



Underwater photography has always been an integral part of diving. Early scuba pio neers like Hans Hass (pictured here) and Jacques Cousteau knew they could tell com pelling stories only if they visually documented their underwater adventures. So, they developed and used underwater cameras almost from the beginning.
In the early days of underwater photography, divers could take only a single exposure before surfacing to change their burnt-out flash bulb. I imagine they carefully selected the motif and settings before firing that shot.
If you’ve been diving for more than twenty years, you can probably remember when un derwater photographers were limited to 36 exposures and by the film’s ISO properties. The interval from when the image was shot until you returned from the dive trip and got the film developed could be weeks. And, when you did get your finished photos, you most likely did not even remember which settings produced the result.
Fast-forward to the evolution of the digital consumer camera—a blessing for underwater photographers. With digital, the feedback is instant. You immediately see the result on the camera display, and you can adjust accordingly to improve the shot. And you can glean valuable and useful information from the embedded EXIF file.
Digital photography and YouTube—a medium that has propelled almost all human endeavors into the stratosphere by making nerdy knowl edge more accessible—have raised the bar for contemporary underwater photos. But, at the end of the day, it’s not about the camera, the lens, or megapixels. It’s about visual storytelling. How does the image resonate with the specta tor? How does it make them feel?
Tabloid journalists used to say that all stories can be boiled down to two opposite re actions: “I’m so glad that’s not me,” and “I wish that was me.” I usually try to evoke the latter when working with images as a photogra pher or magazine editor.
The portfolio pages in Quest are an homage to underwater photographers and visual story telling. I understand the energy and resources it takes to reach the quality level embodied by the portfolio contributors, so I appreciate the oppor tunity to highlight their work.
We have come a long way since Hass and Cousteau, but the game is still the same: Creat ing images that make the spectator go, “Man, I wish that was me.”
Dive safe and have fun!
Jesper Kjøller Editor-in-Chief jk@gue.comIn each issue of Quest, the new Director of GUE Quality Control, Brad Beskin, will contribute with a regular column. He will address issues, opportunities, and resources that affect your pursuit of diving excellence.
Arzukan Askin is one of the driving forces behind shark projects in the Maldives to raise awareness of the problems with human impacts on whale sharks, tiger sharks, and other endangered shark species in the atoll nation in the Indian Ocean.
The possibility of finishing a long and deep cave dive in a dry habitat is appealing. However, whether to install one is a risk-versus-benefits decision. After spending a fair bit of time on decompression stops in water and in habitats, Kirill Egorov shares his habitat experiences.
His passion started when snorkeling in his local dive club in Germany. He then started discovering the underwater world in many ways. In the early 2000s, he was finally able to take his photography below the surface, capturing his first real pictures underwater.
In addition to the standard base equipment necessary for all dives, GUE divers often carry extra equipment that can be situation dependent.
In the last issue of Quest, Guy Shockey’s article guided
Fuvahmulah is home to the world’s largest known population of tiger sharks. Arzukan Askin enjoys a close encounter.
German/Turkish marine scientist, GUE diver, and 2021 Rolex Scholar, Arzukan Askin is one of the driving forces behind the Miyaru Programme and the Fuvahmulah Shark Project being established in the Maldives to study and raise awareness of human impacts on shark species in the atoll nation and beyond.
Every whale shark has a unique pattern, almost like human fingerprints. In many coastal cultures, the spots are referred to as stars.
ehurihi!” Fehurihi! some one shouted pointing to the starboard side of the Maldivian dhoni, our floating research base in South Ari Atoll Marine Protected Area. “Fehu rihi” is the word for whale shark in Dhivehi, the national language in the Maldives. After a year of pandemic-induced cancellations of grants, constant changes in risk assessments and per mits placed on hold, I was finally able to swap out my trusted seat at a library desk at Oxford University for my spot on board the field vessel of the Maldives Whale Shark Research Pro gramme (MWSRP) supported by a joint scholar ship from Rolex and the Our World Underwater Scholarship Society.
The South Ari Atoll Marine Protected Area (dubbed SAMPA by scientists in the area) in the Maldives is a globally significant aggregation site for whale sharks. Unlike other aggregation hotspots that witness seasonal whale shark movements, such as Mexico, SAMPA is among
a handful of globally unique places with a year-long presence of large numbers of whale sharks. Past research led by shark experts such as Dr. Simon Pierce has determined that the sharks exhibit significant levels of residency and a tendency to return to sites on the southern fringes of the atoll. The frequency and regularity of whale shark sightings have also made SAM PA a popular destination for divers and snorkelers wishing to observe this species. In the Maldives, snorkeling and scuba diving tourism geared to provide whale shark encounters have grown rapidly and provide significant economic value yet remain largely unregulated.
