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Underwater Exploration Journal

The Underwater Exploration Magazine evolved from my National Geographic Field Notes blog as an attempt to keep memories of my adventures alive with the hopes to entertain and inspire others to explore and protect the underwater realm on this planet. Virtually all my dives were conducted in search of opportunities to build a photographic archive for my book “Viva Natura: Field Guide for the Ocean Explorer”.

The Underwater Exploration Magazine evolved from my National Geographic Field Notes blog as an attempt to keep memories of my adventures alive with the hopes to entertain and inspire others to explore and protect the underwater realm on this planet. Virtually all my dives were conducted in search of opportunities to build a photographic archive for my book “Viva Natura: Field Guide for the Ocean Explorer”.

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SECOND FOURTH EDITION

REASON FOR HOPE

Exploring A group of the volunteers’ multiple struggle dive spots to of bring the effective Inlet: Henderson, and lasting Willis protection &

Slugget to Los Arcos Point, de Deep Mismaloya. Cove, Senanus Island.

COSTA MICHOACANA

The Photographing astonishing the sea sea life life around of the Campbell wild and River largely and unexplored coast of

adjacent the Michoacan islands state. in the Strait of Georgia.

HOW DEEP IS THE DEVIL’S JAW?

Goodbye How could to medieval Canada: Visiting techniques the advance Race Rocks our Marine knowledge Protected and bring area to undeniable

famous proof to Double our perennial Black Diamond question site. of the Jaw’s

dive

this depth?

exploration

UW

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

Click here to follow my

expeditions on

National Geographic

Field Notes

exploration

UW


PAGE 12

COSTA MICHOACANA

-PM-

Diving along the little explored wild coast of Michoacan state.

CONTENT

INSIDE

PAGE 2

REASON FOR HOPE

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

52

species glimpse

- coral -

Orange cup coral

(Tubastraea coccinea)

species glimpse

- fish -

Yellowtail surgeonfish

(Prionurus punctatus)

PAGE 33

EAGLES STILL SOAR UNDER

THE ARCH

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 ...

58

76

84

species glimpse

- fish -

Panamic soldierfish

(Myripristis leiognathus)

species glimpse

- cnidarian -

Sea anemone

(Bunodosoma californicum)

species glimpse

- fish -

Argus moray eel

(Muraena argus)

WOULD YOU LIKE TO RECEIVE FUTURE ISSUES OF MY JOURNAL IN YOUR EMAIL?

CLICK TO SUBSCRIBE HERE

III


FOR

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

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

2


3


“ LOS ARCOS HAS BECOME A LOCAL ICON DURING THE

PAST DECADES, WITH TOURISM BOOMING IN THE AREA”

Argus moray eel (Muraena argus)

4


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 ISLA jump in the ISABEL

water

and splash around for a while. On days San when Blas, the NAY

sea is calm, those who feel more adventurous January 26th, 2018

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.

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

5


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

6


7


8

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.


EL BAJO DEL CRISTO

9


LAS LAJAS

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

10


Cesar hovering above the sandy seafloor of Las Lajas

11


COSTA MICHOACANA

November 19th, 2022

!

I have 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.

12


“ WE FOUND WHAT WE HOPED FOR. ABUNDANT SEA LIFE

IN A SPOT NO ONE HAS LIKELY EVER DIVED BEFORE. ”

13


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.

COSTA MICHOACANA

WITH THE SUPPORT OF:

ABISMAR

November 19th, 2022

14


15


M

Mexican dancer

(Elysia diomedea)

16


ARIETAS

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

17


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.

18


Blue spiny lobster

(Panulirus inflatus)

19


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

20


21


22


LOS ARCOS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL

July 29th, 2021

23


LAS LAJAS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL

June 14h, 2021

24


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.

25


EL

LOS

26


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

27


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

28


Nurse sharks

(Ginglymostoma cirratum)

29


LOS ARCOS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL

March 19h, 2021

30


SPECIES GLIMPSE

PACIFIC MUTTON HAMLET

(Alphestes immaculatus)

A well-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.

31


32


EAGLES

STILL SOAR UNDER THE ARCHES

LOS ARCOS

Banderas Bay JAL

May 18th, 2021

Pacific white-spotted eagle ray

(Aetobatus laticeps)

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

33


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

34


35


BAJO DEL CRISTO

Puerto Vallarta, JAL

March 19h, 2021

36


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.

37


LOS ARCOS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL

March 11th, 2021

410m

information

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 feet -

our 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

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.

38


39


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

40


41


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

42


Giant Pacific manta ray (Mobula birostris)

with a large Remora (Remora remora) attached

LOS ARCOS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL

December 15th, 2020

43


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

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 ...

LOS ARCOS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL

December 15th, 2020

WITH THE SUPPORT OF:

BANDERAS SCUBA REPUBLIC

44


45


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

46


47


“ THEN IT COMES AGAIN. NO MISTAKE NOW.

A HUMPBACK WHALE SINGING. ”

juvenile Cortez angelfish

(Pomacanthus zonipectus)

48


PACIFICO

CAREYES

Costa Alegre, JAL

November 28th, 2020

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

49


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.

50


Leaf coral (Pavona gigantea)

51


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.

52


CAREYES

Costa Alegre, JAL

November 28th, 2020

53


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

54


55


56

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

57


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

58


59


will be

SHORT

EL MORRO

Banderas Bay, NAY

October 30th, 2020

I’m clutching 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.

