Turtles, whales and dolphins
February/23/2008
Another
stellar day for diving. Accompanied by Salvador,
Anna, Alfredo and
Peter from Chicago, we set out for the north end of Carmen Island just after
8:30 am. The water was like glass, the sun reflected its surface with a
brilliant piece of weather. We spotted nothing for 20-minutes and then a blue
whale appeared a mile to the north, its enormous fin a give-away even at that
distance. Ramon Mandilon gunned the engine and tried to get us beside, but the
whale wasn’t interested.
Continuing on, Ramon brought us into a secluded cove surrounded by basalt and
cactus. This time, a dozen bottlenose appeared and Rafa wanted to follow.
Dolphin expert that I am, I predicted that they werent interested in playing
and 10-minutes later, I was proven correct. We could all see how much krill
and nutrients were in the sea that morning and we just couldn’t compete.
I was the first diver down. The equalization of my ears was better. The boys
threw me a buoy and dragged me to the anchor line to counter the strong
current. The water was 63-degrees but clear with a visibility of about 40-
feet. Once down, we separated into two groups, Salvador, Anna and the camera
in one and the rest in another. Fish were sparse but we were rewarded
instantly with the appearance of a greenback turtle that I tried to follow.
This guy’s performance is the antithesis of that on land. Ran into a school of
Cortez angels and barberfish before nearly stumbling on a giant stingray that
had buried itself in the sea floor. With a shutter, it sensed our presence and
shaking the sand from its body, with beautiful wing undulations, lumbered up
and sped away. We spent the remainder of the 46-minute dive combing the coral
rock, trying to coax damselfish, wraisses, goatfish and king Angels out of
their hiding places.
As we navigated to our second dive spot, we caught up to a battalion of
long-nose dolphins, at least 200 of them according to Rafa. The water was a
cauldron of energy as Salvador with his HDV camera and I slipped into the
water among their midst with anticipation of close encounters. But before we
had completely submerged, the dolphins blew us off, immediately changing
course and leaving us in their wake. Happily, we could hear their squeals and
whistles under the water, contenting ourselves with those few intimate
moments.
Our second dive followed a more open coast populated by pinnacles that
attracted schooling fish. The current was slack, making descent uneventful. As
soon as we had all descended, we were treated by an appearance of more
dolphins about 50-ft away, barely visible but audible. Will the taunting never
end? I spent most of the time microdiving with my eye glued to the magnifying
glass. Little nudibranches, starfish spores, coral polyps. The boys came
across a juvenile moray eel that they persuaded to leave its lair. I was
shaking my rattle to get the camera’s attention to film a large balloonfish
shyly laying back in its cave. I found some wraisse I had never previously
encountered and still can’t identify. I was left to my own devices as everyone
ascended ahead of me because of the cold water. I stuck around examining coral
until, with 800 psi left, I too surrendered and left.
Peter from Chicago, we set out for the north end of Carmen Island just after
8:30 am. The water was like glass, the sun reflected its surface with a
brilliant piece of weather. We spotted nothing for 20-minutes and then a blue
whale appeared a mile to the north, its enormous fin a give-away even at that
distance. Ramon Mandilon gunned the engine and tried to get us beside, but the
whale wasn’t interested.
Continuing on, Ramon brought us into a secluded cove surrounded by basalt and
cactus. This time, a dozen bottlenose appeared and Rafa wanted to follow.
Dolphin expert that I am, I predicted that they werent interested in playing
and 10-minutes later, I was proven correct. We could all see how much krill
and nutrients were in the sea that morning and we just couldn’t compete.
I was the first diver down. The equalization of my ears was better. The boys
threw me a buoy and dragged me to the anchor line to counter the strong
current. The water was 63-degrees but clear with a visibility of about 40-
feet. Once down, we separated into two groups, Salvador, Anna and the camera
in one and the rest in another. Fish were sparse but we were rewarded
instantly with the appearance of a greenback turtle that I tried to follow.
