Tony Wu&#039;s Underwater Photography Blog

Archive for Marine Life

A Modest Proposal

Mon, Apr 30th, 2012 | Conservation, Environment, Marine Life 4 Comments

It has become all-too-apparent of late that certain denizens of the sea, namely sharks, have been receiving disproportionate attention relative to their peers. By many estimates, over 100 million of these cartilaginous fish are killed each year, mostly for their fins.

For too long, sharks have been getting all the attention.

It is not that I object to the mass extermination of ecologically important apex predators per se.

Shark fin soup is, after all, a vital part of Chinese culture and history. Moreover, as any reasonable person knows, consuming shark fin is proven to cure all manner of ills; provide otherwise “ineffective” men with that special “oomph” required in conjugal (and extra-conjugal) activities; and confer exceptional and undeniable social status on otherwise undistinguished persons who, through quirk of circumstance, possess a more substantial ratio of monetary means than good sense or moral propriety.

No…my singular objection is to the plight of certain kin of sharks…specifically, mantas and their smaller brethren mobula rays.

Consider for a moment the fact that these rays have received nowhere near the level of attention that sharks have in recent years.

One doesn’t, after all, visit an exclusive dining establishment to sample an overpriced bowl of chicken broth labelled “manta fin soup”, does one? Neither does one come across canned “manta fin soup” on grocery store shelves, or contend with obstinate parents demanding the serving of “manta fin soup” to mark the joyous nuptials of daughters and sons.

Such is my inherent sense of fair play that I find this imbalanced state of affairs outrageous and entirely unacceptable. The paucity of attention afforded to mantas hardly seems just, particularly in light of the many similarities between sharks and large oceanic rays.

Besides being cartilaginous and living in the sea, both sharks and rays are at the top of their respective food chains, meaning their numbers are inherently sparse. Both often roam great distances, which complicates any effort to track and monitor them.

Both also have long, drawn-out reproductive cycles, characterised by infrequent mating and extended gestation periods, as well as by low numbers of progeny.

Finally, sharks and rays require many years to mature, meaning that populations of both types of fish are susceptible to overhunting.

It is thus, after exhaustive analysis, painstaking deliberation and measured consideration, that I have arrived at a simple conclusion…expeditious action is required to rectify this abhorrent situation.

As such, I hereby present for general consideration the following modest proposal:

Whereas the market for shark fins is already well established and highly profitable, but global shark populations are disappearing en masse as a result;

Whereas manta ray populations are as-yet relatively unharmed, but have long been underappreciated, existing in the shadow of their close cousins…sharks; and

Whereas credulous Chinese (and other Asian) consumers seem forever eager to overpay for miscellaneous parts of rare animals in a never-ending search for elusive magical healing powers and self esteem;

The conclusion is inescapable: The time to exploit mantas is now.

The time to exploit mantas is now!

Please allow me to elaborate.

Sharks have been the centre of attention for many years in no small part because of their fins…their “unique selling proposition” so to speak. People go to great lengths to kill sharks for their fins.

Mantas and mobulas are filter feeders; they use gill rakers (branchy filaments of cartilage) to extract life-giving sustenance from the vast, seemingly empty ocean…almost as if by magic.

It doesn’t, therefore, take an inordinate degree of imagination to recognise the compelling market opportunity represented by this situation: Gill rakers are the perfect “unique selling proposition” for mantas rays, just as fins are for sharks.

If consuming over-boiled, congealed strands of cartilage from the fins of sharks can impart great power and prestige, then it only stands to reason that anyone consuming the cartilage comprising gill rakers would be the beneficiary of unique energy, longevity, wisdom and healing powers that can be imparted only via the transcendental essence of large oceanic rays.

Manta ray gill rakers: the perfect market opportunity

By hunting mantas and mobula rays in great numbers across the world’s oceans in order to harvest their gill rakers for sale at exorbitant prices to gullible Asian consumers…everyone wins:

Mantas and mobulas get to bask in the limelight along with sharks;

Purveyors of animal parts throughout Asia benefit from a new, remunerative business; and

Asian consumers have the opportunity to lavish extravagant sums of money on quixotic potions and elixirs in the name of vanity and superstition.

Genius like this, my friends, is why Homo sapiens rule the planet.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Note: Just in case you haven’t figured out that I’m being ridiculous to illustrate a point…let me just state, for the avoidance of doubt, that I’m being ridiculous to illustrate a point.

Though the scenario above may come across as being ludicrous, it’s actually uncomfortably close to reality.

Mantas are being targeted. There is a burgeoning trade in gill rakers.

Gullible consumers in Asia are paying lots of money for gill rakers. Not satisfied with obliterating sharks, Asian consumers are now on a mission to decimate global manta populations.

Please take some time to familiarise yourself with the facts about the escalating trade in manta ray gill rakers. And if you find yourself in a situation with someone trying to convince you that gill rakers are some magic-hocus-pocus-cure-it-all, please don’t fall for this snake-oil scam.

The links below are a good place to start getting the facts:

Manta Trust
Manta Trust Facebook Page
Manta Ray of Hope Project
WildAid

Gill rakers, extracted from a mobula ray to cater to gullible consumers

The Soul of an Image

Sat, Apr 28th, 2012 | Marine Life, Musings No Comments

On one level, this is a photograph of a female sperm whale executing a playful flick of her fluke at the ocean surface.

Stories are to images as souls are to people

The thing about photography though, at least for me, is that images should be about more than just taking a snapshot of a particular moment in time.

Compelling photos, those that make you sit and stare for a while, are ones that convey stories. In fact, the more intricate the stories are, and the “deeper” (excuse the pun) the tales go…the more memorable the image.

Take the photo above. It’s by no means the most exciting picture of a sperm whale I’ve ever taken, but I like it…in large part because there are multiple stories embedded within the image.

I could, for instance, describe the immediate experience of having a 12-metre toothed cetacean swim up, take a look at you, then saunter off in a nonchalant manner. Woohoo!

Or…to look beyond the actual encounter…I could tell you about the series of events that led up to this face-to-face rendezvous: the dozens of whales we came across, the interactions among them, and how this particular individual seemed to fit in to the cetacean family’s activities for the day.

To go beyond even that, I could tell you about the hundreds of hours I’ve devoted over the years to sitting and waiting for whales like this…enduring extreme boredom in the process but also loving every second.

