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
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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
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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
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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)
99
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.
116
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
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