This guy’s performance is the antithesis of that on land. Ran into a school of
Cortez angels and barberfish before nearly stumbling on a giant stingray that
had buried itself in the sea floor. With a shutter, it sensed our presence and
shaking the sand from its body, with beautiful wing undulations, lumbered up
and sped away. We spent the remainder of the 46-minute dive combing the coral
rock, trying to coax damselfish, wraisses, goatfish and king Angels out of
their hiding places.
As we navigated to our second dive spot, we caught up to a battalion of
long-nose dolphins, at least 200 of them according to Rafa. The water was a
cauldron of energy as Salvador with his HDV camera and I slipped into the
water among their midst with anticipation of close encounters. But before we
had completely submerged, the dolphins blew us off, immediately changing
course and leaving us in their wake. Happily, we could hear their squeals and
whistles under the water, contenting ourselves with those few intimate
moments.
Our second dive followed a more open coast populated by pinnacles that
attracted schooling fish. The current was slack, making descent uneventful. As
soon as we had all descended, we were treated by an appearance of more
dolphins about 50-ft away, barely visible but audible. Will the taunting never
end? I spent most of the time microdiving with my eye glued to the magnifying
glass. Little nudibranches, starfish spores, coral polyps. The boys came
across a juvenile moray eel that they persuaded to leave its lair. I was
shaking my rattle to get the camera’s attention to film a large balloonfish
shyly laying back in its cave. I found some wraisse I had never previously
encountered and still can’t identify. I was left to my own devices as everyone
ascended ahead of me because of the cold water. I stuck around examining coral
until, with 800 psi left, I too surrendered and left.
Eyeball
February/20/2008
After
yesterday’s exuberance, I was ill prepared to
encounter the challenges
of a four-month dive layoff, rusty Eustachians, new gear, a new 7-mm suit,
added weight and a hood.
It was an exquisite morning for a trip to Coronado. We approached and
navigated the north side of the island, passing pristine Coronado Beach and
arriving without encounters of any kind to the Cabbages site on the northern
tip where normally there is an abundance of sea life. The abundance today took
the shape of a plankton bloom giving us an underwater visibility of 15 feet.
Bummer.
I squeezed into my new 7-mm wetsuit whose buoyancy I had to compensate by
packing an extra 10 pounds of weight. The water temperature was a nippy 62-
degrees so I donned a hood to trap the heat escaping from my bald head. Our
companion today was Dave, a 58-year old ex-Navy guy who specialized in
munitions deployment and was packing a skookum camera with strobe. Ramon our
captain tossed me a buoy after I somersaulted into the water and pulled me to
the anchor rope where I made my first underwater descent in months.
My Eustachian tubes didn’t know what hit them, so despite the Sudafed I
scarfed earlier, they remain closed. Alert readers will recall that I suffer
tinnitus from earlier barotraumas, so I was singularly unhappy about the
inability to clear my right ear. Past stupidity breeds wisdom for the
intrepid. I navigated ever so slowly taking what seemed like an eternity to
reach 18-feet depth where my buddies were already convening. As it turned out,
it didn’t much matter as all of us were adjusting to layoffs - Rafa with
15-days off fighting flu. The water was like guacamole in a fast current, with
barely any fish with whom to cavort. It turned out to be a short dive of
41-minutes to a depth of 61-feet. My memories are pretty much highlighted by
the struggle of achieving neutral buoyancy that was exacerbated by the extra
buoyancy of the wetsuit and the extra weight I was packing. The BCD reacted
much differently under the new conditions forcing me to use more air to adjust
my neutrality. I tried out my new Sensus magnifying glass and enjoyed a few
moments looking at the spores of starfish and a small nudibranch. There were a
few King Angels, a grouper and panamic graysby but I could not see much else. To
compound my troubles, my new hood had air trapped between layers which kept me
off balance.
