Oceanographic Magazine / Issue Six by Oceanographic Magazine

ISSUE

Conservation • Exploration • Adventure

RECONNECTION H A R N E S S I N G T H E O C E A N T O I M P R O V E T H E H E A LT H A N D W E L L B E I N G O F S O U T H A F R I C A’ S U R B A N Y O U T H

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Editorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Letter Th e t ru t h i s , f o r many people a ro u n d t h e w o r l d , the ocean is a place out of re a c h , a n o t h e r world that doesn't belong to them.

Inaccessible and undemocratic. Ask most people to describe the ocean in a word or two and they would likely choose words such as 'mysterious' or 'endless', perhaps 'beautiful' or 'lifegiving', maybe 'fun' and 'powerful'. Inaccessible? Ludicrous - the ocean is free for all to use as they like. Undemocratic? Nonsense - what does the ocean have to do with politics? The truth is, for many people around the world, the ocean is a place out of reach, another world that doesn't belong to them - and that includes millions who live on the coast. The problem is that the beauty of the ocean remains too often unseen - as do its many recreational possibilities and health benefits. It is an almost abstract entity - that great thing out there - that provides fillets for supermarket shelves, a few fascinating TV series and the occasional coastal walk. To get in it, or on it? To truly access it and interact with it? "That's not for me". Our cover story in this issue, written by ocean activist and founder of I AM WATER, Hanli Prinsloo, focusses on South Africa and how access to the ocean has more to do with socio-economic factors than it does geography. Living by the sea sadly doesn't correlate with enjoying it. As South Africa's communities continue their journeys of recovery following Apartheid, those same people remain tides apart when it comes to the ocean. Access really is undemocratic, and Hanli and her team are determined to remedy that. The ocean is the beating heart of this planet and we should all be afforded access to it - it is, after all, a part of us. You are water. I am water. We are water.

Will Harrison Editor @oceanographic_editor @og_editor Oceanographicmag

Oceanographic Issue 06

Contents O N T H E C OV E R

FEATURE S

R E C O N N E C TI ON

Freediver Hanli Prinsloo shares a moment with a juvenile blue footed booby off the coast of Ecuador. Photograph by Peter Marshall.

Get in touch

For many people in South Africa, particularly those from poorer urban areas, the ocean is a place of fear. Reconnecting young minds with an underwater world full of intrigue, adventure and hope has become, for Hanli Prinsloo, a lifeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mission. PAG E 2 0

ED I TO R Will Harrison S U B - E D I TO R

Georgina Fuller

CR EATI V E D I R E C TO R

Amelia Costley

D ES I G N A S S I S TA N T

Joanna Kilgour

PA RT N E R S H I P S D I R E C TOR

Chris Anson

YOUR OCEAN IMAGES

@oceanographic_mag @oceano_mag Oceanographicmag

I N S U P P O RT O F

A S S TO C K E D I N

For all enquiries regarding stockists, submissions, or just to say hello, please email info@oceanographicmagazine.com or call (+44) 20 3637 8680. Published in the UK by Atlas Publishing Ltd. ÂŠ 2018 Atlas Publishing Ltd. All rights reserved. Nothing in whole or in part may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher.

A collection of some of the most captivating ocean images shared on social media, both beautiful and arresting. Tag us or use #MYOCEAN for the opportunity to be featured.

Printed by the Manson Group ISSN: 2516-5941

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CONTENTS

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SAVING HERRING

CO CO S' R A NG ER S

PR O FIT-S HA R ING CO MMITM ENT TO O CEA N CO N SERVAT IO N . A PR O M IS E WE'R E PR O UD O F.

A R C T IC L E S S O N S

TAO S PIR IT

F IN R E DE MP TI ON

Pacific herring plays a pivotal role in the health of Canada’s west coast. Four of British Columbia’s five herring stocks have collapsed due to overfishing. Campaigners are now battling government and industry to save the coastline’s last viable stock.

Costa Rica’s Cocos Island National Park is regarded as having one of the world’s most pristine underwater ecosystems. Sea Shepherd visited the island to better understand the important conservation work being undertaken by the island’s small team of rangers.

Engaging children with the fragility of our changing planet can be a challenge. The team at Encounter Edu are bringing science to life by broadcasting live from expeditions to classrooms across the world.

Tourism can be destructive. It can also be transformative. In Palawan, one ethical tour company is harnessing sustainable tourism to create jobs, support communities and improve living standards. It is also reducing the prevalence of dynamite fishing.

Few shark conservationists will have once been dynamite fishermen who made a living from finning sharks. On the island of Malapascua, one exfisherman now spends his time guiding thresher shark dives and working to protect the species.

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BEHIND TH E L E N S

C O LUMN S

THE SOCIAL ECOLOGIST

T HE S HA R K E T HO L O G IS T

T HE MA R IN E B IO L O G IS T

Each issue, we chat with one of the world’s leading ocean photographers and showcase a selection of their work. In this edition, we meet polar photographer and Sea Legacy Collective member, Daisy Gilardini.

Big wave surf champion, environmentalist and social change advocate Dr Easkey Britton discusses blue care - what it is, what its benefits are and why it works.

Shark conservationist and ethologist, Ocean Ramsey, discusses the importance of respectful shark interactions and why touching should always be a last resort.

Dr Simon Pierce, Principal Scientist at the Marine Megafauna Foundation, discusses the wonder of seal whiskers.

The team at Project AWARE, Oceanographic’s primary charity partner, discuss how Dive Against Debris data is empowering communities to create change.

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DAISY GILARDINI

Oceanographic Issue 06

P R O J E C T AWARE

#MYOCEAN

William Winram Mexico Freediver Pierre Frolla swims sideby-side with a female great white shark off the Pacific Coast of Mexico. Peaceful coexistence is possible.

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A JOURNEY FROM

fear to love For many people in South Africa, particularly those from poorer urban areas, the ocean is a place of fear and too often death. Reconnecting young minds with an underwater world full of intrigue, adventure and beauty has become, for Hanli Prinsloo, a lifeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mission. Wo rd s b y H a n l i P r i n s l o o P h o t o g ra p h s b y Pe t e r M a r s h a l l

Oceanographic Issue 06

F E AT U R E

“H

ow many of you live walking distance from the ocean?” Hands shoot up and responses follow: “Me miss.” “Me.” “Me!” “How many of you can swim?” A few tentative hands rise. “How many of you feel safe in the ocean?” Wary glances seek approval. “Don’t worry about your answers, you’ll still be allowed to snorkel…” No hands rise. “How many of you have worn a mask before and seen what is underwater?” Heads shake and eyes grow large. Despite having more than 2,000km of coastline, famous Olympic swimmers and world-renowned surfers, South Africa has some of the most severe drowning statistics in the world. Its citizens’ relationship with water is neither positive nor fair. In the great lottery of birth I was lucky to be born white in Apartheid South Africa. I learnt to swim before the age of three. I spent holidays by the beach and had a swimming pool at home. At nineteen I moved to Sweden to study and in a deep fjord I discovered freediving. Far away from national unrest, trans-generational guilt and a family torn apart by politics, I found peace - a world beneath the waves where my thoughts slowed down, my body became weightless and I had space. Space to consider. Space to celebrate. Space to mourn. I immersed myself in the world of freediving. I spent long, cold winters swimming up and down in a swimming pool underwater increasing my breath-hold; midnight sun summers on the granite rocks of the Swedish west coast diving deep along a rock wall, learning about my body in water. As my fascination with what was possible on one breath grew so did the understanding of the aquatic adaptation in humans. Research around the Mammalian Dive Response increased and we allowed scientists to measure our lungs, monitor our oxygen saturation and even observe our spleens during breath-holds. I learnt that our bodies remember water. As my face touches the water my heart rate slows down. As the carbon dioxide in my body rises my blood flow centralises to my core. As my body preserves and requires oxygen my spleen constricts, releasing oxygen-rich haemoglobin. I revelled in my aquatic abilities. Twenty, 40, 50, 60 metres deep on one breath. One hundred, 120, 140, 150 metres in the pool. We have the same Mammalian Dive Response that allows whales, dolphins and seals to dive to great depths and hold their breaths for hours on end. My body surprised and enthralled me as I learned to trust this inner seal. I moved home to South Africa after many years of freediving competitions, big marine animal interactions and a career in documentary filmmaking seeking stories of hope and transformation. Exploring my own coastline underwater for the very first time, I was struck by how few people were in the water - really in the water. Not just wetting toes, or a quick dip or even a surf. Looking, PREVIOUS PAGE: Hanli Prinsloo freediving with playful cape fure seals in her local kelp forest off the shores Cape Town. THIS PAGE: Hanli swims through thousands of jackfish in the Cabo Pulmo Marine Reserve.

