Off the beaten Track

Top 10 Memorable Ocean Experiences of 2011: No. 02 – Operation Rescue at Medhafaru

2012-01-24T08:03:00.001+05:30

DJ and I had seen the net stretched taut on the crane like structure on the Medhafaru the last time we had dived and we knew it meant trouble. Sure enough on the next dive at the wreck, as Nish, Keerths, Daniel and I started our dive; the first thing I saw was an outline of a large fish, seemingly motionless next to the crane.

Swimming closer the silhouette resolved itself into a blue-line grouper that was hanging off the net by a loop that had effectively created a noose. You could see where it had tightened as the fish had fought, white flesh showing through the blue and green skin.

Initially it was hanging so still, swaying quietly in the surge that I thought it was dead but as I got right up next to it, its fins flapped and it tried to feebly get away. The nylon on the net was wrapped tight and taught against the fish. These groupers have a habit of lying in wait for prey and then shooting out at them and it looked like this fish had picked a very bad place to set an ambush, running right into the net. The net itself was knotted tight presumably by the fish twisting trying to get away from the encumberance.

It was strange to be quite so close to one of these fish as they are generally quite shy and only give you the briefest glimpse before hiding away in the shadows. Up close and personal the fish was quite magnificent, shimmering green and luminescent blue. The only thing that marred the picture was the bruised flesh around the net and the look of terror on the fish’s face. I never really thought that fish could look scared but the fear was palpable when looking at it.

I pulled out my knife and tried to figure out a way of cutting the grouper free without damaging it even more but the camera made things awkward. Calling Keerths over, I motioned for him to take the camera, tightening the lanyard around his wrist for safekeeping.

Things were still a bit tricky as I slipped the knife gently between the fish and the net strand, the fish’s body oddly pliant and fragile. The net tightened on the other side of the fish as a result and flesh and blood drifted off making me even more cautious. Every time I brought the knife up to cut the fish struggled and the water clouded with blood. After a couple of tried I started to wonder if it would be more merciful to kill the fish instead of putting him through the slow pain of a botched release.

I finally managed to slip the knife up towards the fish’s dorsal fin and gritted my teeth and pulled. With a snap the line parted and thankfully only a bit of blood was released. The fish hung motionless and free for a moment. Then in a moment it realized it was free and the body swung as the fins powered up and in a flurry of movement it was gone. A lucky survivor of the ghost nets that plagues our shipwrecks.

Photo of the Week (01/23/2012): The Trug

2012-01-23T15:50:00.002+05:30

The propeller of the tug boat wreck fondly known as the Trug. Home of curious Lionfish and a superb swim through filled with glass fish.

Photo of the Week (01/16/2012): Divers on Taprobane East Wreck

2012-01-16T08:30:00.002+05:30

Two divers explore the Taprobane East Wreck, one of our favourite wrecks on the outer reefs of Colombo. This day was a bit murkier than usual with about 15 meters of visibility instead of the usual 20-30m.

Photo of the Week (01/09/2012): Curious crab

2012-01-09T08:16:00.002+05:30

A curious crab peers out from a crevasse on Degalmeda reef.

You can often see these crabs skittering away into the shadows as you approach so getting a good sighting of one is difficult!

Top 10 Memorable Ocean Experiences of 2011: No. 01 – Swimming with a Flatworm

2012-01-04T10:02:00.001+05:30

It’s 2012 and I’m looking back on a 100 dives in 2011 and 200 since I started diving way back in 2009. Since this was my first full year of diving with somewhat reasonable dive skills and a camera, I figured I would put down some of the most memorable dives/events that I have had the privilege of experiencing during the season.

Of course a lot has happened so expect a multi-part post with the events in no particular order of significance.

I will start of with a characteristically geeky event, my brief if surprising swim with Thysanozoon nigropapillosum which rather less jawbreakingly is known as a Polyclad flatworm. Usually you see these vivid black and yellow flatworms innocuously sitting on the rocks on shallow reefs such as Palagalla so I have come to associate them with brown, murky water and silty dive sites. I did see one launch itself for a brief swim, undulating gracefully through the water so I knew that they were quite mobile as well.

Thysanozoon nigropapillosum sitting pretty on a reef, confident that no-one is going to try and pronounce its name.

The fateful dive was just like any other on the Taprobane east Wreck, a long boat ride with the fresh sea air waking you up from a groggy early morning start. Anchoring onto the wreck we dropped down quickly to the site. Being at 30m and a flat profile we didn’t have much time until our bottom time was used up so I moved away from the rest, looking around at the bright corals and dazzling fish, eager to try out the relatively new camera.

As I swam over the main section of the boat, the hollowed ribcage of the wreck encrusted in bright colours, a spark of movement caught my eye. Glancing down I was…taken aback would be a good word to use I guess. Of all the most incongruous things to see on this site, it was one of these flatworms swimming along with me just skimming the wreck. I have never before or since seen a flatworm on such a deep site (but then we know so little about these sites that’s not saying much) so was flabbergasted.

I realized a bit too late that this was a superb photo opportunity and fumbling with the unfamiliar controls I tried to take a picture. I’m not sure if it sensed me somehow but the flatworm promptly did a nose dive with me rapidly following it. The flatworm swam down through the wreck onto the white sand while I tried to take as many pictures, sticking my hand down through the twisted metal as far as I could.

The flatworm comes in to land

This is unfortunately the only semi-decent photo I managed to take which was an inevitable back shot, quite dark and required a fair amount of photo shop to salvage.

The memory was quite memorable though, looking down and seeing the flatworm swimming along, black and gold against the coral encrusted wreck. Beautiful and completely unexpected.

Photo of the Week (01/02/2012): Happy New Year

2012-01-02T08:55:00.005+05:30

Since I don't have much time to blog regularly these days, I've decided to do a small showcase of my underwater photography.

Happy New Year! I hope everyone had a good start to the year!

A shy Blenny on a reef in Colombo (probably a colour morph of a bi-colour blenny)

Equipment used: Sea & Sea DX-2G

Underwater Life: The last thing a glass fish sees

2011-12-19T08:56:00.000+05:30

Shards of living glass

Dive any reef or wreck in Colombo and you will see them.

Small shoals of shining glass fish, shining that is when the light hits them. They blink in and out of existence as the light hits them for a kaleidoscopic experience that is sometimes unreal, especially when they congregate in a huge shoal that engulfs you and surrounds you in small shards of sunlight.

Glass fish on a reef

Glass fish and cardinal fish on the Cargo wreck

Usually the glass fish aren’t so spectacular, they hang around in a group of about a dozen close to any sort of crevasse on the reef or ‘caves’ formed on wrecks by the structure of the sunken ship. Presumably they do this for shelter with a place to retreat to if a predator attacks.

What they don’t seem to realize is that their shelter is most often where the attack is launched from. You don’t have to look too closely at the crevacess and cracks to see them. The groupers lie there innocuously, seemingly somnambulant. Blue line groupers are the most commonly seen though flower groupers and a few others are also relatively common, lounging about warily eyeing you as you pass over their heads. Occasionally one will lose its nerve when you come too close and flash into the depths of the reef, showing remarkable acceleration for what seemed like a sleepy fish.

Nonchalant blue line grouper

It is this acceleration that is the glass fishes’ undoing.

The grouper’s tried and tested fishing method is to lie motionless apparently completely ignorant of the flashing glass fish above its head until the small fish, lulled into a sense of complacency drop their guard.

A millisecond later and the shoal is one less.

Still nonchalant...sort of

If you are lucky and patient, you would have seen the grouper metamorphoses from a motionless fish to a blurry missile, mouth gaping as the ambush is sprung. A flurry of activity ensues as the glass fish swirl in confusion and the grouper returns to its post.

Eyeing a target

Peace returns to the reef as the as the glass fish, not blessed with a long memory, forget the ever present danger in the dark.