60


Juan Pedro “Pirro”

navigating the famous El Morro cave

61


EL MORRO

Banderas Bay, NAY

October 30th, 2020

Barnacle “Bleny City” on top of one

of the shallow pinnacles at El Morro.

62


63


64


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.

Often we find nurse sharks resting

in caves around El Morro

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.

WITH THE SUPPORT OF:

ABISMAR

65


beautiful

CAREYES

Costa Alegre, JAL

September 27th, 2020

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.

66


A school of Scissortail chromis (Chromis atrilobata)

swimming over Pavona coral colony

67


A colorful two inch blenny (unidentified)

guarding his little patch on the reef

68


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

69


70

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

71


&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

72


Stone triggerfish

(Pseudobalistes naufragium)

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.

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.

73


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.

LOS ARCOS

Banderas Bay, JAL

September 9h, 2020

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.

WITH THE SUPPORT OF:

BANDERAS SCUBA REPUBLIC

74


75


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

76


77


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

78


THE

TRIDENT

“ SECOND DIVE, FIRST CLOSE CALL”

THE DEVIL’S JAW

Puerto Vallarta, JAL

May 4th, 2019

79


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:

80


Argus moray eel (Muraena argus)

THE DEVIL’S JAW

Puerto Vallarta, JAL

May 4th, 2019

81


The tether is stuck somewhere below us and the ROV

continued on until the tether run out. Time to come back

home. I push forward while pressing the lever to ascend

position. The ROV rears up and we get an upwards view

of the wall with the surface outlined above. But the

Trident goes up only about 2 meters and no more. I let

go of the controls and it slowly sinks back to 60m, where

it settles. I try to go up again, but this time cannot lift

almost at all. I reverse the thrust in an attempt to retrace

my “steps”. Trident shudders, but doesn’t move. Rotor

wash throws debris in the camera frame. I try again and

wiggle from side to side. Same effect - no motion, flying

debris. We are stuck. Panic washes over us all. Captain

Chava quickly checks the current and our position - we

do not want to rip the tether by drifting away from the

stuck ROV. “All good”, he reports - staying cool and in

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.

82


“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. Unscathed -

everything working, not a scratch. The crew is all smiles. Phew …

A screen shot of the Trident’s cockpit

shortly before the entanglement

THE DEVIL’S JAW

Puerto Vallarta, JAL

May 4th, 2019

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.

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.

WITH THE SUPPORT OF:

BANDERAS SCUBA REPUBLIC

83


LOS ARCOS

Puerto Vallarta, JAL

April 28th, 2019

84


SPECIES GLIMPSE

ARGUS MORAY EEL

(Muraena argus)

As I 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.

85


86

Beaubrummel (Stegastes flavilatus)

hovering over a group of Crown sea urchins

(Astropyga pulvinata)


A

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

87


88


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!

WITH THE SUPPORT OF:

BANDERAS SCUBA REPUBLIC

Crown sea urchin (Astropyga pulvinata)

89


welcome to

THE

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.

90


LOS ARCOS

Banderas Bay, JAL

September 5th, 2019

91


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

92


Mexican lookdowns (Selene brevoortii)

LOS ARCOS

Banderas Bay, JAL

September 5th, 2019

93


LOS ARCOS

Banderas Bay, JAL

September 5th, 2019

94


Tinsel squirrelfish (Sargocentron suborbitalis)

95


diving with a

THE BOULDERS

Banderas Bay, NAY

September 28th, 2018

Today I 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.

96


Spotted sharpnosed puffer

(Canthigaster punctatissima)

97


California gorgonian

(Muricea californica)

Rose flower urchin

(Toxopneustes roseus)

98


Christmas tree worm

(Spirobranchus giganteus)

Pyramid sea star

(Pharia pyramidata)

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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

100


Brittle sea stars and a sponge

101


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

102


Green turtle (Chelonia mydas)

103


TOO WIDE

for

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).

104


Giant manta ray (Mobula birostris)

EL MORRO

Banderas Bay NAY

August 18th, 2018

105


106


Cortez rainbow wrasse (Thalassoma lucasanum) and

Scissortail Damselfish (Chromis atrilobata) milling

around a shallow water pinnacle at the El Morro.

EL MORRO

Banderas Bay NAY

August 18th, 2018

107


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

108


109


“ AS WE COME CLOSER, HE UNWINDS FROM INSIDE THE

TIRE TO GAPE AT US”

Argus moray eel (Muraena argus)

110


THE

SOUTHISLA 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

111


112

Hawksbill turtle (Eretmochelys imbricata)


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.

113


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

114


and 15.000 PAIRS OF

MAGNIFICENT FRIGATEBIRDS

ISLA ISABEL

San Blas, NAY

January 26th, 2018

115


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.

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.

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.

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

ISLA ISABEL

San Blas, NAY

January 27th, 2018

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.

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117


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.

118


LA

TOVARA

“ DIVING IN THE HOME OF THE AMERICAN CROCODILE”

LA TOVARA

San Blas, NAY

December 21st, 2017

119


LA TOVARA

San Blas, NAY

December 21st, 2017

120


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

121



MOUNTED ARTWORK

DELIVERED TO YOUR DOORSTEP

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 creation of my new book:

VIVA NATURA: FIELD GUIDE FOR THE OCEAN EXPLORER

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.


NOTES EMAIL NGO FIND

bit.ly/UWEXMAG pmyska@vivanatura.org vivanatura.org instagram: viva_natura_mexico

exploration

UW

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