Underwater Exploration Magazine

REASON FOR HOPE

A group of volunteers’ struggle to bring effective and lasting protection to Los Arcos de Mismaloya. Photographing the sea life of the wild and largely unexplored coast of the Michoacan state.

exploration

COSTA MICHOACANA

HOW DEEP IS THE DEVIL’S JAW?

How could medieval techniques advance our knowledge and bring undeniable proof to our perennial question of the Jaw’s depth?

Underwater expeditions and photographic adventures. Since 2018.

A WORD

Ever since the 3rd issue of Underwater Exploration journal was published I have been presenting all my entries in reverse chronological order. = the newest additions come first. In this manner you can reference back to info you might have read before and always find this journal under the very same URL link.

This is an experiment, so do let me know your thoughts. and enjoy Petr Myska January 2023 exploration

Click here to follow my expeditions on National Geographic Field Notes

-PM-

EAGLES STILL SOAR UNDER THE ARCH PAGE 33 PAGE 2 PAGE 12

As I scan left and right with my flashlight wishing it to bounce off a piece of white plastic, a few notes of humpback song fill the expanse ...

36

The Eagle rays don’t seem to have noticed me, but instead of entering the tunnel, they swing left and disappear from view. In a minute they are back though and I take another shot ...

Orange cup coral (Tubastraea coccinea)

- coralspecies glimpse species glimpse

- fish- fish- cnidarian -

Yellowtail surgeonfish (Prionurus punctatus) Panamic soldierfish (Myripristis leiognathus)

Sea anemone (Bunodosoma californicum)

species glimpse - fish - 84

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LOS ARCOS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL November 30th, 2022

I swim along the line where green water abruptly turns pitch black. The mass of the islet is 100 feet on my left, the surface 70 cold and dark feet above me. The infinity on my right is the abyss of the Devil’s Jaw, where I lost the side panel of my Trident ROV yesterday, piloting it along its sheer drop. Today I am back with my friend Cesar, one of the most experienced local divers searching for it. Chances are it had plummeted into irretrievable depths, but we think it is worth a try. The Trident, granted to me by the S.E.E. via the National Geographic Open Explorer, has let us shed light (quite literally) on sites beyond conventional Scuba limits. On our first dive, we discovered a thick forest of coral at depths of 200 feet, below what otherwise seemed to be a dead zone of the wall. Later I learned to pay for the excitement of such explorations with moments of cold sweat and thumping heart getting the ROV’s umbilical stuck on invisible hazards in the inky void below. Yesterday I paid with a piece of the ROV itself. Still, fair enough, I think.

As I scan left and right with my flashlight wishing it to bounce off a piece of white plastic, a few notes of humpback song fill the expanse. I hear the whales underwater quite frequently - we are in the heart of their wintering grounds, after all, but the impact of it never wears off. So, as I always do - I stop, hold my bubbles, and close my eyes to enjoy the moment. More sounds drift in and further sweeten the bliss of my weightlessness. On impulse, I pull myself down to the rocky shelf and find a bare spot to sit down. As I keep listening to the singer below with my finned feet dangling over the edge, I think about the blackness in front of me. We know almost nothing about what lurks down there. Until recently, we weren’t even sure how deep the wall drops. The sources of information available to us offered conflicting information, which confused rather than clarified the

issue. So after analyzing multiple options of inquiry, most well outside my pocket change budget, I decided on the medieval approach. Using a braided fishing line, I dropped a 6-pound diving weight down to the unknown. It hit bottom at 1,345 feet. The Eiffel Tower could hide under my fins, with lots of room to spare. Considering the mass of the islet with shallow waters and a nearby beach directly behind me, such a depth so close to the shore is unexpected. This fact and a list of other exciting features make Los Arcos unique. So let me take you on a little tour. This small group of 5 islets in the southern part of the Banderas Bay on Mexico’s Pacific coast has always drawn attention. So much so that the nearby internationally famous beach resort of Puerto Vallarta used to be called Las Peñas (The Crags) in their honor. Los Arcos has become a local icon during the past decades, with tourism booming in the area. In the

An abridged version of the following text was published by the Oceanographic Magazine on 30th November 2022 under the title “Reason for hope”

“ LOS ARCOS HAS BECOME A LOCAL ICON DURING THE PAST DECADES, WITH TOURISM BOOMING IN THE AREA”

Argus moray eel (Muraena argus)

peak of the high season, thousands of tourists may visit on any given day. They will arrive in small panga boats or on board one of the larger vessels heading for the popular beaches in the south. For the majority, this will be a short stop-over. They will admire the rocky formations, the Brown pelicans, Blue-footed boobies, and Magnificent frigatebirds roosting on their cliffs, tropical fish attracted by the boats. Selfies will be taken, and cell phones and sunglasses will inevitably be lost overboard. Some visitors may jump in the water and splash around for a while. On days when the sea is calm, those who feel more adventurous may dare a swim through one of the vaulted tunnels that gave the site its name, “The Arches.” Impressive scenery and post-worthy backdrops for sure, yet the true gems of Los Arcos, cannot be appreciated while standing on a boat’s deck. The fascinating world of varied seascapes and creatures that inhabit them can only be found under the water’s surface.

ISLA ISABEL

San Blas, NAY January 26th, 2018

I read about the local sea life for the first time 20 years ago while studying for my biology master’s exams. I still remember the reason this small and for a student sitting in Prague remote patch of the sea was mentioned. Several species of rare ribbon worms were to live here. Little did I know then that this would one day be my backyard. Many years later, I had the good fortune to move to Puerto Vallarta and eventually meet Cesar Ortega, a conservationist by heart and the owner of Banderas Scuba Republic by trade. He took me under his wing and showed me the varied corners of the local underwater world.

From the rocky shore strewn with round granite boulders covered with scampering crabs, the seafloor slopes down gently onto a wide sandy bottom. An ideal stingrays’ home. During the winter, when water drops to mid 50ties Fahrenheit, we can find big Longtail stingrays here in large numbers. Their position is usually betrayed only by a dish-shaped dip in the sand. Their somehow angry-looking eyes sticking from the sediment

are very vigilant. I suspect they can see your hovering silhouette from afar and follow your every movement. And should you get too close, which sometimes happens inadvertently, they will be gone in an instant leaving behind a cloud of stirred-up sand settling slowly over their former resting place. Other animals take advantage of the soft and uniform ocean floor, too. You will find the skittish Garden eels, borrowing Jawfish, cruising Electric rays, and awesomely camouflaged Speckled flounders. The sand is the perfect hideaway or easy-to-work building material for some animals, while others, like the shy Spotted eagle rays, patrol the area, looking for prey. Eventually, the sand runs into scattered pancakelike solitary reefs we call Las Lajas (the Slabs). Their crevices and overhangs are ideal shelters for the numerous species of local moray eels. The smaller ones, such as the Zebra, Starry, and Jewel morays, hide so effectively that only their inquisitive heads stick out between the rocks. The thick-bodied Argus moray eels move in in the winter with colder water. These are another story, though. I have come across a few as thick as a fire hose and at least 4 feet long. Their constantly gaping black jaws pumping water through the gills may look threatening. Yet, I have always found them surprisingly calm and easy to approach. As far as I am concerned, they are beautiful subjects to photograph. Another highlight of Las Lajas is its sea turtles. From Cesar, I have learned to identify several spots where you can find them reliably. They seem to like resting under overhangs to take a break undisturbed by the persistent rocking swell and currents often present in the area. I must confess that the turtles are a bit of a mystery to me. According to local scientists, who have been collecting data for decades, the most abundant species around here is the Olive Ridley, making up to 90% of all turtles hatched on our beaches. After years of diving around the bay, I am yet to see one underwater! On the other hand, the relatively rare Hawksbills and Green turtles I have never seen laying eggs on land seem to pop up here and there on most of our dives in Las Lajas. Turtle sightings are always a hit for visiting divers, especially the Hawksbills, who are usually very calm and comfortable around us as

LOS ARCOS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL November 30th, 2022

long as you keep your distance or approach very slowly.

As you press westward and leave the sand and Las Lajas behind, you will encounter ever-larger rocky formations. Swim on a bit farther and arrive at a set of pinnacles called El Bajo del Cristo, my favorite dive spot in the bay. The largest one is about 50 feet tall and just shy of breaking the water surface. Over many dives here, I have seen its many faces, from the cold, green, near-zero visibility washing machine Pacific can turn into during the winter to the almost Caribbean-like peace and blues of our summer. However, the abundance of sea life El Bajo attracts never changes. Small fans of Pacifigeorgia and Leptogeorgia and carpet-like patches of red Terrazoanthus clinging to the rock are micro-worlds crawling with tiny Brittle sea stars. Several large colonies of Pavona coral spill around the base of the towers, sheltering juvenile Angelfish, Moray eels, and tiny Red-headed blennies in their folds. My favorite is a large Golden Cup coral colony at the very base of the tallest pinnacle. Occupying a low squat rock about 7 feet long, this colony has become a bit of my obsession. I am sure it is the most photographed coral in my image archives. I have delved into the intricacies of individual polyps with my macro lens, shot portraits of the Soldierfish that love to hide here, and attempted many times to capture with my wide angle the ever-changing landscape of this polyp city. Its size and lushness can vary quite considerably. At times sprawling and thick like a fluffy yellow sofa, full of activity, with all polyps busily plucking food particles out of the current. Then, a few weeks later, sparse, quiet, almost silent looking. Its polyps retracted, not a tentacle in sight, giving the impression of a city where everyone went to bed. Of course, larger animals live at El Bajo, too. Several dinner-plate-sized Cortez and King angelfish are always around. So is a school of Yellowtail surgeonfish, Spottail grunts, and a cloud of Yellow snappers mixed with Cortez chubbs. The tip of the pinnacle, usually awash with the swell, is the domain of Rainbow wrasses and Barnacle blennies. Stonefish, octopus, several species of starfish, parrotfish, triggerfish, tube worms, hydroids, and nudibranchs. The list could go on. Last winter, a single

White tip reef shark came to stick around El Bajo for a few weeks, too. An exciting and unusual visitor this deep inside the bay. Those with limited experience can easily enjoy Las Lajas or El Bajo del Cristo. For divers seeking a more challenging thrill, a visit to the southern side of the main islet just around the corner opens the door to the realm of deeper water, Giant manta rays, and large Myriopathes coral fans. These thrive hanging off the vertical wall that plunges down the southern face of the islet to a sloping sandy bottom 120 feet below. Lush branching colonies grow exposed on the wall or inside deep vertical clefts. These attract lots of fish. Sea horses, the size of a matchbox, their color perfectly matching the orange tone of the coral, anchor themselves to their branches with prehensile tails. Big Cortez angelfish swim around gracefully with their bellies turned to the vertical rock, giving the impression that up is not up but sideways in a perfect testimony to the actual three-dimensionality of aquatic life. A concept the land-dwellers can only dream of. Schools of Soldierfish and Limbaugh chromis, together with Long nose hawkish perching on the smaller branches, sometimes give the coral a Christmas tree-like appearance. I have promised myself that one day I will spend a full scuba tank hanging around one of these large orange fans. I will surely run out of non-deco time before running out of things to photograph. So far, I haven’t been able to take a photo that would give these beautiful corals justice. The depth, compounded by a persistent downward current, has always made photography challenging for me. You want to be alert here, too, since the lip of the bottomless Jaw is just around the corner. The place where I sit now listening to the whale songs. I get up from my perch and join up with Cesar, who I see swimming in, having completed the search of his sector. He didn’t find the lost ROV panel either. Today we will return home empty-handed. But not empty-hearted. I carry a memory of the humpback song rising from the mysterious blackness. An unforgettable piece of my past to cherish forever.