The last thing a glass fish sees

Kraken’s Gaze

2011-12-05T08:28:00.000+05:30

The now familiar outline of the Medhafaru wreck appeared out of the blue-green waters, the bridge tilted at a Pisa like angle with the glass still intact though black with algae. DJ moved off to the front of the wreck as I stayed at the back, my more conservative Suunto demanding that I remained relatively shallow for our second dive of the day.

One of the regular denizens of the wreck, a greenish yellow moray, a species we still have not been able to identify, poked its head out a small structure on the deck. It stared out, clenching its jaws repeatedly, as all morays are prone to doing. This does give these eels quite a vicious look especially with their jagged teeth but apparently all this gulping is just to help circulate water over their gills. It’s still not advisable to go sticking any body parts you are fond of near a moray; in fact that’s a good general rule with pretty much any animal.

Best to stay clear of those teeth

Unfortunately I was experiencing some issues with my camera on this dive with the lens fogging up. Giving up on my efforts to get a pleasing portrait of the eel I turned back to bridge. And that was when I noticed it. It was hard to miss actually. Part of the ship was glowing, first white, and then black, then back to white. Intrigued by this and slightly concerned that I might be suffering narcosis at the unlikely depth of 15 meters, I decided to investigate.

Cautiously getting closer to the object I noted with some relief that it was an octopus, apparently enjoying a Saturday morning lay down sprawled on the ship with his tentacles spread. On seeing me approach, he decided he had better cut his siesta short and backed out and up in between a staircase running down the ship.

Gimlet stare

Safely ensconced he turned a gimlet eye onto me and glowed red again. Unfortunately with the camera issue and a nosy (Scorpion?) fish getting in the way, I could only get a few shots of his eyes. Eyes which were quite eerie I must say, red with a bright black pupil. Eyes that looked as if the octopus was suffering from a virulent hangover and/or possessed by a demonic influence.

The nosy scorpion fish

Mesmerized by the glare I was getting, I just barely registered movement out of the corner of my eye. As usual on the Medhafaru where fish life is prolific, a group of Jacks streamed past me followed closely by a hunting Giant Trevalley who was so intent on securing its meal that it almost headbutted me in the process. The octopus took this rather exciting interlude as an opportunity to make a getaway back into the deeps of the ship. As I turned back all I saw was a tentacle retreating into blackness leaving me to hang by the bridge enjoying the hunting shoals of fish over the wreck until my beeping computer reminded me it was time to return back to the real world.

10 Minutes

2011-11-27T22:30:00.001+05:30

Is generally all you have at 36 meters before your bottom time runs out. At 36 meters you are under 3.5 atmospheres of pressure. This means that your ears will pop like crazy as you descend and more importantly you will use your air correspondingly quicker. Your bloodstram also will absorb nitrogen faster at greater depths, and you become saturated with nitrogen (for a super analogy check here. Coming up too quickly in such a situation will cause the nitrogen to bubble out of your blood stream like a coke bottle with its top removed. This is mildly unpleasant to say the least, leading to the dreaded ‘bends.’

Bubbles in the brain, not a good thing

The combination of faster air consumption and nitrogen saturation means going into decompression on deep dives is especially dangerous as you run the risk of breathing your tank dry during an extended decompression stop. For the uninitiated this is the period of time you spend hanging at around 3-4 meters of water while the absorbed nitrogen leaves your system. Not a fun thing to do when you have many minutes of hanging around while worrying about running out of air and trying not to pop to the surface inadvertently (the effect on one's sinuses also leaves a lot to be desired).

Unwise amount of ‘Deco’

At 36 meters however and about 30 minutes by boat lies an underwater garden, huge Gorgonian sea fans dotted on a sandy plain swept by strong currents. The presence of the fans means that dropping an anchor is a no-no. You basically have to throw yourself off the boat some meters up from the GPS point, grab your camera from the waiting boatman and swim down as quickly as possible, trying to keep yourself oriented in the right direction, keeping an eye on your buddy(ies) and equalizing frantically to prevent your sinuses from imploding. Of course all this time you have to keep an eye on your gear to make sure everything is working properly. Needless to say this is complex and this site is only for the experienced diver.

DJ behind a fan, should give you some idea of the size of the Gorgonians

Once you hit the bottom you have to find your photographic subject. For those with wide-angle lenses and dual strobes (i.e. DJ from Divesrilanka.com and Nishan from Seas of Serendipity) the subject matter is often the fans themselves. These with the camera metered for the blue background and the strobes providing fill flash, make beautiful subjects.

A wide angle shot courtesy of DJ (Divesrilanka.com)

For a macro head like me (mostly due to the limitations of the DX-2G rig I carry), the subject are the coral gobies on the fans. Usually you find these gobies on whip coral on the shallower reefs but singly. At the Gorgonian Gardens however some of the fans have a few skittish gobies to keep me busy. I have made a few attempts at wide angle and possibly will do some more soon.

The first goby I photographed at Gorgonian Gardens. He seems a bit surprised.

Recent wide angle effort (no colour so no good)

The challenge of taking photographs in these conditions however does sometimes make land photography pale in comparison. You have to maintain your breathing to make sure you are neutrally buoyant and not go crashing into the fans, you have to ensure your fins are out of the way for the same reason, you have to keep an eye on your bottom time, an eye on your buddy(ies) and fight the surge to stay in one place.

This is of course before you actually find your subject, then spend some more time finding one that stays in one place long enough to take a picture, meter the image, figure out your exposure, strobe position, etc to make sure you’re getting a workable image. Needless to say this is challenging. And it is frustrating after you find a willing fish to hear your computer start beeping after a few frames. You can only ignore the beeping for a couple of minutes before having to accept common sense and leave the gardens for another time…on the bright side there will be another time.

Last Friday’s workable image.

Environment & You - EFL Public Lecture series

2011-11-26T21:46:00.000+05:30

EFL's 30th Anniversary lecture series which began on Thursday 24 November continues for the next 3 consecutive Thursdays. More details on the flier below and you can reserve your seat by calling the number on there. The Marine one should be interesting!

Ghost Nets

2011-09-05T09:11:00.000+05:30

When a person sits down to a fish curry or a portion of fish and chips, they rarely think of where that fish comes from. We rarely realize that when we consume fish, we are eating the last truly wild caught meat on the planet, our ancient role as hunters reprised in the role of modern day fishermen.

Of course the new age fishermen are a far cry from what they were centuries or even decades ago. With engines, mechanization, longlines that stretch for kilometers with thousands of hooks and nets that could engulf the Empire State Building, the fisheries industry has become almost unrecognizable as has sadly our oceans, rapidly depleted and overfished what we see in our seas now appears to be but a sad remnant of the abundance that was there decades ago.

Our surface interval chats with Uncle Sumathi used to really bring this home, 56 years old, he had seen foreign trawlers come and rape the seas off Colombo, taking so much fish that the numbers have never recovered. Apparently the local fishermen had to gang up and beat up some of the fishermen who came in the trawlers to get rid of them and protect what was left. The discussion about the differences from then and now were frequent and depressing.

We rarely think about the ‘cost’ of the food on our plate except in monetary terms. The reality is that there is a far greater hidden cost to our environment, apart from the incidental catch which kills thousands of marine mammals and birds a year our hunger for fish continues to kill days, weeks, months and even years after the fishermen have moved on. This is done silently, without fan-fare by lost nets, those that escaped the fishermen, taken away by currents or carelessness.

A fish eye view of a derelict net, a net smothering Palagala (shallow reef in Colombo)

We see these nets often on our dives, especially on the inner reefs, carpeting the rock smothering everything in its path. Some are huge and while we try and take off what we can, it is a disheartening process as sea fans and soft corals often crunch away from the rock as we cut the nets. We often find fish entangled, dead or dying and other animals (await a story about a crab rescued from a net) waiting for a slow, inevitable death in the nets.