“Exploring my own coastline underwater for the very first time, I was struck by how few people were in the water … 25 years after our hard-won political democracy, the ocean remained a desperately undemocratic place.”

F E AT U R E

TOP: I AM WATER aims to reconnect South Africa's low income coastal communities with the ocean. Photograph by Charlie Dailey. BOTTOM: Ocean connection is also about interacting with other sentient beings, such as these Atlantic spotted dophins in Bimini, Bahamas.

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“Most of the children know of a family member or a friend who has drowned. Three people drown in South Africa every day."

seeing, exploring. And looking a little closer, 25 years after our hard-won political democracy, the ocean remained a desperately undemocratic place. Not knowing the first thing about the non-profit world but a lot about what the ocean had done for me, I started I AM WATER Ocean Conservation. On a white sand beach in a marine protected area along the Cape coastline 30 grade seven students lie flat on their backs with the sun on their faces learning how to breathe slow and deep. I AM WATER coach Khanyisa counts their breaths in… and out. Slowing down the breath and the heart rate, learning how to take a very big breath in, and hold. Visualising a dive underwater the young explorers are encouraged to hold their breath a little longer, imagine a world underneath the surface where a curious fish makes eye contact, or a mysterious octopus reaches out a tentacle. A first introduction to a new world. Our two-day workshops always start with a yoga stretching and breathing relaxation session followed by a short presentation on what there is to find in the vibrant inter-tidal zone, under the surface and in the kelp forests. Most of the children know of a family member or a friend who has drowned. On average three people drown in South Africa every day. Here, introducing children to the ocean is not only about fostering young ocean guardians, but very much about personal development and the overcoming of trans-generational fears. Several studies have been done on the healing effect nature has on children, especially children from urban and underserved communities. The Sierra Club, The Nature Conservancy and various psychologists have found that urban youth have been shown to find peace, freedom, and calm in nature and that nature is associated with a safe place to escape violence and bullying. Drawing on many of the findings in these studies we have built our Ocean Guardians workshops; allowing for time to play and be independent, encouraging curiosity and courage, fostering helpfulness and teamwork. One thing that struck us was that none of these studies were done in purely aquatic environments with complete immersion. Neuroscientist Dr Wallace Nichols has done years of research on what he calls the ‘blue mind’ (also the name of his book). He writes that even just looking at a picture of water can do wonders for our brains. “Water unleashes the uninhibited child in all of

us, unlocking our creativity and curiosity,” he writes. If we are so certain of the positive effect water has on us, and with all the research that shows what nature can do for children and considering the plight of our oceans, why aren’t there more organisations focusing their work on getting urban and underserved youth to experience complete immersion in the ocean? And the short answer is: it’s complicated. Speaking at a philanthropy forum in Sweden years ago about I AM WATER, the tragic lack of ocean access and the work I hoped to do in our coastal communities, a man in a fancy suit looked me in the eye and said: ‘But what if I give you money to get kids in the water and someone drowns?” Khanyisa gently guides the grade sevens back to the surface and into a seated position, asking them what they felt during the yoga and breath work. Relaxed, calm and happy are words that pop up again and again. Next up is a fun and interactive presentation on the flora and fauna living in our blue backyard. The children learn that a barnacle is a kind of crustacean, a limpet is a farmer, a whelk a fearless hunter and that an octopus has three hearts. Touching on topics of overfishing, poaching and what a marine protected area is we plant the seeds for ongoing conservation conversations. The class is now split into three groups: rock pool exploration, beach clean-up and snorkel. With the words of the suited sceptic ringing in my ears it took I AM WATER a long time to scale beyond my fears. With a background in professional swimming and lifeguarding my partner, Peter Marshall, assured me that it could be done, and as we built relationships with local lifeguards, the National Sea Rescue, marine biologists and other ocean groups, a model emerged. Offering intensive I AM WATER coaches trainings we upskill already competent ocean men and women to become I AM WATER coaches, targeting our recruitment in the communities where the schools we work with are based, focusing on Mitchells Plain, a community torn apart by gang violence and the sprawling township of Khayelitsha that stretches along the beaches of False Bay. We choose to work directly with schools as any after-school or weekend programs tend to lose the participation of the girls, who are expected to help cook, clean and take care of younger siblings. “We’re the OCTO-SHARKS!”

Oceanographic Issue 06

â&#x20AC;&#x153;If we are so certain of the positive effect water has on us, and with all the research that shows what nature can do for children, why arenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t there more organisations getting urban and underserved youth to experience the ocean?â&#x20AC;?

A whale shark swims past Hanli during a manta ray dive in Ecuador. The ocean is full of surprises.

Lift off in Mozambique: free and connected.

Oceanographic Issue 06

F E AT

“Breath by breath the fear of generations ebbs away to be replaced by wonder, awe and an overwhelming sense of accomplishment.”

“Deep Sea Divers!” “Killer Whales!” Each group chooses a team name before embarking on their first activity. While the Octo-sharks get kitted-up in wetsuits, masks and snorkels, the Deep Sea Divers follow marine biologist Lauren out onto the rocky intertidal zone to find treasures in the rock pools. The Killer Whales pick up litter along the high-tide line and discuss the source, age and effect of the plastic in our oceans. The inwater group is hosted by three coaches wielding specially designed, brightly coloured floating buoys with handles on them. First kneeling in the water and getting to grips with how the snorkel and mask work, the coaches gently guide the children into a floating position on their bellies, snorkel in mouth, looking down, taking deep breaths and holding onto the buoy. Made extra buoyant by the 5mm wetsuits, holding onto the float and a maximum of four children to each expert coach, we ensure the safety of our young explorers. The three groups cycle through the stations so that every child gets the opportunity to snorkel, clean the beach and marvel at the intertidal zone. Snorkelling must be the most silent of all adventures. As their breathing slows down, their heart rates decrease and our young snorkelers start to trust their bodies to float. Slowly they start to notice this new world beneath them: the sandy bottom with gentle undulations, the rocky outcrops covered in brightly coloured urchins - pink, purple, orange and red. Curious klipvis fish scuttle out to observe the floating mammals while schooling clouds of silver fish flit in and out between their feet and legs. As the water gets deeper the coaches lead them into a gently swaying kelp forest, an undersea fairyland of filtered sunlight and ochre fronds emerges. Gasps, giggles and unintelligible words of excitement come out of the snorkels as a bright orange starfish stalks along the bottom of the forest and a shy African penguin pops in for a visit then shoots away again. Breath by breath the fear of generations ebbs away to be replaced by wonder, awe and an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. “On the first day I was so afraid, but I tried my best and overcame my fears,” young Sipho tells me excitedly. “My favourite part was meeting a real starfish face to face,” says another. “It was so salty miss. Why is it so salty? I liked it!’ Or a personal favourite: “When I’m floating in the water all my troubles seem so far away”. Having trained more than 70 coaches and working with more than 3,000 grade seven learners each year, I AM WATER is hoping to inspire a new way of learning about the ocean. Nothing can ever impact a young heart and mind like the opportunity to see what nobody else in her family has ever seen. To discover a whole new world a stone’s throw away from her house, eyes opening underwater and finding firm new confidence in herself. Ending the two day Ocean Guardians workshop with a sharing circle of “what did you learn today?” and “what do you promise to do to protect the ocean?” we often hear “I learnt that the animals in the rockpools also have feelings and we need to protect them” or “I learnt that the ocean is not a scary place” and “I promise never to litter again and tell others not to also” and “I promise to clean the street where I live because I learnt that the plastics come down the rivers”. One of the great challenges in any conservation project is how to ensure lasting behaviour change. Facts, statistics, fear-mongering and even great storytelling has been known to only have a certain impact and that it comes slowly over time. When it comes to the wellbeing of our ocean and the people who depend on it - time is not something we have a lot of. What we do know, is that people protect what they love. The greatest call to action is when what we love is at risk. And so every day along a coastline in South Africa - and hopefully soon in other places around the world - you will find us facilitating people falling in love with the ocean. We only do half the work by bringing them into the water, the ocean does the rest.