I cannot say what Cesar is thinking as we pause for our safety stop. But I can guess. He is clutching a piece of a gill net he had retrieved from the reef below us. A part of the outside world that shouldn’t be here - an intruder, a murderer. I know he is furious. I also know that his just anger at such transgressions has fueled his determination to make a change for years.

In the coming months, he will manage to lead a group of devoted volunteers named Guardianes de la Bahia, of which I am a proud member, to their first palpable victory in the struggle to bring effective and lasting protection to this area. They will call attention to the lack of formal protection resulting in overuse and illegal fishing and a general disregard for the fragility of the Los Arcos ecosystem. They will gather over 3,000 physical citizen signatures to promote the protection of Los Arcos and collect over 43.000 signatures via the Change. org platform in a petition directed to the governor of the state of Jalisco. They will convince 28 of the 29 candidates in the municipal and national chamber of deputies elections to commit to the protection of Los Arcos in writing. They will meet with local communities, governmental agencies, and academic institutions personally. And with the help of progressive municipal officials, they will manage to officially institute July 28th as the “Los Arcos de Mismaloya Day.” An annual celebration of this little gem represents a step towards raising awareness regarding its beauty, importance, and the need to guarantee its future conservation.

There is so much more to be done, but we trust we are on the right path forward.

WITH THE SUPPORT OF: BANDERAS SCUBA REPUBLIC

Cesar hovering above the sandy seafloor of Las Lajas

Ihave done my share of diving in murky water. Anything from winter swells, plankton blooms, and red tides to silt-filled shallows and river mouths after summer rains. I have been underwater in conditions most divers would consider no fun. Since I seem to have more tolerance for the suboptimal, I have never bailed out of a dive because of poor visibility. That is ... not until today.

I am sitting on a panga half a mile from the shore with three local fishermen and my friends Manfred and Marimar. We are diving along a section of the fairly unexplored and wild coast of Michoacán state in Mexico, hoping to shed some light on how preserved the underwater life around here is. Or at least that is what we were hoping to do. A few moments ago we were at 60 feet, trying to find the sea floor in half-foot visibility. I eventually managed by almost ramming my head against it. After a few moments of flailing around in conditions resembling a sandstorm over the Sahara desert, we managed to find each other. No need for words, our faces said it all, - “let’s get out of here”.

So, here we are, on our second day, with four dives under our belt and little to show for the effort. Manfred and I both with underwater cameras. My memory card is almost empty. I doubt Manfred did much better. This is our last tank and we just blew a quarter of its content.

“

WE FOUND WHAT WE HOPED FOR. ABUNDANT SEA LIFE IN A SPOT NO ONE HAS LIKELY EVER DIVED BEFORE.

COSTA MICHOACANA

Quite frankly, we feel bummed out. “What’s next then?” We consult the locals and quiz them about other potential reefs to visit. “Perhaps we might find better conditions farther from the shore?”, We ask. “There is a pinnacle a few miles west of here”, the captain volunteers. “Lots of large sharks around”, he adds as an afterthought. We look at each other “Large sharks? That could be quite interesting at near-zero visibility”. We consider our options and finally decide to head back to our camp and dive around a rocky point we explored yesterday. Conditions were far from great, but the spot did look interesting: sandy bottom surrounding a nice reef with a few overhangs and crevices. As far as we could tell in the poor visibility, there were lots of fish around a wall covered with a variety of corals.

When we arrive a few minutes later, the surface conditions look just like yesterday, swells still assault the rocky point, and shallow reefs are awash with foam. Since we had already geared up, we are in the water in seconds. When the bubbles disperse in front of my dive mask, I blink. “Hm, this is not bad!” The water is much bluer than yesterday and visibility is at least double. A few kick cycles take us into calm water sheltered by the coral-covered wall we noticed yesterday. Only today, we can see it properly. In this instant, our expedition turns from an exercise in futility into a proper and exciting exploration. I am truly, genuinely, and instantly happy. I am thrilled. This little corner is amazing. Giant clouds of Spottail grunts envelop

the rocky formations and open up as we approach to reveal a coralcovered scenery. Oranges, whites, pinks, purples, and yellows - small, but plentiful Gorgonian corals are everywhere, interrupted on the steeper walls by clumps of Tubastraea. I turn around to look at my friends. Their unbelieving expressions say it all. We found what we hoped for. Abundant sea life in a spot no one has likely ever dived before. We enjoy every second of our remaining air here. I finally take some decent shots.

When we surface I look over at Marimar and Manfred and see the same transformation I feel inside me. This might not have been the best dive of our careers, but right now - after the struggle, we endured it sure feels like it. We talk and talk, sharing our impressions, surprise and awe. We cannot keep our mouths shut. Later that day, as I drive up north along the Panamerican highway I still cruise on this warm feeling of satisfaction. I know I will gladly drive again for 12 hours to come back for more.

WITH THE SUPPORT OF: ABISMAR

MARIETAS

Mexican dancer (Elysia diomedea)

MARIETAS

NUDIS MARATHON

LAS MARIETAS

Banderas Bay JAL August 6th, 2022

It has been a while since I dove around the Marietas Islands. I used to come here often before a photo of one of the local beaches made it around the world, marking it as one of the “50 Beaches to Blow Your Mind”. Tourism explosively grew after that, and for those seeking peace in nature, Marietas lost its charm. Since then, I have come back only twice. Once during my son’s PADI certification and the second time to photograph the local university coral restoration project. Later, I would always opt to dive El Morro, just 7 miles south, a spot that attracts mostly Scuba divers and none of the regular tourism crowd Marietas suffers from.

I knew about the effort to limit the number of visitors and vessels put in place to respond to the islands’ newfound popularity. Yet, I never returned to see whether it brought about the desired effect. When I got an invitation from my friends in Abismar to join their annual “Maraton de los nudis,” a nudibranch spotting event, I felt it was time to go back. Abismar expeditions are always incredibly well organized, and all participants are friendly and experienced divers. It turns out they are great wildlife spotters, too. I felt that coming back to Marietas in a company like this

would surely make it worth it. So I signed up.

When we arrived, we were one of the only two dive boats on site—a good start. We jumped in and fanned out over the scattered shallow reefs in search of sea life. The visibility wasn’t extraordinary, but the water was calm and warm, and the dive group’s pace was slow. Perfect for taking photos. The reefs surprised me. There was more life than I remembered—schools of fish, small but relatively abundant corals, and of course, the nudis.

In the end, we didn’t break the event’s record for the number of species recorded, but I thoroughly enjoyed the two one-hour plus long dives and brought home a few good shots for my upcoming field guide.

Blue spiny lobster (Panulirus inflatus)

PHOTO GLIMPSE UNDER THE ARCHES

I requested the services of my daughter Madelaine - a great swimmer and diver to capture a few images of a human silhouette against the entry to the large arch at Los Arcos to show the scope and shape of the tunnel.

I started with a few shots without lighting and then moved on to the more difficult task of getting some Soldierfish in the foreground.

The water movement inside the arch is constant and the soldierfish hide only under one particular rock. I knew I would probably only get a shot or two before the fish get spooked by my strobes. We practiced Madelaine’s position and timing without strobes first and then I fired them up. It was a touch-and-go situation, but it worked out. (next page)

LOS ARCOS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL July 29th, 2021

LOS ARCOS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL July 29th, 2021

LAS LAJAS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL June 14h, 2021

SPECIES GLIMPSE MEXICAN RED LEG HERMIT CRAB

(Clibanarius digueti)

Small, but voracious detritus feeders, these hermit crabs are very abundant along the Western Mexican coast. They live inside snail shells, which I always thought they find discarded. But I came across references in literature, pointing to the fact that hermit crabs might actually attack snails to acquire their shells.

El Morro

is one of the best dive sites in Banderas Bay. It consists of one large pinnacle, another smaller one, located in the western direction at a distance of about 500 meters, plus a few small scattered rocks that barely break the water surface. To reach El Morro from Puerto Vallarta, count on a boat ride of at least 1 - 1.5 hrs (depending on weather conditions and your boat speed).

Situated practically on the doorstep of the open ocean, El Morro can be a challenging dive due to swells, high winds, and currents, especially during the winter months. In the summer, however, and with a bit of luck, diving here can be a wonderful experience. The eastern side of the main pinnacle descends vertically to a sloping sandy bank at about 40m depth on top of which a large tunnel opens into the interior of the rock. Experienced divers can explore the passage and emerge on the opposite side having traversed the pinnacle’s entire mass.

El Morro attracts large schools of fish, Giant manta rays, Nurse sharks, and in the colder months also a small group of California sea lions. A few lucky divers have also run into the occasional visiting Whale shark.

EL MORRO

Banderas Bay June 23th, 2022

Los Anegados

is a dive spot conveniently located between El Morro and the Marietas Islands. That means you can treat it as a destination in itself or as a great second dive while visiting either one of the other two. That’s exactly what we did on my last visit. Strong currents made our dive at El Morro a bit challenging for those among us with less experience and after a brief discussion, we aimed for Los Anegados for our second tank. No one was disappointed. Above the water surface there is little to see around here, but underwater you can explore an amazing maze of reefs, swim-throughs, and caves. Those, if you are lucky, might have a few nurse sharks resting in their dark depths.