Dead and beheaded, a fish killed by a ghost net

One of our wrecks, the Medhafaru was literally a tomb for fish being sheathed in nets before some inteprid divers from the Sri Lanka Sub Aqua Club cleared a lot of them from the ship. Research has provided some staggering estimates for kills from these nets, with a single net in Puget Sound being estimated to have killed over 3,000 seabirds and fish combined. We don’t have any figures from Sri Lanka but it would be safe to assume fish kills are quite high.

Perilously close, fish feed close to a net on the Medhafaru

Divers can of course play a part in removing this menace but with the risk of entanglement it is advisable if only experienced divers working in teams tackle this kind of thing. We can all however try and understand where our seafood comes from and at least appreciate the cost to our natural systems from this harvest.

Cutting a net off the reef (only experienced divers should do this)

Hitting the Shoal

2011-08-29T08:04:00.000+05:30

One of my favourite spectacles underwater are the ‘bait balls,’ conglomerations of small fish grouping together, tightly packed for protection from predators. These are especially common on the Cargo Wreck where thousands of fusiliers (Caesionidae) can be seen often in amorphous fluidity.

Not exactly a bait ball, but a shoal of fusiliers heading past.

Close up they are quite a beautiful fish

They are especially prolific when there’s a bit of a current and some plankton in the water and while fascinating to watch by themselves, the action really starts when a few Bonito show up. These medium size tuna hunt in small packs of five to eight fish and are capable of simply jaw-dropping bursts of speed.

There is nothing that can compare to the adrenaline rush you get watching these in action. I’d only seen these fish dead on a block of ice at a supermarket before I started diving so the speed and agility which these fish displayed was mind-blowing (I’m of course rapidly running out of superlatives to describe the action). You first notice them as a faint silver streak out of the deep blue. If they pass overhead you can see their slim silhouettes black against the backdrop of the sun glittering through 30 meters of water. You can see them flex their fins, moving them in and out as if warming them up for the rush into the shoal.

You have to keep a close eye on them at this time because even if you look away for a second, you can miss the lightning attack. From almost a standing start, they seem to pick a target and dart into the shoal of fusiliers, a blur as your eye struggles to follow. The bonito arrow is followed by the shoal of fusiliers splitting to avoid the attack, the fish moving as if with one mind. One bonito after another darts into the shoal, the fusiliers desperately trying to avoid the incoming fish. An underwater ballet unfolds that is beautiful to watch but deadly serious. Flashes of tuna and clouds of fusiliers playing a game of life and death, slowest one loses.

(Unfortunately my camera is too crap to capture these images but if you click here, you can see some baitball images that DJ has taken.)

This fusilier obviously caught the wrong end of someone's stick

Whenever I see shoals of fusiliers over the Cargo I always hang around in the water watching them while the uninitiated remain too busy looking at the ship to notice the hunters approaching. One of the seminal moments of the last season was when I was amidships close to one of the masts by myself as the hunters circled. A bonito came tearing into the fusiliers right at me, missed his kill and arched up past my bubbles back into the blue.

A grace under water that has truly to be seen to be believed.

Underwater life: Hawkfish

2011-08-22T09:52:00.000+05:30

Most definitely the clowns of the underwater world. Wikipedia rather boringly describes them as 'strictly tropical, perciform marine fish of the family Cirrhitidae.' Well yes that does explain their taxonomy but rest assured Hawkfish are fish with attitude.

Who are you looking at? Hawkfish don't back down easily

There is one species that we come across (I think, as I am no expert in identifying fish) on our dives off Colombo and that is the Pixy Hawfish (Cirrhitichthys oxycephalus). This also appears to come in two flavours, the usual spotted kind and a more solid colour morph which is sort of orange with faint spots to be seen sometimes. You will often see them perched amongst corals or a parts of a ship, looking out like a lord looking over its domain. Apparently this habit of superciliously peering around is what inspired their common name, 'hawkfish.'

The spotted version of the Pixy Hawkfish doing what it does best, hawking

I used to see these fish quite frequently while diving but it wasn't until I started taking photographs on dives that I truly came to appreciate their character. This was brought home to me when I was trying to take a photograph of a nudibranch I had found on the Medhafaru wreck, a new species that I hadn't seen before so I was quite excited and determined to get an image of it. This of course since nudi's are generally sessile creatures wasn't rocket science. I did however notice a strange anomaly when I was trying to take the photo, an orange flash that kept appearing and disappearing in the viewfinder.

On removing my eye from the viewfinder to ascertain the cause of the confusion, I was surprised to see a Hawkfish staring at me, eye to eye. Apparently in my efforts to photograph the nudi, I had strayed into his territory and he was having none of it. Despite the fact that he was about 1% of my size he pugnaciously charged the camera and me repeatedly.

Attitude..this is with my macro lens on so the fellow is right up in the camera

I've experienced this many times with Hawkfish who seem territorial to the point of foolishness. They are also incredibly inquisitive. Again on the Medhafaru, DJ and I were diving it and DJ had swum into the cabin to investigate. Being afraid of dark spaces I remained outside to photograph his bubbles streaming through a gap in the cabin. It wasn't long however until this attracted the attention of a Hawfish. First he investigated it and then for a few minutes tried to attack the bubbles.

Hmm...what's that?

Unsuccessful in this he finally discovered that if he leaned against the bubbles he received a rather wonderful massage. The expression of bliss on his face was comical though perhaps tinged with a bit of narcosis on my part.

Getting relief for that backache

Hawkfish are definitely fish to watch out for on the reef and make great photographic subjects for a bit of eye-to-eye action.

Obviously this courting couple did not appreciate being disturbed

A Word of Explaination (again)

2011-08-16T21:49:00.000+05:30

It is a bit shocking to me that I've let this slide so much. My sidebar indicates that for the whole of 2011 I've had one post. I guess in the end that is an indication of how busy a year it has been, personal stuff and a new job with the usual steep learning curve on top of a crazy dive schedule has meant zero updates. Well here's a commitment to blogging a bit more. The flavour of things are probably going to change a bit as well, especially since I now have underwater photography gear and I avoid Yala because of the overcrowding.

So in short order expect:

1) Some wildlife snippets from yonks ago

2) Shorter dive posts with more images

3) More commentary and links on going on's in the conservation/environmental field in Sri Lanka (I will try to avoid ranting)

4) Possibly some information with pictures of the denizens of the deep. Sadly I'm one of the few people in the world obsessed with nudibranchs so expect geeky posts on that.

Stay posted...

Old Man and the Sea

2011-08-11T22:05:00.002+05:30

It was an unlikely place to be, the little shanty in Dehiwala by the sea, bidding goodbye to a most unlikely friend. Lights flickering and a baby kitten mewling as we sat quietly in a group with a shared sense of loss. He was almost unrecognizable out of his constant, characteristic red t-shirt. I’m going to miss the early morning rides out, the old man’s shrewd eyes slightly milky with age but with a sharp tongue. His ribbing about my weight was an integral part of our dives as were the stilted chats during the surface interval, the old days of fishing and the scarcity of modern times, a grassroots view of the current dire straits the country’s marine resources are in.

One of my favourite memories was the mischievous glint in his eyes when he happily informed Asha and me that while we were obliviously coming up from a dive, our bubbles had tickled a Whale Shark over our heads.

I think Ajja put it best.

‎"Up the road, in his shack, the old man was sleeping again. He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by him watching him. The old man was dreaming about the lions." Good bye to the real "old man and the Sea". We will miss him so much.

Clean Up Sri Lanka: Say NO to plastic bags

2010-09-24T07:27:00.000+05:30

Have you noticed the litter around our beautiful homeland while you travel here? The plastic bags flapping on trees and floating in the wevas? Come join us at Clean Up Sri Lanka and help us spread the word on how to stop this:

NO to Litter

NO to Plastic Bags (Please use Reusable bags)

NO to Plastic water bottles

Clean up a mess if you see one!

Clean Up Sri Lanka

Promote Your Page Too

Our Kick off event is at Independence Square on Saturday 25th from 8.30am to 6.30pm. Come down and see how you can help keep our country beautiful.

