I’m headed to Ambon to dive with Maluku Divers. On my last visit, I was fortunate enough to see the new frogfish, Histiophryne psychedelica.
I expect that I’ll be offline for the duration of my trip, so if you send me an email or other message over the next couple of weeks, I most likely won’t be able to reply.
Traditions in Japan are dying. Not all of them of course, but enough that much of what I’ve come to know as Japan, and much of what I’ve learned about the country…will be gone before too long.
There aren’t, for instance, many Ama divers left.
Translated literally, Ama (海女) means Women of the Sea. In Japanese tradition, women who worked as Ama free dived for pearls, shellfish, seaweed, octopuses…products of the sea. In some areas, men also did this, but it’s generally been an occupation dominated by women.
Way back when, the Ama dived with minimal gear, but over time, they’ve adopted wetsuits, hookah compressors, scuba tanks and even uniforms in some instances (usually at tourist attractions)…to keep up with the times and maximise productivity.
While I was in Izu recently, I met the last Ama in Futo harbour (there are other Ama divers in other areas). The name she goes by is Atsumaru. This is an adaption of her husband’s given name Atsuo. In fact, everyone refers to both of them as Atsumaru-san, even thought their actual family name is Inaba.
To cut a long story short, I was going to accompany Atsumaru-san out for a day of diving…to watch her work, ask questions, learn about the Ama tradition…and to document what I could of this vestige of Japanese culture.
As it turned out, the weather wasn’t cooperative, so we weren’t able to go out on the water, but I did spend an entire morning talking with Atsumaru-san and her husband. Here are some of the things I learned:
I never asked Atsumaru-san her age, but I place her at around 60. She’s healthy in every respect and has a wonderful sense of humour, but she’s the first one to admit that her time remaining as an Ama diver is limited.
As I listened to her stories and asked her questions, I felt an undercurrent of melancholy, particularly as she described the glory days of when all 13 of the local Ama crew got together to talk, rest and relish the fruits of a day’s labour.
By the time her husband made the call not to risk a day at sea, I had already decided that I need to come back, to spend more time with Atsumaru-san…to dive as deep into the details of her life as she’ll allow, so the stories, adventures and achievements of her life won’t go unrecognised.
In the hills just above where I was diving in Izu, there is a shrine.
Situated in a natural cul-de-sac carved in the mountainous terrain, the shrine isn’t particularly famous (at least I don’t think it is), and it’s certainly not ostentatious. Far from it.
It’s nestled among lush vegetation, ranging from soft fuzzy moss encrusting the rocks to towering cypress trees that have probably seen the better part of a century or two.
Fresh water trickles gently down from higher ground, and rays of sunlight pierce through the canopy to produce dramatic lighting.
The air is crisp, alive and clean. It’s an amazing place.
The name of the shrine is the Hachimangu Kinomiya Jinja (八幡宮来宮神社), quite a mouthful even in Japanese. Shinohara-san brought me to this place one afternoon when we took a bit of time off to look around.
I’m not a particularly spiritual or religious person per se, but it was impossible not to be moved. Perhaps it was the preponderance of trees. Maybe it was the cool spring breeze. Or it could have been moody lighting.
Whatever it was, as soon as I stepped into the grounds, I felt rejuvenated, uplifted…energised and recharged. It just felt like there was a benevolent guardian watching over the area…warding off anything remotely negative.
Yes, I sound loopy, but the shrine really left a strong impression…so much so that I went back again later…to sit, listen, watch, feel and just be.
Before I head out on my next trip, here are a few more photos from Izu.
The first is an adorable juvenile yellow hawkfish (Cirrhitichthys aureus), which is known as an oki-gonbe (オキゴンベ) in Japanese. There are, of course, lots of hawkfish in tropical waters, but this hawkfish is the most striking variety I’ve come across, ranging from a nice tangerine colour to a deep orange hue sometimes.
They’re not particularly shy. The big ones can be fairly inquisitive, swimming right up to check you out on occasion.