LOS ANEGADOS

Banderas Bay June 23th, 2022

Nurse sharks (Ginglymostoma cirratum)

LOS ARCOS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL March 19h, 2021

SPECIES GLIMPSE PACIFIC MUTTON HAMLET

(Alphestes immaculatus)

Awell-camouflaged fish that almost always prefers to stay put and blend with the surroundings betting on its capacity to escape detection. I often see them around grassy sea beds or in rocky crevices. If approached slowly, they are one of the easier species of fish to photograph.

EAGLES

STILL SOAR UNDER THE ARCHES

LOS ARCOS

I am lost. Distracted by a beautiful stonefish I took too long trying to get the perfect photo of, I lost sight of the dive group. I have only a vague idea of which way to go. That alone wouldn’t bother me much. This happens to me all the time. I know the procedures. Now, however, I am supposed to follow Cesar to territories unknown to me underwater. From our usual starting point in Las Lajas along a course, I have never taken before to one of the rocky arches we do not visit very often. The spot seems to have become a favorite hangout to a group of Pacific spotted eagle rays and Cesar is eager to show me. I am eager to see, of course. I have met these magnificent, classy looking and graceful rays many times in the past, but usually only briefly and never more than one or two at a time. I am also sorry to report that I do not have a single decent photo of one. Today, I meant to change that. Now, I might not have a chance. I stop, check my compass and look around. Cesar has a decade and a half of know-how over me here. I bet he could find his way around blindfolded, but I do not recognize any of the features around. I do a 360 scan looking up to see if I can spot any bubbles. Nothing. I consult my compass again and decide on a course. I fold my strobe arms, clip my camera to its chest

Pacific white-spotted eagle ray (Aetobatus laticeps)

Banderas Bay JAL May 18th, 2021

harness and kick off from the bottom. I am not ready to bail out yet. I remember Cesar telling me the arch entry has a distinct wall on either of its sides. If I run into one, I should be able to tell. I clutch my camera rig tight to my chest to minimize its drag and frog kick forward. I pry my eyes away from a very nice reef I would otherwise love to explore and swim on.

It doesn’t take long and I can see a gently rising reef on my right. I follow along its edge and peer over. Sure enough, a deep gully separates it from what seems to be a shadow of a similar wall farther out. I dip into it and let it lead me forward. Looming darkness grows ahead of me. I know I made it. I am swimming towards a large tunnel. I unclip my camera and switch on the strobes. As I drift in I can see human shapes knocked out black against the light pouring in from its other side. I found my dive buddies. Then movement catches my eye. A dark, undulating carpet-like wave approaches, two more follow. Eagles. I let them slip by. I want to see what they do, before spooking them with my strobes. I try to stay as motionless as possible, but as I exhale, my bubbles startle the last ray and with a flick of its pectoral fins it vaults over me - gone in a flash. I swim on to report to Cesar. The rest of the dive group is running low on air and he will lead them to the surface, his hands explain. I nod. As we turn around and swim back to where I just came from, I can see a faint shadow of our boat waiting on the surface to receive the divers. I tug at Cesar’s fin and signal with my hands “Go ahead, I will hang back for 5”.

I deflate my BCD to sink a little. My idea is to stay as invisible as possible, hoping the rays will come back. Sharp, rough, fist-size rocks cover the bottom here, and the gentle, but persistent swell would drag me back and forth over this cheese grater-like floor should I try to park myself on it. I will need to stay afloat in the water column. So, I hover and wait. Then I see them again. Three eagle rays, one after another glide in above me - dark silhouettes against the frame of the tunnel entry. I am ready for this. With my strobes turned off I snap a photo of the three shadows standing out against the blue.

LOS ARCOS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL May 18th, 2021

The Eagle rays don’t seem to have noticed me, but instead of entering the tunnel, they swing left and disappear from view. In a minute they are back though and I take another shot. The third time around I count five. I am happy with the photos I took, but before I return to the surface I decide to turn my strobes on and get something my friends from Aetos.id - the Pacific Eagle Ray Research and Conservation Project Network, could use to photo ID the individuals. The dorsal side with its white-on-black pattern is much better, but I am told a photo of the white ventral surface can also be valuable. As expected, the rays are not very happy with my flashing lights and with 3 photos in the box, I decide to grant them their peace.

“What draws them to this place?”, I wonder as I start my ascent. “Shelter?” For sure. This tunnel is certainly the one least visited by boats in the area. Could there be something more to this though?

Later on, as I go through my photos at home, I try to find answers on the internet. I browse Google Scholar and Research Gate, but apart from the 2014 publication establishing A. laticeps as a new species, splitting it on the genetic basis from A. narinari, I find only basics I already know. There is no doubt our knowledge of these wonderful rays is limited. In the light of this, you need to appreciate initiatives such as Aetos.id for taking a step in the right direction. The idea to leverage data collected by scuba divers and snorkelers in the effort to identify and better understand the natural history of the Pacific spotted eagle ray is proving to be a low-cost and incredibly effective way to find out more.

Today anyone who manages to snap a photo or a video clip of A. laticeps anywhere in between Mexico and Ecuador (its range of distribution) can upload it to Aetos. id via an online form.

Do you happen to have a photo? Would you like to join the project? Start right here >

WITH THE SUPPORT OF: BANDERAS SCUBA REPUBLIC

BAJO DEL CRISTO

Puerto Vallarta, JAL March 19h, 2021

SPECIES GLIMPSE ORANGE CUP CORAL

(Tubastraea coccinea)

A polyp with extended tentacles surrounded by retracted neighbors. It is fascinating to observe the seasonal changes of this large-polyp colony at the foot of Bajo del Cristo at Las Lajas.

Tubastraea is a non reef building heterotrofic species that can live in total darkness as it depends on its own predatory prowess rather than on symbiotic Zooxanthellae for food.

I find this colony always more abundant during colder winter months. In summer it tends to shrink to about a half its maximum size.

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I haven’t stopped pondering the Devil’s Jaw abyss since I first dove along its sheer wall with my friend Cesar a few years ago. I urged him to tell me and later show me everything he knew about the spot and we explored it together down to about 120 feetour scuba limits. Later on, we shared the excitement of our first Trident dives, moved by seascapes illuminated in the sub’s headlights. After several missions and despite a few dreadful entanglements, the ROV let us extend our knowledge of the wall beyond the 200 feet mark. Yet, the mystery of the Jaw and its unknown depth still draws us. When I dive along its edge I often stop to sit and stare down listening only to my breathing and when I am lucky, to distant whale songs. Occasionally a school of huge Pacific crevalle jacks appears from the blackness below at a rocket speed to swirl around me, then to disappear in a flash a moment later. Every once in a while Giant mantas grace us with their company. I am familiar with the large fans of Myriopathes black corals in the upper reaches of the wall, and the fish that live around them. Thanks to the Trident we also know that from 50 meters down a thick forest of whip corals sways gently in the ever-present current. But we know little more. No one does, it seems. And so our mission to find out more continues.

The most obvious question remained unanswered. “How deep is the Jaw?” Regardless of what a quick Google search might throw your way, no one has ever claimed to have measured its depth. Some sources make the mistake of conflating the

LOS ARCOS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL March 11th, 2021

minformation on large-scale deep-sea features, such as the Middle America Trench or the Banderas canyon with the Devil’s Jaw, and claim it to be miles deep. Several local and international websites publish an interesting figure of 480 m, but I haven’t been able to locate the source of this information anywhere in the popular or scientific literature and the fact that the wording of the statement is virtually identical on all websites makes me think that it was simply copied over and over again without much regard to its origin. The only peer-reviewed publications with definitive and rigorously measured depths of Banderas Bay known to me are the work of Dr. Roman Alvarez Bejar of UNAM. His studies however were conducted on a much larger scale to create a 3D model of the Banderas canyon and weren’t concerned with any close-to-the-shore features, such as the Jaw. I made it a point to study them in detail and even meet Dr. Bejar during one of his visits to Puerto Vallarta. We spent hours talking about the subject and on one occasion visited Los Arcos on board his yacht. We shared a little hope that his yacht’s sonar could shed some light on the topic but quickly understood that its range limited to 200 m depth will leave us in the dark. A stronger, more sophisticated equipment would be needed for that task. So I started to look for sonars. Then a very active member of the ROV forum and deep-sea researcher from Australia Jason Perry, with whom I had been consulting Trident’s tether management (in other words, how not to get stuck), proposed I go medieval on the issue. “Have you considered mechanical sounding?”, He asked. He suggested using a braided fishing line and a lead weight instead of a fancy (expensive) sonar. He was convinced I could get better results from this low-tech technique.

A few days later we dropped a 6-pound diving weight down at the end of a 500-meter long 80-pound test braided fishing line. We hit bottom at 410 m.

... to be continued. Stay tuned.

SPECIES GLIMPSE

DIOMEDES’ NUDIBRANCH

(Elysia diomedea)

The Diomedes’ nudibranch likes to feed on algae. Algae contain chloroplasts and some of them remain in the nudibranch’s tissues after being eaten and keep on producing energy as they continue to photosynthesize. This is likely why this species seems to prefer shallow sunlit areas, where light intensity is strong enough to maximize this effect.

LAS LAJAS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL February 19h, 2021

TO EYE

with a Giant Pacific Manta

As I glide over the top of the Devil’s Jaw I don’t know that I am being watched. Visibility is bad today and I swim close to the seafloor, looking for something to photograph. But I am jerked out of my reverie when I hear Cesar shout into his regulator. As always he is slightly ahead of me and I lift my eyes to find him. But instead of the familiar figure of a diver with split fins, I am staring into a giant black carpet. Manta. Big one! I have one ton and a half of fish five feet away from me. If it hadn’t been for Cesar, I might have never known. I stare. The manta floats past me slowly and as I turn to follow I see how it dips gently and folds its huge pectoral fin to carve a slow right turn. As it travels, its form dissipating into the greenish hues of cold, murky water, I lean sideways to intercept it on what I judge will be its future course. I know better than to try chasing it. A second or two later I cannot see it anymore. I wait. The abyss of the Jaw looms black below me. I wait some more. Just as I start thinking I was wrong and the manta is gone for good, I see it again. It is moving slowly, but steadily towards me. It keeps coming. Another stroke of its fins brings it within a touching distance. It passes at my level and I can see its large eye lock into mine. We are looking at each other for a second, two, three. The manta holds a steady speed and I need to start kicking to keep up. It carries two very large remoras on its head. The one closer to me, a sizable fish in itself with about 3 feet length, shudders and moves off slightly unnerved by my proximity. Meanwhile, the manta, completely untroubled holds my stare. Eventually, I stop kicking and the manta slowly drifts off, following the same arching path. I see Cesar some 20 feet

LOS ARCOS

Giant Pacific manta ray (Mobula birostris) with a large Remora (Remora remora) attached

Puerto Vallarta, JAL December 15th, 2020

away patiently waiting for his turn. He doesn’t have to wait long. A moment later the manta moves past him, dips its fin, and glides away. I cannot see it anymore, but I have the feeling this encounter isn’t over yet. I wait. Hanging above the blackness, the rocky shelf on my left I contemplate the green wall of cloudy water and wait. Then the manta comes again. What happens next is a carbon copy of its last pass. A few seconds within an arm’s reach from me, looking into my masked face, remoras freaking out. Then past Cesar and gone into the void. This is amazing. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that the manta chooses to come back to us. I am not sure what to call it. Interest? Curiosity? Both terms sound somehow lame to me.

