for the turtles and its shallow water and normally calm conditions make it a great spot for snorkellers of all abilities but try to arrive early if you want to see the turtles as they tend to drift away into the deeper blue once the beach becomes crowded.

Clown Fish

The second spot is the wonderful Nakanoshima beach on the western flank of Irabu Island located to the North West of Miyako. Irabu Island is reached by driving over the Irabu-Ohashi Bridge, a 3500 metre long undulation of steel and concrete that spans the glistening waters between Irabu and Miyako. It is apparently; the longest bridge in Japan and driving over it brought back memories of cruising over 7-mile-bridge in the Florida Keys. Nakanoshima (referred to by the locals as Kayaffa beach) is a wide bay protected from large waves by the coral reef which makes the waters relatively calm. Although we did find areas of the bay subject to some strong currents so caution is recommended. The waters here abound with clownfish, zipping in and out of large anemones, and puffer fish can be found loitering in rocky crevices. There is a small shack located on the beach where a local rents out oversized wetsuits to tourists but like all of the beaches we visited amenities are limited. There are also no lifeguards on duty and the island authorities lean towards the “your life, your responsibility” attitude which we found quite refreshing. That said if you are a poor swimmer or have never snorkelled before, stick close to shore and never go in the water alone.

On the way back to our hotel we stopped off at a small bakery and experienced one of the most bemusing incidents we had in Japan. We selected some sausage rolls, something’s that looked like custard tarts and some cream buns. We then watched perplexed as the cashier slowly and methodically wrapped each individual item in highly decorated paper, taped them and then placed them into another bag, which was then wrapped up again. The whole process took at least ten minutes and by the time we had paid a large queue had formed behind us. We kid you not she wrapped our cream buns up like a Christmas present. The result was typical Japanese perfection, each item a delightful parcel of paper and tape, including a little bow on some. The downside was all the cream was smeared over the inside of the paper, which does tend to ruin your cream bun experience.

Puffer fish at Nakanoshima

The third and last spot we visited was the Imugya Marine Garden located on the edge of Shigira. The Marine Garden boasts a unique eco-system due to the fact that natural spring water bubbles up from the ocean floor to mix with the seawater. The waters here are calm and sheltered, even in bad weather, making it a Mecca for snorkellers of all abilities. We arrived just as the sun broke the horizon and spent a few lazy hours amongst the corals. Anemones proliferate here, as do sea turtles and the ubiquitous shoals of coral fish. It was a great way to the end the few short days we had on the island and as the second Typhoon neared we packed our bags and headed back to Tokyo for the final array of rugby matches.

Waiting for kick off

Shinjuku, Tokyo

As most know that second Typhoon impacted Japan with a vengeance sending the country and the tournament into chaos. Yet despite some bleating from Scottish quarters and the threat of legal action, only a few games were actually abandoned. Scotland got to play the hosts for a place in the quarter finals and no doubt regretted their screams of “get the lawyers” as Japan not only weathered the early highland charge, they blew it away with a series of devastating attacks that tore the tartan defence to shreds and left Scottish dreams lying in tatters all over the pitch. Japan went on to face South Africa in the quarterfinals, there would however be no repeat of the 2015 glory. Despite endless and valiant attempts to play the game at speed the South African’s were not going to be humiliated again. In a brutal show of defensive strength they suffocated the life out of the brave blossoms and Japan’s world cup was over. The South African display against Japan should have made England, the other eventual finalists, take notice, but sadly they appeared to have overlooked the tactics the Springboks used. For despite putting on the most complete display any English rugby team has produced in their demolition of New Zealand, England had no answer to the South African’s stifling defence. England simply couldn’t cope with the Springboks defensive precision or strangulating tackles and what should have been a glorious free flowing game of rugby descended into a battle of brute strength that only South Africa were ever going to win. South Africa took the crown for a third time in their history (the first final they’d actually scored a try in) and what for many fans was the greatest tournament ever in the history of the world cup was over.

That is a bloody pink castle

If you have no interest in rugby then you’re probably not in the least bit interested in the excitement, the thrills and the sheer unpredictability of the 2019 world cup. A tournament in which the world order was over turned, reputations were made and reputations were destroyed. New Zealand were beatable, England were superb and hapless in equal measure, Wales failed to impress again as did Australia, Japan were bewildering, phenomenal and a pleasure to watch and South Africa were brutal, boring and immovable. Likewise if you have no interest in snorkelling then there is no way we can make you feel the sheer exhilaration of diving beneath the surface, of swimming over coral reefs and drifting alongside turtles. But snorkelling and rugby aside if there is something we would implore you to take from this post it’s this: Go to Japan. Yes the Japanese language is almost incomprehensible and the failure to evolve the chopstick into a something that resembles a fork can be frustrating and waiting for what seems eternity to have your sticky buns wrapped up in tinsel defies logic, but these are small bug bears. Japan is a nation that beguiles, bemuses and inspires in equal measure. From the hustle and bustle of a crowded subway train and the neon seediness of Tokyo nightlife to the sound of gentle waves creaming a coral sand beach, Japan is series of mini adventures and we can’t recommend any of them highly enough.