Oceanographic Issue 06

BEHIND THE LENS

Oceanographic Issue 06

BEHIND THE LENS

Fighting for the future O F C A N A DA’ S W E S T C OA S T Pacific herring plays a pivotal role in the health of Canada’s west coast. Four of British Columbia’s five herring stocks have collapsed due to overfishing. Campaigners are now battling government and industry to save the coastline’s last viable stock. Wo rd s a n d p h o t o g ra p h s b y Ta v i s h C a m p b e l l

Oceanographic Issue 06

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Oceanographic Issue 06

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ABOVE: Spawning Pacific herring turn the sea a milky blue along the shore of Denman Island, British Columbia in the Salish Sea. OPPOSITE: Both fish and orcas rely on healthy herring populations. Resident orcas have a diet that consists of 80% chinook salmon, which in turn have a diet of 60% herring. Biggs orcas (pictured) prey on Steller sealions, which rely heavily on herring. PREVIOUS PAGE: As darkness falls, bringing with it protection from predators, Pacific herring move into the shallows to spawn.

loating through a cloud of fish sperm in the Salish Sea, I watch as one of British Columbia’s most spectacular natural events unfolds in the shallow water below me. Moments ago the water was crystal clear, allowing me to note the season’s first kelp growth reaching towards the surface, but now it is a frenzy of fish, eggs and sperm. It is a convergence of life seen only a few times a season on the BC coast and I am glad to be in the thick of it. Every spring when the weather becomes fickle with hail and sun squalls, this migratory population of Pacific herring moves into the shallows of the Salish Sea, between Comox and Nanaimo, from waters off the west coast of Vancouver Island. In the single largest spawning event in BC, they gather in vast schools adjacent to spawning beaches and when the moment is right they move inshore in an overwhelming frenzy of activity. The females lay thousands of tiny sesame-seed-sized eggs, sticking them to the kelp and rocks. Simultaneously, the males release their milt, or sperm, into the water, fertilising the eggs and turning the ocean a milky indigo blue.

The event has a charged energy to it, drawing in predators as diverse as whales, bears, sealions and wolves to feed on the fish and their roe. It feels like the first good feast of the season after a hungry winter and a turning point to richer months ahead. Herring are the foundation of the BC coast, providing an essential food source for countless species including the endangered chinook salmon who’s diet is 60% herring. The herring’s strategy to overwhelm its predators by sheer numbers and dizzying movement is equally effective on me as an underwater photographer. There are usually only a few minutes to see the herring up close in the shallows before they start to spawn and the water turns white with milt, reducing the visibility to zero. In those few short moments, when I should be focused on my camera, I often find myself rendered totally useless by, and in awe of, the spectacle. But there is one predator who is immune to the herring’s tactics: British Columbia’s industrial fishing fleet. Attracted by this concentration of protein the commercial fleet has brought with it the crash and dim of an industrial scale operation bent on removing as much

Oceanographic Issue 06

â&#x20AC;&#x153;The event has a charged energy to it, drawing in predators as diverse as whales, bears, sealions and wolves to feed on the fish and their roe. It feels like the first good feast of the season after a hungry winter and a turning point to richer months ahead.â&#x20AC;?

Not only do Pacific herring support the marine ecosystem, they also provide an important food source for terrestrial species. As the tide recedes, this coastal wolf gains access to a rich feast of eggs, spawned during the previous high tide.

fish, as fast as possible. Four of BC’s five main herring populations have already collapsed from overfishing, leading the fleet to intensify its focus on this last viable stock. I have joined efforts with Pacific Wild, a conservation organisation which works to protect wildlife and their habitat in the Great Bear Rainforest. After concentrating primarily on herring campaigns along the northern coast of British Columbia, this season Pacific Wild has turned its attention south and teamed up with local groups Conservancy Hornby Island and Association for Denman Island Marine Stewards. Collectively, we are calling on Fisheries and Oceans Canada (DFO) to recognise the fragility of this last main herring population and suspend the industrial fishery. It is a daunting task but a critically needed campaign, given the vital role herring play in feeding the coastal ecosystem. This year, DFO is permitting an astounding 21,000 tons, or 130 million fish, to be removed from the Salish Sea. This equates to 20% of the total biomass gathered to spawn - and is based on dubious population estimates and management models that have over-predicted the number of herring in the Salish Sea six times in the last 13 years, causing overfishing. Even so, the Federal Fisheries Minister recently reassured British Columbians, saying: “We make our decisions based on science”. Most alarmingly, DFO openly admits to its failure to take into consideration the broader ecosystem requirements when determining the catch rate. It is not fully understood how much herring the humpback whales, seals, sea lions, seabirds, salmon and countless other species require, yet in total disregard for the precautionary principle we continue to greet the spawning herring with a ravenous industrial appetite. This type of welcome isn’t unfamiliar to Pacific herring. European settlers’ exploitive history with these valuable fish has been, on an evolutionary timescale, short and severe. Starting in the late 1800s, herring was caught commercially for food and fish oil. This evolved into a highly efficient “reduction” fishery, which rendered the herring into fish meal for fertiliser and livestock feed, not human consumption. This industry grew to a frenzy and peaked in the 1960s, shortly before collapsing spectacularly, forcing DFO to place a coast-wide moratorium on commercial herring fisheries in the hope of a recovery.

BEHIND THE LENS

The industrial fishing fleet was allocated 21,000 tons of herring this year in British Columbia. During the height of the reduction fishery in the 1960s more than 250,000 tons were caught annually, shortly before a coast-wide collapse.

Oceanographic Issue 06

BEHIND THE LENS

“But there is one predator who is immune to the herring’s tactics: British Columbia’s industrial fishing fleet. Four of BC’s five main herring populations have already collapsed from overfishing, leading the fleet to intensify its focus on this last viable stock.”

Oceanographic Issue 06

F E AT U R E

TOP: A female herring can lay 20,000 eggs during one spawn and repeat this up to nine times in her life. BOTTOM: As millions of Pacific herring spawn, other species move in to feed, creating one of the greatest natural events of the year on Canada's west coast,

Oceanographic Issue 06

F E AT U R E

“I feel for the fishers who work hard to feed their families and find themselves in this era of diminishment. They rely on the jobs provided by this last herring fishery and will continue to, until the stock collapses or the fishery undergoes changes.”