Kung Fu Kite (Bundala 01/22/2010)

2010-09-20T08:33:00.000+05:30

Did you do it!

Everybody who has spent time in the rural parts of Sri Lanka is accustomed to the Red-Wattled Lapwing’s accusatory call which you can hear at all times of the day and even night.

Of course the rather bewildered juvenile Brahminy Kite still looked a bit taken aback as the screaming Lapwing couple thundered in as he sat somnambulant on a branch by the tank we had parked at. We hadn’t seen any of the drama that had unfolded before. Perhaps the innocent look the Kite had on was a ruse and he had been busted trying to raid the Lapwing’s nest a few moments ago.

But the Lapwings certainly were giving it to the Kite, dive-bombing him fearlessly. The Kite responded with his best Kung Fu moves before eventually deciding discretion was the better part of valour and departing post haste.

Battling Buffalo (Bundala & Yala 01/22/2010)

2010-09-15T08:26:00.001+05:30

It was obviously breeding season for the buffalo as all over Bundala and Yala there were grappling males and females with newly minted young, fresh and gleaming. The Sri Lankan water buffalo, though not as formidable as the African version is still quite a large and bulky beast. Having stood a few meters away from a pissed off looking wild buffalo many moons ago, I can still attest to the raw fear that one feels when looking one of these creatures eye to eye, a fear that hasn’t been dulled by time.

In the parks though the majority off the buff you see are the domestic creatures that have gone feral. Though by no means dainty, the truly massive and impressive specimens are the descendants of the true wild buffalo, Kulu-harak as these are euphemistically called in Sinhala. As to whether there are any genetically pure wild buff left in the wild is unlikely but you can see the flashes of the old, untamed beasts in some at Yala (for a rather fascinatin discussion on the wild vs. feral buffalo issue click here).

The first pair of wrestling beasts we saw in Bundala was relatively tame. They seemed to be more of the Greek wrestling tradition than anything rather more extravagant and spent most of their time seemingly rubbing heads with each other in a half-hearted manner. To be fair though it was pretty early in the morning so perhaps they hadn’t had their morning coffee just yet.

The next pair of dueling buff we saw in Yala were however quite impressive. Coming to an open plain we initially spotted two buffalo staring each other down. These were big guys as well, with a much larger curved span of horns than the ones we had seen in Bundala plus muscular, barrel like bodies.

There was a spurt of dust as one of the buffaloes started its run in. I was torn trying to decide what was more impressive; the buffalo running in, ludicrously nimble considering its bulk or the other one that just stood there, impassive as a rock while a couple of hundred weight of bovine fury galloped at it full tilt.

We could hear the impact from many meters away. A dull, meaty thud as the dust flared and horns locked. After a brief skirmish the pair separated and the buffalo who had run in went back to take his mark.

Once again the run and hit was repeated with a briefer skirmish. The buffalo that had stood his ground was obviously a notch above as when the pair separated for the second time, the runner decided enough was enough and he wandered off...possibly on the look out for an ice pack.

She’s a beauty (Yala 05/06/2010)

2010-09-13T08:30:00.001+05:30

The jeep screeched to a halt as she materialized as if from nowhere. It had been a fruitless, dusty day in the park exacerbated by the fact that our only leopard sighting had been in the midst of a traffic jam that would have put Colombo to shame. As dusk descended over the dry wilderness we headed out of the park, jolting along as thoughts of a warm shower and the delicious bread at Tissa View occupied our thoughts.

I think Sumudhu was the most surprised out of all of us as she materialized as we passed Diganwalla. Possibly close to a year old (but then I’m no expert in aging leopards) she sat there looking mildly affronted at our hasty stop. She stared at us for awhile before getting up, stretching lithely and heading down to the water to drink.

At the water’s edge she put on what could only be described as a performance for us. Delicately, as though she didn’t want her pristine paws soiled by the mud she paced up and down and snarled at imagined threats in the water repeatedly until settling down to rapidly lap at the water.

What had seemed like a lost day suddenly turned into a perfect one, as the stunningly beautiful young leopard locked eyes with us. May she have many years of life as the supreme predator of Yala ahead of her.

King Gemunu (Yala 05/06/2010)

2010-09-08T08:26:00.001+05:30

As announcing sightings goes, Suren’s was a bit of a mix of anticlimax and irony, as a he turned towards us with a thoughtful expression on his face and announced he could have sworn he had just seen a tusker approaching through the bush as we whizzed past. Sumudhu and the tracker seemed a bit nonplussed by this casual announcement but we nonetheless backed up quickly to investigate.

The heat hadn’t gotten to Suren’s head as he had indeed spotted a rather magnificent tusker coming towards the road. Silently one of the Kings of Yala emerged from the brush onto the road. Along with the leopard and bear, the tuskers of Yala are another iconic animal for the wildlife enthusiast. I was brought up on pictures, stories and very occasional sightings of the famous tuskers of the park such as the now dead (mostly from being killed for their ivory) behomeths such as Kublai Kahn and the Podi and Loku Pootuwas (cross-tuskers). This particular tusker was Gemunu, not a tusker with the most impressive tusks that I have seen, but an absolutely massive male with a breathtaking presence about him.

Silently and confidently he walked down the dusty, red road. The afternoon light glowed around him as we stared in awe. We appeared to far to lowly for him to take any interest in us and even when he came level and we started the engine to go forward he didn’t take much notice except to step off the road. We stared at him in awe as he walked around the road for another ten minutes before taking leave of us and stepping back into the bush.

Roadside Repairs (Yala 05/06/2010)

2010-09-06T08:15:00.000+05:30

Craaack!

It was a disconcerting sound that echoed like a gunshot as the Defender 110 went over the pothole. The old jeep rattled to a stop, seemingly fatally wounded. Sumudhu turned to us and rather nonchalantly announced that the axle had broken. This seemed the worst possible news as our run of the park had just started and a broken axle seemed something that would require a tow out of the park.

Sumudhu repairing the jeep

Casually Sumudhu reached over for his phone and called Sugathe, his father, the wily old veteran jeep driver of Yala. Shortly afterwards, Sugathe came up in his Defender 110. And that’s when things became a bit surreal.

Axle for repair; Sugathe, our guardian angel in heavy disguise leaves

Casually, as if this was an everyday kind of repair, Sugathe passed Sumudhu a spare axle which was casually slotted in as if the jeep was made out of lego building blocks. The broken axle was placed in the back for repairs in Tissa, a quick wash of hands for Sumudhu and we were off!

Sumudhu cleaning up before we head off

On The Trail of the Leopard (Wilpattu, May 2010: Part 3)

2010-08-02T09:04:00.007+05:30

Continued from here:

Of course while we were getting the full tour of the park we were also on the trail of the elusive leopard, the endless family yarns about fabulous sightings egging us on. We kept an eye out in the brush and white sand around the villus to no avail. My eyes burned as the green brush and twisted trunks flashed by the jeep and I stared out for that flash of black and gold. We frustratingly missed two leopard sightings on the jeep track by mere seconds, probably scared off into the bush by our engine, leaving only their pugmarks imprinted on the fine sand.

Pug marks in the sand

The adrenaline did rush one more time when we approached a group of grey langurs that had gotten spooked by something. Some of the animals were crashing around in the trees while others craned their necks, staring at something off the road that was obviously of great interest to them. We spent a breathless, hot hour parked watching the langurs as they simultaneously kept a watch on whatever it was in the brush that excited them and us. Finally the monkeys lost interest and moved on, indicating the leopard, if it was a leopard had also move on. The whole time we had been scanning the undergrowth with binoculars but it was simply too thick for anything to be seen.