Oh but don’t fly Air France, your buttocks will never forgive you if you do. 

Miyako-Jima tourist guide including map

La Palma Island. A Dangerous Snorkelling Club Quick Guide

Roque De Los Muchachos Observatory

La Palma Island is situated in the North West of the Canarian Archipelago.  La Palma and its neighbours, La Gomera and El Hierro, are referred to as the lesser known canaries due to the fact that they have managed to avoid the excesses of mass tourism that affected Tenerife, Gran Canaria and Lanzarote. One reason for this is that all three of these islands lack the fine glistening beaches of the more popular islands and the small number of actual tourists that visit each year, along with most of the locals, live in hope that such mainstream tourism never does reach the island’s volcanic shores.

Lacking mass tourist infrastructure, La Palma tends to attract the more adventurous visitor. In the summer months the island teems with walkers, hikers, snorkellers, freedivers and those of the scuba diving fraternity. During the off-season the island still attracts hikers and nature lovers but also large numbers of the more mature tourist head here looking for a little peace and quiet away from the noisy nightclubs, bar crawlers and the teenage sex and drugs crowd that plague the islands to the East. There are several tourist areas on the island but the main ones are around the area of Los Cancajos and the Capital, Santa Cruz Del La Palma. In all the main areas you’ll find a spattering of bars and restaurants and low-rise hotels. There are also two diving centres in Los Cancajos from where you can rent equipment and arrange boat trips to the major offshore diving areas.

In natural beauty terms, La Palma puts all the other islands of the Archipelago to shame. Rugged coastal regions with crashing waves, beaches of fine black volcanic sand, verdant forests, gushing waterfalls, mountain ranges and a lush subtropical climate, La Palma offers something for anyone with a little adventure in their spirit.

Los Cancajos beach

La Palma is also famous for two rather differing controversies. The first is all down to a certain raunchy pop singer, whilst the second concerns an all too familiar scientific warning of impending global disaster. Back in the 1980’s Madonna released her True Blue album, the sixth song of which was called La Isla Bonita. According to some, many of who seem to work at the La Palma tourist board, the song La Isla Bonita (the beautiful island in Spanish) refers to La Palma. Madonna is supposed to have stayed on the island at some time in the past – though this has never been confirmed. Others however are adamant that the song refers to the Island of San Pedro in Belize. Madonna is supposed to have dedicated the song to San Pedro for some reason that is never really explained. Interestingly Madonna has stated in Rolling Stone Magazine, that the San Pedro mentioned in the song is a fictional island and does not refer to either island and may in fact be a sign for the off ramp. This admission doesn’t seem to have had much effect though as both the locals of La Palma and the denizens of San Pedro still claim that the song refers to their respective island homes. The second controversy has all the makings of an episode of The Big Bang Theory where academic egos engage in a battle of hypotheses. The story goes that back in the 1990’s one group of scientific egos claimed that at some point in the future a large chunk of La Palma would collapse into the ocean creating a mega tsunami. A wall of water hundreds of metres tall would then spread out from the island, wreaking havoc on the African coast, devastating the eastern seaboard of the U.S. and washing all the dog crap off the streets of Paris. Yes, yes, we know. Nothing can be that strong that it can rid the streets of the French capital of all the accumulated dog mess, the aroma of which mixes with the stench of the River Seine to create that oh so romantic French atmosphere, and it wasn’t long before another bunch of scientific egos proved it as well. The second bunch of egos pointing out that the first bunch of egos were being egotistical and unscientific unlike them who were being humble and scientific – Leonard and Sheldon, eat your heart out.

Watching me watching you

The island is littered with little coves and beaches; some very difficult to get to, where the more adventurous snorkellers among you can sate your appetite for the underwater world. However the four best areas, in our opinion, are in Los Cancajos, Charco Verde and the beaches of Playa Del Hoyo and Playa La Martina. Given that La Palma is situated in the Atlantic all of the beaches are at times subject to strong waves, winds and currents that make conditions unsuitable for even the most experienced snorkeller. That said, of all the four sites we recommend, Los Cancajos is by far the safest.