After four short years, DFO re-opened the commercial fishery, this time targeting the roe which was valued on the Japanese market. The roe-fishery, which continues today, uses only the eggs for human consumption, and accounts for approximately 10% of the total catch by weight. This fishery also peaked and diminished, under the same management models being used on the last stock in the Salish Sea. The relationship between herring and humans on the BC coast hasn’t always been this deadly. Herring is a foundation of First Nations cultures, who have fished them for thousands of years. Traditional ecological knowledge indicates this clearly and archaeological records stretching back more than 10,000 years show that in 171 sites from Puget Sound to southwestern Alaska, herring bones accounted for nearly half of all fish bones and were present at 99% of the sites. In some places in the Salish Sea, herring was likely a more important food source than salmon. Herring roe continues to be an important food source and economy to coastal First Nations today. To harvest the roe, tree boughs or kelp is hung vertically in the water in known spawning sites before the fish arrive. After the spawn occurs and the fish have deposited their eggs, the branches or kelp is removed from the water, allowing the herring to return to sea and spawn again next year, a cycle that can repeat itself up to nine times in the life of a herring. Tragically, our industrial fishing models and corporate catch quotas have no patience for such an elegant and sensible method of harvest. One of the most disturbing aspects of the roe fishery today, is that only the roe is consumed by humans and the actual fish (approximately 90% of the catch by weight) is reduced into fishmeal. This is sold as pet and livestock food and is also a key ingredient in farmed salmon feed. Opennet-pen salmon aquaculture is a highly controversial industry in British Columbia, having serious negative impacts on the health of BC’s wild salmon from the spread of disease and pathogens. The irony of removing the chinook salmons main food source to feed farmed Atlantic salmon, which in turn are infecting the wild chinook salmon seems lost on Canada’s Minister of Fisheries. I feel for the fishers who work hard to feed their families and find themselves in this era of diminishment. They rely on the jobs provided by this last herring fishery and will continue to, until the stock collapses or the fishery undergoes changes. But what happened to the fishing families who made a living from the other now-collapsed herring populations on the coast? Even though jobs may be impacted in the short term, the argument for continuing to fish the last viable population for fear of economic sacrifices seems deeply short sighted. As the herring moved into the shallows, the fishing fleet mobilised and nets hit the water. It was an industrial scale operation which lasted 24 hours, until the main body of fish was caught and the boats filled up. I witnessed an astonishing 4,000 tons being taken, and more boats arrived to continue looking for fish. It broke my heart to see the fish that keep the coast alive greeted by this level of unquestioned entitlement as they ventured inshore to spawn. As a predator, we have taken so much more than our share of these lifegiving fish and remain unmoved by previous examples of fishing until collapse. We are experts at justifying our entitlement to ocean “resources”, blind to the insanity of continuing to kill the last main herring stock on this coast to make food for pets and livestock. When DFO has no real consideration of ecosystem requirements in their management plan beyond a mention that “the interplay of food supply and predation on herring survival is complex and not readily predictable” it is clear how imperative it is we invigorate a change in their methods. Given the importance of small schooling fish to the health of this coast, it is my hope that we can collectively acknowledge the trajectory of damage DFO’s management approach is causing and demand a shift towards promoting abundance, while we still have a viable population left. Herring keep our coast alive and healthy; it is time to give them a chance to recover.

Oceanographic Issue 06

Column

By Dr Easkey Britton

The social ecologist BLUE CARE “The absence of gravity in saltwater can be particularly therapeutic, altering bodily sensations and improving mobility … offering a sense of freedom from earthly limits.”

MOST OF THE EARTH'S SURFACE IS COVERED BY WATER, AND MOST OF THE HUMAN BODY IS COMPOSED OF WATER - TWO FACTS ILLUSTRATING THE CRITICAL LINKAGES BETWEEN WATER, HEALTH AND ECOSYSTEMS. WORL D H EA LT H O R GAN I S AT I ON , 2 0 1 7

Photography by Darragh Gorman / Liquid Therapy

Oceanographic Issue 06

@easkeysurf

espite the World Health Organisation’s (WHO) recognition of how water environments are essential for promoting health, evidence of disconnect from our natural surroundings is growing. The world’s ecosystems are coming under increasing threat from human pressures, in particular waterways, coasts and oceans, also known as ‘blue space’. This in turn poses human health risks from environments that are polluted and degraded. Disconnect from our natural world, and our sense of self in nature, is not unrelated to a growing social disconnect. One of the greatest crises of our time is the rise of mental health issues. By 2030, WHO predicts mental health issues will be the biggest burden on society. The health of our outer world mirrors and the health of our inner world, and vice versa. I’m interested in how direct experiences with water, especially the sea, might facilitate a greater sense of connection and wellbeing. This column has begun to spotlight a number of initiatives across policy, practice and academia that are seeking to better understand the complex interdependence between ocean and human health, especially the therapeutic potential of the sea. The NEAR-Health project in Ireland is a research initiative to qualify how important nature is for health and wellbeing. As part of the project, I led the first global systematic review of health and wellbeing benefits of therapeutic water-based activities, a form of ‘blue care’. The review highlights the need to improve our understanding of the restorative health benefits of actively engaging with water. Blue spaces are often overlooked and remain poorly understood. Out of the 33 blue space studies included in the review of blue care, the majority were focused on the sea or coast, with a diverse mix of people with multiple health issues, predominantly psychological. Surfing, or ‘surf therapy’ was the most popular activity used to deliver blue care. Findings suggest that part of the health benefits are linked to the challenging nature of surfing different coasts, winds, currents, seasons require constant adaptation, and responding to nature in the moment. Challenging activities were often linked to greater sustainable wellbeing. When it comes to blue care, the most commonly assessed wellbeing indicators include self-esteem, self-efficacy, social confidence, resilience, and other psychological indicators such as stress, anxiety and mood. The findings emphasise a multi-dimensional view of health, with participants experiencing positive changes to sense of self, health and wellbeing in the short-term. How long the benefits are sustained remains unknown. Shared experiences in water have high potential for positive social wellbeing outcomes. Learning to surf in a group, for example, can help enhance a

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sense of belonging, social connection and identity. The connective properties of the sea may also play a key role. The body’s response to waves (movement) and skills required to surf (balance) were attributed to enhanced vestibular balance for amputees, as well as pain reduction and reduced dependency on narcotics attributed to the psychological effect of surfing. Being immersed in water can offer a sense of freedom from earthly limits. However, not all experiences are necessarily positive and not all outcomes are universal. A number of barriers to participation and potentially adverse effects highlight the complexity of blue care design and delivery. Social norms and class that persist around water sports and surfing can leave some people from lower income backgrounds feeling socially and culturally excluded. Another potential barrier is the funding mechanisms (e.g. charitable donations, lottery funding, etc) that these programmes typically depend upon, which limit the ability to create longer-term programs and more sustainable, participant-driven initiatives. The ‘mood-dip’ identified by some studies can be caused by perceived discrepancies between personal experience during an activity and the social demands of daily life after ‘returning to shore’. This highlights the importance of an approach that is contextually sensitive and process-oriented measuring more than ‘what’ worked well, but also evaluating ‘how’ and ‘why’ success or indeed failure happened. Blue care has the potential to improve health outcomes for diverse groups, yet there is still so much we have not yet realised. Barriers persist around water quality, safety and access to healthy environments, especially in more socially deprived communities. The sea is not only a place of healing but can represent a place of loss and tragedy. Most examples of blue care were from western nations and tended to focus on adults. Public health policy needs to consider the cultural aspect of water connection and how this might intersect with other determinants of health such as gender, age, race and ethnicity. EB About Easkey Dr Easkey Britton, surfer and founder of Like Water, is a marine social scientist at the National University of Ireland Galway. Her work explores the relationship between people and the sea, using her passion for the ocean to create social change and connection across cultures. Currently resides in Donegal, Ireland. What wave will you choose to ride? www.wavemakercollective.com

Oceanographic Issue 06

FB E AH TI UN RD E T H E L E N S

THE RANGERS OF

Cocos Island Costa Rica’s Cocos Island National Park is regarded as having one of the world’s most pristine underwater ecosystems - a fact that attracts both tourists and illegal fishermen. Sea Shepherd visited the island to better understand the important conservation work being undertaken by the island’s small team of rangers. Wo rd s a n d p h o t o g ra p h s b y S i m o n A g e r

ed footed boobies hovered within arm’s reach, unperturbed by our presence and curious of our activity. We lowered our small boat into the water and readied ourselves for a rare visit ashore. The park’s rangers had invited us to visit their station, the only habitation on the imposing jungle-clad island that jutted up from the sea a short distance away from where we were anchored. As we motored towards shore - to an island of misted hilltops and gigantic waterfalls, of birds that do not consider man a threat - I was struck by the rawness of life here, the sense of prehistory that hung in the air. It was achingly beautiful. The rangers who call the remote Cocos Island home are not here for the scenery. They are here to maintain that rawness of life, to protect Cocos Island National Park and the species that live within its boundaries. The park has benefitted from protected status for several decades afforded protected status by the Costa Rican government in 1978 and declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1997 - but remains under siege. Within minutes of arriving at the station - a series of humble shelters that shield those posted here from the regular rains - we are afforded an insight into the important work the rangers do. Laid out in front of us is ten miles of illegal longline confiscated during patrol the previous day. It is striking to see the line piled up - evidence that the conservation efforts of the rangers and their anti-poaching patrols within the park are paying off.