For the second dive, we skirted around the shore to the sea lions outcrop and
this dive went much better. Did a 52-minute dive to a depth of 71-feet in
better visibility, less current, denser fish population and an improved
acclimatization to gear. A few King Angels, sergeant majors and other small
fry were loitering about as we slowly descended the coral wall and moved
toward the sea lion lair where we had a brilliant and engaging 20-minute dance
with the seal lions. It was a day of eyeballs as I locked with the first
youngster for many seconds as he patrolled around and beside me. Interacting
and communicating with another species this way is utterly enthralling. The
three divers were close together as this same yearling wove his way between
and through us as we stilled ourselves, collectively putting out the good
vibe. The big bull came down soon after, escorting a passel of youngsters
under his protection. When the visibility is poor, these sea lions seem to
come out of the ether and arrive in your face out of nowhere. Very
exhilarating. We kept descending and Dave excitedly took photos of coral,
anemones, stingrays and the like. I was absorbed in a huge basalt wall filled
with growth, my eyeball peeled to the Sensus magnifying glass looking at the
tiny ecosystems abundant everywhere. Climbing back toward the surface, the
flat outcrops has a slippery fur-like kelp rug that felt weird to the touch.
Dave and Rafa ascended early and I stayed in the 15-foot zone for an extra
20-minutes. Alone on an underwater lava plateau, the sea lions came again in a
squadron and one-by-one made their encounters with me. My solitude was
different as it was just me and the lions in the arena. Felt quite
stimulating. I made sure I showed no fear as the bull came closer for a full
inspection and after a few minutes, they all moved on.
Schools of surgeon and sergeant majors then appeared as if it was now safe to
come out of hiding.
Great dive.
On the way home, we caught sight of a fin whale and we encountered a playful
group of dolphins. Assuming my usual position of hanging as far off the bow as
balance allows, a dolphin appeared on the port side just inches from my
outstretched hand and in an action quite new to me, he cantilevered himself
into a side position where his only exposed eyeball was locked into my eyes
for close to a minute. And I’m silently giving him a prayer, thanking him for
his intervention, proclaiming my love and joy to him and wishing him
protection and a long safe life.
And without a doubt, I knew he heard me.
of a four-month dive layoff, rusty Eustachians, new gear, a new 7-mm suit,
added weight and a hood.
It was an exquisite morning for a trip to Coronado. We approached and
navigated the north side of the island, passing pristine Coronado Beach and
arriving without encounters of any kind to the Cabbages site on the northern
tip where normally there is an abundance of sea life. The abundance today took
the shape of a plankton bloom giving us an underwater visibility of 15 feet.
Bummer.
I squeezed into my new 7-mm wetsuit whose buoyancy I had to compensate by
packing an extra 10 pounds of weight. The water temperature was a nippy 62-
degrees so I donned a hood to trap the heat escaping from my bald head. Our
companion today was Dave, a 58-year old ex-Navy guy who specialized in
munitions deployment and was packing a skookum camera with strobe. Ramon our
captain tossed me a buoy after I somersaulted into the water and pulled me to
the anchor rope where I made my first underwater descent in months.
My Eustachian tubes didn’t know what hit them, so despite the Sudafed I
scarfed earlier, they remain closed. Alert readers will recall that I suffer
tinnitus from earlier barotraumas, so I was singularly unhappy about the
inability to clear my right ear. Past stupidity breeds wisdom for the
intrepid. I navigated ever so slowly taking what seemed like an eternity to
reach 18-feet depth where my buddies were already convening. As it turned out,
it didn’t much matter as all of us were adjusting to layoffs - Rafa with
15-days off fighting flu. The water was like guacamole in a fast current, with
barely any fish with whom to cavort. It turned out to be a short dive of
41-minutes to a depth of 61-feet. My memories are pretty much highlighted by
the struggle of achieving neutral buoyancy that was exacerbated by the extra
buoyancy of the wetsuit and the extra weight I was packing. The BCD reacted
much differently under the new conditions forcing me to use more air to adjust
my neutrality. I tried out my new Sensus magnifying glass and enjoyed a few
moments looking at the spores of starfish and a small nudibranch. There were a
few King Angels, a grouper and panamic graysby but I could not see much else. To
compound my troubles, my new hood had air trapped between layers which kept me
off balance.