Sandwiched between the airport and the capital, Santa Cruz Del La Palma, the beach of Los Cancajos is in fact a series of little interconnected beaches and coves rather than a single beach. Protected by an artificial breakwater, Los Cancajos boasts an array of underwater tunnels, reefs and rock walls that will delight freedivers as well as shallow pools and rock formations closer to the beach that attract enough marine life to interest the less experienced snorkellers. The more daring among you might prefer to try out the delights of Charco Verde. Located a short drive from Puerto Naos on the western side of the island, Charco Verde is a wide cove of fine volcanic sand with rocky headlands on either side. The water can be considerably rougher than at Los Cancajos and visibility is often compromised at the best of times. The beach is also subject to rip currents that make entering and exiting the water here particularly problematic. That said, Charco Verde has a great deal to offer including canyons, strange volcanic formations and large shoals of fish loitering beneath overhangs and in between the volcanic fissures. If you like your water even rougher and the feel of pebble rather than sand beneath your feet, then the beaches of Playa Del Hoyo and Playa La Martina might be for you. Both sites are located on the eastern side of the island and are a short drive south of the airport. The beaches are reached by a narrow dirt track that can play havoc with the underside of your rental car and it might be worth parking up on the main road and taking a stroll down to the beach. A word of warning here too, both of these beaches offer rough water snorkelling at its very best and are not for the feint-hearted, if you are inexperienced or unfit you will undoubtedly get into difficulty here and should stick to less demanding sites such as Los Cancajos or the man made (though rather boring) rock pools at Los Sauces in the north. For those of you who have the experience and physical fitness however, Playa Del Hoyo and Playa La Martina with their tunnels, caves, gulleys and rocky fissures will not disappoint. All four sites teem with fish. Charco Verde and Los Cancajos in particular are home to shoals of sardines, bream, trumpet fish, damselfish, parrotfish and a good many more. One final note; the water temperature in La Palma never gets above around 24 degrees even at the height of summer and can fall below 15 degrees in the winter months so a wetsuit is highly recommended.

One of the breakwaters at Los Cancajos

When not snorkelling, La Palma still has a lot to offer. A visit to the astrophysics observatory at Roque De Los Muchachos is not to be missed. The phenomenal clarity of the air in La Palma means that astronomers, physicists and other scientific folk flock to La Palma to make use of the plethora of telescopes that dot the mountain ridges. At certain times you can even take a guided tour of the installations. Once you’ve finished peering into the sky you can take a lung-challenging hike around the caldera of Taburiente or get lost in the national park with its waterfalls, forests and winding tracks. If you’re not exhausted by all that, you can take a trip to the volcano centre at San Antonio, learn about all things grapey at the Las Manchos wine museum or visit the salt flats at Fuencaliente and then there are lighthouses to see, shops to peruse in Santa Cruz, or you could book a day trip to one of the other islands in the Archipelago.

Observatory above the clouds

Once you have had your fill of sea, nature and culture it’s time to get your fill of food and beer. Here though things get a bit tricky. Although there are a great many restaurants and cafes to choose from, the majority are not exactly culinary Meccas. The best two restaurants we found were El Lagar and Thai Las Olas, both in the Los Cancajos area. El Lagar is located in a shopping arcade but don’t let that put you off. El Lagar is typically Canarian in décor and ambience, the service is attentive but discreet and although the menu is small this should be seen as a good thing. Restaurants that try to be all things to all men with menus the size of encyclopaedias tend to be jack-of-all-trades and masters of none which means your dinner is probably going to be rubbish. El Lagar keeps things simple but that simplicity is very well done indeed. Try the tapas plate for a varied taste of the islands culinary offerings, after that we recommend the pork tenderloin or one of the fresh fish dishes that are on offer.

Err,, That'll be cactus then!

For a change to the Spanish offerings head off to the Hotel Las Olas and its Thai restaurant. Having a Japanese member in the club and living in London (the capital city of the world with every national cuisine you can think of readily available) we consider ourselves to be experts in Asian cooking and normally the thought of visiting a Thai, Indian or Chinese restaurant in a tourist area of a small island would fill us with dread. Thai Las Olas however, was a pleasant surprise. There were exceptions though, the Chicken Pad Thai has tomato ketchup as sauce and the Thai curry was nowhere near spicy enough for our tastes. The beef salad though was as good as any we have tasted and the weeping tiger steak was spicy enough to do as its name suggests and bring a tear to the eye. The noodle dishes are particularly good and the spring rolls (something most Thai restaurants fall down on) were second to none. Once stuffed to bursting we went to look for a bar and here, like most Greek and Spanish islands, we were left very disappointed. There are places to sate the thirst but most are attached to restaurants and all seem to have no idea how to store, pour or serve beer. Still the beer was cold if not much else and we can handle this small disappointment as La Palma hits the mark on so many other things.