Then Cesar signals to me with his hands. He will lead the rest of our dive group back to the surface. I check my gauge. I have plenty of air, but this being our second dive my non-deco will start chasing me up in a few minutes, too. I am not ready to leave yet though. I move away from the vertical wall below me and aim for the main mass of the islet. I look up and see my buddies disappear from sight. I cannot see the manta anymore. I swim on. Another minute and I reach the islet’s main wall. I am at 30 feet depth now and my non-deco jumps to a comfortable 40 minutes. I have 1000 psi in my tank. As I look for another photo opportunity a movement over my left shoulder catches my eye. I turn. The manta is back. This is astonishing. How on earth did it even find me in this mess? The visibility is lousy 15 feet here. Just as before, the manta approaches in a swooping arc. In a few seconds, it is so close I could practically kiss it. Water conditions being what they are, I didn’t see much point in taking a photo before. Now I raise my camera. The side of its face, topped by its starboard remora fills my wide-angle. I snap a portrait of my new companion, slightly afraid to spook it with my flash. The event doesn’t seem to bother it one bit though and it continues on its circular cruise. This is truly wonderful. Before I run out of air 20 minutes later, the manta comes back repeatedly to within an arm’s length of me. Even as I ascend to my safety stop I can see its

Puerto Vallarta, JAL December 15th, 2020

dim shadow circling below. “Is it looking for me?”, I have to ask myself. I don’t know of course. But it sure feels like it. I am often sorry when the limits of scuba command me to return to the surface, now I feel almost sad. I wish I could stay longer and try to figure out what drives this magnificent animal to seek our company. Thanks to scientific research we know mantas are smart, largebrained, possessing problem-solving capacity, and possibly even self-aware. But it is one thing to read a paper, and quite another to play a part in an underwater interspecies handshake.

It is unforgettable ...

WITH THE SUPPORT OF: BANDERAS SCUBA REPUBLIC

SPECIES GLIMPSE HUBB’S OCTOPUS (Octopus

hubbsorum)

A nocturnal predator of the sea floor, Hubb’s octopus feeds mostly on crustaceans.

This species can grow to up to 1 m in length, although sexual maturity is achieved at about half this size.

Just like other octopi they are highly intelligent animals, that recognize shapes and colors. They live very short lives. In Mexican Pacific they are regularly hunted by local fishermen. Lacking formal protection and thorough population studies, they are often considered over exploited by conservationists.

LAS LAJAS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL March 5th, 2019

juvenile Cortez angelfish (Pomacanthus zonipectus)

“ THEN IT COMES AGAIN. NO MISTAKE NOW. A HUMPBACK WHALE SINGING. ”

PACIFICO

I am floating suspended 30 feet below the surface, holding my camera against my chest. I am not taking photos. I have my eyes closed. I listen. The 7 mm wetsuit hoodie robs me of much of the audio around me. I am not sure I heard right. Then it comes again. No mistake now. A humpback whale singing. Its song starts with high eerie wailing, then plunges to deeper tones, rumble follows. I open my eyes. I am looking west - outward, away from the reef behind me with its beautiful Pavona coral colony and a resident juvenile Cortez angelfish, that up until a moment ago monopolized my attention. The whale sings on. I know the song will have traveled for miles, but you would swear the whale was close. I imagine a giant dark shape materializing from the blue-green wall of water in front of me, knowing it is unlikely to happen.

Then I see a flash behind my left shoulder and turn. The Cortez still patrols its range. It darts left and right and then settles on its coral perch. It too is looking west. I wonder if it is listening to the whalelike me. It must. It occurs to me that as a juvenile reef dweller, it might not have seen or heard a whale before. I, on the other hand, have. “You see, fish, you might be at home here, but I know some things you

CAREYES

Costa Alegre, JAL November 28th, 2020

don’t”. That thought amuses me for a moment, and I prepare to lift my camera again to snap a photo of this amazingly colorful animal. I can tell it is not thrilled with my bulky camera and flashing strobes, but it is either very brave or too fond of its spot to run. Either way, I am grateful for the opportunity. With the humpback providing chillingly beautiful surround audio, I get the shot I want and lower my camera again. (previous page)

I do not wish to overstay my welcome and decide to move on. I am on the western tip of “my islet” in Careyes, almost exactly two months after my first diving adventures here. Where I fought swells and bad visibility then, I am finding a gentler and bluer side of the Pacific today. I guess this is as calm as it gets around here. No Caribbean to be sure, but a long shot from the pounding swells I rode here before. The visibility is also decent 30 feet. That makes it 28 feet more than last time. I glide a bit deeper alongside the shapes of the Pavona and kneel on the sand next to it. Close up the coral looks like a tan-colored velvet blanket. From a distance more like a spilled milk chocolate hardened into bubbly waves. A cloud of small silver fish I had seen earlier close to the surface descends along the reef in mesmerizing synchrony and wraps around the coral colony. Light from above bounces off every one of the small fish. As they swim back and forth around me, I take a few shots. The fish is so close and so reflective that I have to dial back a few stops on my strobe power. (opposite)

As I continue my circumnavigation into shallower water I am glad to run into some familiar inhabitants. The shy Panamic green moray eel (Gymnothorax castaneus) still lives below the folds of another Pavona colony and one large school of Yellowtail surgeons (Prionurus punctatus) still prefers the rocky point, at the edge of the Pocillopora coral field (following spread). I look up at the fish - a dense cloud of synchronized swimmers easily moving in the foamy water around the point. They allow me to get quite close and take a few shots. Only a bit farther I find the Pocilloporas.

Leaf coral (Pavona gigantea)

SPECIES GLIMPSE

YELLOWTAIL SURGEONFISH (Prionurus punctatus)

I find surgeonfish almost always in large schools. They are not particularly shy, which makes them great subjects to photograph. They feed on algae on rocky reefs and often form mixed schools with other fish species, such as the Sea Chubs (Kyphosus analogus), which you can see in the lower right of this photo.

CAREYES

Costa Alegre, JAL November 28th, 2020

Their non-assuming shapes and colors roll out in front of me into a carpet that extends as far as I can see. I explore its periphery looking for a spot to safely park myself for a shot. Most colonies at the edge of the field are tidy round heads, but one section I find seems to have suffered some kind of an impact. (opposite) Its side is shattered, pieces of broken coral lie strewn on the floor. Its entire flank is open revealing much of the internal structure. I can see that only the upper quarter is living coral. The rest of its mass, which would normally be hidden from sight, is old and now dead skeleton. A clump of sea urchins made home at its base and Giant damselfish (Microspathodon dorsalis) seem to claim their territory here. The omnipresent Cortez rainbow wrasses (Thalassoma lucasanum) race around. I wonder how old this structure might be. I know Pocillopora are one of the faster growing stony corals, but even when things go well, they will not grow more than 2 - 3 cm/ year. The formation in front of me is at least a meter high, making it without any doubt many decades old. Despite its broken side, the top of the colony seems to be thriving. If I were to guess what happened here, I would blame strong wave action during a hurricane. There wouldn’t be a shortage of candidates. Powerful storms hit this coast quite often. Hurricane Patricia, which made landfall here in 2015, was the strongest ever recorded storm on the planet, with sustained winds of 345 km/ h. Easily capable of delivering significant damage to the reef.

Later I notice other damaged corals, but all in all, the reef looks healthy to me. I do remember though my friend Marco telling me the locals claim the reef used to be much larger in the past. I have no reason to doubt that and I shudder thinking this reef might one day disappear altogether. I suspect most visitors are not even aware of this treasure when they come down to swim and enjoy the beach. I have never seen a single photo or mention of it anywhere. I think it is time to change that. I am not here just to enjoy a few quiet hours underwater while listening to whales after all. Let’s take some more photos and put them to work!

WITH THE SUPPORT OF: PACIFIC LUXURY VILLAS

Most of the coral reef around the islet is populated by either Pocillopora or Pavona colonies. I found only one pinnacle on the western edge of my circumnavigation that was covered by this beautiful variety of Gorgonians.

CAREYES

Costa Alegre, JAL November 28th, 2020

SPECIES GLIMPSE PANAMIC SOLDIERFISH

(Myripristis leiognathus)

It is very rare to find Soldierfish in the open during day hours. They like to hide in groups under conspicuous rocks and pinnacles, sometimes sharing the same space with Tinsel squirrelfish.

In this photo from Bajo del Cristo at Los Arcos, they used as a shelter a colony of Orange cup corals at the base of the pinnacle.

BAJO DEL CRISTO

Puerto Vallarta, JAL December 28, 2019

will be

SHORT

I’mclutching a trembling anchor rope with my both hands watching Pirro, our divemaster, give a final countdown. The thought that this feels more like an assault than a dive flashes through my head. My six buddies from Abismar dive school and I are flailing along the line as a bunch of loose beads in a strong current off the Western face of El Morro.

This is our second dive today and yes - the first one was interesting enough. Initially we managed to find shelter inside Morro’s famous cave, surrounded by solid rock at 120 feet (opposite). But once we were out, the relative peace was over. The ocean meant to put us all to a test. Good thing there are no rookies with

us today. Finding a reasonable course was impossible. The current unpredictable, pulling and pushing from all possible directions. Some of us bailed out having run out of air, others after experiencing their first ever effects of underwater motion sickness.

I was lucky and none of this befell me, but I had my own set of problems to deal with. Smashing my camera to pieces being my biggest concern. As my non deco limits kept pushing me to ever shallower waters, swells joined the current for the show. This experience could no longer be called a dive. A liquid roller coaster

would be a more fitting name. Then, at 15 feet depth, I found the most wonderful micro city of blennies. Dozens of barnacle shells inhabited by fish of various sizes. I felt jealous watching them eye me suspiciously from their comfortable cylindrical shelters. Trying to take a photo of this was foolish, but I couldn’t resist and tried anyway. (following spread)

Now, an hour later we are back in the water, begging for more buttwhooping. We are 25 miles from shore. With the exception of this pinnacle and a few stray rocks, everything else is open ocean. Those who miscalculate on descent will have to abort. Next stop is Hawaii.