But of course, not everything I saw was necessarily cute…at least not in the traditional squishy mushy sense.
This fish, for instance, is a yellowfin scorpionfish (Scorpaenopsis neglecta), its common name referring to yellow patches on the underside of the fish’s pectoral fins.
Known as satsuma-kasago (サツマカサゴ) in Japanese, these fish resemble the scorpionfish I’m accustomed to seeing in tropical waters.
In fact, this one reminded me somewhat of the white devil scorpionfish I recently photographed in Lembeh, which I initially mis-identified as a stonefish. Thankfully Cheryl was ever-alert and pointed out my stupidity!
From what I gather, satsuma-kasago spotted in Izu are not usually white in colour, so this one is a bit unusual.
And finally, here’s a photo for my young friend Alexa, who has told me she likes seeing photos of frogfish.
This is a spotfin frogfish (Antennarius nummifer) or beni-izari-uo (ベニイザリウオ) in Japanese. I’ve only ever seen this species in Japan, though they have a much wider distribution.
This particular one was plastered against the underside of a rock formation, flush against the rock and coral so that it was virtually impossible to distinguish from the background.
The only reason I saw it was that I spent a long time near it while photographing another fish. The only reason you can see it in this picture is because of the lighting I used to bring out the outline of the fish. Amazing camouflage artists these fish are.
Speaking of frogfish, I can’t resist adding a couple more photos for Alexa. These are extremely rare frogfish. In fact, they’re yet to be properly classified.
For the time being, I’m calling this one the fuzzy tank frogfish:
And this one the stumpy desktop frogfish:
In case it’s not completely obvious, I love the fact that I get to try lots of great food in many of the places I travel to, especially in Asia.
When I was in Phuket last year, we spent two entire days eating at local food stalls and restaurants…places not on the tourist map.
This is a short video summary of 10 recommendations for places to try, which goes together with this PDF file that has details of the specific locations and dishes…in case you’re heading over to Phuket.
The waters around Izu are seasonal. That is to say…the ambient conditions underwater change all year long, driven by the Kuroshio current, deep-water upwellings, topside conditions and a whole host of other factors.
Part of the ebb and flow of the aquatic seasons is a turnover of fauna. That is to say…different animals show up at different times of the year, so you can dive the same spot over and over again and see different stuff.
One of the popular animals “in season” now is this shrimp known locally as the balsu-ibaramo-ebi (バルスイバラモエビ), or just “balsu” for short. The proper binomial name is Lebbeus balssi.
The shrimp seems to be named after a Heinrich Balss, a German zoologist who specialised in decapods (…and I bet you thought you led an exciting life!).
Anyway, this shrimp normally lives quite deep, down to 120 metres or so. During the first few months of the year, some of these deep-water crustaceans come up to scuba depths and take up residence on pretty anemones…sparking a flurry of flashes from local underwater photographers.
Other than this, it doesn’t seem like much is known about these shrimp; a quick Google search didn’t turn up a lot.
Many sharks bear live young (viviparous or ovoviviparous), while some deposit egg cases (oviparous).
Pictured here are two eggs cases belonging to a blotchy swell shark (Cephaloscyllium umbratile) or nanuka-zame (ナヌカザメ) in Japanese.
It’s basically a catshark that can puff itself up as a means of self-defence.
I haven’t seen any of these sharks, but we found these two egg cases relatively deep, at about 23 metres…where white against a primarily brown background was a dead giveaway. Having them deposited so closely together is rare according to my dive guides.
The eggs are relatively new, and it takes about 10 months for the babies to mature and hatch…which means that these egg cases should be around until early next year. Within a short time, all the guides in the area will know about these eggs, so a lot of divers will have the opportunity to see and photograph them (plus keep an eye on them).
If I get a chance to visit again during the interim, I’ll make a point of checking again to see how these young sharks progress.
It seems like just about everything here in Izu is cute (or perhaps I’m only taking photos of the cute things?)…even the sharks.