My MSc degree in conservation science at the University of Oxford was almost exclusively dedicated to sharks where possible, covering critical issues such as illegal wildlife trafficking, bycatch of sharks and fisheries interactions, in ternational treaties, human-shark relationships, and tourism. The latter is what my research the sis focused on, and I spent my summer months
analyzing whale shark injuries from collisions with vessels as well as behavioral changes in these mega-vertebrates to assess the impact of tourism on them. The findings my research brought forward were highly concerning, and I had the opportunity to present my work at the Maldives Marine Research Symposium held by the National University. The dataset I analyzed— spanning over nine years of data from South Ari Atoll Marine Protected Area—revealed a 52% decline in encounters with whale sharks and a staggering inju ry rate of 70%. Almost three-quarters of all whale sharks sighted in the atoll’s waters displayed grave injuries from vessel strikes. While working with these numbers on a spreadsheet was challenging, repeatedly witnessing the consequences of poor diving skills, failure to adhere to wildlife codes of conduct, and lack of regulation highlights the magnitude of the issue and the multi-layered solutions that are needed to address it. How is this possible in a Marine Protected Area? Well, SAMPA currently exists as a “paper park” with no management plan implemented to date by the island council or Maldivian authorities despite ongoing discussions between stakeholders—a stark reminder that effective ocean conservation starts on land. Many sharks, including whale sharks, were once actively hunted in the Maldives for their prized liver oil used to waterproof dhonis, traditional fishing vessels. The introduction of synthetic coating reduced this practice until the ban on shark fishing in 2010 brought it to a complete end.
to both macro and
skill adjustment, both of which lead to excellence.
the day cruising up and down the Marine Pro tected Area documenting the presence of whale sharks, vessel activities, and assessing the number of people in the water during encoun ters with these large vertebrates. Occasionally, we would also attach long ropes to the back of the boat to conduct tow surveys. Aside from the high-pressure moments when we would encounter whale sharks and attempt to conduct microbiome sampling of their skin using big cotton buds, being pulled through the water behind a vessel while attached to a rope was certainly everyone’s highlight. As scientists, we do many strange things in the name of data collection. Mostly, our work consist ed of freediving surveys to collect Photo IDs and identify the sex of the whale sharks to build on the MWSRPs long-term monitoring database. During every encounter, we also collected data on environmental variables in situ, including cloud coverage, wind speed and direction, sea surface temperature, and visibility. Crucial data, such as cyclical and climatic shifts, have also been shown to affect the occurrence and abun dance of whale sharks, and the individuals in South Ari Atoll in particular are now known to show monsoonal movements across the atoll.
Today, dhonis serve as dive boats, and in our case as our scientific vessels. Our days in South Ari Atoll were spent patrolling the atoll’s waters in search of these endangered sharks. We would wake up, transfer from our mother ship to the survey vessel, and spend the next eight hours of
Every evening, when it was time to enter all our data from the day into the MWSRP spread sheets, and then run the ID software to crosscheck for potential matches, I could not help but smile and think back to the role of space technology in the development of the technolo gy we now use for shark conservation. Did you know that for many island cultures in places with large seasonal aggregations of whale sharks, the unique spot pattern of these ani mals (resembling a starry night sky) has earned them the role of mystical connectors between the unknown ocean and unexplored space. The cosmological significance attributed to the ani-
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All of this proceeded under the watchful and demanding eye of a prototypical GUE instructor. The course was well-tuned
micro
Whale sharks suffer greatly from the impacts of human activities. Maldivian diver and shark guide Lonu dives down to free a whale shark entangled in industrialgrade plastic waste.
A tiger shark approaches a diving vessel from below.
“In partnership with the island council, we will now be the first organization to conduct long-term comprehensive studies of tiger sharks in Fuvahmulah.
mal is also reflected in the local names given to them. In Madagascar, for example, whale sharks are referred to as “marokintana” (Malagasy: “many stars”). Likewise, the Javanese name for whale sharks is “hiu geger lintang,” translating to “fish with stars on its back.” The widespread per ception of whale sharks as swimming “undersea constellations” is not only part of long-standing oral traditions in coastal cultures but has also found its way into contemporary science. And here is where the magic happens: The spot patterns on each whale shark are as unique as human fingerprints, and the software applied by researchers to iden tify individual whale sharks was devel oped in collaboration with NASA astronomers and adapted from the star-matching algorithm used by the Hubble space telescope. Confirming the identity of a whale shark will never cease to be an exciting part of my work and continues to serve as a re minder that the natural world is interconnected in unexpected ways.