You can fly direct to La Palma all year round from Madrid and in the summer season flights are available from London, Berlin and other European cities. In the winter months there are flight connections via Tenerife. There are also ferry connections from Tenerife and Gran Canaria. A word of warning though, if you are flying British Airways or Iberia Express or combinations of the two, take note that both airlines are notorious for being late and for mislaying your luggage on route. Read about our own experience here.

British Airways And Iberia Express – An Inconvenient Truth For Your Underwear.

Some say that flying is still romantic, still exhilarating, still the high-life. Others waffle on about the journey being as much a part of the experience as the destination. This may be true if you don’t mind standing in queues for no apparent reason, being subject to intrusive security checks by guards who can barely dress themselves, eating plastic food from plastic containers and generally being herded hither and thither by airline staff who are so orange you worry their liver is about to explode. However, if none of the former appeal, we suspect that like us, the act of travelling by air is a complete pain in the rectum. We have just returned from the island of La Palma in the Canaries (we will be posting photos, videos and more on La Palma in the coming weeks). The Canary Isles, you have to agree, is not exactly the most far-flung destination one can imagine visiting. Yet, the whole process of getting from London to La Palma and back again has been one of the most irritating travel experiences ever. Due to the dates we needed to travel on, we were unable to get a direct flight. So on a dreary Thursday, at the ridiculous hour of 5:30am, we arrived at Heathrow Terminal 5 (T5) for our British Airways flight to Madrid. From Madrid we would connect to an Iberia Express flight to La Palma. We queued, as you do, at check-in for what seemed an eternity before being ushered forward by a smiling orange-faced queue handler. Here, we did what normal sane people do and clarified with the check-in agent that our bags would be checked all the way through to La Palma and then inquired if the flight was on time and that no delays were envisaged - we had a connection to make and we didn’t want to miss it. The girl on the desk gave a sigh and smiled at us in much the same way a frustrated teacher might smile at a particularly stupid group of pupils. Of course the bags would be checked all the way through, the check-in girl insisted, after all British Airways and Iberia have merged and are, for all intents and purposes, the same airline. As for delays, the check-in girl gave us another dismissive smile and informed us that we had two hours in Madrid, which would be plenty of time wouldn’t it? Oddly we believed her. Her face was the same colour as her arms for one thing and she seemed very certain that all was fine. This sort of certainty, for the seasoned traveller, normally starts alarm bells ringing, but it was early and we were still half asleep so we accepted her reassurances. Then it was off to security. Belts off, cameras on, laptops and tablets in the tray; no liquids, no creams, no lotions and definitely no sarcastic remarks, otherwise the men and women who failed to pass the Burger King recruitment test will take delight in frisking you roughly and delving with Neolithic carelessness through your personals.

Finally we entered the inner sanctum of T5. This is the home of British Airways, it’s their palace, their crowning glory, and it is quite dreadful.  T5 has apparently won awards for being the best terminal in the world. Who exactly runs these awards? T5 looks as if it was designed by someone who was obsessed with Meccano and wants their parents to see how very, very clever they’ve been. “Look mum. Look at how I held the roof up with these sloping struts! It’s like I’ve created a class and steel circus big top isn’t it? Look at the joints and the windows and the shiny doors and the stairs and just everything”. Perhaps the parents are indeed impressed, to us however, it just looks unfinished. The dull metal fixtures compete for the world dullness award with dull flooring, which in turn competes with the dull decoration. All are outdone though by the dull looks on the dull people who staff the very, very, dull shops and cafes. In short T5 is dullness times a thousand, which is very dull indeed – but we digress.

It was now 7.00am. The flight was supposed to depart at 7:30 and we arrived at the allotted gate at the time indicated by the information displays. 7:10 came and went, as did 7:20 and oddly 7:30. We began to worry. The flight to Madrid would take two hours and if we didn’t leave soon our “plenty of time” to make our connection would quickly become “no time at all”. Finally, at 7:50, a voice that sounded like an asthmatic talking through a pillow bing-bonged onto the tannoy. We had no idea what was said, but like everyone else at the gate we assumed that boarding would soon commence so we joined the quickly forming queue and waited. And waited. And waited some more, whilst non-existent First Class, Executive Club, Platinum Club, Executive Platinum Premier Club and Business Club passengers were invited to board first. British Airways appears to have more clubs than a caveman’s conference. At last at 8:20 we took our seats on-board and argued amongst ourselves about whether we’d make our connection. At 08:30 the Captain made an apologetic announcement for the delay and explained that it was all due to an administrative error. What an administrative error meant was anyone’s guess. Perhaps someone had handed air traffic control their dry cleaning receipt rather than a flight plan or maybe it was just airline speak for “we’re a bit crap at this flying lark”. Whatever the reason we took off an hour and ten minutes late and we all agreed the trip had got off to a bad start.