EL MORRO

Banderas Bay, NAY October 30th, 2020

Juan Pedro “Pirro” navigating the famous El Morro cave

EL MORRO

Banderas Bay, NAY October 30th, 2020

Barnacle “Bleny City” on top of one of the shallow pinnacles at El Morro.

I’m ready. I have my camera strapped to my chest. Then Pirro’s thumb points down. Dive, dive, dive. We are good 120 feet “upstream” from the pinnacle, but its wall is in front of me in seconds. I push down, turn and grab a hold with my left hand, using my right to cover my lens port. Everyone else shoots by me dragged by the current. I let go and follow the group. Low rocky ridges rise from the ocean floor close by and I vault over the nearest one hoping for calmer waters. Finding it I grab on again. I’m at the tail of our group and I lose sight of my buddies in an instant. I cut across the current using rocky hand holds as a climber would. I look around and as always marvel at the incredible ease with which the sea life around me goes about its business, while I struggle like a slug.

I’m fine. A bit winded, but fine, unafraid. I have a clear mind, plenty of air. On the other hand, I’m being reduced to a human flag pelted by the forces of the sea. I need both hands just to stay put. I also wonder about my dive buddies. Chances that I will find them now are slim. I glance at my dive computer. Seventy feet. Pushing this further would be foolish. I decide to pull the plug on this. For the first time in two hundred dives.

When I break the surface I find our boat not far away. I signal that I’m ok and a few moments later I am on board. I clocked in a nine minute dive - my shortest ever.

I ask about the rest of the group. I learn that before picking me up, the captain had been following traces of their bubbles. The heaving seas make them hard to find though and it takes us a few minutes to locate them again. When the group finally surfaces I learn they enjoyed a fairly decent dive, found a way to escape the current and had a good time. Do I feel jealous? You bet. But I am not sorry I cut my dive short. Today was good training. Days like this certainly teach you appreciate the “easy” dives.

Often we find nurse sharks resting in caves around El Morro

WITH THE SUPPORT OF: ABISMAR

By now you may have noticed a few names that keep on popping up in my field notes. El Bajo del Cristo, Devil’s Jaw, Las Lajas. All those and a couple more are our most common underwater hangouts. I could never get tired of visiting them over and over again. To know and understand their complexity cannot be achieved in any other way. Exploring new places, however, is always exciting. In a way, it reminds me of my hitchhiking years. You never knew what the next ride might be like - and that is exactly how I feel right now.

A fortuitous combination of a commercial assignment and an invitation by a friend brings me to Careyes. A stunningly beautiful section of the West Mexican coast 2 hrs drive south from my hometown of Puerto Vallarta. Having completed my obligations here, I’m standing in full dive gear in the shade of the resident palm trees on Playa Rosa ready to jump in. My friend and host Marco incredulously eyes my 3 mm wetsuit. “Estas seguro?” (Are you sure), he says. The water is 30 degrees Celsius (86 F). “I never dive without a wetsuit “, I reply. Jellyfish, abrasions, long dives. I try to explain. I have to be an odd sight on a beach, I will admit that much. I even have a pair of industrial knee pads on! Looking at the swells rising over a rocky point of a nearby islet I know I will be glad to have them on today.

Marco just came back from his before-the-breakfast surfing session. He looks very happy despite what he reported to me earlier as a “wipe-out of the year”! Marco and I, you see, have a very different idea of what constitutes favorable sea conditions. Swells make him happy. Swells make my life hell. Today there will be swells. Big ones, Marco reports. Internally I sigh a bit, but I’m going in anyway. Stay away from rocky points and shallow reefs full of sea urchins. I know how to do that. I dive in shallow water quite often and the Pacific is almost never calm. With luck, I will find a patch of peaceful water somewhere.

Costa Alegre, JAL September 27th, 2020

A school of Scissortail chromis (Chromis atrilobata) swimming over Pavona coral colony

A colorful two inch blenny (unidentified) guarding his little patch on the reef

I have never dived here before, but I know the area from my previous snorkeling visits. That will have to be my advantage today. I also have a plan. To visit one of the best-preserved Pocillopora coral colonies I know. I can see it from where we stand on the beach now. A field of dark water in between the northern tip of the islet and the rocky mainland. I know the coral lies mostly in shallows. I will need to dive along its edge today to stay at a safe distance from its fragile forms.

Marco wishes me luck and I step in. I set course on my compass, dive, and glide over the sandy bottom towards my objective. Visibility is bad. Millions of suspended particles stirred up by the wave action float around me.

Ten minutes of swimming in this liquid white-out finally brings me to the islet wall. The visibility is marginally better here and I see the first coral heads. Pocillopora are stony corals occurring in the Pacific and Indian ocean. They remind me of a giant vegetable. So it is no surprise that such appearance gave them their commonly used name, too - cauliflower corals. I see a few growing on boulders sticking out of the sandy bottom. Then I find a bigger cluster and eventually - only a few kicks ahead - an entire uninterrupted field of the coral garden opens up in front of me. This rare sight is what I came to see. I check my depth and judge the swell. Then slowly glide over the reef. I lift my camera rig to my chest, knowing all too well that there is no chance I can take a decent shot today. I will mostly watch.

Coral reefs are often compared to cities. Large, complex, diverse, fast-moving, dazzling. The one I’m hovering over wouldn’t be New York though. No high rises, no flashy colors or forms. This Pocillopora “city” looks, on the first glimpse, almost conservative. Clad in maroons, dark greens, and rust colors with tight, uniformly spaced building blocks. From a distance more like a soothing countryside landscape of rolling hills. That is because colonies growing in very shallow water and therefore at the mercy of waves tend to be shorter and more compact, in deeper areas I would find thinner and more open forms. Here, if you wish to see what is really going on inside the reef, you will need to stick your nose closer. From a few inches, you will not only start to appreciate the intricacy of individual polyps but also discover the wonderful diversity of life that lives under the canopy of Pocillopora club-like heads. You start noticing Blueeyed spotted hermit crabs (Clibanarius digueti), Christmas tree worms (Spirobranchus giganteus), tiny Mexican barnacle blennies (Acanthemblemaria macrospilus), and all sorts of juvenile coral

Playa Rosa, Careyes

fish. It is no surprise to find Longnose hawkfish (Oxycirrhites typus) taking shelter in the coral as well since in Banderas Bay, I find them almost exclusively inside the large fans of black coral. I am absolutely sure I can spend my entire tank on an area no larger than a dining table and never run out of creatures to photograph.

But the ocean will deny me the privilege today, I’m afraid. I have to use all my skill to stay clear of the coral. I have nothing to hold onto safely. I’m at the sea’s mercy. I discover some wonderful coral heads in a deep cleft and attempt to descend to take a shot, but in the narrow space the water movement is even more aggressive and I need to abort. Two opposite emotions struggle in my head. I’m happy, I feel privileged, I’m excited with what I have found. At the same time I find myself swearing into my regulator with frustration anytime I think I just framed a shot only to be swept away before I can press the shutter. I’m in a beautiful hell.

In the end, I spend 2 hours slowly making my way around the entire islet. The Pocillopora field eventually disappears, although individual corals can be found all around its rocky shore. In a few areas, they wage a slow-motion war for space on Pavona colonies. I run into large schools of Yellowfin surgeonfish at the seaward tip of the islet and a large panamic green moray eel weathering the swells in a deep crevice right below them. Sea-life is abundant and happylooking here.

I hate coming home empty-handed and I attempt a few shots in between the swells at a deeper end of my circumnavigation. But nothing is as exciting as the reef city I visited earlier. I just have to come again. And hopefully, the ocean will be friendlier this time around.

WITH THE SUPPORT OF: PACIFIC LUXURY VILLAS

& FINGER

LOS ARCOS

Banderas Bay, JAL September 9h, 2020

Today

I feel frustrated. As I’m preparing my gear for the next dive, I’m not able to make my camera housing green light its pressure test. I give it a few tries. Same result. I inspect, wash, and grease all O’ rings. None shows any signs of damage, but I do it anyway. My biggest fear is of course some irreparable damage to the integrity of the housing. I see that as unlikely though. I am always extremely careful with it.

An hour later and with the most obvious causes ruled out I’m starting to suspect the pressure check electronic board might be the problem. Its complexity however is well beyond me. I know I will need

to ask support for help. That means tomorrow I won’t be diving with my camera. For the first time in years.

Now, 10 hours later, I’m floating in the warm and calm water off the Big Arch’s northern face, waiting for the rest of the dive party to jump in. I feel odd without the heavy rig hanging off my chest. My only consolation is an old Nikonos V on my neck and an antique GoPro in my pocket.

I will do what I can. The Nikonos is loaded with a 200 ASA film, too slow for underwater, but I may try a few shots on the surface. As for the

GoPro, I’m not even sure it works. I fished it out last minute from my box of retired gear with no time to test it.

A few moments later with everyone in the water, we go down. As I slowly sink I don’t know what to do with my hands. I’m usually busy switching my strobes on, tweaking their position, and making sure everything works. Instead, I clasp my hands together and peacefully float down. I look around, I adjust my BCD straps, I look around again. I have time. At the bottom, we proceed along a familiar route. I know most of the permanent features by now. Rocky outcrops, large fans of black coral, the lip of the

wall plunging down the Devil’s Jaw. I make a few half-hearted attempts to film with my ancient GoPro, but find it hard without the LCD screen the more recent generations now have.

Eventually, I decide just to enjoy the dive. And it works. I love taking photos underwater. I really do. But the rig is a big, clumsy piece of technology that requires your constant attention. Taking photos you need to be as focused as a pilot landing an aircraft. And even in between shots you need to babysit the rig. Be mindful of its bulk, its drag (it is a hell of a workout in a current!), and all of its exposed fragile parts such as the strobes, lights, and its big wide-angle glass dome. Today I feel like a parent, whose kids were picked up by their

grandma. I miss them, but I do admit I’m starting to enjoy the freedom of it!

I roll onto my back and look up at the surface. Impossible with a 20-pound camera strapped to your chest. I remember I always used to enjoy doing this. I follow a few schools of fish, peek under a couple of rocky ledges, keep up easily with my dive buddies. I am having a good time.