Photo IDs of whale sharks are also a critical tool that allows us to accurately track injuries and healing rates as well as observe behaviors over time. Most importantly, they provide a window of insight into encounter data that would otherwise not reflect the full picture of what is happening in SAMPA. My thesis showed that the encounters have declined by 52%. We are only seeing half as many whale sharks in South Ari Atoll as we used to… or do we? Photo ID data of the sharks still encountered in the MPA reveals that the area has not lost its sharks or experienced a decline in their population size. The same individual sharks are still present, they simply return to the surface significantly less, most likely due to disturbance from tourism. Many whale sharks have been displaying increasingly evasive behavior in the presence of boats and tourists, and while
encounters used to be several minutes long just a few years ago, allowing people to observe these gentle giants and swim next to them, today many whale sharks quickly dive down when approached by people and boats. The extent of human pressure on these sharks left some of our volunteers on board baffled when we logged more than 10 vessels—each with an average number of 15 tourists on board—crowding one whale shark.
Over the next weeks, similar stories unfolded and our concern for the sharks grew steadily when we observed count less vessels speeding through the MPA, injuring sharks in the process. Ironically, most of these vessels are speeding to quickly reach a whale shark sighted by other boats. Recommendations by research groups and online campaigns across the Maldives have raised some awareness of this issue, but without enforcement by rangers or the threat of fines, it has proven challenging to prevent boats from doing so. The case of SAMPA highlights global lessons regarding the uncertain future of this endangered species. Like many other areas with large numbers of whale sharks, SAMPA too provides critical habitat for this rapidly declining shark species and if managed well, can contin ue to serve as a critical nursery site for juvenile whale sharks. Not only does the current pressure from tourism impede their feeding and thermo regulation behavior, but it also jeopardizes the health of the population in the long run. What is often overlooked is that this is not only an issue threatening these animals; current practices also reduce the economic sustainability of the in dustry. A decline in the very species responsible for attracting tourists is bound to impact local development. Successful whale shark tourism in SAMPA needs to protect wildlife and their habi tats while also balancing its social and econom ic values—an issue that is not only present in South Ari Atoll but also across the Maldives and the world.
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Moving away from the old narratives of how sharks injure humans, we want to highlight how humans injure sharks and shine a light on the complexity of human-shark relationships in Fuvahmulah.
Since the inception of the Maldives Whale Shark Research Programme to study whale sharks in South Ari Atoll, reports of identified individuals have led to the expansion of data collection to other atolls. While in most of these cases the sighted whale sharks are resident juvenile males, in the waters of Fuvahmulah, a small remote island in the deep south of the Maldives large female whale sharks have been sighted. A significant finding, as encounters with females globally are rare and only recorded in a handful of places, such as the Galapagos Islands and St. Helena. The most recent comprehensive assessment of extinction risk for all 31 oceanic species of sharks and rays has determined a decline in their global abundance by 71%, result ing from an 18-fold increase in relative fishing pressure since the 1970s. Amidst these statis tics, the Indian Ocean stands out as the epicen ter of megafauna loss, and in the middle of it is Fuvahmulah, a beacon of hope for the conser vation of our world’s apex predators. It is known
as “Shark Island” among the locals. Located in the deep waters of the equatorial channel, the island not only witnesses the presence of whale sharks but is also a vital pathway for the migration of endangered ocean ic manta rays and schooling hammerhead sharks, has a cleaning station frequented by endangered pelagic thresher sharks, and is home to a resident population of over 200 tiger sharks—the largest population of tiger sharks in the world that we know of to date.