For the second dive, we skirted around the shore to the sea lions outcrop and
this dive went much better. Did a 52-minute dive to a depth of 71-feet in
better visibility, less current, denser fish population and an improved
acclimatization to gear. A few King Angels, sergeant majors and other small
fry were loitering about as we slowly descended the coral wall and moved
toward the sea lion lair where we had a brilliant and engaging 20-minute dance
with the seal lions. It was a day of eyeballs as I locked with the first
youngster for many seconds as he patrolled around and beside me. Interacting
and communicating with another species this way is utterly enthralling. The
three divers were close together as this same yearling wove his way between
and through us as we stilled ourselves, collectively putting out the good
vibe. The big bull came down soon after, escorting a passel of youngsters
under his protection. When the visibility is poor, these sea lions seem to
come out of the ether and arrive in your face out of nowhere. Very
exhilarating. We kept descending and Dave excitedly took photos of coral,
anemones, stingrays and the like. I was absorbed in a huge basalt wall filled
with growth, my eyeball peeled to the Sensus magnifying glass looking at the
tiny ecosystems abundant everywhere. Climbing back toward the surface, the
flat outcrops has a slippery fur-like kelp rug that felt weird to the touch.
Dave and Rafa ascended early and I stayed in the 15-foot zone for an extra
20-minutes. Alone on an underwater lava plateau, the sea lions came again in a
squadron and one-by-one made their encounters with me. My solitude was
different as it was just me and the lions in the arena. Felt quite
stimulating. I made sure I showed no fear as the bull came closer for a full
inspection and after a few minutes, they all moved on.
Schools of surgeon and sergeant majors then appeared as if it was now safe to
come out of hiding.
Great dive.
On the way home, we caught sight of a fin whale and we encountered a playful
group of dolphins. Assuming my usual position of hanging as far off the bow as
balance allows, a dolphin appeared on the port side just inches from my
outstretched hand and in an action quite new to me, he cantilevered himself
into a side position where his only exposed eyeball was locked into my eyes
for close to a minute. And I’m silently giving him a prayer, thanking him for
his intervention, proclaiming my love and joy to him and wishing him
protection and a long safe life.
And without a doubt, I knew he heard me.
Microdiving
April/25/2007
Took
dives nine and ten today in the Sea of Cortez.
Huge plankton bloom covers
the entire marine park, but Raphael, my divemaster is totally nonplussed.
Most divemasters wouldn’t think of diving with only 6-8 feet of visibility. Not
so for Raphael. Its just a great opportunity to go microdiving with a small
flashlight, an accessible ocean floor and of course, a coral wall.
We chose our first dive at Coronado Island, at the base of basalt formations
where the sea lions like to catch the sun. Frigate birds and vultures were
circling overhead and we passed rock outcroppings completely bleached with the
guano of the pelicans. We quietly approached the sea lion rocks where few take
notice and the occasional one greets us with a bellow. The giant stag lion is
there overseeing his empire as we park the boat about 20 feet from his lair.
They feign obliviousness as we slip into the water and find the ocean floor at
12 feet. This really is where Raphael is in his element. For the next
55-minutes we crawl along the floor, inching our way as Rafa focuses his small
beam on the microcosmic universe found in the ocean, when one actually stops
and examines the minute little universes inhabiting each square metre.
Nudibranches (shell less snails), olivia prohyria, whose shell designs match
anything found in the fashion district, arrow crabs that look like spiders,
tiny, tiny gobies, flatworms and infinitesimal crabs less than 1 mm in length
(see attached photos). And the coral and sea anemones were in full bloom
feeding on the plankton. Copious morays poked their heads from their burrows
feeding on the flotsam. We’d find an area and stay weightless, motionless,
barely breathing to watch the action on the floor. Lots of stingrays and
surgeon schools. Raphael would find a tiny tidbit of coral and offer it to a
submerged miniscule mouth that I could only see by tipping my head so that the
reading glass of my mask could discern what was happening. In the midst of
this, two sea lions came down and slowly glided by us, six feet away. I had
two good seconds of eyeball vibe connect with one of them, an image
permanently lodged in my brain. The floor and coral wall were littered with
starfish, scallops and oysters encrusted in the sea bed. Many of these animals
use camouflage, changing colour when it suits them. The three foot golden
grouper we saw used this same technique.