I could elaborate, and talk about how little knowledge we have about large marine mammals in general, because…well…they just don’t spend much time in places and conditions that make it easy for us to observe them. And even when they do, they often have more pressing matters to attend to than entertaining inquisitive landlubbers.

I could tell you about how this whale and its family group were similar to, and different from, other sperm whale families I’ve encountered in the past.

I could tell you about the first time I met a sperm whale, about how scared I was due to ignorance (they do have big mouths and big teeth, after all); how it decided to take my leg into its mouth (which, naturally, exacerbated my trepidation); and how I finally ended up making friends with the inquisitive animal (after taking back possession of all my limbs), resulting an experience that literally changed the course of my life.

Stepping back even more, I could tell you about the sad history of men and leviathans, about how “intelligent” humans, for many years, saw these majestic animals as a source of blubber and spermaceti…used to make truly important things like margarine.

My point is this: Stories are to images as souls are to people.

There has been and continues to be a lot of chatter on the net about gear…new cameras, different formats, amazing lenses, manufacturer A vs. manufacturer B, lighting modifiers, and so forth.

Gear is important. There is no question about it.

But when it comes time to create an image, it’s what you do with the gear that matters. It’s the story/ stories you convey.

In the final analysis, it’s the soul of the image that counts, not your choice of hardware.

Blue Whale Poo

Sun, Apr 22nd, 2012 | Funny Stuff, Marine Life 4 Comments

So I’m cruising along, and I see a blue whale take a massive dump. Naturally, I get in and swim through it:

That’s no surprise really, given my “talent” for being poo-ed upon by massive marine mammals (sperm whale poo, humpback whale poo, humpback whale poo too).

The unexpected, and entertaining part of the experience though, was that my (previously dignified) friend Serene also jumped in and swam through the pungent potage.

After we got back on the boat, she said: “That has to be the grossest thing I’ve ever done.”

To which my reply was: “See how much your life has improved since getting to know me?”

(Julia also jumped in, but I already expected nothing less from her.)

Jellyfish Lake

Wed, Feb 29th, 2012 | Marine Life, Places, Adventures 4 Comments

I haven’t been able to post much lately. There was the usual post-trip chaos after my visit to PNG in January, followed immediately by pre-trip chaos for a short visit to Palau earlier this month.

Since getting back from Palau, I’ve had to contend with yet another malicious hack into my server (this is getting really old), plus catching up on a backlog of communication stretching back to last year.

Anyway, it’s the 29th of February today, which only happens once every four years, so I couldn’t let the day pass without posting at least one image.

So here is a photo of two jellyfish bumping “heads” in Palau’s Jellyfish Lake:

Two jellyfish bumping into each other in Jellyfish Lake, Palau

If you’re not familiar with these jellyfish, they are a species of Mastigias, which have been isolated in this saltwater lake for a long, long time. As a result, they have gradually lost most of their stinging ability (there’s not much to prey upon, and hence not much reward for manufacturing and maintaining metabolically expensive nematocysts), and instead rely primarily upon symbiotic algae for sustenance.

It was nice weather when we visited, so there were lots of jellyfish milling about, bathing their algae in sunlight in order to encourage them to manufacture food.

From a distance, I saw these two blobs pulsing toward one another, and I got to them just in time to watch them collide, then careen gently off one another like gelatinous bumper cars moving in slow-motion.

Incidentally, there are a number of isolated saltwater lakes in Palau with jellyfish like this, but only one is open for tourists to visit. (There’s also a similar lake at Kakaban Island, Indonesia, and perhaps more scattered around the Pacific.)

If you travel to Palau and want to visit Jellyfish Lake, make sure you pack adequate foot protection. Accessing the lake requires a hike up and over a steep trail with sharp rocks. There’s a rope to hold on to for balance, but you’ll definitely want neoprene booties or some other sturdy footwear to protect your feet.

Vignettes from the Eastern Fields

Sun, Feb 5th, 2012 | Featured, Marine Life, Places, Adventures No Comments

I’m back in Port Moresby. Everyone has left the boat, so it’s quiet time for a day. I have yet to pack, which means I’m looking for ways to procrastinate.

Got up early this morning. Not sure why, given the lack of immediate pressure to get anything done. I’ve had three cups of coffee so far, sorted out a handful of logistical issues, and scarfed down more cookies than I probably should have.

Outside, the winds are howling…running a continuous 30 to 35 knots, exceeding that every now and then, while pelting rain adds a bit of excitement from time to time. A nearby boat apparently sank last night. The few trees that line the harbour’s edge, short ones with sparse foliage, are doubled over, appearing as if they’ve been sucker-punched by Mother Nature.

We were forced back to the coast earlier than scheduled, which is unfortunate, but all-in-all, the past few weeks of diving in the Eastern Fields of Papua New Guinea has been awesome. The water was clear; marine life plentiful; and until the winds and swells picked up a few days ago, the weather ideal.

This being my fifth trip to the Eastern Fields (spanning about 16 weeks since 2004), you’d think I might have grown tired of diving the area. Not a chance.

Large school of bigeye jacks (Caranx sexfasciatus)

The Eastern Fields is a submerged atoll comprising around 150 square nautical miles. That’s really big. Actually…really, really big. It means the extinct volcano that spawned the atoll was enormous, almost beyond comprehension.

The reefs are about as close to perfect as you can get, given the realities of modern-day pressures like shipping traffic, commercial fishing (especially shark finning!), and marine pollution. This remote atoll and associated reefs have some of the best dive sites in the world, including one site that is the most action-packed reef dive I’ve ever experienced. And despite the fact that Captain Craig has been visiting the area every year since 1992, there are still many parts of the Eastern Fields he’s never dived. In fact, we explored and named four new sites over the past few weeks.

In short, the Eastern Fields is a magical place, which is why I keep going back, and will continue to do so as long as I’m able.

Pristine coral reef atoll, Eastern Fields

This is a pristine reef top: a profusion of coral in two metres of water.

Diving Carl’s Ultimate
As Craig tells the story, the first time he took my friend and mentor Carl Roessler to this reef, Carl was so amazed that he asked Craig to name the site after him.

The first time I went in, I understood why.

The site is small. Small enough to swim around in 10 to 15 minutes if there’s no current working against you. Small enough to swim over in much less time.

What the site lacks in size, however, it makes up for in action.

The best way to describe what Carl’s is like, is perhaps to allude to the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Just like the perfect porridge in that tale, Carl’s Ultimate is the perfect reef.

