The Silent World

by B. N. Sullivan

I doubt there's a serious diver or ocean lover who has not read, or at least heard of, Jacques Cousteau's landmark book, The Silent World. For many of us, it was our first introduction to the notion that people could put on a mask and fins and underwater breathing apparatus and explore the wonders beneath the surface of the sea.

I still have the paperback copy of the book that I acquired as a kid. That's it on the right. It's been read and re-read more times than I can count, and lent to more people than I can remember. Somehow it always managed to find its way back to my bookshelf.

The pages are brown and brittle now, and the binding barely holds those pages together, but I still like to look at it. The photos are as amazing as the text.

The book was first published in English in 1953. The paperback edition I have, from Cardinal Books, was published in 1955. I probably acquired it a year or two after that, although I'm not certain. I only know that it's been on a shelf in my personal library as far back as I can remember. It's still a good read.

The Not-So-Silent World

The Silent World figured as a great lure to visit the underwater world, but as it turns out, that world often is far from silent. Some sounds are annoying -- loud engines on boats passing overhead, for example. Other sounds, like whales singing or dolphins chattering, are sheer delight.  Many kinds of marine life make clicking sounds, always amusing. A strangely soothing sound is pouring rain splashing on the water's surface, or a strong wind whipping across, creating a visible froth and an audible shhh, shhh, shhh for divers below.

Then there are the startling sounds. One instance that stands out in memory was the sound of sonar pings from submarines. We heard those while diving in the Straits of Tiran, in the Red Sea, during the first Gulf War.

In another instance, we were in the Caribbean, diving at the top of a wall near the southwest tip of Grand Cayman. We were by ourselves and just poking along, taking pictures and watching a hungry hawksbill turtle (Eretmochelys imbricata) lay waste to what had been a large sponge. We heard what at first sounded like a low thrum, and then sounded like an intermittent whir. We could tell that whatever was making the sound was getting nearer. We craned our necks, looking this way and that, but we couldn't see any boats passing overhead. Then one of us looked down.

There was a strange light well beneath us, and it appeared to be ascending the wall toward us. We were transfixed. We had no idea what it was. After a few minutes we could see that the light actually was several lights, and they were attached to a bright yellow mini sub. It was a deep-diving mini sub -- the kind that operates as a tourist attraction -- and its pilot was shining spotlights on the wall to illuminate the scenery for the sightseeing passengers. Since we were positioned literally right above the sub, they couldn't see us.

For a moment we looked at each other, considering whether we should stay put and surprise the tourists -- maybe even give them the scare of their lives. But we quickly came to our senses and swam away, well to the side of the sub's path, fearing the whirling propellers. We stayed clear as it reached the top of the wall and then motored away across a sand flat. The people in the mini sub never did see us.

In case you are wondering, I didn't get a photo. As luck would have it, I was set up for macro photography that dive -- and you can't change lenses underwater. My luck!

Have you seen any sharks?

by B. N. Sullivan

We decided that the first post about marine life in this blog should be about a shark. Our reason is simple. When new acquaintances learn that we are divers, one of the first questions we are asked is, "Have you seen any sharks?"

The answer to that question is an unqualified YES. We have seen many, many sharks over the years: Little sharks, big sharks, juveniles and adults. We've never seen a great white shark while diving, but we have encountered whale sharks, gray reef sharks, blacktip reef sharks, silvertip sharks, nurse sharks, Caribbean reef sharks, leopard sharks, several kinds of hammerheads, one tiger shark, one Galapagos shark, one thresher, and possibly a few other species that we have forgotten for the moment.

The shark species we have encountered most often is the one in the photo on this page: the whitetip reef shark (Triaenodon obesus; Hawaiian name: mano lalakea). This species is widely distributed in the waters where we have done most of our diving.

The individual in the image above was photographed at Sipadan, an oceanic island off the coast of the Malaysian end of Borneo in the Celebes Sea. The photo was taken near the southern tip of the island on a gentle slope about 20 meters (60+ ft) deep, covered with sand and coral rubble -- and several dozen whitetip reef sharks at rest. It was quite a sight!

This individual was a bit apart from the rest, making it easier to approach for a portrait. Even after I shot off several frames, blasting the poor shark with flashes of light from the strobes each time, it did not leave. (In case you are wondering, that's a remora -- AKA 'sharksucker' -- on the back of the shark.)