At half tank, we leave the wall and turn left. This will take us upwards to a more shallow area, closer to the main mass of the islet. A few kick cycles on I spot a movement ahead. Something fairly large is digging a pit on the ocean floor. It darts away.

Stone triggerfish (Pseudobalistes naufragium)

A moment later it is back and it resumes its digging project. I stop and watch with fascination the largest Stone triggerfish (Pseudobalistes naufragium) I have ever seen. It has already dug a sizable crater into the rough seafloor. The fish notices my presence and flicks an angry eye at me. I become as still as I can and watch. Not only do I want to keep on enjoying this spectacle, but I’m also very aware of the rather infamous bad nature of Triggerfish. Large and jealousy territorial, they are known to challenge scuba divers and occasionally even attack. I try to creep closer and fumble for my GoPro. The fish flicks me another angry eye and disappears in a flash, taking out its frustration on a passing Damselfish.

Then I get an idea. With the Triggerfish out of sight, I quickly move ahead and drop my GoPro in the dug out pit. I let it rest on its back, tilted upwards on an angle I assume should capture some action. Then I quickly retreat, lie down, and hold my breath. The fish is back in a few seconds. It can still see me, but now I’m far enough and playing dead. It goes back to digging. As soon as it starts it sees the GoPro. There is no fooling this guy! The fish looks the camera over, but the strange object must look harmless enough and the Trigger is too fond of its digging to care. It resumes its work. I lie as still as I can and keep on receiving the Trigger’s cold eye stares whenever I dare breathe. I’m loving it.

But I cannot stay forever. I lift off and circle the pit hoping for the opportunity to snatch my camera without losing a finger in the process (a valid concern as I learn later from my friend Sam, whose dad’s pinky can tell such a story). As I’m getting ready to go for it another resident Damselfish ventures too close and the Trigger gives chase. In a flash, I have my GoPro and quickly retreat.

I review the footage at home and marvel at the size of the Trigger’s teeth!

For what it is worth, here is a short clip. The image quality leaves much to desire and the colors were so dismal I decided to convert it to black and white. But in the end a memory I could bring home to share.

LOS ARCOS

Banderas Bay, JAL September 9h, 2020

WITH THE SUPPORT OF: BANDERAS SCUBA REPUBLIC

SPECIES GLIMPSE SEA ANEMONE

(Bunodosoma californicum)

These delicate anemones live in the inter tidal zone, often in dense congregations or in the company of other reef dwellers, such as the red Terrazoanthus patagonichus coral in this photo.

Anemones are predators and use their tentacles with stinging cells to trap and immobilize prey. Their mouth is located in the center of the oral disk.

To give you an idea of its size - the column of this species is about 4 cm tall, surrounded by about 80 stinging tentacles.

CONCHAS CHINAS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL May 1st, 2020

Note: This post could also be called “Thank goodness for the Kevlar reinforced tether”. You need not read further to get the gist of what follows, but I hope you will. There are lessons to be learned and new things we found. The reading might be longer than usual, but I will try to make it worthwhile. There also is a happy ending.

We are heading out to The Devil’s Jaw again to dive and test the Trident. Just as on our first journey, we will scuba down first to find and mark the exact location we want to explore with the ROV. This time however we plan to accompany it down and take a few shots of the ROV underwater. I know this will not be easy due to several issues. First, we need someone to operate the ROV on the boat, while we are down. I am lucky though, since my son Adam, age 16, just like any other teenager these days, grew up with electronics in his hands. I have him practice in our pool and quickly find that he might be a better pilot than me. Another issue is I do not expect great visibility in the upper water column, meaning for a good shot of the ROV we will have to dive deeper. The deeper we go, the less ambient light there will be. I hope we find clear water at a depth that still allows for a shot.

We would also like to see at least the beginning of the Devil’s Jaw with our own eyes and plan to dive to 40m this time to check it out. For safety purposes, we will deploy an extra scuba tank suspended on a BCD and tethered to a line close to the location of descent marked by the surface buoy. After this recon dive, we will go up and undergo another Trident mission piloted by me from the boat.

Once on-site, the first part of the plan goes well. Adam is ready to assume control of the ROV and Cesar and I go down with it. We find the lip of the Jaw without much trouble. Compliments to captain Chava, who without fail leads us to it on the surface. We place the anchor with a buoy. Then we keep going down. When Cesar lets go of the Trident he has been carrying under his arm (per our plan) I notice Adam (on the surface) has trouble controlling its buoyancy and the ROV quickly ascends. We are too deep now to safely follow it up. We have to hope he will be able to find us again. To make the best of the situation we start exploring the Jaw’s wall. At this depth, it is devoid of large corals. I cannot see any Gorgonias or any of the corals the Trident discovered deeper down on our previous trip. It is a fascinating spot nonetheless. I touch the wall and look up to see the greenish hue of the surface, I look down and see only

Cesar & the Trident over the lip of the Devil’s Jaw

black abyss. For some reason, this doesn’t unnerve me at all. This is like flying in space. I keep an eye on my dive computer though and know we will have to go back up soon.

Then Cesar points to the wall in from of him. I swim closer and see probably the largest Argus moray eel I have ever met. It is stretched out in full view on the wall. I take advantage of that and of Cesar being close and take a shot of both (opposite).

After this, we start ascending. As we go up I hear a faint buzzing and suddenly the Trident is here. It is a funny feeling. Like having a good friend drop by unexpected. I am glad Adam managed to find us again. Not an easy task in this soup. We are at about 15m depth, the vis is bad, but lot’s of ambient light to shoot. I maneuver to get Cesar with the ascent line in hand and the Trident in the frame (previous page).

We finish the dive with a safety stop and get on board. We take off our gear. I strip my wetsuit not to get the controller wet and we prep for another Trident descent. We plan to go a bit deeper than the last time around. I will pilot, my daughter Madelaine is in charge of the spool. Adam, who had been battling some stomach bug since last night bales out of the mission and curls up in a ball on the floor. He did his part well today.

The Trident goes overboard. Depth ticks off. We go through the soup and when the view clears we are above the wall. I steer down … 30 meters, 40 meters, some fish, no coral yet, Then as on cue at 50m the corals appear. Same panorama we contemplated on the last Trident dive. I run along the wall for a bit. Then I want to go on, but the spool crew (Madelaine with Cesar now) reports the tether is running out. “How is that possible?”, I think? The controller reports 60 m, the tether is supposed to be 100. Where are the 40 “missing” meters of it then? The obvious conclusion is that the ROV is not directly below us, but the line seems to be pretty vertical, the current almost nonexistent right now. Then I notice I cannot advance any further. The thought occurs to me:

THE DEVIL’S JAW

Argus moray eel (Muraena argus)

Puerto Vallarta, JAL May 4th, 2019

control. We are safe from that danger for now. I try again to free the Trident by different combinations of movement. No luck. A discussion ensues - the main topic being: “Jeez, sixty meters (almost 200 feet) is too deep to dive with compressed air. This is not an option. “Perhaps the tether is not stuck at 60m, it could have got tangled higher up”, Chava volunteers an opinion. OK, perhaps worth the try - I could follow the line down to a safe depth and see. But before I do, I will try to pull the tether a little - trusting the stated 100 kg breaking strength. I grab the line and pull - I feel the tether stretch a bit, but I cannot free the Trident. On the screen, I can see it is still at the same depth and in the same location. Going down starts to look like the only option. I pull gently some more. Then I apply a bit more strength. After one good tug, I feel the line give.

A screen shot of the Trident’s cockpit shortly before the entanglement

“Did I break the tether?”, I panic. Then we can see the screen image is on and the Trident is in the open water now, starting to move. I pull some more. I can feel its weight at the end of the line. “We got it free!”

An immense relief. Everyone cheers.

I opt for pulling the ROV up manually. For a good number of seconds, the Trident moves only horizontally, before it finally starts ascending.

In a few moments, we have the Trident back on board. Unscathedeverything working, not a scratch. The crew is all smiles. Phew …

Lessons learned: First of all, we have to be much more aware of the dangers of entanglement. The wall of the Jaw is not as smooth as we originally thought. There are protruding shelves, boulders, and also coral at the target depth. Next time around we should drop the Trident to our target depth well away from the wall and then approach to explore. We will explore the use of a clump weight to have better control of the ROV and the tether. Open ROV forum has several conversations dedicated to this specific topic. The tether can save the day! I do not plan on this happening again, but the strength of the tether saved us today. Thanks to the designers for that! I think this time around we got a snag somewhere at 60m and directly below us and then, when the tether run out we also got the actual ROV stuck in between corals and boulders jutting out of the wall. I draw this conclusion from what I can see on the screen when the ROV is finally freed and the fact that for several longs seconds it ravels only horizontally when it is being pulled back and only after that starts coming up to the surface.

THE DEVIL’S JAW

Discoveries made: The coral cover at the site we explored starts around 50m depth and continues at least to 62m - our max depth today. It is very likely to go deeper. There are corals of several shapes and colors, which makes us believe they belong to more than one species. We will contact experts in the field for positive ID We found Ctenophora and Gold-spotted sand bass (Paralabrax auroguttatus) at the depth of 60m.

Puerto Vallarta, JAL May 4th, 2019

WITH THE SUPPORT OF: BANDERAS SCUBA REPUBLIC

LOS ARCOS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL April 28th, 2019

SPECIES GLIMPSE ARGUS MORAY EEL (Muraena argus)

AsI mentioned recently, there seem to be an unusually large amount of Argus moray eels (Muraena argus) at Los Arcos now. The Argus are a resident species and we usually see one every few dives. Now they seem to be more plentiful though. Whether this is actually true, or whether they are simply more active at the moment, I haven’t been able to figure out yet. I have searched literature for clues, but apart of sources that describe the species in a superficial way I couldn’t find any information. I tried Google of course, plus Google Scholar and ResearchGate, but nothing.

The reality underwater is that we are finding the Argus not only more often than before, but also very frequently in pairs, trios or even groups of four. They also seem to be moving around more. While I never used to find them outside their shelters in rocky crevasses, under overhangs and in small caves, I often see them these days on exposed sandy bottom. In such situations they tend to look for a place to hide as I approach of course, but the fact might mean I surprised them while they were traveling somewhere. Common sense would dictate that this is their mating season. That in turn would nicely explain what we see, but since I haven’t find any relevant info on this I will be conservative and stick to reporting. Once I have found more clues, I will make sure to post an update.