It’s located in the perfect spot with the perfect shape, size and orientation, so that currents are neither too strong, nor too weak, and hit at precisely the right angles during both incoming and outgoing tides to make it a happy place to be for fish and other marine life.

When the currents are running at Carl’s, there are, as many have put it: “More fish than water,” ranging from tiny ones like damsels and basslets to impressive dogtooth tunas, trevallies, barracudas, groupers, reef sharks and even a large hammerhead on this trip.

Thousands of fusilier damsels and magenta slender Anthias
swarming over staghorn coral at Carl’s Ultimate dive site

On normal charters, Craig only spends a day or so at this site, as most people want to travel around and dive multiple locations across the atoll. While I certainly understand why visitors want to see a broad sampling of what the Eastern Fields has to offer, I’d be perfectly content to sit at Carl’s for an extended period of time, doing two, maybe three, long dives a day timed to coincide with peak currents, and hence peak action.

In fact, that’s exactly what we did on the second of the two recent itineraries. After leaving port, we went straight to Carl’s and stayed for four days. The tides were exceptionally long and strong, meaning peak fish time was jaw-dropping crazy.

When Craig and I planned the dates for this itinerary at the end of 2009, we consulted forward schedules for moon phases and tidal flow, picking dates specifically for this reason. Who knew the two of us could actually get something right?

Corals and swarming fish at Carl's Ultimate dive site

Carl’s Ultimate dive site: Hard corals, soft corals, sea fans, sponges, swarming fish
…even an inquisitive squirrelfish (Sargocentron spiniferum)

The action at this site is so dramatic that I can’t recall ever having taken a macro lens down before, but I did this time. Craig performed his excited-little-girl-who-ate-too-many-sugar-cookies impersonation and said he wanted to show me a “really pretty” fish. Sceptical though I was, I had no choice but to humour him; it’s the only way to settle Craig down.

He showed me a colony of Pseudanthias lori, which were down relatively deep (33m or so), swimming upside down, at an odd angle, in erratic fashion, at high speed over a wide area, beneath a ledge that obscured nearly all available light. In other words…perfect conditions for photography (not).

With the aid of a rebreather, I was able to stay down for an extended period to get a few images, which only made Craig more giggly when I showed him. I should’ve known better.

This is one of several male Pseudanthias lori individuals in the colony:

Pseudanthias lori basslet, Carl's Ultimate dive site, Eastern Fields

Beautiful Pseudanthias lori basslet at 33m, Carl’s Ultimate dive site

Same fish, different angle, just as spectacular

To give credit where credit is due, Craig certainly has an eye for cute, colour-coordinated fish (with a particular penchant for pink).

Exploration and Discovery
As I mentioned above, we dived, explored and named four new dive sites during the trip: Xanadu, Soi 16, Jellybean Corners, and Silk Road.

Xanadu is a small passage Craig had never noticed before. The outer wall is gorgeous, with corals covering the entire reef, and lots of fish swarming about. The passage from the outside to the interior of the atoll was healthy as well, with troops of multi-hued parrotfish milling about, pooping streams of newly manufactured white sand here and there. During our second visit to this magical place, several co-adventurers came across mating white tip reef sharks. I named the site Xanadu in recognition of its unspoiled condition, and in keeping with Craig’s Asia-themed nomenclature for the sites in this area.

Red soft coral, Eastern Fields, Papua New Guinea

Strawberry-red soft coral at Xanadu dive site

Soi 16 is a submerged barrier reef near Emmmo. The terrain comprises a series of bunkers or “hills”, for lack of a better term, interlaced with channels and cut-out areas. The hills are covered(!) with corals, both hard and soft, and there are tonnes of fish swarming above…fusiliers, jacks, surgeonfish (the largest school I think I’ve ever seen), trevallies, etc. There was so much fish traffic in the area that diving the site reminded me of standing on a street corner in Bangkok. It was the 16th of January, so we called it Soi 16.

Soft coral and fish, Eastern Fields, Papua New Guinea

Soft coral and fish at Soi 16 dive site

Jellybean Corners is also at an opening in the atoll, where the outside walls rounds off into two nice corners at opposite sides of the passage opening. When I first dropped in, a gang of adorable baby grey reef sharks paddled in say hello, at least ten of them, perhaps as many as 20.

Though there wasn’t much current when we went there, I’m pretty certain the site gets hit with significant water flow, as there is a profusion of large, multicoloured soft corals on both corners. The brilliant yellows, reds, oranges and pinks of the plush soft corals reminded me of jellybean flavours, hence the name we assigned the site.

Yellow soft coral, Eastern Fields, Papua New Guinea

Colourful soft corals like this abound at Jellybean Corners

Finally, we dived and named another small passage in the same general area as Xanadu. Once again, it’s a passage Craig has probably passed many times, but hadn’t noticed. (It would perhaps be appropriate to insert a snide remark about Craig’s power of observation here, but I guess I shouldn’t do that to him, should I?)

Near this passage, the wall folds in and out in an S-curve pattern, covered wall-to-wall with a profusion of corals, mostly hard structures, but also some fans and soft corals closer to the actual passage opening. I gave this site the name Silk Road, in reference to the meandering pattern of the reef, and to go along with nearby site names Mantchuria, Great Wall of China, and Xanadu.

Soft coral, Eastern Fields, Papua New Guinea

Soft coral at Silk Road dive site

It’s amazing to think that after 20 years of diving in the Eastern Fields, Craig is still finding new sites. The possibility of being the first person to explore a section of the reef is an incredible feeling, something I hope to experience again in the future.

Silly Sallie Story
A trip aboard MV Golden Dawn wouldn’t be complete without a silly story of course, preferably at the expense of my good friend Captain Craig. You would think that after all these years, Craig would’ve learned to be on guard when I’m around. To some extent, he has, but his (futile) efforts to foil my schemes just make it more fun to pull pranks on him.

Sallie’s whale shark encounter is a perfect example.

On the second day of the first itinerary, Sallie had a close encounter with a whale shark at a site called Point P. She was alone, in crystal-clear water. The whale shark practically came up and planted a big wet kiss on her cheek.

Naturally, she was delighted, and showed several of us photos and video when we got back to the boat.

The proverbial light bulb went off almost instantly, and I got everyone to agree not to tell Craig about the whale shark…until dinner.

Whale shark with barracudas, Papua New Guinea

Sallie’s whale shark, with barracudas in the background for bonus points

At meal time, Sallie sat next to Craig, showing Craig pictures on her camera, innocently(?) asking him to help her figure out what she had seen during the day (i.e., Sallie batting eyelashes at Craig in feigned damsel-in-distress manner).