Watchful Langur

On the outlook (Courtesy PP)

Exhausted as much by the anticipation as by the heat and grueling drive, we called it quits and regretfully left the park, driving through swirls of yellow butterflies that had congregated on the road. Wilpattu, on our first visit, kept her secrets well hidden. As the animals have still not been acclimatized, Wilpattu’s wilds and wildlife deserve many visits and you will have to work hard, very hard for your sightings. Assuming of course the park survives the unplanned depredations that are being visited upon it now.

Butterflies bidding us goodbye

Part 1

Part 2

The Full Tour (Wilpattu, May 2010: Part 2)

2010-07-30T08:02:00.003+05:30

Continued from here:

This being our first time in the park for all of us, we had opted for the complete tour and Chamara obliged very gladly. The Villus of course are a characteristic highlight of the park, Tala Villu, Kali Villu, Maila Villu, Walas Villu, the names rolled of Chamara’s tongue as we passed the golden grass and pure white sands of the small lakes. Formed by water percolating through limestone rock to the surface, the villus are famed for their birdlife, though possibly due to the park being quite dry we didn’t see too many birds.

One of the many Villus,I cannot recall which one; Wilpattu birdlife

We didn’t see any of the legendary ‘villu elephants’ either, long touted as being the biggest elephants in Sri Lanka. In fact on our whole trip our sightings of animals were few and far between, a Monitor Lizard on its way up the evolutionary ladder, a Barking Deer standing transfixed in the road before dashing off into the undergrowth, two Sambhur watching us warily before spooking and Wild Boar trundling ahead of us. It was obvious that the animals still had a ways to go before getting used to vehicles and people.

Monitor Lizard at attention; Wary Sambhur; Wild Boar on the road

A gloom settled over our little group as we cut across the new ‘Mannar’ road that bisects the park. Chamara was subdued as well as the personnel at the Navy checkpoint were incredibly arrogant as we tried to cross over to the other side of the park. Being used to the good manners of the forces in most other places we were a bit perturbed by this treatment and Chamara seemed to withdraw into a shell as he told us in low tones about how the Navy had started acting like they owned the park. Crossing the new road we came across more brush cleared along the track as we moved towards Kudiramale. Then we hit it, the new coastal road that the Navy had cut along the westward edge of the park. The fresh red earth gleamed like newly drawn blood across an immense expanse that stretched on either side of us. I’m not even sure how to describe what I felt then, just nausea that after all this time, the crown jewel of our parks was finally open but being pillaged at the same time.

Cleared brush; The road cut by the Navy

Our mood was slightly lifted as we stopped at little bay from where we had to disembark and walk to Kudiramale Point, where Vijaya is supposed to have landed presumably in search of somewhere to party. The red soil of the area is linked with the name given to Lanka by Vijaya of Thambapanni. From the bay we walked into the shallow sea and hugged the shore to where we could ascend up the hill. The waters lapped warm and brown against our feet as fossilized coral showed just under the surface. The silence and the immobility of the small bay was a bit unnerving as we picked our way through the water and the twisted trees and we were somewhat relieved to leave the sea and start up the hill.

Walking in the bay; Strange driftwood

Of course by this time it was close to noon and soon our relief was overcome by exhaustion and a general unwillingness to go on. Of course Chamara egged us on up the cliff and we entered an eerie landscape of black heaps of stone that to me looked again like fossilized coral, though others didn’t agree. It was a fascinating experience though and I was as usual drawn to the sea. From the cliffs the waters looked at once quite shallow but a bit unnerving with Ghar fish swimming in throngs in the milky water and rocks appearing and disappearing in the murk.

The sea from the cliffs; Black rock formations

A flash of bright blue alerted us to a rather incongruously new board put up by the Navy explaining the historical significance of the area with laviscous details of Kuveni’s affair with Vijaya. Well I jest but the board was somewhat interesting and I glanced at it for a few seconds before I realized the jeep was nearby along with a much needed bottle of water. And thirst trumped interest in history.

History of the site

Part 1

Part 3

A Tragic Park (Wilpattu, May 2010: Part 1)

2010-07-26T08:57:00.005+05:30

Wilpattu. The name has always evoked bittersweet excitement for me. All my life it has been my Shangri La for wildlife. I grew up with the tales of family trips of generations and the almost mystical leopard sightings, shining gold and black on the white sands of the Villu’s. Wilpattu is the country’s largest park and arguably the most untouched, its bungalows (when in operation many years ago) were rated the best in the land, all in addition to its reputation for being the top site for leopard sightings in Lanka. As if this wasn’t enough value for money, the park also plays host to sites that are writ large in Sri Lanka’s storied past, including Kudrimalai point where Prince Vijaya is said to have landed and a palace that was supposed to have belonged to Kuveni, the tribal princess.

Wilpattu Jungles

Despite its many wonders, in 29 years I had never been to Wilpattu save for when I was a mere toddler. It didn’t take too much enticement when S called asking if I wanted to accompany them on quick weekend jaunt to Wilpattu. Leaving from Colombo on the midnight run via the A3, we reached our base, the Governor’s Camp bungalow in Wilpattu as a grey morning dawned. Quite a charming bungalow offering good value for money minutes from the park, the lodge can accommodate eight people in four double rooms for the price of Rs.10,000 a night. You can bring your own food or pay extra for food, we opted for the latter and the fare was quite good. The options for accommodation appeared a bit thin at the time with other bases ranging from hotels in Anuradhapura and Kalpitiya. I personally would not advise staying at places that are this far away, simply because it means you need more time to get to the park entrance. And you want to get to the park at the first hint of daylight to get the best wildlife sightings.

The road to the entrance

Things seemed quiet around the park entrance where we rendezvoused with our jeep driver, Sunil for our whole day safari, which set us back a grand total of Rs.7,000. A half day safari would set you back Rs. 4,000 but given the size of the park, unless you are really short of time you want to go for the full days safari. The lines of Safari jeeps you see in Yala were absent and it looked like, despite the park having been open for over two and a half months, it was still not heavily visited. In fact we were to see a grand total of three other jeeps, all venerable old Willis jeeps, during our time in the park over the weekend.

Entrance to Wilpattu

Packing into our jeep we drove to the park office at Hunuvilagama to get the formalities of our visit, purchasing tickets and having a ‘tracker’ (i.e. guide) assigned. Wandering around the office, the neglected state of the jewel in the crown of Sri Lanka’s dry zone parks was apparent. The infrastructure was dilapidated and the exhibits looked forlorn and dusty. Noting a roster of park wardens in the corner I went over for a closer look. I felt an eerie chill as I noted that the list stopped at Wasantha Pushpananda, the warden of the park who was killed by the LTTE in 2007. The board seemed oddly matter of fact, Park Warden, 2003. There was no indication of the violent end this dedicated man had come to in an ambush at Kokkare Villu.

Wardens of Wilpattu

Shaking these morbid thoughts off, we loaded our Chamara, our tracker, a most pleasant and enthusiastic guide and headed off into the park. The drive into the park led through Wilpattu’s signature monsoon forest, venerable Pallu and Weera trees clustered up on either side of the road while sunlight filtered through the canopy which met overhead. Our first sighting of the day was a relatively common Serpent Eagle which decided to fly along the road in front of our jeep. Sunil cut the engine and we coasted along in silence with the eagle escorting us and the sounds of the jungle around us, cicadas shimmering and the musical chiok, chaw-choik calls of the Jungle Fowl.

Chamara, our tracker

Breaking into an open plain we came to the dilapidated buildings at Maradanmaduwa. As we ate a hasty breakfast, Chamara told us about the fateful day on May 15, 1985 when the LTTE massacred a 120 people in Anuradhapura and made their escape through the park, killing a further 19 people in the park. Apparently one of the staff at the park was a survivor of this event and got off relatively lightly with gunshot wounds to the leg. We were later to have another reminder of the park’s grim past as we saw the remains of the jeep that had been ripped apart in May 2006 killing amongst six others, the renowned author Nihal De Silva. Hopefully as the park continues to gain popularity and returns to its former majesty, Wilpattu’s sheen of past violence will wear off.