Oceanographic Issue 06

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Oceanographic Issue 06

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PREVIOUS PAGE (TOP TO BOTTOM, LEFT TO RIGHT): Sea Shepherd’s interceptor vessel,Brigitte Bardot, arrives at Cocos Island; confiscated stainless steel fish hooks found inside the park boundary; scalloped hammerhead sharks; Sea Shepherd photographer, Simon Ager, backrolling into the water for a dive; the ranger station at Chatham Bay; a park ranger reworks a fish hook into jewellery; fiery storm clouds kiss the park boundary of Cocos Island; the Genius River Bridge, comprised of confiscated fishing gear and marine debris; a young silky shark on the end of a longline (the hook was removed and the shark survived); videographer, Jeff Panella, lights up the darkness during a deep dive. TOP: A female frigatebird soars high above English Bay. These master aerialists are pirates of the sky, stealing food from other birds in midair. BOTTOM: A silky shark hooked on a longline - too common a sight in Cocos Island's bountiful waters.

I was visiting Cocos Island and its surrounding waters as part of a Sea Shepherd Conservation Society expedition, working with Skytruth. Our mission was to both bring to life the splendour of a remote and vibrant place through photography and videography, but to also highlight the many plights it is facing, particularly illegal, unreported and unregulated (IUU) fishing, and why the protection of this part of the Pacific Ocean is so important. The expedition formed part of Sea Shepherd’s ongoing Operation Mamacocha, a campaign to target illegal fishers in the Eastern Tropical Pacific. Cocos Island National Park is part of the Eastern Tropical Pacific Marine Corridor, an area that covers almost 2,000,000 sq km. It comprises the waters, coasts and islands of World Heritage sites in Panama, Peru, Colombia, Ecuador and, of course, Costa Rica. It is a critical migratory pathway for sharks and other large pelagic species, meaning the devastating effects of IUU are felt far and wide, not just in local waters and on local reefs. For ten days the Brigitte Bardot remained at anchor in Chatham Bay while I and the rest of the Sea Shepherd crew worked to better understand the conservation efforts being undertaken by the rangers and the many successes they have achieved. It was an honour to visit this remote and revered island - a place that limited numbers of tourists and journalists get to visit. Access is at the sole discretion of the park rangers. Overnight stays are strictly prohibited, as is the collection of any flora and fauna - as you would expect. Our first morning with the rangers was illuminating. Their passion for the island and the species they were protecting was absolute. The task at hand was relentless - and hard work. Reeling in confiscated longlines, for example, took hours. The rangers pulled all lines - as well as thousands of baited hooks, buoys and anything that has fallen prey to an easy meal - aboard their patrol boats by hand. Each haul takes hours to bring in, and everything - line, hooks and dead marine life - is taken ashore. All biomass is destroyed. IUU fishermen regularly deploy their lines just outside

the park’s boundary. Many lines drift inside, poaching species in protected waters. Those lines that remain outside the park’s limits catch those very same species - marine life know no borders. It’s easy work for the fishermen - provided their lines don’t get found and confiscated. The park rangers leave their station and head out to sea every day at sunrise. Looking for submerged lines - their buoys the only giveaways - is like looking for a needle in a haystack. It is a game of patience. And luck. Their patience appears to be paying off. As I stepped past the ten miles of recently-seized longline, I encountered a much more significant pile of line - thousands of miles of it bundled high alongside drums filled to the brim with stainless-steel shark hooks. A sizeable stack of buoys lay to one side. Each buoy, hook and line represented a victory. Collectively they indicated the scale of the problem - this was one small policed patch of ocean on a vast and largely unprotected blue planet. If this was what one ranger station was able to collect, just imagine what lay out there beyond the horizon. The problem with longlines is that they are indiscriminate. Thousands of baited hooks are placed along a single line that drifts through the ocean. That bait appeals to all manner of marine life: sharks, turtles, even seabirds. For shark fishermen, catches such as turtles and birds are known as bycatch - collateral damage, essentially - and are very rarely landed. The populations of myriad species are being decimated by this form of fishing, but the catches go undocumented. The fantastic work these rangers are doing doesn’t stop at line and hook removal. The stainless-steel hooks, designed to indiscriminately kill, are hammered and reworked in a vice to create jewelry such as pendants and bracelets. It’s a powerful form of upcycling. Even more impactful is the beautiful Genius River Bridge by Tico artist, Pancho, a stunning piece of upcycled architecture made from confiscated fishing gear. It stands as a monument to the great work being done by the Cocos Island rangers - dangerous work that keeps them away from their families for months on end and could, in the most extreme scenario - an escalated poacher confrontation, for example - see some of them lose their lives. It is a risk they are all willing to take. They care deeply about the preservation of this special island and believe passionately in the work they are doing. Having seen what the rangers had pulled from the water, and having heard about the bountiful array of marine life that called these water home, we were all eager to head underwater. Cocos Island is a world-class diving destination. Its waters teem with life, including innumerable white tip reef sharks, whale sharks, near-threatened silky sharks, Galapagos sharks, dolphins, manta rays and marbled rays, giant moray eels, sailfish, and the largest schools of endangered scalloped hammerhead sharks in the world. Even tiger sharks returned to these waters in 2012 after an absence of almost thirty years. The rangers’ tireless work

Oceanographic Issue 06

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was positively impacting the island’s reef systems. Dive tourism plays an important role in Cocos Island National Park. While not as direct as the removal of fishing lines, the valuable flow of tourism dollars plays an important role in the continued protection of Cocos Island’s waters - not just in an obvious financial sense, but by showing the continued long-term benefits brought by the maintenance of healthy reef systems and shark populations: sharks are worth more alive than dead. At a site called Manuelita Island, we encountered hammerheads and Galapagos sharks. The site is also known to be a regular fixture for five resident tiger sharks, one of which attacked and killed a diver in 2017. We were warned to be on the lookout for a tagged female tiger shark considered aggressive and inquisitive. As a diver with more than 20 years’ experience, I remain mindful of the fact the ocean is the sharks’ domain, not ours. We are visitors and should respect that. By visiting their realm we take on a degree of risk - it is our choice to be there. The decision not to kill the aggressive tiger shark in 2017 was, in my opinion, the right thing to do. Personally, having dived with bull sharks, tigers, great whites and oceanic white tips, I have never felt threatened. On this occasion, the shark did not make an appearance. Rolling back off the dive panga at a site called Dirty Rock (Roca Sucia), we descended straight down to a ledge at 40m. Gripping on tightly with one hand, camera in the other as we were tossed around in the ‘washing machine’ current, we waited with patience as bubble-shy scalloped hammerheads gradually appeared. Seeing the sharks silhouetted on mass against the sun overhead - a classic Cocos Island image - was mesmerising and, ultimately, what we had come to see. It was a staggeringly beautiful sight. The sheer volume of pristine corals at Manuelita Gardens saw us return to the site three times. We also experienced two close encounters with tiger sharks as well as countless fwhitetip sharks, garden eels, eagle rays and macro subjects. Hammerheads lingered in the sandy haze, gliding in for a quick look before disappearing as effortlessly as they arrived. Our 15 dives over five days offered an insight into the amazing health of the eco-system that lies beneath Cocos Island’s waters - a vigour shaped by the island’s remote location and maintained by the conservation efforts being undertaken by the rangers stationed here. Jacques Cousteau visited the island several times throughout his lifetime and in 1994 described it as "the most beautiful island in the world". Should people still consider it to be so, that is down to the rangers who continue to protect its waters.