She started with a genuine puzzle, the shadow of what appeared to be a hammerhead shark in the deep. She moved on to several other fish; then showed him a series of whale shark photos, starting with one taken at a distance, gradually getting closer and closer.

If you’ve read my posts about Craig over the years, it should perhaps come as no surprise that he fell hook, line, and sinker for the “Help me, Obi-wan; you’re my only hope” performance that Sallie put on. (The fact that she’s a lawyer and devious by nature certainly didn’t hurt.) She played the part to perfection, luring Craig directly into an immaculately choreographed trap.

Seated across from Craig and Sallie, I got up and started to video Craig’s reaction when Sallie showed him the whale shark photos. Greg recorded Craig’s reaction from another angle.

Demonstrating the mental acuity for which he and Elmer Fudd are renowned, Craig immediately became suspicious. He was perhaps already inclined to doubt Sallie’s whale shark sighting, but seeing me stand up to video his reaction prompted Craig to undertake critical analysis of the situation at hand:

“Hmmm, Sallie is showing me whale shark photos; but I didn’t see a whale shark; and Tony and Greg are video-ing me,” he thought.

“This can’t be good.” (pause for brain to process).

“Wait a second.” (pause while pained expression crosses his face).

“Tony obviously wants to see me react to Sallie’s photos. He must be setting me up.” (pause for Eureka!-moment expression).

“Aha! Tony probably gave her photos from somewhere else to put on her camera, which means there was no whale shark.” (pause for brain to rest and recover from prolonged exertion).

“Well, I’ll show him who’s smarter!” (pause for look of smug determination to appear on his face).

And so it was that Craig opened his mouth (as planned) and stuck his foot in it (once again, as planned), while I recorded the moment for all to savour:

What Craig didn’t count on, of course, is that I set him up to anticipate the set up, thereby resulting in his being set up even though he deduced that a set up was in progress and concluded (in error) that he had foreseen and hence averted said set up. Nice set up, no?

In all fairness, I couldn’t have pulled this one off without Sallie’s deft manipulation of Craig’s ego, which just goes to show you that sharks are definitely not the most dangerous animals in the sea.

Links to Sallie’s video of the whale shark: Video 1; Video 2

Equipment Note
I started using a KISS rebreather back in 2004 with Craig, during my initial visit to the Eastern Fields. The rebreather units themselves haven’t changed much since then, but there have been some notable improvements in peripherals, two of which I think worth highlighting.

First is the Shearwater Predator dive computer. I don’t usually get excited by dive computers, but this one is perfect for diving with KISS rebreathers.

Shearwater Predator dive computer (before hooking up to O2 sensors)

The Shearwater computer can integrate directly to the O2 sensors on KISS units, thus eliminating the need for bulky, clunky O2 gauges we used previously. Moreover, the computer’s colour-coded OLED readout is dead-simple to understand:

Green = all good.
Red = problem.
Yellow = maybe problem.
Orange = slightly more of a maybe problem.

The display automatically adjusts brightness based on ambient light, and the interface is intuitive. The only minor issue I’ve experienced is that it’s difficult to take the battery out, as the compartment is snug, and there’s no tab or tool that makes it easy to yank the power source out when it needs replacing. Not a huge problem, but seems like one the manufacturer could address easily.

Bottom line though…I can’t imagine diving a KISS unit without the Shearwater Predator now.

Tony Wu, KISS rebreather, Shearwater dive computer

Me using the Shearwater computer. The bubbles are from a leak. Doh.

Second is the Nautilus Lifeline. When you’re on a rebreather, you don’t give off many bubbles. Plus, if you’re like me, there’s a tendency to stay down longer than divers using scuba tanks (mild understatement), so it’s tough for spotters on the surface to keep track of you.

This is a particularly relevant issue on Golden Dawn trips, since Craig’s itineraries tend to be to remote areas, many in open ocean with the potential for strong, unpredictable currents.

Safety sausages are the usual precaution against getting lost, but they can be cumbersome to carry and unwieldy to deploy/ put away. In some cases (especially with relatively compact safety sausages), they can be easy to miss in bright light or bad weather.

Nautilus lifeline

The Nautilus Lifeline incorporates GPS capability and a VHF radio, so you can (a) communicate with your dive boat (or any other nearby vessel with a radio for that matter) if you surface and no one is around, (b) tell them your exact GPS location, and (c) broadcast an emergency distress signal if you find yourself in a real bind.

Like the Shearwater, the Nautilus employs colour-coding:

Nautilus lifeline: Green to chat;
Orange to hail on Ch. 16; Red to broadcast GPS position.

It’s an electronic gadget, so you have to keep it charged, and having one doesn’t preclude carrying a safety sausage as well, but the Nautilus Lifeline seems like an ideal fit for rebreather divers. It’s probably a good idea for normal scuba diving as well.

If you’re contemplating a trip on Golden Dawn and plan to dive with a rebreather, Craig has a couple of Shearwater computers and Nautilus units aboard for rental.

Divers using Poseidon Discovery Mark VI rebreather

Jenny (foreground) and Frederick (background) trained on rebreathers this trip

The Alchemy Challenge
Meet Megamouth, a drab, nondescript sponge I came across at a dive site called Tokyo Express:

Sponge on reef, Eastern Fields, Papua New Guinea

Megamouth: Steadfast solitary sentinel of the sea

It was so dull that I’m almost certain no one else gave it a second glance during the dive. Among colourful sea fans, resplendent soft corals and glittering tropical fish, it was a lump. A lone, unappreciated lump with no lump-friends nearby, and no polychromatic costume to induce the adulation of camera-toting divers.

Paradoxically, the sponge’s intrinsic lack of charisma attracted me to it. I found myself drawn to the pigment-challenged poriferan, unable to resist staring, feeling something akin to compassion for the aesthetically uninspiring organism before me.

I stared and stared, first from one side, then the other; from above, then below; and finally, after perhaps five minutes or so, I decided to photograph it. A while later, I ended up with one of my favourite images from the trip, depicting the lackluster sponge in the best possible light (please forgive the pun).

Emphasising the sponge’s characteristic “mouth” and its position on a ledge with nothing else around, I used the curvature of the reef and just a tinge of deep blue to impart the somber mood of a tireless, solitary sentinel standing watch over Poseidon’s realm.