Maradanmaduwa buildings

Continued here

Part 2

Part 3

The Green and Black Gem (Sinharaja 2/13/2010)

2010-07-08T09:09:00.000+05:30

If you are ever in Sinharaja and you see a small body of water, even something that would be deemed a pond with exaggeration of the highest order, do tread softly. You could be inches from one of Sri Lanka’s most beautiful, endemic snakes, the Green Pit Viper (Trimeresurus trigonocephalus). And you don't want to scare it away.

Emerald green, yellow and burnished black would probably be an adequate description for this little jewel of a snake. I had never seen one until a trip to Sinharaja in February with the Adventure Lanka crew where we saw around three of them near small bodies of water, the snakes entwined in the undergrowth.

Of course these snakes are poisonous, though fatalities apparently have never been recorded, so treat the snake with the outmost respect and you will get some great macro photographs.

The Small Stuff (Yala 05/06/2010)

2010-07-07T09:00:00.020+05:30

The Sri Lankan Big Four. Leopard, bear, elephant, buffalo. Those are generally the animals that are synonymous with Yala. Yet on this trip to Yala I took a few minutes off when we stopped for a rest at the Menik Ganga to take a small break and look out for the small stuff. And the search was surprisingly rewarding, not only in terms of obtaining some pictures of animals you usually don’t associate with Yala but also for getting a couple of more ‘arty’ shots.

The Menik Ganga (River)

(Photo Courtesy of PP)

The first item of interest on the menu was a roiling black mass on the white sands bordering the river. Taking a closer look I was astonished to see hundreds of small beetles engaging in what could be described as an all out orgy. I’m guessing it was a mass breeding of these beetles which happened every now and then and the copulating carabids made for some very interesting macro efforts.

Beetle orgy
Wandering over to where the trees overhung some still water, it was apparent that sex was on everybody’s mind as I stumbled upon two mayflies mating. Unfortunately I’m an insect neophyte so was unable to identify the species. The light was also very dim under the canopy so my shots were more abstract than perhaps I would have liked, but then capturing mating mayflies on the move is dim light is no easy task.

Mayflies mating

Leaving the mayflies to their own devices I wandered over to the river and noted the gorgeous colours of the decaying leaves in the water, chocolate browns, dark red and bright yellow, shimmering in the water. Of course since I’m easily distracted I was promptly distracted by an unidentified butterfly that teased me by not settling down for a clear picture apart from a few brief moments.

Leaves in the Ganga; Unidentified Butterfly
The icing on the cake for the small stuff was the shy frogs inhabiting a little pool of still water near the dried up bank. I played hide and seek with them amongst the fringe of rootlets dropping into the water to get a few interesting pictures of a somewhat common amphibian.

Peek-a-boo Frog; Bolder Frogs

There is of course a moral to this post. The next time you're in Yala, do take a break at the Menik Ganga, do not litter (and pick up what other people have left behind) and take a look around you for the small stuff. Trust me, it's as interesting as any leopard can be.

Note that I haven’t put in the species for the frog and the butterfly in the images simply because I’m lazy to ID them. If anyone does know what they are please let me know! Thank you in advance!

The grid-locked leopard (Yala, 05/06/2010)

2010-06-23T08:25:00.000+05:30

The phone beebed as Sumudu reached over and said he’s customary ‘Kiyanna!’ (translated loosely as What’s up). Looking back at us with a terse ‘Allagane’ we sped up as he drove through the dusty tracks to where a leopard had been sighted taking a snooze in a tree. A breathless ride later we came to a hurried halt in front off not a snoozing leopard, but a traffic jam in the jungle.

Traffic jam (photo courtesy PP)

Don’t get me wrong, I love Yala from the bottom of my heart, but sometimes the crowds can get on my nerves. The engines revving, the fumes and the loudness of the pissed off drivers all can be a bit much. I don’t really care if the leopard in question is doing a tango, dressed in a pink mini-skirt on a Palu tree, I simply have no patience for this kind of thing.

Sumudu trying to get the line moving (photo courtesy PP)

We stayed in line for what seemed an eternity, Sumudu trying to jostle a look see at a leopard that remained obstinately blocked by a bush in front of us. I made the best of a bad time by settling down for a small nap. Which considering the fact I had woken up at 4am was much welcomed.

Time for a nap (photo courtesy PP)

Finally getting to the head, or rather the middle, of the line we could see the leopard, through a haze of intervening branches, rather firmly ensconced on a branch showing no sign of getting up. Rather unexpectedly however it suddenly raised its head, resulting in a shudder of excitement through the audience and a crescendo of camera clicks. It nonchalantly licked itself a bit, gave us a stern glare turned around and went straight back to sleep.

Yawn, lick, stare

That was of course, our sign to move on and leave the sleeping, celebrity leopard to its admirers, while we searched on for a more peaceful encounter.

Fast asleep

Stepping on Snakes (Moneragala Chronicles)

2010-06-21T08:52:00.000+05:30

As a word of explanation, I once spent two months living in a little village in Maragalakanda, close to Moneragala back in 2004. My purpose, living there without electricity or running water, was to study bird diversity in an agroforestry scheme for my MSc. This was when the photography bug first bit so there are some tales worth telling and some photos worth showing, though the latter were for the most part taken with a dinky Canon G3. For more of the Moneragala Chronicles click here.

Nuwan jumped off the tree that he had just tied a yellow ribbon to, marking one of our research sites and landed lightly on the rock. He looked at his feet, looked at me initially with no indication that anything was amiss but a split second later his countenance changed. Dare I say he went a bit pale and in rapid succession he did a double take towards his feet and daintily but adroitly stepped aside.

Of course not being one to be fazed by anything, especially anything reptilian in nature, Nuwan excitedly beckoned me over to show me what he had almost landed on. On the rock, amidst the leaf litter lay a perfectly camouflaged, snake. Nuwan’s foot had landed a mere two inches away from its head but it hadn’t moved an inch as it lay there, the pointed snout of its viper head resting on its coils.

We identified the snake quite easily as a Merrem’s Hump Nosed Viper, elegantly known as Hypnale hypnale in Latin and the Kunakatuwa in Sinhala. It was a beautiful specimen of what we at the time thought was a relatively mildly poisonous viper. Of course if Nuwan had been bitten it would have gotten complicated as we were a couple of kilometers out in the jungle down a very steep slope in thorny intermediate jungle. Rather spine tinglingly, I found out many moons later that according to two gentlemen by the name of Kularatne & Ratnatunge (1999) in a poetically titled article ‘Severe systemic effects of Merrem’s hump-nosed viper bite’ that the venom can cause acute renal failure and bleeding disorders.

Thankfully at the time we were ignorant of these dangers and we simply took some pictures, patted the viper lovingly on the head (I jest!) and made our way back to the research site, being extra mindful of where we kept our feet.

The vertical leopard

2010-06-16T09:31:00.001+05:30

For many moons the trackers at Yala used to urge us to keep an eye on the Palu trees, for apparently you would often see the tail of a leopard twitching in the tree tops. The higher elevations were favourite places for the elusive Panthera pardus kotiya (yes I’m showing off, I know the scientific name!) especially as the temperature in the park increased. Yet for all the supposed love for heights the leopards had, over a couple of decades of trips I never saw one in a tree.

December was when I first saw a leopard in a tree, a beautiful young cub. And on my next visit to Yala in January, it seemed all the leopards had suddenly decided to go aerial as a couple of hours into our round Sugathe our jeep driver got a call about a leopard up a tree near Vepandeniya on the Uraniya Loop. Pelting hell for leather there, what we initially came face to face was a line of vehicles. Unfortunately in Yala on the weekends, this is very much to be expected, so we resignedly took our place at the back and peered towards the Palu trees off to our left.

Sugathe, our regular jeep driver

Sure enough, a flash of gold and black beckoned from amongst the boughs. A beautiful, full grown female leopard was taking a break from the hot sun. As usual, the angle she was sitting at afforded the rather wonderful photographic opportunity of a leopard leg. So we patiently settled in to wait her out, hoping against hope than when she came down off the tree she would offer a decent photograph as a reward for our patience.