Cocos Island and its rangers are a bright light in an ocean of darkness. Greater protections along the Eastern Tropical Pacific Marine Corridor are a must, as is international consensus behind such efforts. Cocos Island is a safe haven for marine life, functioning as a nursery and dispersal centre for myriad species as well as a stopping point for migratory species. But once these species leave the protection of the island and its rangers, it is into and ocean of darkness and exploitation into which they swim. As the sun rose on our final morning in Chatham Bay, the island came alive one last time: thousands of birds, having left their nests before dawn, circled overhead frigate birds, brown- and red-footed boobies, white terns and brown noddies. It is an activity that has blessed this island for millennia, long before people arrived here. As we leave the island behind, the ranger station out of view, Cocos Island looks as pristine as anything I have ever seen. And island before man. An island ecosystem as it should be - vibrant and abundant.

TOP: A red footed booby gets to grooming. BOTTOM LEFT: Cocos Island has more than 200 waterfalls. BOTTOM RIGHT: A Cocos Island park ranger bundles up confiscated longline.

Oceanographic Issue 06

Find out more For more information on Operation Mamacocha, visit seashepherd.org/ campaigns/operation-mamacocha

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Oceanographic Issue 06

Column

By Ocean Ramsey

The shark ethologist TO TOUCH OR NOT TO TOUCH

“T

o touch or not to touch?” While the general rule when interacting with wildlife is not to make physical contact, there are certain situations where touching sharks may be necessary for safety reasons. Contrary to popular belief, sharks are actually generally very cautious and non-confrontational so touching is rarely needed, but if you do find yourself in a situation where a shark is approaching you at close range I would offer the following advice. Please keep in mind behaviour varies with environmental conditions, across different species and even between individuals of the same species, so these guidelines cannot be always be applied to every situation. When approached by a tiger shark, look at them, face your body towards them, swim towards them (not a natural human instinct) and if they continue to approach you, extend anything you have towards them (GoPro, fins, surfboard, etc). If you don’t have anything then place your hand firm and flat on top of their head, lock your elbow and push yourself up and over, or off to the side. Do not try to punch them on the nose, there is a higher chance that you’ll punch them in the mouth and cut your hand - plus it’s unnecessary and ineffective. Once you’ve used the “Heisman manoeuvre” to pass their mouth prepare to turn and repeat as you make your way towards your exit. Chances are they won’t continue to push you unless in a compromised starving condition. Remember, do not swim away or start splashing. If you’re on a surfboard you can catch a wave in and I do recommend exiting the surf when you see them if they are apparent enough to be seen they may be hunting something dead nearby. When other bold species like oceanic white tips are particularly curious and come very close, it’s sometimes necessary to touch them to maintain personal space. In situations like this, I use my camera and/or hand to push the shark gently off me, spinning so that it doesn’t get past me. This also allows me to track the other sharks in the area. I like to have one leg bent at the knee to allow for quick pivots and scissor kicks. If you don’t have a camera to deter, your fins can be used as a buffer. Using your hands to push off should be a last resort and you should carefully place them on top of the shark’s head, not the front of its nose, because they have a tendency to lift away from the pressure on the elector receptive pores on the underside of their snout. While some people may jump to conclusions or attempt to analyse a situation with limited perspective, anyone who works in the water with sharks on a regular basis at close range will tell you touching is sometimes required. These very capable predators should always be treated with the utmost respect. I realise some may consider touching disrespectful but if you do your research you’ll find sharks have extremely well developed sensory systems capable of feeling the water pressure changing as a person gets closer, and interactions, where the shark is coming close enough to be touched, can usually be considered mutual. I love to see people asking out of concern for the animals to ensure they are not being harmed by being touched, but the bigger picture is the broader threats sharks are facing: being fished for commercial products, seafood (including shark fin soup) and pleasure. I’m so grateful for the wonderful, passionate, hard-working individuals I get to work with, who spend their day speaking up for sharks, educating others about their behaviour, and their plight. It’s an honour to work with them on a platform that supports research and conservation. OR About Ocean Ocean Ramsey is a marine conservationist and biologist, specialising in shark ethology. She is the founder of the non-profit Water Inspired, and co-founder of One Ocean Research and Diving in Hawaii. She is a PADI MSDT and a competitive freediver. TED talk: ‘How sharks affect us all’. Ocean and a tiger shark

Oceanographic Issue 06

@oceanramsey

“I like to have one leg bent at the knee to allow for quick pivots and scissor kicks. If you don’t have a camera to deter, your fins can be used as a buffer.”

Oceanographic Issue 06

Behind the lens I N A S S O C I AT I O N W I T H

DAISY GILARDINI Behind the Lens places a spotlight on the worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s foremost ocean conservation photographers. Each edition focusses on the work of an individual who continues to shape global public opinion through powerful imagery and compelling storytelling.

BEHIND THE LENS

Antarctic Peninsula The golden hour in the polar regions. The hues that decorate the sky and landscape at this time make the early starts worthwhile. "Even if it’s sometimes hard, it always pays off in the end."

Antarctic Peninsula Life above and below the waterline is very much intertwined in the Antarctic. An underwater camera housing and dome port allow split captures such as this.

Antarctic Peninsula Weddell seals come on land to rest and digest after spending time in the water fishing. Occasionally they wake up. Their yawns look like laughing fits.

Antarctic Peninsula Adelie and Emperor penguins are the only two species of penguin to breed along the entire Antarctic coast - including the Peninsula. Here, an Adelie penguin braces itself against the snow and wind.

Svalbard, Norway Polar bears are at the top of the Arctic food chain. They are the only truly carnivorous bears. Seals make up 90 percent of their diet. Here, a polar bear sniffs the air for prey.

Wapusk National Park, Canada A polar bear patiently waits for the pack ice to form in the Hudson Bay area. Once the ice is formed he will venture out to hunt seals.

Wapusk National Park, Canada Two young males spar on the coast of Hudson Bay in Manitoba, Canada. Playfights are common, and it is good practice for more serious standoffs that take place during mating season.

Wapusk National Park, Canada The bond between mother and offspring, and between sibling and sibling, is very strong. It’s the only social structure among normally solitary polar bears to be recognised and identified by scientists.

Quebec, Canada Harp seal pups are born on sea ice from late February to March. At birth, they are covered in a beautiful white coat that will last for only a couple of weeks.

Falkland Islands A group of King penguins gather on the beach at Volunteer Point before heading out to sea to feed.

Antarctic Peninsula A Gentoo penguin colony buffeted by a big spring snowstorm on Pleneau Island.

Svalbard Norway This image is the furthest north a pod of orcas have been sighted and photographed hunting among the ice floes - 80˚33’’ North (Shot in April 2018).

Behind the lens DAISY GILARDINI Snow Hill Island, Antarctica Emperor penguins are the only penguins to breed during the Antarctic winter (April to August), facing temperatures as low as -40C.

Born in Switzerland, Daisy has always had a love of the outdoors. For many years she juggled an amateur passion for travel and photography with her role as a business owner. Eventually, she became a full-time conservation photographer, specialising on the planet's polar regions. Her images have been featured by esteemed publishers such as National Geographic, Smithsonian and the BBC. She is a member of the International League of Conservation Photographers, part of the SeaLegacy Collective, and a member of the Explorers Club.