We left the cove an hour later to the grateful barking of the sea lion herd
and drove northwest to a turquoise bay, dropping off our snorkeling couple
while we went for another dive. On the way, we saw a pair of mobula rays
leaping out of the water as they swam toward us. Turning off the engine, we
awaited their arrival as they glided right underneath the boat showing us
their wonderful brown and white canopies.
The second dive was away from the bay and about 100-metres from shore.
Descending on the anchor line, I noticed that we were on a rock promontory in
the middle of the channel that rose to about 15 feet below the surface. It was
late morning and the visibility improved a little as we took Raphael’s
invertebrate 201 course. There were some more triggerfish and surgeon schools,
plentiful angels, wrasses and damsels as we sought out the mountainous coral
wall. Crevasses and caverns were combed for life as many fish seek solace and
protection within their depths. The crevasses were also the hangout of larger
fish. Raphael pulled out an enormous rock slipper lobster that was 18 in
length. Along the wall, blennies would thrust their wee little heads out of
the tubes that were sheltering them. Puffers would investigate us and I gently
found one, observed it expanding between my hands, and enjoyed some quality
time with another species. Raphael would find an amazing orange sea coral
that, when touched, would implode itself into a small eyeball shape. We took a
quick 40-minute dive; at the three-minute 15 rest stop I played with some spot
tail grunts, later emerging right by the boat.
On our way back to the beach cove to pick up our snorkelers, I pointed to
Raphael that there was a dolphin pod about 75-yards ahead of us. He remarked
that the dolphins were angry. Asking him how he knew this, he said by the way
theyre slapping their fins on the water. I surmised that moments earlier, I
saw a power boat speed through them and knowing this pod was sheltering three
or four of its young, that that was the reason for their distress. Raphael
immediately told Ramon the boat captain to give them a wide berth, which he
did. Coming around well in front of them, the dolphins thanked us with a show
that was utterly astonishing. Several of them catapulted out of the water,
jumping at least 15 feet above the waterline, twisting before arching back
downward. They repeated this for at least 90-seconds. On occasion, several
would jump out in unison. We were stupefied; I of course was screaming with
joy. When it was over, I turned to Raphael, Rafa, I may be crazy, but did they
do that for us? Rafael said, I think that too. I thought, these must be highly
intelligent, sentient, intuitive mammals. Rafa added, Yeah, Im sure they did
that for us. They can sense us a mile away. I thought that surely the dolphins
must be able to identify us by the unique vibration of our motor.
The snorkelers were on the beach witnessing the show and jumping with delight.
Picking them up, we walked through a sunbathing flock of red crabs before
climbing on board and pushing off.
Leaving the bay, we came upon our dolphin friends. And again, we gave them a
wide berth. And, incredibly once we had bypassed them, giving them wide berth
and moving in front, they gave us the second half and a repeat performance of
the show.
I am way beyond euphoria here. Visions and memories to last a lifetime.
the entire marine park, but Raphael, my divemaster is totally nonplussed.
Most divemasters wouldn’t think of diving with only 6-8 feet of visibility. Not
so for Raphael. Its just a great opportunity to go microdiving with a small
flashlight, an accessible ocean floor and of course, a coral wall.
We chose our first dive at Coronado Island, at the base of basalt formations
where the sea lions like to catch the sun. Frigate birds and vultures were
circling overhead and we passed rock outcroppings completely bleached with the
guano of the pelicans. We quietly approached the sea lion rocks where few take
notice and the occasional one greets us with a bellow. The giant stag lion is
there overseeing his empire as we park the boat about 20 feet from his lair.
They feign obliviousness as we slip into the water and find the ocean floor at
12 feet. This really is where Raphael is in his element. For the next
55-minutes we crawl along the floor, inching our way as Rafa focuses his small
beam on the microcosmic universe found in the ocean, when one actually stops
and examines the minute little universes inhabiting each square metre.