She shows some rear

The heat was cloistering as we waited, the rumble of engines and diesel fumes reeked every now and then as a jeep either gave up and left or another heard the news and rolled up. We were treated to a moment of comedy when a jeep rolled up to us and an earnest gentleman asked us whether we were looking at the leopard that was up in the tree. Taken up by the obviousness of this question, both S and I didn’t miss a beat as we replied in unison, ‘No! We’re looking at the other leopard!’ Our tracker and Sugathe had to stifle their laughter while the rest of our jeep rocked with mirth. Of course this was all in Sinhala which tends to add a musical eloquence to such silliness which is probably lost in translation.

Teases us with a couple of tantalizing glimpses

While we waited, we were treated to some irresponsible behaviour from the inhabitants of a jeep in front, who were flashing a mirror at the leopard, trying to get it off the tree. Unfortunately the trackers seem to be unable to keep this kind of behaviour under control. With the risk of sounding preachy it is imperative that those of us who visit these parks show the animals the respect that they deserve as we are in their habitat. The offending jeep was too far in front for us to be able to spot who was doing it but some of the drivers and trackers yelled out (well in a manner of speaking) asking them to stop bothering the animal.

It seemed like we would be there for ever, as the leopard showed no indication of moving a muscle, apart from the occasional twitch to shake a fly off. Then…luck struck. A herd of wild boar, oblivious to the leopard above their heads moved into the grove of Palu trees and through it. The leopard perked up, sat up and, as we trained our cameras, slipped down the tree trunk and leapt into the jungle in one fluid movement, accompanied by what could only be described as a mute roar of camera clicks.

In the blink of an eye, she comes down

As the leopard disappeared into the forest behind the wild boar, the jeeps all roared into action, reversing up to a fork of the road with everyone trying to figure out where the leopard went. Sugathe has been doing this for twenty years, and his experience showed. Ignoring the antics of the rest of the tourists, we drove slightly down another road and stayed put, Sugathe admonishing us to keep quiet.

Wild boar crossing

Sure enough, the wild boar broke through, the mothers scurrying their young piglets along, dust kicked up by their tiny hooves. As they crossed the road, the dust settled. Then a minute later, out of seemingly nowhere, the leopard stepped out onto the road. She looked over to us in curiousity before deciding that we were not worth getting worried about and stalked across the road, a feline princess of the jungle, beautiful in her glory. Well worth the wait

On the hunt, she crosses into the jungle

Wrestling elephants in Kaudulla

2010-06-14T08:55:00.001+05:30

As some of the foreign elements of the family had come down for a flying visit to the homeland we did a rather hectic jaunt to the cultural triangle including Sigiriya, Ritigalla, etc and decided to get some wildlife in by visiting Minneriya. Notably I had never been to Minneriya to see the 'gathering' so I was quite excited. We rolled into Sigiriya village, rented a jeep from the hotel and headed out to the park in the early evening.

As the jeep hurtled over the potholes, my aunt got progressively mystified, as in her experience, Minneriya had been a lot closer to the hotel than it seemed now. Talking to the jeep driver, the mystery was cleared up when it turned out that despite our request, we were heading to the nearby Kaudulla park instead of Minneriya. Apparently because given the time of year (July), Kaudulla was a better place to visit to see pachyderms as the gathering still hadn't taken place in Minneriya.

Jeep entering the park

Rolling into the park, we all stood up in the jeep in anticipation. Initially we were greeted primarily by cows, grazing at the border off the tank. Not the most exciting of animals to see. Things however brightened up shortly afterwards with the appearance of a lone male elephant obliviously eating close by to the road. As we nervously sidled past, the elephant didn't move a whisker (if he had had whiskers that is) and instead studiously ignored us. It then proceeded to put on a 'hat' of some foliage and wandered off towards the waters edge, perhaps to quench its thirst or take an afternoon dip.

Wearing a green cap, he wanders off

A few minutes later though and a bit of a distance away, another elephant turned up. And he was a bit more peraly as my aunt out it (i.e. more frolicky, would be the best translation I guess).

Frisky elephant

This was where the behaviour of some of the park visitors began to grate. One jeep with a lone photographer drove straight up to elephant and began to bait it. Another jeep full of Italian tourists started to yell at the elephant. The humans became the uncivilized lot while the elephant thankfully retreated back into the bush. It looks like our protected areas are protected only in name and the visitors simply have no respect for our great outdoors.

Elephant baiting

The lack of empathy the Italians suffered from had to be seen to be believed. Previously when we were buying tickets to enter the park, a couple of round, lobster red tourists wandered straight past a tame(?) owl that was seated on a post by the walkway to the office. Obviously so un-attuned to the natural world that they didn't see a great big owl taking a break within a few feet of them. Thankfully the owl wasn't too fussed and instead pointed his back at me as soon as I pointed my camera at him. The golden rule of wildlife photography that is, all animals feel their posterior is the best part to be photographed.

Owl backside; Owl peeking

Anyways back to the elephants. After the antics of the parkgoers we moved on further into the park and that's when things got truly magical and surreal. Four adolescent male elephants turned up and proceeded to put on the Circu du Soleil of elephant performances. Testing each others strengths out, they wrestled each other, trunks twisting, legs heaving and even biting each others tails. At one point, they formed a rugby scrum, two versus two and pushed at each other. Obviously trying to get points for originality they even fought over tree branches, which were still attached to the tree.

Wrestling elephants part one

I was enchanted and furiously clicked away at the elephants. In fact I was so engrossed I hit someone in the jeep in the head with my lens quite solidly. But no matter because the lens came to no harm.

Wrestling elephants part two

As the sun set, the four elephants were still at it and we had to regretfully take their leave. Almost on queue as we bounced away over the grey green grass, as we looked back, the elephants merged back into the forest, blotting out from our view as the light fell like a curtain over their performance.

Eastern Grey Heron at sunset

Hunters in the shallows

2010-06-11T08:59:00.001+05:30

I finned out to where the water depth increased to around 3 meters, still getting used to feeling of being so lightweight sans the usual scuba tank, weights and other paraphernalia. Even inhaling was vastly different, so silent through the snorkel as opposed to the usual clatter of the regulator. The early morning sun warmed my back as I floated above a prolific garden of coral.

The branched corals however looked oddly bleak, deserted, as if the myriad inhabitants knew that something was afoot. After peering into the blue distance for awhile without any reward, I took a quick skin dive down and as I skimmed over the coral, it was there. One minute what was an empty blue space was suddenly occupied by the streamlined, gun-metal grey of the world’s best adapted predator. Like a wraith it had appeared out of the blue, a Black-Tip shark. Unfortunately the commotion I caused with my dive scared it off and it retreated as quickly as it had turned up.

Chastened by my lesson in patience, I came back up to the surface and hung there hoping I hadn’t scared off the shark. The coral lay silent once more while the snorkel hummed as I breathed in and out, the blue water still empty.

Suddenly, in between one snorkel breath and the other….they were everywhere. The pack had arrived.

Images courtesy of Dharshana Jayawardena (Dive Sri Lanka)

The sharks weaved sinuously through the water; initially two of them right in front of me caught my attention. A movement out of the corner of my eye, another shark to the left skimmed over the reef while more swam in the distance, shadows in the blue yonder. The inhabitants of the coral reef had been in hiding for a very good reason. The one thing that came to mind as the sharks swam, soaring over the coral, was purpose. They looked to be in hunting mode, effortlessly gliding through the water.

Images courtesy of Dharshana Jayawardena (Dive Sri Lanka)

Some of the sharks were incongruously followed by the bright yellow and black Golden Trevalley, shivering their fins at high speed in order to keep up with their chosen host. I watched as one Trevalley take a break down to the reef to scoop up some invisible morsel. You could almost hear it cursing to itself as it came up off the reef in a flurry almost having missed its shark, which obliviously swam on.