PERSONAL

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SEALEGACY

@sea_legacy

www.daisygilardini.com

@Sea_Legacy

@sealegacy

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Oceanographic Issue 06

BEHIND THE LENS

Q&A DAISY GILARDINI Polar regions photographer and member of the International League of Conservation Photographers and SeaLegacy Collective. Daisy has spent more than 20 years photographing the polar regions. Her work has been published by, among others, National Geographic and WWF. She has both won and been on the judging panel for BBC Wildlife Photographer of the Year.

OC EA NO G R A PH IC M AGAZ I N E (OM ): W H E N D I D YOU FIRST CONNECT WITH TH E OCEAN?

DAISY GILARDINI (DG): I grew up in Switzerland, a mountain paradise, and I start skiing more-or-less at the same time I started walking. My family and I would spend every winter holiday skiing in the mountains. The summer holidays, however, were dedicated to the sea in Italy. I was even more comfortable in the water than I was on skis. I remember spending whole summers playing in the sea and exploring beaches in search of beautiful shells: presents from the ocean.

OM : W H EN D ID YOU F I RS T P I C K U P A C AM E R A?

DG: I was 18. Christmas that year, I bought a Nikon for my boyfriend. We took off to Paris for New Year’s. We were walking along the gorgeously decorated Champs- Élysées when my boyfriend handed me the camera and said: “Why don’t you try to get few shots?” I’ve haven’t put the camera down since!

OM : YO U G R EW U P I N S W I T Z E RL AN D AN D N OW LIVE IN CANADA - TWO COUNTRIES SYNO NY MO US W I T H RU GGE D N AT U RE . H AS T H E OUTDOORS ALWAYS BEEN A PART OF WH O YOU A R E?

DG: Absolutely! My mother taught me to respect and love nature and wildlife. Growing up, we spent a lot of time outdoors, hiking in the mountains, playing hide-and-seek in the woods behind my home, playing in the sea, or picking berries to make jam.

I spent my childhood in a little village in the countryside with farms all around me. I remember one of my tasks after school was to go to my neighbour’s to pick up freshly milked milk. Sometimes I'd drink milk directly from the cow. I would pick up freshly laid eggs, still warm, directly from the hen-house. In the summer, when not at sea, I would help my friends cut the grass and make hay for the cows. We would run barefoot in the fields and jump on the huge piles of hay ready to be stored in the stalls. Ultimately, I grew up with a passion and love for the outdoors. Even during my former career as a financial expert - which forced me to spend a lot of time in the office - I did not miss an opportunity to spend time outside. Spending time in the wilderness became a way of coping with the long hours spent in front of a computer, looking at numbers. Eventually, love brought me to Canada, and when I got married - to a Canadian - there was little doubt where we would live! British Columbia is an extraordinary place.

OM : H OW MU CH H AV E T H OS E L AN D S C AP E S SH AP ED YOU AS A P H OTOGRAP H ER? DG: From a young age it was obvious I had a love for animals, so everybody in my family parents, godparents, aunties - bought me stuffed toys. One in particular influenced my life forever. I was just four years old when I received a little stuffed seal pup toy from my godparents. My mum explained that the seal came from a very cold place and that it lived on and under the polar ice. I was mesmerised by those stories. I dreamed that one day I would be able to see seals in their natural environment.

I grew up with the idea of becoming a veterinarian. But life doesn’t always go the way you planned and I ended up becoming a certified expert in finance and accounting instead. After getting my Masters and opening my own accounting firm, and with a good business plan and organisational skills, I managed to match my love for nature, photography and travel with my daily job commitments. It still took me seven years to save the money necessary to realise my childhood dream of seeing seals in their natural habitat, but I got there. In 1997, I was finally able to embark on an expedition to Antarctica - a trip that totally changed my life.

Oceanographic Issue 06

BEHIND THE LENS

After that, I started taking off on self-assignments for several months a year, and I had to hire an assistant to help me out with the accounting business. But every time I got back to the office, I felt depressed and unfulfilled. I started writing articles and looking for magazines interested in publishing my work. It was like having two full-time jobs. My days would start at 7am and finish at midnight, seven days a week. They say the key to success is to believe in one’s ability. Patience, passion and perseverance will lead to success, eventually. By the end I finally succeeded in having my work published. In 2006, I became a full-time photographer.

O M: YO U F I RS T V I S I T E D AN TARC T I C A IN 1 9 9 7 , AND YOU SAY YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH IT I M M E D I AT E LY. W H AT IS IT YOU FIND SO ENCH ANTING ABOUT TH E REGION?

DG: Antarctica is the coldest, driest and windiest continent in the world. I always think of Antarctica as a planet on our planet. It looks as if everything stopped at the time of creation. Everything is in harmony, pristine and pure, probably because no humans ever colonised the continent. It’s one of the few places on Earth where animals are not scared of us, where penguins approach you to interact, where seals want to play with you and birds don’t fly away. Antarctica is my magic pill for regenerating and rejuvenating!

I tried many times to understand this irresistible attraction to the polar regions, which I would define almost as an addiction or obsession. These extreme adventures transport me out of my ordinary world and lead me on a voyage of self-discovery. The isolation from modern civilisation and all the distractions that comes with it allow me to focus on nature’s simple rhythms. The healing feelings of rediscovering our primordial connection with nature and the interconnectivity between all species on Earth, inspires in me a feeling of awareness and deep respect for the importance of these delicate ecosystems.

O M: H OW I M P ORTAN T D O YOU T H I N K TH AT ANTARCTIC OBSESSIVENESS H AS BEEN TO YOUR S U CCES S I N C AP T U RI N G C OM P E L L I N G P H OTOGRAP H Y? DG: The commitment to documenting the polar regions comes from my love and passion for them. My philosophy in life is live your dreams and follow your heart. Specialising, focusing on a particular subject, is not a choice. It’s a question of doing what you’re most passionate about.

Knowing your subjects, and knowing the ecosystem where they live, is crucial in order to be able to anticipate behaviours and catch the action at the right moment. Returning to the same locations year after year gives you a better understanding of the light conditions. Spending a lot of time with the animals gives you the opportunity to know individuals and come up with something new and different each time. It takes time and knowledge to capture their personalities and freeze - in a single shot, in a fraction of a second - those anthropomorphic expressions that are essential to making a connection with the viewer. Whatever I do, I try to apply my ‘3Ps’ rule to: Passion, patience and perseverance.

O M: IS T H AT W H AT S E PARAT E S AM ATEURS FROM P ROFESSIONALS? DG: Absolutely. Commitment and believing in your work makes all the difference. O M: YO U ’ V E H AD YOU R W ORK F E AT U RED IN SOME OF TH E WORLD’S LEADING P UBLICATIONS W H AT ’ S T H E M OS T I M P ORTAN T S TORY YOUR IMAGERY H AS TOLD?

DG: For the last two decades I’ve concentrated all my photographic efforts to two bodies of work: the polar regions and North American bears (Grizzly, black, polar and Kermode bears). Photography is an extremely powerful tool to deliver messages. It’s the only universal language, understood by everybody, no matter which country you’re from, no matter your language or level of education. I feel privileged every time I’m in the field and I’m grateful for every minute I can spend with wildlife, because this gives me the opportunity to share their stories by giving them a voice. So every time one of my images touches a viewer’s heart and generates some kind of emotion, I believe I’ve told an important story - no matter whether the images were seen in a prestigious publication or on social media.

That said, in 2015 BBC Wildlife Magazine published a full feature on the Kermode bears that raised awareness of the challenges these animals and their habitat are facing. In 2016, ‘Motherhood’, one of my polar bear images, was awarded the Grand Prize at the Windland Smith Rice Nature’s Best Awards and was exhibited for a full year at the Smithsonian Natural History Museum in Washington, DC, together with a video. I was thrilled and felt personally proud of the recognition, but the most important thing to me is that the image reached seven million viewers and raised awareness of the issues that polar bears face with habitat loss due to climate change. Ultimately, being published or awarded is not just about giving a voice to places and species that are at risk. It’s about being an ambassador for nature.