In hindsight, I probably should have taken a normal photo at normal exposure of the same area and subject, to give you a better appreciation of how utterly uninteresting the sponge looked, but I wasn’t thinking about writing this text at the time.

Anyway, here’s a photo challenge for you: The next time you’re on a dive trip, see if you can create an inspiring, visually pleasing image of a ho-hum subject, something most people would pass by without a second thought.

It’s not easy, and it can certainly be frustrating trying to turn lead into gold, so to speak, but it can also be exceptionally rewarding when you succeed.

Transforming the mundane into something inspiring…photographic alchemy, so to speak…will hone your photography skills, and more importantly, your imagination and creativity.

Manta, Manta
For some reason, PNG and manta rays don’t mix for me. I’ve been to the manta cleaning station at Gona Balubalu in Milne Bay three times, where, despite assurances that “Mantas are virtually guaranteed,” I’ve never seen one there. All I’ve ever done is sit at the rock and twiddle my thumbs. I have, in fact, become quite adept at it.

In the Eastern Fields, the site that vexes me is Mantchuria, where there are inevitably multiple mantas “last week” and “the charter after you”, but never when I’m there. Sigh.

Well, as of the first itinerary of this trip, I’ve finally broken the string of manta ray no-shows. I saw one manta.

Manta ray, Eastern Fields, Papua New Guinea

The only manta I’ve ever seen in PNG

Other people on the trip saw more (figures, doesn’t it?), but I’m resigned to my fate, so it’s not a big deal.

The main reason I bring up the topic of mantas is that we had a repeat encounter with one. On 14 January, several of our divers photographed a relatively friendly female at Mantchuria; four days later, we bumped into her again at Carl’s Ultimate.

The two sites aren’t an enormous distance apart, but still…it’s cool that several people on the trip had the presence of mind to make the connection between the two sightings.

The ray in question was recognisable from a missing chunk of her body and unique marks on her belly as well.

I, of course, didn’t see her on either occasion, but Adam in particular was lucky enough to have the manta approach while we were at Carl’s Ultimate, go underneath and flip belly-up to him, then swim along for an extended period. Adam was all grins when he surfaced. Quite understandable given his unforgettable interspecies interlude.

Wrap-Up
There were, of course, many more notable experiences and adventures during the trip. It’s impossible to write about everything that happened; the best I can hope to do is convey a sense of how much fun we had (a lot!), and how terrific the company was on both trips.

My home for the past month: MV Golden Dawn

I’m grateful as ever to the brave and foolhardy people who volunteered to be trapped on a boat with me for an extended period of time: Franck and Beck, Thomas, Adam, Sallie, Frederick and Gina, Jenny, Dan and Kozy, Colin and Nana, Sue, Bart and LeAnne; with special commendation to Jim and Greg, who each deserve a medal for surviving two back-to-back trips(!) with me; and last but certainly not least, my good friend Eric, who has been busy working a real job and was unfortunately feeling a bit under the weather during much of the trip.

In addition, I am indebted to a number of parties for their help and cooperation to make this trip a success: Captain Craig, master and commander of MV Golden Dawn; my friends at Wetpixel; Dan Baldocchi (thanks for coordinating the logistics!); Zillion; Aquaforum; PNG Japan; and Air Niugini.

Craig and I are plotting more adventures soon (he’s such a glutton for punishment), including the possibility of a very special rebreather-only trip to explore the twilight zone of the Eastern Fields (deeper waters, from 40m on down); an exploratory cruise to check out the southern reefs of the Louisiade archipelago, areas of which we believe few (if any) people have ever dived; as well as more exploratory trips.

If you’d like to get an early heads-up for one-of-a-kind adventures like these, please sign up for my trip newsletter.

Thanks for reading!

PS: If you’re planning a trip to PNG and are flying with Air Niugini, take note of the company’s baggage policy for divers: Air Niugini offers the following baggage allowance for scuba divers; International flights – 20kgs (44lbs) plus an additional 15kgs (33lbs) per person. Domestic flights – 16kgs (35lbs) plus an additional 15kgs (33lbs) per person. Air Niugini honours the International allowance for International passengers in direct transit on same day to a domestic port in PNG.

PS for the gang on the 2nd trip: It’s called an airboat or fanboat.

Sea fans and soft coral, Eastern Fields, Papua New Guinea

Sea fans and soft coral at Northern Passage

Fusilier damselfish, Carl's Ultimate dive site, Eastern Fields

March of the Damselfish, Carl’s Ultimate dive site

Soft coral with bigeye trevallies, Eastern Fields

Soft coral with curtain of bigeye trevallies in background

School of barracudas, Eastern Fields, Papua New Guinea

Small school (more like a classroom) of barracudas

More soft coral at Jellybean Corners

Heading Back to the Eastern Fields

Sun, Jan 22nd, 2012 | Marine Life, Places, Adventures 2 Comments

A new group of friends is aboard MV Golden Dawn with me now, so it’s time to head to sea once more to visit unspoiled coral reefs and say hello to friendly marine life like this:

Large school of bigeye jacks (Caranx sexfasciatus) in Papua New Guinea

Will be back in a couple of weeks.

Off to Papua New Guinea

Sat, Jan 7th, 2012 | Marine Life, People, Places, Adventures 3 Comments

It’s a brand new year, and time for me to head to one of my favourite dive destinations…the Eastern Fields of Papua New Guinea. It’s been slightly over two years since I was there last, so I’m anxious to get back and see how things are.

As of this morning, I have news from Captain Craig of MV Golden Dawn that the conditions are fantastic. Keeping my fingers crossed that it’ll stay that way.

One of the highlights of my previous visit was when we stumbled upon a plump, pink frogfish at a dive site called Shaw Thing.

This discovery caused Craig to clap his hands in the water, skip around, and squeal like a gaggle of giggly girls high on helium.

Pink frogfish (Antennarius commerson) in Eastern Fields, Papua New Guinea

This pretty pink piscine caused Craig to squeal with delight

Not that there’s anything wrong with said hypothetical congregation of snickering schoolgirls of course. It’s just that Craig so wants everyone to take him seriously and accord him the respect otherwise due to the captain of a marine-going vessel.

To this end, he invests considerable effort in trying to look steadfast and stalwart:

Craig trying (in vain) to look captainly

…but just can’t quite seem to pull it off (the dopey expression being an obvious contributing factor).

So back on the boat, pursuant to the Frogfish Incident, I felt obliged to advise him, as a caring friend, that tittering about in the water doesn’t help his cause.