Here’s a Japanese bullhead shark (Heterodontus japonicus), which doesn’t exactly fit the popular media stereotype (perhaps stereohype is a better term?) of sharks.
This is a juvenile, about 50cm to 60cm long. During this time of year, there are quite a few of these juveniles around, apparently quite often just sitting on the bottom like this, minding their own business.
They are bottom feeders, grabbing crustaceans, small fish, molluscs and the like…so they’re no threat to people. And up close, their scrunched up faces and little pug snouts are really quite endearing.
Hard-working, keen-eyed dive guides are a big part of having a successful trip…anywhere you visit.
In Izu for the past week, I’ve had the good fortune of working with two excellent guides…Satoshi Shinohara and Issei Takeda…from Sea Front dive shop. Here’s Satoshi with a big grin on his face:
They’ve been helping me find things, lug things around, clean things off, and also just shuttling me around from site to site.
All of our dives have been shore dives, so there’s quite a bit of preparation time involved, and there’s plenty of work to do after we get back to the dive shop too.
So as my way of saying thanks…I forced them to pose for photos. The shop is located on the way to one of the primary dive sites, so many of their friends from other dive shops slowed down to watch me taking photos of my extremely self-conscious models. Embarrassing Satoshi and Issei in front of their friends was almost as much fun as finding a lumpsucker for the first time!
Here’s a photo of both of the strapping young lads together. It took me a while to convince them to stand close enough to one another to fit them both in the frame…
Continuing with the cute motif that seems to be running through my Izu photos, here is a pair of whitespotted pygmy filefish (Rudarius ercodes), referred to locally as amime-hagi (アミメハギ).
When you see these fish in situ, they don’t look like much. Actually, they blend in with the seaweed and can be difficult to pick out from the background visual clutter.
Only after following one around for a few minutes did I notice the other one…not that it was hiding or anything…just that it was so well camouflaged I simply didn’t see it (though it was sitting in plain sight).
I watched as the two fish came together, flitted around one another, swam apart, came together again…and so on, their motion dictated in large part by the prevailing back-and-forth of the swell.
These filefish have signature pouty lips similar to the Japanese inflator filefish, but their lips aren’t quite the same shade of hot pink…more of a mature mauve maybe.
I noticed that as the swell peaked and reversed direction, the fish sometimes lined up nicely in the current, like a couple of weather vanes spun around by a shifting wind…producing a perfect pose for a piscine portrait.
Not sure what I can say about this fish…a lumpsucker (Lethotremus awae) or dango-uo (ダンゴウオ) in Japanese…except that it’s extraordinarily cute and exceedingly small. This one is just under one centimetre long.
There was a major swell, the fish was unusually active and in an awkward place, and it was dark…so this isn’t the best photo, but it’s the first one I’ve ever seen (I’ve wanted to see one for a long time), so I’m happy.
An integral part of the pleasure of travelling in Japan is the food.
Izu, for example, is famous for fresh seafood, as fishing is one of the primary pillars of the regional economy and society. Fresh fish and other marine products are available each day, which means awesome sashimi, sushi and other traditional Japanese seafood dishes.
Perhaps less well-known outside the country is the long-standing noodle tradition in Japan.
You may have heard of soba noodles, which are made out of buckwheat, and you might have even had some.
But store-bought dried soba (or even worse, the sad soggy stuff they serve on some airlines) is to the real stuff what pre-packaged, mass-produced white bread is to piping-hot, fresh-from-the-oven French bread.
Not to be a culinary snob, but there’s just no comparison to the real thing.
Here in Izu, Shinohara-san took me to a well-kept secret…a soba place that’s tucked away in a residential neighborhood, inside a normal house. The family who lives there serves lunch five days a week…and the soba noodles are out-of-this-world delicious.
Even better, it’s inexpensive. For somewhere between 800 and 1000 Yen, depending on what you order, you get fresh soba plus side dishes…more than enough to satisfy even big eaters like me.
The best part though, is that the restaurant is completely off the tourist map, which means there are usually people there but it’s never swamped, the food is always terrific, and the people there remember you.