Continued on p.80... Oceanographic Issue 06

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Q&A Continued...

OM: W H AT ’ S T H E M OS T I M P ORTAN T S TORY YOU H AVEN’T YET TOLD? DG: The story about how humankind was successful in saving our planet. OM: YO U S AY EX P E D I T I ON S TO T H E W ORL D ’ S REMOTE P LACES LEAD YOU ON A “VOYAGE OF S ELF - DIS COVERY ”. W H AT I S I T T H AT YOU ’ V E LEARNED ABOUT YOURSELF?

DG: I learned that I am just a tiny little element in the much larger universe. Consequently, this taught me humility. I came to realise my own life is interconnected with the life of all other living creatures on Earth, plants or animals. Respecting nature also means respecting myself and humankind. I learned that I love nature for its beauty, and I learned to be grateful for every single day of my life. All these realisations pushed me to redirect my life priorities. I switched my career in the financial world, which was focused on material wealth, to a career in conservation photography, where I could focus on being an ambassador for nature.

My passion for the natural world has become a lifelong commitment to conservation messaging and inspiring respect for the natural world, while at the same time reminding people of the need to preserve our fragile planet. It’s extremely exciting and fulfilling to give a new and meaningful purpose to one’s life. If humankind wants to survive and evolve with our planet, we have to act responsibly. We need to realise, with humility, that nature is not dependent on us but we are dependent on nature.

OM: YO U’ VE PH OTOGRAP H E D A N U M BE R OF AP EX P REDATORS. WH AT ARE TH E CH ALLENGES YO U FACE O N S U C H S H OOT S , AN D H AV E YOU EVER FELT IN DANGER?

DG: Generally, I think if fear comes into play it means something’s wrong in your approach to the situation or subject. I visited Madagascar twice - in 1993 and ten years later in 2003. During my first visit I almost lost my life from food poisoning and malaria at the same time. On my second visit, in 2003, I got malaria again, despite taking the medical prophylaxis both times. Mosquitos simply love me. This is probably one of the reasons I turned into a polar photographer!

As far as wildlife interactions, I’ve only felt uncomfortable on a couple of occasions - once while in close proximity to a young, curious polar bear, and once with a mother grizzly bear and her two cubs. In both situations, the bears used body language to let me know I was crossing their boundaries. My immediate reaction, based on respect, was to re-establish distance. On both occasions I was able to continue the shoot in peace.

I believe the best approach to wildlife photography is to photograph animals on their own terms. This means positioning yourself in their environment, and letting them decide if they want to interact with you. When they accept you as part of their environment, they will reveal their personalities. In order to get intimate portraits of wildlife, you have to be patient and never force the situation.

OM: W H AT A B O U T C H AL L E N GE S RE GARD I N G EXTREME ENVIRONMENTS? DG: As a wildlife photographer specialised in the polar regions the challenges in the field are mostly related to the extreme environment where I operate. Extreme cold is a challenge for your equipment as well as for your body. First you have to take care of yourself in order not to freeze, and that includes your extremities - face, hands and feet being the most exposed. Dressing in layers and avoiding perspiration are vital to survive in these situations. Once you’re comfortable, then comes the technical challenge of operating a camera with huge gloves. Finally you have to work around the fact that, after a while, parts of the camera will freeze - batteries first, then the control panels and the big back monitor. So you must be skilled enough to work your camera in blind mode and remember the setting you started with. The trick is to keep shooting and hope for the best.

i learned the hard way. While on assignment documenting a skiing expedition to the North Pole in 2009, I got hypothermia and I had to be helicoptered back to base camp. I had made a series of mistakes that led me to rapidly lose body heat. It was a humbling experience.

Oceanographic Issue 06

BEHIND THE LENS

O M: W H AT ARE T H E C H AL L E N GE S YO U FACE AS A MODERN CONSERVATION P H OTOGRAP H ER ?

DG: I think some of the most difficult situations a wildlife photographer has to face today come from the business side. With the internet and the advent of micro-stock, the market has never been so compromised. Everybody’s looking for free or super low-cost images, without taking into consideration integrity and ethical photography - values that, unfortunately, are becoming rarer all the time. Nowadays wildlife and nature photography is an extremely competitive field, where the word “ethics” sometimes - too often - gets lost.

The use of captive animals and baiting wild ones in order to get the ‘perfect’ shot has become normal practice, sadly. In some cases, photographing captive animals can serve a specific conservation purpose, but it must be governed by strong, ethical rules about the welfare of the animal, and should always be captioned as so.

As a nature photographer, what I do inevitably has an impact on the places and the creatures I am documenting. It’s essential to limit any impact I have to a minimum, in the hope that the positive influence my images will have in raising awareness is greater than the consequences of my intrusions.

And, last but certainly not least, the digital manipulation of images has become such a serious issue that the authenticity of every picture - and the integrity of the photographer - is always questioned. It’s our responsibility as nature photographers to caption our images clearly and honestly, and indicate any composite work or alterations. Digital manipulation can be a great, creative and wonderful form of art - as long as you’re transparent and honest with what you’re doing with your images.

O M: DO YOU T H I N K W E , AS A S P E C I ES, H AVE EVER BEEN MORE DISCONNECTED FROM TH E N AT U RAL W ORL D TH AN WE ARE TODAY? DG: Humankind absolutely has never been so disconnected from nature as it is nowadays. I am the person I am because of the core values I acquired during my childhood. The time spent walking barefoot in the woods, and the time I spent with farm animals. Those experiences are all a part of who I am today. There are many scientific studies that prove that leading an outdoor life, in connection with nature, is healthier, both physically and mentally. It helps reduce blood pressure and stress, and it enhances creativity. O M: W H AT C AN P E OP L E D O TO RE C O NNECT? DG: Spend more time outside and try to connect with nature. If you live in a city, have lunch under a tree; try to organise business meetings on a bench in a park, if possible. Take your coffee break outside. Walk barefoot on a beach or on the grass. Enjoy the warmth of the sun on your face. Listen to the birds. Listen to the waves. Pay attention to the wind touching your skin. Engage with other forms of life. Little things can go far. O M: H OW E M P OW E RI N G H AS S OC I AL MEDIA BEEN FOR CONSERVATION P H OTOGRAP H ERS? DG: The digital age, together with social media, has opened the door for wildlife and conservation photographers, as well as scientists, to a greater degree than ever before. Technology and internet platforms now allow us to reach more people, in more places, faster, more efficiently and effectively, than at any time in human history. We’re living in the information age. And while problems such as climate change, pollution and environmental decline might seem insurmountable, we’re better placed than at any time in history to spread a message of hope. O M: W H AT I M PAC T D O YOU H OP E T H AT H AS? DG: I think that if we are where we are at this point in time, it’s because of ignorance. Ignorance is the enemy. The technology and communication available today will help us counter that. Education is the key. O M: W H AT D OE S T H E F U T U RE H OL D FOR TH E P OLAR REGIONS? DG: The polar regions face a lot of challenges, both now and in the future, with climate change and rising temperatures, especially in the Arctic. Increased development opportunities, due to the opening of new sea lanes through the ice, will put a lot more pressure on the environment, with marine-transport pollution, exploitation of newly accessible natural resources, and the risk of ocean acidification. While Antarctica is - for now - protected by the Antarctic Treaty, the potential for geopolitical conflict in the Arctic is not to be discounted. O M: W H AT ’ S N E XT F OR YOU ? DG: I will continue documenting changes in the polar regions, adding to my body of work with upcoming assignments in the Canadian Arctic, Svalbard in Norway, Greenland and, of course, beautiful Antarctica.