We’ll see if he’s learned his lesson.

For everyone joining the upcoming trips…safe travels and see you soon!

Dead Humpback Whale Calf

Thu, Jan 5th, 2012 | Marine Life, Research 2 Comments

Early on 2 January, a baby humpback whale washed up on the beach in Odawara, which is about 60km south of where I am in Japan.

Dead humpback whale calf on the beach in Odawara, Japan

Yesterday, I travelled to the site to meet friends from the scientific community, who were planning to perform an autopsy to try to ascertain the cause of death. As it turned out, the local authorities didn’t have the proper equipment available to handle the whale, so the autopsy had to be postponed for a few days.

Fortunately, it’s the middle of winter here, so the carcass will keep to some extent, but the laws of nature dictate that additional deterioration will occur by the time dissection takes place.

Also, the cetacean pathologists will be at a meeting outside of Japan by then, so unfortunately, the cause of death will probably never be known.

Researchers measuring deceased humpback whale calf

To the best of my knowledge, the animal was dead when it washed ashore.

Some patches of skin were missing, which is to be expected given the situation. There were some minor abrasions here and there as well, but nothing to suggest that injuries were the reason for the little humpback’s death.

All that we were really able to ascertain is that the baby was male, measuring 6.87m in length. It probably weighed one to one-and-a-half tonnes or so, though we didn’t have the equipment to confirm that.

Penis of dead humpback whale calf

Baleen of dead humpback whale calf

My friends told me that the whale was the smallest humpback ever to have been recorded in a beaching/ stranding in Japan. Most babies that have washed ashore here have been in the eight- to nine-metre range. This is the third such beaching of the 2011-2012 breeding/ calving season in these waters.

[Amendment: I misunderstood what my friends told me about the size of the calf. I've received the full list of recorded humpback whale calf strandings in Japan, and it is clear that this beached calf is the smallest to be recorded during the winter season. The other records for this time of year reflect body lengths of between eight and ten metres, which implies that they were older, perhaps yearlings. The actual smallest dead humpback whale calf record in Japan is 6.11m in Ibaraki prefecture, found on 24 June 2002. The second smallest is 6.60m in Oita prefecture, found on 19 May 2004. So this one becomes the third smallest on record, but the smallest during this time of year.]

I’ve literally seen hundreds of baby humpback whales, but this is the first dead one I’ve come across.

The size of the calf suggested to me that it was quite young, perhaps a couple/ few months at most. It appeared to be about the same size as the larger calves in Tonga attain by early September each season, which is about two to three months into the breeding/ calving season there.

Researchers with dead humpback whale calf

Researchers hard at work collecting data

I arrived on location quite early, around 07:15, so there weren’t many people around and the light was still subdued. There was a brisk, bone-chilling breeze coming in from the sea. It took a few moments to collect myself when I saw the carcass.

Death, I suppose, is never a pleasant subject, but I’ve rarely had problems dealing with reality. In this instance however, I got a little choked up. I’m not ashamed to admit that I feel a particularly strong emotional bond with humpbacks, given the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of hours of my life I’ve devoted to them.

With light levels changing rapidly and the prospect of spectators showing up, I had to work quickly though, so I whipped out my cameras and commenced photographing. As soon as I started concentrating on handling problems like balancing white-out from harsh backlighting against the all-black of the whale’s body, the immediate shock of confronting the dead whale wore off.

Single hair follicle protruding from tubercle

The most interesting part of the experience for me was seeing a hair follicle protruding from one of the tubercles on the humpback’s rostrum. I knew in concept, of course, that each of these tubercles has a single hair inside, but it’s normally not possible to observe tubercles so closely.

When the researchers pointed the hair out to me, I think I let out what can only be termed a shriek of excitement.

I flopped belly-down on the rocks and got soaked by the incoming surf a couple of times while looking at and photographing the hair, but the cold seawater drenching was worth it.

That single hair was confirmation that what lay before me was a mammal, evolutionary kin in a way, though we look almost nothing alike and lead such different lives.

It’s tempting to wonder, even speculate, about what led to this animal’s death, but in reality, there’s just no way to be certain. Even with an immediate autopsy, the ability to ascertain the cause of death wouldn’t be assured.

All we can do is measure, record, learn what we can…and hope that there aren’t too many more.

Researcher examining dead humpback whale calf in Japan

Researcher examining the humpback whale calf

My Top 10 Underwater Photographs for 2011

Wed, Dec 28th, 2011 | Marine Life, Musings, Photography, Places, Adventures 13 Comments

Putting together Top 10 lists is a popular thing for websites to do at the end of the year.

I generally avoid trends, but I like this one, because the process of stepping back and getting perspective on what you’ve experienced and achieved over the preceding 12 months is an excellent way to set goals for the upcoming year.

It’s also a nice opportunity to recap and share some highlights of the year…to recall the good times, as well as the challenges.

I’ve just skimmed through my blog posts from 2011, and picked out ten of my favourite photos, listed in chronological order.

The first is this image of Ron Leidich and Terry Ward in the entrance of one of the hidden lakes in Palau’s Rock Islands:

Entrance to hidden lake in Palau rock islands

Ron and Terry in a tunnel leading to a hidden lake in Palau’s Rock Islands

I like this picture because it encapsulates everything about the unique and educational experience I had in February of exploring Palau by kayak. Getting into and out of concealed lakes was often a logistical challenge, to say nothing of the difficulty involved in documenting the experience with photos.

To capture this image, I had to swim several times between our mother boat and the island in order to haul my gear up and over sharp rocks and hydroids into the narrow opening, then get Ron and Terry into position and set up the lighting before ambient light levels fell and the incoming tide trapped us.

We were on a tight schedule and only had one try, with a window of 20, no more than 30, minutes, so I was elated (shocked almost!) when the shot actually worked.

The second photo I picked from the trip is a more traditional underwater image of a coral reef in shallow water.

Thriving coral reef in an area that was devastated by
El Niño in 1998 and crown of thorns thereafter

It’s not technique, lighting, composition, etc. that makes this photo stand out for me. It’s the fact that this reef is living testimony to the tremendous self-healing and recovery capability of Mother Nature. It’s a symbol of hope…a reef system that defied all the doom-and-gloom, end-of-days pronouncements by experts in the wake of the massive El Niño in 1998. It’s cause for optimism.