Beaubrummel (Stegastes flavilatus) hovering over a group of Crown sea urchins (Astropyga pulvinata)

PRICKLY PARTY

LAS LAJAS

Banderas Bay, JAL

September 3rd, 2019

Taking

an advantage of blue and warm summer water, we are back at Los Arcos National Marine park. After a quick survey of the conditions we decide to dive Las Lajas first. I am the first one in and with the aid of an anchor rope descend quickly to the bottom at about 15m (45 ft). I want to prep my camera and strobes before the rest of the group arrives. As I reach the bottom I find a beautiful group of 10 Crown sea urchins (Astropyga pulvinata) clumped together only a few feet from our anchor. I circle around and park myself flat on a patch of sand immediately next to the urchins. They are mercifully stationary, but at the same time quite busy. Their quills move rapidly back and forth, giving the group an appearance of an agitated hedgehog.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I spot a movement and a fraction of a second later two Beaubrummels (Stegastes flavilatus) swirl around the sea urchins. They are not in the least afraid of me. On the contrary, they seem to assume a role of self appointed urchin body guards. I am enjoying the spectacle and manage to take a shot of the action with my wide angle dome almost touching the closest urchin quills. The two damsel fish keep on patrolling

the perimeter and I wonder about their true motivations. I know that just as other damsel fish, Beaubrummels are quite aggressive and territorial, especially during the mating season. But no matter how hard I look I cannot find anything worth defending around here. No egg patch or a cleared nesting site. I know that some smaller fish species often take refuge among the spiny backs of Astropyga, but the two Beaubrummels are too big to hide here effectively. Perhaps their egg patch is somewhere close and they came to make sure I am not a threat. But these are of course just my own speculations.

The Astropyga congregation itself is also not without interest. Apparently, there might be many reasons for the urchins to clump together like this. In some parts of their range this behavior was proven to be related to higher probability of successful mating, other scientific papers described “strength in numbers” advantage. Especially in habitats with few hideaways, such as featureless sea floor. Be it as it may - you can certainly tell these sea urchins do like company!

Crown sea urchin (Astropyga pulvinata)

WITH THE SUPPORT OF: BANDERAS SCUBA REPUBLIC

THE welcome to

I have been diving around Los Arcos for about a year now enjoying my personal discovery affair of its varied underwater topography and marine life. I have learnt to appreciate how diverse a dive site Los Arcos is. There is the sandy bottom of Las Lajas with its Longtail stingrays and sea turtles, El Bajo del Cristo pinnacle with Orange cup coral colonies and large schools of fish, the sheer wall of the Devil’s Jaw with its Giant manta rays roving over the abyss and deep sea coral gardens. Each area is so different from the other.

Today, thanks to graciously calm seas I will get an opportunity to explore something new. Namely, the arches that gave the site its name. Punched through the islets by ages of water erosion, these tunnels with vaulted ceilings rise above and descend below the surface. They certainly are one of the defining and visually most impressive features of the site. To explore them safely though, you need the weather to do its part.

We arrive at the edge of an area called the Aquarium on the northern side of the main islet. The water is only about 5m (15 feet) deep here and full of tropical fish. Many species tend to congregate just below the surface, since boat traffic is banned from this area. They provide a fantastic spectacle to swimmers and snorkelers. They also patrol the perimeter around anchored boats and won’t pass the opportunity to snatch your lunch if it should fall overboard.

LOS ARCOS

Banderas Bay, JAL September 5th, 2019

A few moments after diving in, the fairly featureless bottom meets us and we swim towards the looming shadow of the islet wall. Before we manage to get closer though, we run into several large blocks covered with Leptogorgia and Tubastraea corals. These must be sections of the main mass dislodged long ago, I suppose. I look them over and realize I can spend my tankful of air just exploring one of them. No matter how attractive they look though, this is not my plan today. I am being drawn to the shadows beyond, deeper into the tunnel with its dark blue ceiling. I swim on. The sea is exceptionally calm and yet the surge pushing water through the channel is clearly perceptible. I tuck in my knees and elbows. Both walls and the bottom seem to have the texture of a cheese grater. Most color fades away and I switch on my lights. As I tilt my rig upward to survey the higher sections of the wall some 30 Mexican lookdowns (Selene brevoortii) shoot past. Their silver sides bounce light back at me like mirrors. I track them with my wide angle and manage a single shot. They are quite far, but still reflect enough light to stand against the dark backdrop (opposite). They have no patience for my flashy tricks though and disappear. I swim on.

Only a few meters ahead a dark shape stands out against the light coming from the other side of the tunnel. As I get closer I notice a large school of fish milling at the foot of this small pinnacle. I know soldierfish and squirrelfish like to monopolize such spots. I am not wrong. As I get closer, my light startles a big school of Tinsel squirrelfish (Sargocentron suborbitalis). I judge the strength of the surge and decide to take a chance. I stop and half knee, half lie on the seafloor. In a few moments the fish calm down and I can take a few shots with the tunnel opening in the background wrapping around the scene in front of me. (following pages)

I spend the rest of my dive passing through the tunnel back and forth in company of several Long-spine porcupinefish (Diodon holocanthus), who float around me like small deflated balloons. Once I catch sight of a Spotted eagle ray (Aetobatus narinari), but it moves too fast for a shot. On my next visit I need to inspect more closely the large boulders at the tunnel’s entry, preferably with a macro lens.

WITH THE SUPPORT OF: BANDERAS SCUBA REPUBLIC

Mexican lookdowns (Selene brevoortii)

LOS ARCOS Banderas Bay, JAL September 5th, 2019

LOS ARCOS

Banderas Bay, JAL September 5th, 2019

Tinsel squirrelfish (Sargocentron suborbitalis)

diving with a THE BOULDERS

TodayI would like try my luck taking some macro shots of the marine live along the Southern shore. My plan is to dive shallow and spend as much time as possible exploring only a few rocks. I have never done a shore dive in the South though and wonder where best to go. Then I remember an open invitation by my friends who live close to Boca de Tomatlan. The water around their house would be perfect. There is even an elevator that can bring my gear from the street (road) level down to the ocean some 120 feet below.

I give Dennis and Joaquin a call and explain my intentions. They do not hesitate a second. I can show up anytime. “How about today?”, I ask.

An hour later I am standing all geared up on the shore below their house. The entry to the water is via a few rocky steps. I get slapped around a little bit by the waves, but judge the water below the steps deep enough for a safe plunge. I get in and swim out away from the rocks. As soon as I dive I can see I will have plenty to entertain myself with.

In the end I spend almost 3 hours underwater, going through both my tanks. I am having too much fun. Sometimes I am only a few feet below the surface, the scuba allowing me the luxury of time to

work on my shots.

I come home with a good crop of macros. I find I will need to invest in a laser guided snoot - my improvised plastic bottle works great in dark conditions, but the weak guide light is useless in well lit shallows.

Banderas Bay, NAY September 28th, 2018

Spotted sharpnosed puffer (Canthigaster punctatissima)

Rose flower urchin (Toxopneustes roseus)

California gorgonian (Muricea californica)

Pyramid sea star (Pharia pyramidata)

Christmas tree worm (Spirobranchus giganteus)

EL MORRO

Banderas Bay, NAY April 5th, 2018

El

Morro is probably my favorite dive site in Banderas Bay. It is a medium sized pinnacle breaking surface about 7 miles south of Marietas Islands. Being on the outer edge of the bay, it is often subject to larger swells and currents. When conditions are right though, it is a great place to dive. Above the water surface the rock is fairly uninteresting. Too small to harbor much bird life or vegetation. Underwater, however there are tunnels, gullies and passages, caves large and small (in some sleeping Nurse sharks can be found). Almost the entire rock is covered with a colorful reef. Fish and other marine life abound.

Today, we want to explore the deeper parts of the rock wall. It will be cold down there, for sure. This being winter, visibility is likely going to be poor as well, so I decide to carry a macro lens instead of my wide angle. I will focus on the small life today.

Once in the water, we notice that the ocean is a soup of salps. They are everywhere. In long, largelinked chains that undulate like waves right below the surface. I am amazed at the sight .. and a bit disappointed. With my macro I will not be able to take a photo of an

entire chain to show its size. At least I take a close up of one of the “chain links”.

Then the “thumbs down” sign comes and we descend slowly to about 100 feet, turn and head north along the wall. I keep close to the reef and look for my macro shots.

Then, as I turn right to locate my dive buddies, I see a large Green turtle (Chelonia mydas) approaching from the open water. This is the second time I miss my wide angle today. Never mind I think and raise my camera. I half expect the focus to fail. There is little ambient light and lots

Brittle sea stars and a sponge

of suspended particles to throw the auto focus off. But somehow all works out and my camera locks on instantly. I take the shot. The turtle is much farther away than my previous macro subjects and I haven’t managed to adjust my strobes. They rake the frame and bounce off the thousands suspended particles floating around. What I get is a sea turtle swimming in a snow storm effect. Yet I somehow don’t mind the result (photo).

We keep ascending to stay within non deco limits and to escape the deeper cold water. We finish our dive in shallow parts of the reef and finally ascend to the “Salp soup” again for our safety stop. The Salps are now joined by clouds of Ctenophora of many shapes and sizes. The ocean around us flickers with their “electric” pulses.

EL MORRO Banderas Bay NAY April 5th, 2018

Green turtle (Chelonia mydas)

for TOO WIDE

It is the middle of summer. Water is 86 degrees Fahrenheit and the visibility great. It is time to take photos of some underwater seascapes. There is no better place to do it then El Morro. That is why only two days after diving in British Columbia I am underwater again. Dry suit with 36 pounds of lead is a distant memory. I am joining several other divers on this outing and I can see that some didn’t even bother with wetsuits. When we arrive, the color of water is deep blue. We can see the bottom at 80 feet. Those, who live or dive in the Caribbean might consider this “a normal” day. Here, on the Pacific coast it isn’t. For us, this is a rare treat.

We sink along El Morro’s eastern wall and hit the bottom, then proceed alongside it, braving a weak current. After a few minutes of going through tunnels and caves, for which this dive site is famous, we spot a shadow of a Giant manta ray (Mobula birostris) below us. I watch the animal take a wide circle that I estimate should bring it back to where we are waiting. I zoom out, prep my strobes and wait for it. Sure enough, the manta glides back. I misjudge its intentions though and see it suddenly change the course and head directly to me. I have no time to back off and the manta is over me in an instant. I know perfectly that it is too close to fit in my wide angle, but snap a photo anyway.

The manta proves to be a very curious individual and it is us, who cut short the game in the end. We are deep and our dive computers are starting to remind us of our non decompression limits. Unfortunately I don’t get a chance for another shot. Perhaps next time.

We ascend and spend the rest of the dive in a relatively shallow water where clouds of fish swarm the pinnacle (following pages).