Sharks have thrived in the waters of the island after the national ban on shark fishing ten years ago. But despite this positive development, human impacts continue to negatively affect the species through increasing pressure from rapid ly expanding and unregulated dive tourism, con flict with tuna fishermen, and incidental bycatch
The question is not how sharks hurt humans but how humans hurt sharks. A boat propeller injured this whale shark.
in artisanal fisheries. Baseline data derived from photos taken by our team members over nine months suggests that about 30% of the sharks have suffered anthropogenic injuries, with many of them being named “Half-fin,” “Joker,” or “Pi rate” by local dive centers, names reflective of the amputations, dislocated jaws, and cuts they have sustained. Several individuals are estimat ed to be pregnant, and together with the injured individuals seem to display strong site fidelity, according to observations from local dive cen ters with regular resightings of the same shark over the last two years. This suggests that Fuvahmulah might act as a “rehabilitation sta tion” or “hospital” for weaker and energetically compromised sharks. Together with some of Fuvahmulah’s most passionate shark conser vationists, I had the opportunity to meet with with the mayor of the island and highlight the importance of Fuvahmulah for the conservation of sharks globally. All signs pointed to the is land being a globally significant shark hotspot with an uncertain future, yet aside from photo IDs collected by one dive center and individual research projects conducted by visiting marine
biologists, little comprehensive research effort has been focused on the sharks in this tiny speck of land on the equatorial channel. To fill this critical research gap, we decided to estab lish the Miyaru Programme—Fuvahmulah Shark Project. “Miyaru” means “shark” in Dhivehi. Our name not only represents our dedication to the research and conservation of the understudied shark populations of the Maldives but also our firm commitment to collaborative, transparent, and inclusive research that is reflective of our values. We strive to become a research team that consists of 3/4 Maldivian and 1/4 international scientists to ensure sustainability and capacity-building on the ground.
Working in partnership with the island council and local community groups, we now seek to conduct the first comprehensive and interdisci plinary studies of sharks in Fuvahmulah through monitoring of tourism pressure and advanced classification of anthropogenic injuries. Our collaborators include researchers from around the world, including NatGeo Explorer
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and PecLab FIU Director Dr. Yannis Papasta matiou, who has over 26 years of experience studying our world’s apex predators. Once we have gathered enough funding, we are seeking to employ novel technologies and use touchless ultrasound devices underwater to confirm preg nancies. Globally, there are still large gaps in our knowledge of tiger shark reproduction and the presence of several pregnant sharks could indicate that mating grounds could be near. Most importantly, our objective is to monitor the health and residency behavior of these beautiful predators and generate knowledge that will feed into the island’s shark conservation and man agement plan, serving both local livelihoods and wildlife.
Our approach is multidimensional and will not only bring together science and conservation but also storytelling underwater. We believe in the power of science, communication and trans parency. Our research processes, outcomes, and the stories of the people we work with will be captured by professional underwater photogra phers and videographers to reach more people, share new shark stories, and make an impact on the conservation of sharks locally as well as internationally. Moving away from the old narra tives of how sharks injure humans, we want to
highlight how humans injure sharks and shine a light on the complexity of human-shark rela tionships in Fuvahmulah. The first phase of our work will be dedicated to tiger sharks; however, the deeper waters of the island offer encounters with rare species such as pelagic threshers— one of the most elusive oceanic shark species. For phase two, our goal will be to put together a highly qualified technical dive team to descend beyond recreational limits and gather data in the deep. Rebreathers will be a critical tool for this mission, as threshers are shy and quickly get scared away by divers’ bubbles. GUE Funda mentals training—which has never been done in the Maldives—will allow our team to refine the core skills required to conduct these challenging dives. As divers, we have access to a world so few people get to experience, and as a research team, we are incredibly privileged to spend so much time in the presence of our ocean’s giants. That access comes with responsibility. A new and mostly unexplored world of sharks awaits in the deep reefs of Fuvahmulah, and with it the discovery of new knowledge that could help us to protect what might be the last shark sanctu ary of the Indian Ocean.
For information on the projects, visit www.fuvahmulahsharks.org and www.miyaru.org
Arzucan Askin
Arzucan Askin is a marine scientist, technical diver, Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society, and National Geographic Explorer. Her scientific work at the intersection of oceans and society has taken her across the globe, from the monitoring of coral reef health in the waters of Hong Kong, the tracking of illegal fishing activities in Malaysia, ghost gear removal from wrecks in Turkey, all the way to acoustic monitoring of blue whales in uncharted Arctic waters. Awarded the 2021 European Rolex Scholarship
for a year of advanced dive training and marine science in the field, she spent the last year travelling the world to learn from leading researchers and dive professionals in the underwater world. As co-founder of the Miyaru Programme, she currently works on setting up shark science and storytelling projects that illuminate the intersection of human societies and sharks. She also hosts specialized shark dive expeditions together with underwater photographer Jono Allen. www.arzucan-askin.com