Next up are two photos of Australian sea lions (Neophoca cinerea), the first of a friendly young sea lion coming in to give my camera a neighborly nuzzle and kiss:

Young Australian sea lion coming in for a kiss

…and the second of two sea lions play-fighting:

Two male sea lions having a friendly discussion

I love interacting with pinnipeds, and these two photos taken together show the extremes of their behaviour. If you’re a dog-lover like me, you’ll have no problem imagining what it’s like to swim with these precocious animals. It’s like being surrounded by hyperactive labrador retrievers…except that you’re in the water, and they can swim (a lot!) better than you.

A shadow hung over my time with the sea lions this year, as the earthquake+tsunami+nuclear reactor meltdowns in Japan took place just as I arrived in Western Australia, but the fact that I was with great friends (including three terrific kids who had an absolute blast with the sea lions) helped to balance things out.

I’m planning a return visit in March 2013, so let me know if you’re interested.

Pretty soon after playing with the sea lions, I took an exploratory trip to Sri Lanka, where I had some amazing luck. Among the highlights was an encounter with a manta ray that head-butted me twice:

Rear view of a manta ray feeding at the ocean surface

I like this angle, because it’s different from most manta images. It took a lot of swimming and a number of attempts to get the manta’s tail lined up just right, when the tips of both of the animal’s wings were out of the water.

The back story of this head-butting manta is interesting, and worth a read if you like enigmas. Naturally, there was some debate about whether the manta really made a sound or not before colliding with me.

I’m 100% certain of what I heard, and there was another person in the water with me who heard/ saw the exact same things. Capt. Craig of Golden Dawn also reported a similar sound from a manta in PNG; I’ve appended a note to my original blog post with Craig’s comments. Have a read, and please let me know if you come across mantas (or other rays) making odd sounds.

Also during that trip, I managed to swim through the biggest cloud of sperm whale poo I’ve come across so far. You gotta admit, it’s impressive!

This is the biggest dump I’ve ever seen from a sperm whale.

You might think it odd that I’d pick such a photo for my ten favourites of the year, but c’mon, no one can resist gawking at that enormous effluent emission.

As if batoid head-butts and odontocete defecation weren’t amazing enough, I had the mind-blowing experience of having two blue whales swim toward me, slow down to make eye contact, wish me a good day, then merrily carry on with their official whale business:

Blue whales(!) swimming in blue water

In case there was any doubt, I can confirm that blue whales are…big!

Then it was off to Papua New Guinea, where I spent a month aboard MV Golden Dawn, harassing Captain Craig and Bob Halstead.

I didn’t do much macro photography this year, but on this trip, I nailed a super-macro shot of Dinah’s goby (Lubricogobius dinah), a fish I’ve been wanting to photograph for a decade or so:

Super-macro shot of Dinah’s goby (Lubricogobius dinah)

Photographing Dinah’s goby involved using a rebreather, lugging an elaborate camera set-up, and putting in some deco time, but it was worth the effort. Bob and Dinah Halstead documented this fish and had it described, so it was an honour to have Bob find the fish for me, and to be able to help Bob get a print made for Dinah!

My final two picks for the year are from Tonga. It was such an amazing season, with a record 48 humpback whale mother/ calf pair IDs, that it’s extremely difficult to select just two photos.

This picture is special because the adult female is one that I first photographed and ID-ed in 2009. I recognised her immediately on sight. She had the same even-keeled temperament that she did two seasons ago, and her calf was playful, confident and friendly, just like her calf in 2009.

Toluua, humpback whale calf #32 of the 2011 season, with mommy

And last but not least, I am quite fond of this photo of a male humpback whale singing:

Fluke of a humpback whale singer

I’ve spent time with and photographed a lot of singers, but this had to be the most cooperative one ever. From the moment we made eye contact, I could tell that the whale didn’t mind my presence. The white along the sides of its body, and the curly, twisty scar on the right side of its fluke really give the whale character, making for a beautiful portrait of a beautiful animal.

Well…there are certainly many more photos that I liked, but a Top 47 list doesn’t have quite the same ring to it as Top 10 does.

All of these images are more than just pictures to me. They are reminders of incredible experiences, of memories and lessons learned that no amount of money can buy, of another year well spent exploring the world, making friends, and…hopefully…becoming a better photographer and person.

Humpback Whale Singer Audio

Sun, Dec 18th, 2011 | Marine Life, Places, Adventures No Comments

Locating humpback whale singers underwater is a challenge, but it’s fun. There’s nothing quite like tracking down a singer bit-by-bit, swimming along, scanning the water until the vague outline of a cetacean emerges from the misty blue haze.

Sound travels so well underwater that it’s extremely difficult to gauge direction and distance. Also, singers can stay down for extended periods of time, often diving too deep to see, sometimes swimming as they sing, sometimes sitting in plain sight but countershaded so well that you cruise right past them.

We found 14 singers this season, which is pretty high. Single-digit tallies are more common, not necessarily because there aren’t more singers around, but due in large part to the amount of time and effort it takes to track a singing whale down.

We came across the first singer of the season on 13 August, pictured below:

Humpback whale singer, Tonga 2011. Note the lopsided fluke.

First humpback whale singer I came across in the 2011 season.
Note the lopsided fluke.

The water wasn’t clear (bad viz. characterised the season), but the whale wasn’t too deep, about 15m (around 50ft) or less at the fluke from what I remember. It stuck around long enough for everyone to get a good look, and for my friends Debbie and George to record some video. (Debbie actually recorded the video. It was enough for George just to stay out of the way.)

They just forwarded me the following audio tracks of the singer, which they extracted from the video footage (Thanks Debbie, George!).

It may not come across in these recordings, but it seemed like the bass this year wasn’t as deep and booming as normal. I hung directly overhead this one and several others this season, and I didn’t get the same intense reverberation in my body as I have in the past.

Here’s a video from the 2010 season showing what it’s like to make a short courtesy call to a singing humpback whale. This one was considerably deeper, 20-25m at the fluke.

Whales, Whales, Whales

Wed, Dec 7th, 2011 | Featured, Marine Life, Photography, Trips, Workshops 1 Comment

If you’ve been following my ramblings in recent months, it’s probably obvious that I’ve been spending an increasing proportion of my time with large cetaceans. My schedule for next year is no exception, with 12 to 13 weeks or so planned for ~~sitting on a boat staring at the ocean hoping something will show up~~ whale photography.

For those of you who are crazy enough to contemplate joining me on one of these adventures, I’ve set out basic trip descriptions below.