Giant manta ray (Mobula birostris)

EL MORRO Banderas Bay NAY August 18th, 2018

EL MORRO

Cortez rainbow wrasse (Thalassoma lucasanum) and Scissortail Damselfish (Chromis atrilobata) milling around a shallow water pinnacle at the El Morro.

Banderas Bay NAY August 18th, 2018

SPECIES GLIMPSE JEWELED MORAY EEL (Muraena lentiginosa)

A fairly common eel most often found in rocky crevices or among boulders on the sea floor. Fast and nimble hunter of fish, shrimp and crabs. I found these eels usually quite patient, although they prefer to observe a diver from the safety of their hiding places.

Here, in Banderas Bay, I have seen both fairly dark individuals with bright yellow spots and quite light colored ones, with yellowish background color and yellow spots rimmed with black.

It is a far ranging species that can be found from the Gulf of California south to Peru and Galapagos Islands.

CONCHAS CHINAS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL June 5th, 2018

Argus moray eel (Muraena argus)

THE SOUTH

ISLA ISABEL

San Blas, NAY January 26th, 2018

LAS CALETAS

Banderas Bay, JAL

February 23rd 2018

Today

I am accompanying my son Adam on his practical navigation exam, part of his Advanced OW PADI course. The destination is southern shore area called Las Caletas. This cove, accessible only by water has been protected by a local tour operating company for over a decade now. So, the marine life has been able to bounce back quite a bit. I should have a lot to photograph. My main goal is to get some photos of a resident Hawksbill turtle (Eretmochelys imbricata), who often hides under a boulder close to the shore. I am also told about a very large Argus moray eel (Muraena argus) living inside a discarded tire at about 80 feet depth where the sandy bottom becomes a steep slope plunging into the depths. Sounds great to me.

During winter Banderas Bay gets considerably colder and visibility underwater often drops to only a few feet. Expecting iffy conditions, we are pleasantly surprised upon our arrival. The water looks actually quite clear. Fantastic - lucky day!

Our trio - my son Adam, his instructor and myself jump in. While the two go through their prescribed exercises I look for my objectives. I find the Green

LAS CALETAS

Banderas Bay, JAL February 23rd 2018

turtle quite easily and thanks to its patience manage to take a shot (opposite).

Now I will need my son’s instructor’s help to point me out the moray eel. I find my buddies easily and watch Adam complete his navigation routine. A few minutes later we dive to deeper water over a sandy slope. Boulders are gone and so is most of the fish. In a strange way, this section resembles a big desert dune.

Then I see the eel. As promised, it is big. As we come closer, he unwinds from inside the tire to look and gape at us. I park myself right next to him and gradually get within inches of his lair. He doesn’t seem to mind. I take a few photos and a video clip and then decide to hang out for a bit longer just marveling at this incredible fish.

So elegant, patient and friendly.

SHARKS

In the company of my son Adam and a group of divers I head for Isla Isabel roughly 70 km from the ancient port of San Blas. This 2 km sq volcanic island enjoys the status of a national park since 1980, when Mexican government took in its hands formal protection of the area. In the consequent years a considerable and ultimately successful effort was made to eradicate rats and feral cats. That was a great news for native species, especially the thousands of sea birds that nest here. Today, Isabel is home to over 90 species of birds. It is estimated that 15 thousand pairs of Magnificent frigatebirds (Fregata magnificens) nest here.

One reason I am returning to Isabel however is found not on the island itself, but en route to it. Quite a large number of Whale sharks (Rhincodon typus) come to feed in the area in the winter and spring months. A year ago we were able to spot 8 of these wonderful animals on our way to the island. The largest one was longer than our 21 foot boat. Unfortunately, I didn’t have proper equipment for UW photography then. Now I do and I mean to use it. Very few people in Banderas Bay are aware of the local Whale sharks and I would like to bring home photos to include them in my Viva Natura environmental awareness program.

We load up at 6 AM in the San Blas marina. With all the dive equipment, provisions and us on board, the boat sits low in the water. I know we are in good hands though. The local government certified guides have done this for living for decades now. This proves to be a very good thing indeed an hour later when we hit very large offshore swells. To navigate here safely, skill

is needed, but Emilio, our captain, looks unfazed. He crests and surfs the waves with a smile and confidence of a true pro.

We have other issues though - the water surface is so rough that spotting the relatively small whale shark dorsals will be a challenge today. We won’t give up easily. I have my fins and snorkel within reach and cradle my camera rig to keep it from bouncing around. I can be in the water in seconds. But, as an hour goes by without a sighting, we are starting to get used to the idea that there might not be shark swim today after all.

After 2 more hours being drenched by salt spray whipped into our faces by head wind, we arrive to Isabel. Never mind - there will be another opportunity to look for sharks on the way back. Now, to shuttle our gear to the camp site, have something to eat and rest. Tomorrow we dive.

He must have climbed the hill hundreds of times before. Yet here he is, ready to do it again.

The climb is short, but very steep. We take our first steps in an almost complete darkness, but only a few minutes later the sky starts brightening up. We get to the top in time for the sunrise. I wanted to be here when the first rays of sun hit the summit to record a video clip of Blue-footed boobies (Sula nebouxii) during their courtship. With hundreds of birds around, it is not difficult to find a well situated couple and set up my camera. I don’t have to wait long for them to start. Feet showing, nest material tossing, sky gazing and spreading of wings are all part of this dance. There is an interesting sound track to go with it all, too. Males emit whistling sounds, females more guttural croaking.

ISLA ISABEL

San Blas, NAY January 27th, 2018

My first day on Isabel starts before sunrise. Damian, a local guide, meets up with me before day break to climb the light house hill behind our camp. My wish to see sunrise from the highest point of the island means an early wake up call for Damian, too. You are not allowed to walk around the National park alone. There are simply too many birds nesting on the ground to allow for an uncontrolled foot traffic.

I can see he doesn’t mind though. He is all smiles, his enthusiasm genuine.

In a few minutes I get the footage I came for. We rest, take a few more pictures and then slowly descend to grab a bite before our first dive.

When I get back from the lighthouse our camp is slowly waking up. We are served a light breakfast, expecting to have a good lunch once we arrive from our dives. The camping and dining conditions are quite rustic, but the food and attention of our guides are excellent. We satisfy our early morning appetite with

tea, cereal and fruit and get ready to go. Most of our gear stays on the boat so all I need to carry is my camera. The campground is about 400 meters from the beach. On this short trek you can greet hundreds of Frigatebirds sitting within arms reach on the stunted vegetation. They gaze down at us without much interest as we walk by - used to visitors.

We plan to dive on the western side of the island, but as our boat rounds the point, it becomes apparent, that the swells are not through with us yet. The exposed side of Isabel is awash with large waves crashing into the cliffs. We have to find another place to dive. We select a more sheltered area and jump in. The conditions are not great. So much wave action has produced low visibility even here. Never mind, we all love being underwater and there is always something interesting to see.

We spend the next 2 days diving around the island. Bad visibility and swells chase us from a dive site to a dive site, but we are determined to enjoy ourselves. For me, this is a great opportunity to practice underwater photography in challenging conditions and I am, as well as the rest of the team, happy for the privilege to be here.

Although

I have been diving regularly for the last few years, I never actually owned scuba equipment. Much less a good underwater photography set up. So I figured that getting acquainted with my new gear is definitely a good idea. I was thinking along the lines of a safe, controlled environment, preferably freshwater (in case of some unexpected leakage in the camera housing). Swimming pool sounded like an anti climatic option though. After some contemplation, I came up with a better plan.

And now, here I am - 3 hours drive from my home in the neighboring state of Nayarit, at the site of a wonderfully preserved mangrove forest called La Tovara. In its upper reaches there are several freshwater wells that feed its channels. During our dry season (winter), the water here can get very clear. It doesn’t hurt that I know well the staff of a local crocodile sanctuary, situated directly on one of the springs. I have all the backup and comfort I need. That is, helpful hands to carry gear, plastic chair and two tables to prep everything.

Conditions are perfect. There is a bit of debris floating on the surface, but one foot below the water is fantastically clear. The main spring is about 60 feet long and 30 feet wide, with its deepest section at about 20 feet. At such “depth” I have virtually hours of air in my 2 tanks. This particular pit is fenced off from the main water course. A healthy number of American crocodiles (Crocodylus acutus) call these waters their home and the protective fence was put in place a few years ago to separate the mangroves from a popular tourist spot. I should be safe behind it, but I don’t want any surprises. I dive in to check integrity of the submerged fence and explore it thoroughly top to bottom along its entire length. Fence looks good - no holes in the mesh, bottom well anchored by a wall of boulders. I am good to go.

Everything works great and I am getting comfortable with the scuba gear and camera rig. After a while I can start concentrating on what is around me. I am especially interested in the endemic Sliders (Trachemys ornata). These turtles are quite common around here, but they can be extremely shy. I see a few, but to get a decent shot with my wide angle lens I have to be very close. That proves to be tricky. Finally I find a patient foot long turtle hidden under a submerged log and get my shot. With the gear thoroughly tested, I return home ready for what comes next.

LA TOVARA San Blas, NAY December 21st, 2017

THE BEGINNING

Thanks to a humbling gesture of kindness a new door to exploration opens. I’m gifted two complete sets of gear along with an entire underwater photography kit by a friend of mine, who decides to retire from SCUBA after decades of underwater adventures and thousands of dives.

When I read my first Cousteau book at the age of seven in landlocked Czechoslovakia and decide to become a scuba diver, I receive lots of funny looks. Well, here I am. This is a big deal. A dream decades in making.

It is time to dust off properly my 20 year old PADI certification and take diving to a new level. Viva Natura goes underwater. Stay tuned. ... mil gracias Manuel

COMPLETE SET OF PHOTOS INCLUDED IN THE MAGAZINE, PLUS BONUS

You can order any photo included in the magazine and have it delivered to your doorstep framed and professionally mounted in variety of sizes. Simple print (frame-less) options are also available. Calculate cost by adding a photo to your shopping cart and selecting printing and framing options.

Contact me for orders outside Canada and the USA.

YOUR PURCHASE OF MY PHOTOGRAPHS HELPS ME

The

An easy to use field guide to the underwater realm. Similar in design and functionality to my Viva Natura: Field Guide to the amphibians, reptiles, birds and mammals, this new book will be loaded with photographs of the Eastern Pacific sea life.

To acquire original high quality images, I am diving as much as my life dynamics allow me, while I keeping my day job. Your purchases allow me to continue working on this project.