Nudibranches (shell less snails), olivia prohyria, whose shell designs match
anything found in the fashion district, arrow crabs that look like spiders,
tiny, tiny gobies, flatworms and infinitesimal crabs less than 1 mm in length
(see attached photos). And the coral and sea anemones were in full bloom
feeding on the plankton. Copious morays poked their heads from their burrows
feeding on the flotsam. We’d find an area and stay weightless, motionless,
barely breathing to watch the action on the floor. Lots of stingrays and
surgeon schools. Raphael would find a tiny tidbit of coral and offer it to a
submerged miniscule mouth that I could only see by tipping my head so that the
reading glass of my mask could discern what was happening. In the midst of
this, two sea lions came down and slowly glided by us, six feet away. I had
two good seconds of eyeball vibe connect with one of them, an image
permanently lodged in my brain. The floor and coral wall were littered with
starfish, scallops and oysters encrusted in the sea bed. Many of these animals
use camouflage, changing colour when it suits them. The three foot golden
grouper we saw used this same technique.
We left the cove an hour later to the grateful barking of the sea lion herd
and drove northwest to a turquoise bay, dropping off our snorkeling couple
while we went for another dive. On the way, we saw a pair of mobula rays
leaping out of the water as they swam toward us. Turning off the engine, we
awaited their arrival as they glided right underneath the boat showing us
their wonderful brown and white canopies.
The second dive was away from the bay and about 100-metres from shore.
Descending on the anchor line, I noticed that we were on a rock promontory in
the middle of the channel that rose to about 15 feet below the surface. It was
late morning and the visibility improved a little as we took Raphael’s
invertebrate 201 course. There were some more triggerfish and surgeon schools,
plentiful angels, wrasses and damsels as we sought out the mountainous coral
wall. Crevasses and caverns were combed for life as many fish seek solace and
protection within their depths. The crevasses were also the hangout of larger
fish. Raphael pulled out an enormous rock slipper lobster that was 18 in
length. Along the wall, blennies would thrust their wee little heads out of
the tubes that were sheltering them. Puffers would investigate us and I gently
found one, observed it expanding between my hands, and enjoyed some quality
time with another species. Raphael would find an amazing orange sea coral
that, when touched, would implode itself into a small eyeball shape. We took a
quick 40-minute dive; at the three-minute 15 rest stop I played with some spot
tail grunts, later emerging right by the boat.
On our way back to the beach cove to pick up our snorkelers, I pointed to
Raphael that there was a dolphin pod about 75-yards ahead of us. He remarked
that the dolphins were angry. Asking him how he knew this, he said by the way
theyre slapping their fins on the water. I surmised that moments earlier, I
saw a power boat speed through them and knowing this pod was sheltering three
or four of its young, that that was the reason for their distress. Raphael
immediately told Ramon the boat captain to give them a wide berth, which he
did. Coming around well in front of them, the dolphins thanked us with a show
that was utterly astonishing. Several of them catapulted out of the water,
jumping at least 15 feet above the waterline, twisting before arching back
downward. They repeated this for at least 90-seconds. On occasion, several
would jump out in unison. We were stupefied; I of course was screaming with
joy. When it was over, I turned to Raphael, Rafa, I may be crazy, but did they
do that for us? Rafael said, I think that too. I thought, these must be highly
intelligent, sentient, intuitive mammals. Rafa added, Yeah, Im sure they did
that for us. They can sense us a mile away. I thought that surely the dolphins
must be able to identify us by the unique vibration of our motor.
The snorkelers were on the beach witnessing the show and jumping with delight.
Picking them up, we walked through a sunbathing flock of red crabs before
climbing on board and pushing off.
Leaving the bay, we came upon our dolphin friends. And again, we gave them a
wide berth. And, incredibly once we had bypassed them, giving them wide berth
and moving in front, they gave us the second half and a repeat performance of
the show.
I am way beyond euphoria here. Visions and memories to last a lifetime.