Whitetip reef sharks are not considered to be particularly dangerous to divers -- unless the diver has been spearfishing, in which case whitetips have been known to sneak up and snatch away the diver's catch. We don't spearfish, so we haven't had that experience.

During daylight dives, whitetip reef sharks often are encountered at rest in cavelets or sheltered areas of reefs, sometimes in small groups, but usually as individuals. When not at rest, these sharks can be seen swimming over sandy bottoms or a foot or two above a reef. With their slender bodies, they look very sleek as they swim. We've been approached by them on many occasions. Usually they just cruise past while clearly looking us over. Sometimes they pass, and then lazily circle back for another look.

As docile as whitetip reef sharks may seem in the day, they are anything but docile when pursuing prey. On more than one night dive we have seen a whitetip reef shark streak past and nail a snoozing critter so quickly it could take your breath away. And they have no compunction about bashing the coral to grab their prey!

Whitetip reef sharks are creatures of habit, at least when it comes to their napping. A diver making a single visit to a reef may be lucky enough to chance upon a whitetip reef shark, but divers who frequent the same reef over and over (as we have done in our home waters) often learn where these sharks hang out. Once a whitetip reef shark's favorite spot is discovered, divers can return again and again on successive dives and quite reliably find the same individuals in the same cavelet or on the same shelf on any given day.

We have always enjoyed seeing these animals, day or night, whether they are swimming, hunting, or peacefully at rest.

Learning underwater photography -- the easy parts

by B. N. Sullivan

A lot of the tales that will be told in this blog will center on a photo, or series of photos, that I've taken underwater.  I came late to photography as a hobby -- underwater and otherwise. Until the late 1980s, I had never taken any photos except for the usual family stuff -- holidays, birthday parties, trips -- and always with a point-and-shoot camera.

From the time I began diving in the early 1970s, I had often wished I could show non-divers the wonderful things I saw on my dives. I'm usually pretty good with words, but in so many ways there were just no words to describe the stunning scenery or the fascinating critters I saw beneath the surface of the sea. So, I began to think about getting an underwater camera. I couldn't afford a "good" one until the late 1980s, when I bought my first Nikonos V camera body and a submersible 35mm lens for it, just like the one in the photo above.

My first attempts at underwater photography were truly dismal. I understood nothing about photography, and even after reading a few how-to books, I still couldn't figure out how to adapt terrestrial photography techniques to the undersea realm. I sorely needed some instruction.

I heard about a week-long underwater photography course taught by the renowned underwater photographer Jim Church. The course was taught on a live-aboard dive boat in the Cayman Islands, so it served as a diving vacation as well as an opportunity to learn about underwater photography. We both enrolled.

The first day was a shock as we watched all the other "students" arrive toting multiple Pelican cases filled with massive amounts of camera gear. I wilted. We showed up for the course with the one camera and one lens between us. We felt so naive!

Jim Church, bless him, put us at ease from the start. On the first day, he chatted with each of his students in order to get a fix on how much they already knew, and what they hoped to learn during the week. I admitted that I was a rank novice -- and apparently gravely under-equipped at that. Jim patted me on the shoulder and told me not to worry: He said that meant I didn't have any bad habits to unlearn. As for the lack of equipment, there was a whole range of cameras, lenses, strobes and various accessories for rent aboard the dive boat. I tried them all!

Each day we learned a new technique or two in our ad hoc classroom -- the vessel's dining room. Then we went right into the water to practice what we'd learned -- five dives each day, shooting scenes, fish, critters, divers. And speaking of photographing divers, we even learned a lot about managing -- and being -- an underwater model.

We'd do wide angle shots one day, macro shots the next, and so on. We shot in natural light; then we tried out different combinations of lenses and strobes. We shot in morning light, afternoon light, and on night dives.

At the end of each dive, we'd turn in our film for immediate processing. In the evening we'd all sit around the light tables in the dining room looking at our day's worth of slides, critiquing each other's work.

The week went by quickly, yet we learned an enormous amount about photography, camera maintenance, and how to deal with the underwater environment as a "studio" from Jim and his then-sidekick, Mike Mesgleski. [Side Note: Jim Church passed away in 2002. Mike is still teaching underwater photography -- highly recommended!]
It was a great way to learn about the basics of underwater photography, but unbeknownst to me at the time, choosing lenses, apertures and shutter speeds was the easy part.

As we go along, I'll point out some of the more challenging aspects of underwater photography.