We arrived at Madrid with forty minutes to spare, which quickly dwindled to thirty as the aircraft taxied to furthest reaches of the earth. The plane door opened and with uncharacteristic rudeness we thrust our way to the front and were off and running. We ran up escalators, down escalators, along marathon length corridors and onto a terminal shuttle that travelled slower than a snail with cramp. We held up our passports and swotted grumpy immigration officials aside, shoved security officials out of the way with surprising ease, and with lungs bursting and legs aching we made the connection. Unfortunately our bags didn’t. The baggage agent at La Palma gave the usual apologies and asked us what our bags looked like. Perhaps it was frustration or perhaps it was just rage at an airline that can’t transfer bags between flights in thirty minutes when the passengers, us! Can run non-stop for twenty-five minutes, navigate through security bureaucracy and generally be forced to act without consideration for our other passengers in order to make the flight that we snapped and in unison screamed: “They’re bags, they have handles on them, you carry belongings in them and more importantly they have got your bloody airline baggage tag on”! Suffices to say this didn’t have any affect, clearly this baggage agent was more than used to being shouted at. Paperwork was filled out, tracking codes issued and dismissive smiles exchanged but in the end twenty-four hours of the trip were wasted before our bags containing our wetsuits; fins, masks and underwear finally arrived.

Bad luck you might say. Bags get delayed all the time etc and lightening doesn’t strike twice. Well you’d be wrong. Lightening does sometimes strike twice and it did. Our return flight from La Palma to Madrid was due to leave at 14:55. It left at 15:35. Again on arrival the aircraft taxied half way to France before stopping and again we had to hurtle up and down escalators, onto the snail shuttle, through passport control and security and again we made the connection with minutes to spare and again our bags didn’t. The baggage agent at Heathrow was as hardened to our rage as her Spanish colleague at La Palma. BA and Iberia must mishandle a great many bags, as not a single member of staff in either country is remotely concerned about their passengers’ plight. Again we had to fill out forms and describe our bags and again a very unapologetic apology was offered and again with seething rage at the inconvenience we went on our away. 

Now some of you will no doubt say, so what? Just claim on your insurance or from the airline. But this misses the point. For one thing the airline knows the bags were delayed, they told us. They knew where they were and they knew what flight they’d be arriving on. In short why does anyone need to make a claim, the airline should accept that they have deprived their customers of their personal belongings and compensate there and then. A £100 or 100 Euros up front would be a start. Secondly airlines say they will only compensate for essentials, but essentials are open to interpretation. Some people think Marks and Spencer’s underwear is an acceptable essential others wouldn’t be seen dead in anything less the Dolce & Gabbana - quite literally. So what exactly is essential? Do you buy the most expensive deodorant because you like it, or the cheapest because you know the airline will argue that smelling of something cheap and musky is essentially better than smelling of sweat, and much better than smelling nice at their expense!

Thirdly there is the issue of making the claim itself, a long laborious task that most of us suspect is designed to deter the claimant in the first place. There is also a principle at stake here. We refuse to have some bean counter in a shiny suit decide how much our misery and inconvenience is worth. The loss of our twenty-four hours in La Palma cannot be measured simply in pounds and pence. And we refuse to wear I LOVE LA PALMA t-shirts, nasty underwear and cheap deodorant just because they are the “essentials”. In short, we don’t want a meaningless apology, nor are we interested in selective compensation we simply want our bags. How does an airline mishandle the bags in the first place anyway? If BA and Iberia expect passengers to burst a lung making a connection due to earlier delays on their other flights, the least that we passengers can expect is that they do the same to ensure that our bags make it onto the same flight. After all we’re the customers and we entered into a deal – you fly us, and our luggage, to our destination at the same time and in exchange we’ll give you cash. If you can’t do this, let us carry larger items in the cabin. BA isn’t going go do that though, in fact they are talking about reducing cabin baggage – so there will be more luggage for the baggage pixies to play hide and seek with. Of course there is an alternative and that is not to fly with BA or Iberia again and guess what? We won’t be.

Update: it’s twenty-four hours since we arrived back at Heathrow and do you know what’s happened? Yep. Nothing. We’re still waiting for our bags and according to the BA baggage helpline; they are experiencing a large volume of calls at the moment. Now there’s a surprise.