If you read on, you’ll no doubt notice that many of the trips are already booked. This is because I keep a list of people who contact me in advance, and I do my best to get in touch with anyone who’s expressed interest before announcing trips on my blog. I also send out an e-newsletter in advance of posting to this site.

If you’d like to get a heads-up for future trips, please contact me via my contact form, or sign up for my trip newsletter.

Please let me know if you’re interested, even if the itinerary you’re keen on is full, as I keep a wait list for each of the trips. Life happens sometimes, and people who’ve signed up end up needing to change their plans.

Blue Whales, Sperm Whales in Sri Lanka
Dates: March/ April 2012
Availability: Fully booked

This trip requires someone who is accustomed to less-than-ideal circumstances, can deal with frustration, and can accept the possibility of being totally and utterly skunked.

Sounds like fun, no?

To be a good fit for this adventure, you need to be very, very experienced in the water, be easy-going and cooperative, and have a stable, mature personality.

On the upside, there is the prospect of seeing scenes like the images below, as well as other potential surprises:

Sperm whale swimming upside-down to check me out with sonar

Blue whales(!) swimming in blue water

Minke Whales in Australia
Dates: 28 June to 7 July
Availability: One spot available
Location: Fly into/ out of Cairns, transfer to Port Douglas
Accommodation: Liveaboard trip

Minke whales have been on my to-do list for a long time. As far as baleen whales go, they’re relatively small, running six to ten metres in length. They’re inquisitive…as in, they’ll come right up to boats and people in the water given the right mood. They’re also reasonably easy to find…if you get the timing and location right.

For these reasons, I’ve planned a trip Down Under to spend some quality time with the minkes that congregate at the Great Barrier Reef.

We’re heading over during absolute peak minke whale season.

The plan is to get on a boat in Port Douglas on 28 June, cruise overnight to minke central and sit there until we leave on 6 July to head back. That’s eight full days with minkes, only minkes, and just minkes.

We’ll be in the Great Barrier Reef Marine Park, so we’ll be following the well-established guidelines for in-water interactions with the small cetaceans, letting the whales dictate the pace and proximity of interactions.

I specifically picked the timing for this trip based on advice from my friends John Rumney, who is one of the leading authorities on minkes Down Under, and Julia Sumerling, who has many years of minke experience under her belt from working as the video/ photo pro on Mike Ball’s boat.

To cut to the chase, our trip will be during peak, peak minke time.

For whatever reason, the minkes show up like clockwork at this time, and more importantly, they demonstrate the greatest level of interest in people around this period.

Incidentally, the minkes in this area are a subspecies known as dwarf minke whales, which were first described in 1986. From what I gather, there is still no population estimate for this subspecies, and no consensus on the taxonomy for minke whales in general.

For more information about the dwarf minkes, please see the excellent summary prepared by the CRC Reef Research Centre (PDF file).

Minkes are curious, and some will approach really close

Minkes are inquisitive, and some will approach really close.

Humpbacks Whales in Alaska
Dates: 22 to 31 July
Availability: Fully booked
Location: Trip begins and ends at Juneau, Alaska
Accommodation: Liveaboard

This is the Megaptera Mania! trip I’m running with Jon Cornforth.

I’m really excited about heading to Alaska for the first time. I’m not so keen on the fact that it’ll be colder than I normally like, but bubble-net feeding and dramatic, mountainous terrain in the background will hopefully make it worthwhile, and also worth a repeat visit in 2013.

Humpback whales bubble-feeding at sunset in Alaska

Humpback whale breaching in Alaska

Humpback Whales in Tonga
As soon as we wrap up in Alaska, I’ll be heading over to Tonga for my annual stay, and to continue my calf count project. After the record number of baby whales I ID-ed this year, I can’t wait to see what happens in 2012!

My schedule for Tonga is still evolving, but here’s how it looks at this time:

Trip 1: 21 to 28 August. This is the second part of the Megaptera Mania! trip. Fully booked.
Trip 2: 29 August to 06 September. Two spots available.
Trip 3: 08 to 17 September. Fully booked.
Trip 4: 25 September to 3 October. Four spots available.

Tahafa, calf #14 of the 2011 season, with mommy

Fluke of a humpback whale singer

Season’s Greetings…almost

Sat, Dec 3rd, 2011 | Audio, Interviews, Marine Life, Musings No Comments

A confluence of circumstances has kept me from posting anything since I hunkered down and cranked out my calf count summary at the end of October.

I’ve answered approximately three million emails (give or take a handful); I’ve caught up on current events (given the way things are going, I kinda wish I hadn’t); I’ve finally rid my site of hacks that were doing all sorts of funky things (in the worst possible connotation of the word funky); I’ve had a bunch of meetings (both physical and virtual); I’ve helped judge a photo contest; I’ve hit the gym and gotten back into decent shape; I’ve organised most of my trips for next year; I’ve read a pile of research papers about cetaceans and other marine life; I’ve managed to sleep at least a few hours a night; and I’ve even gotten some work done. Whew.

By way of proof that I’ve actually been working, here is a video of sperm whales that Smithsonian Magazine posted recently to complement an article about these amazing animals in the December 2011 issue, titled Call of the Leviathan:

The footage is from recent trips I took to Dominica and Ogasawara to photograph sperm whales. I can’t take credit for the excellent editing though. Brendan, the photo editor at Smithsonian Magazine, did a bang-up job of making my footage look decent. (Thank you Brendan!)

And this is a link to an interview I did with Radio Australia recently about the humpback whales in Tonga. It’s short, but important.

Here’s the audio in case you can’t access the link:

There were suggestions by another person in an earlier interview that humpback whales use their pectoral fins to stroke swimmers in the water, sometimes even lifting swimmers en masse into the air out of exuberance. Poppycock.

I’m the first to admit that being in the water with humpbacks can be a magical, almost mystical, experience, but there’s no good that can come of people visiting Tonga and expecting to be stroked by whales. None whatsoever.

Bruce Hill, the presenter of Radio Australia’s Pacific Beat program, was kind enough to give me an opportunity to set more realistic, and safe, expectations for anyone who might be contemplating a trip to Tonga. (Thanks Bruce!)

Anyway, I’m back at the helm, and I’ll be posting more from now on, including information about upcoming trips.

To get back into the swing of things, here is one of my favourite humpback whale fluke photos. It was a stormy day back in 2005, and it’s the only time I’ve ever seen two adult humpbacks tandem tail-slapping. Their slaps weren’t in sync, plus the seas were rocky, so it took quite a few tries to nail the right timing and composition.