Images courtesy of Dharshana Jayawardena (Dive Sri Lanka)

An indescribable feeling of awe overcame me as the shark pack swam around me, the perfect predator, a pinnacle of evolutionary magnificence that has not changed for millennia.

Images courtesy of Dharshana Jayawardena (Dive Sri Lanka)

I also felt hugely privileged. This was a sight that not many people will see. Overfishing has depleted shark populations in Sri Lanka hugely. The fishing both for consumption and more insidiously for the fin export market in China has reduced these magnificent creatures to a fraction of their original abundance. A similar campaign against leopards would have raised the ire of conservationists and the public in multitudes. Unfortunately the misunderstood nature of the shark and our lack of understanding of the ocean have led to the mass murder of sharks and the loss of one of the most magnificent animals in the seas surrounding us.

Say NO to Shark Finning!

Rained out (Gal Oya Part 4)

2010-06-09T09:23:00.002+05:30

Continued from (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Did I mention it was raining? Well it was and showed no signs of letting up. As we huddled under the tarp, making some feeble attempts at sopping up the tents, one of the more astute members of the group noted the river. Where there had previously been a somewhat small rapid shooting frothy white through the rocks, there was now what looked like the Limpopo in full blast. Brown water with vestiges of white foam shot through the rocks with frightening energy as the water swirled up the tree trunks that had previously stood high and dry. The sand bank on the opposite bank, which, with its rock face backing had seemed such an ideal camp site was now washed away.

Given the impending prospect of being washed into the Senanayake Samudra, kitchen table and all, we discussed our options, namely:

a) get the hell out of there and go crash at the park office

b) batten down and stay, hope the rain stops and the river doesn’t rise any further.

One would think that given the situation option a) would have been the natural choice. But, being the adventurers that we are, it was quite a lengthy debate we had on what to do. Eventually sense prevailed (not due to any contribution from me, I was quite down for hanging around to see what happened) and we decided to break camp and move out. While setting camp had been relatively simple, breaking camp was anything but.

By this time we were all miserable and soaked to the bone and tired from the hike. Untying ropes, folding tents with sand sticking everywhere and carrying heavy boxes up to the cabs almost incapacitated us...but we plugged on. Once again the tracker showed his true worth by not helping in the least bit. We decided not to tip him after our trip and to instead charge him for our meals due to his helpful demeanor. Gehan made him carry our ablution water bottles though, as an elegant final touch.

Packing the cabs was just the beginning as heading back out to the office we discovered that the piddling little streams we had splashed across in our mighty four wheel drives had now turned into reasonably significant bodies of water. The water was a murky brown amongst the jungle trees and there was no telling what the depth of the water and mud was. Thus we were treated to the sight of grown men holding each others hands and fording the river to check the depth. Unfortunately I had packed away my camera at the bottom of my gear bag to keep it dry so couldn’t record these images for posterity.

For the most part, the streams were pretty shallow and devoid of mud so didn’t provide much impediment to the cabs on four wheel. There was one moment where we all had our hearts in our mouth, where turning a corner it appeared the entire road had become a river, with a couple of trees fallen across it. Thankfully this turned out to be an optical illusion as the road actually swiveled off at right angles to our initial turn and was in quite good condition. We chugged across the last stream and breathed a sigh of relief that we hadn’t been marooned.

Fording through the jungle (note these images were taken the next morning as we were leaving the park)

On our way to the office we took a break to check out a collection of smooth, round, black rocks that were all that was left of an ancient road that apparently had stretched from Ruhuna to Pollonaruwa back in the times of the kings. The road would have been quite wide, enough for two modern vehicles to pass and it was amazing that it still remained in some shape or form (unfortunately no pictures again). We pondered for a bit if even back in those days anybody took a 10% commission for building such roads and then, mildly depressed by the reminder of the situation in the country, we headed back to the relative safety of the Department office to, after an eternity of being damp, enjoy the unbelievable luxury of some dry clothes.

It seemed like our Gal Oya camping adventure had ended but we made the best of it by enjoying the idyllic location of the department office. One of the best parts of a trip out of Colombo is of course the company, so we cracked a couple of bottles of wine and sat around telling tall tales of jungle trips of the past as well as some more earthy and inappropriate stories. Further entertained by a scorpion dropping by to say hello, we drank until we were dry and retired to the rather precarious tree house for the night, noting that we should probably check the weather report before coming to Gal Oya next.

The precarious tree house; Unwelcome visitor

Walk to Makara (Gal Oya Part 3)

2010-06-07T09:31:00.004+05:30

Continued from (Part 1) (Part 2)

I woke up bright and early to take some landscapes from our campsite. Unfortunately the sun didn't have the same idea and it was a decidedly overcast and damp day that I woke up to. While the rest of the camp slumbered I wandered down to the river, camera in hand and amused myself by stopping my aperture down as much as possible and taking some long exposures.

Sleeping camp; Gal Oya river at dawn

Once enough people had woken up to provide some sort of rescue service in case of wild animal attack I wandered out of camp for some ablutions and then met up with everyone else for a morning river bath. Dry zone notwithstanding the Gal Oya is pretty damn cold early in the morning and rain appeared to be in the air.

Following a late breakfast we powwowed as to what to do, finally deciding on a small walk to Makara, about a click from the camp site to where the river exits into the mighty Senanayake Samudra. A friend of mine (whom I have no reason to disbelieve) told me that the site was called Makara (i.e. dragon) because the water coming out of the rocks at certain times of the year looks like it’s coming out of the mouth of a dragon.

The initial part of the hike was through some beautiful forest, ethereally lit by the sunlight filtering through the canopy to dapple the litter strewn floor. The tracker rather sternly told us that if he told us not to move, to please follow his instructions in order to avoid having a bear tear our heads off. He then promptly forgot that there were two small kids in our group and was miles ahead of us during the whole hike, which was again...a bit disconcerting. As we clambered through the dark gallery forest, roots twisting blackly across our path amongst the tumbled rocks, the forest was eerily quiet. No bird life was apparent due to the overcast conditions, just armies of insects marching their way through silently, occasionally taking a detour over us.

Through the forest; Over streams

A light gradually filtered through the forest and we could see a bright break ahead of us through the all encompassing foliage. We emerged out of the forest and stepped out onto some rocks by the border of the river, blinking and trying to adjust to the light. Vast sandbanks petered down to the muddy water as we watched a juvenile white bellied sea eagle fly into the jungle. This was the Makara area but as the river was pretty high it was just water flowing over rocks as opposed to under them.

Makara rocks amidst the river

Apparently during the dry season a stadium of sand forms where you can camp and then walk to the Senanayake Samudra to see elephants. The landscape was still quite beautiful if a bit imposing, the brown river snaking through gigantic boulders while we walked precariously close to the edge. A slip and roll down the sandbank and the only option I could see of getting back onto land was swimming into the reservoir and to the bank. A prospect I looked upon somewhat dimly due to both the unfriendly nature of the river and the definite presence of crocodiles of an indeterminate size and disposition in it.

The lazy tracker

It was then that it started to drizzle and half the group (rather wisely headed back). We of course voted to keep heading out crossing some treacherous sand dunes and slippery rocks. We finally came to a point where it became impossible in the wet blustery conditions to continue without breaking at least a few bones. There we soaked for a bit, huddling into some rocks, trying to wait out the rain and then once the rain seemed to lighten started heading back. The incessant rain had made the walk back even more treacherous and small streams we had hopped across were now mini rapids. We amused ourselves on the way back by falling down a couple of inclines where the soft earth had turned into gooey mud, all the while acutely conscious of what the damp maybe doing to our camera equipment.

Stumbling back into camp, soaked (having disturbing visions of a puddle of water in my camera bag soaking everything) to the bone we hastily unloaded and started drying off. Thankfully some t-shirts in my bag had managed to soak much of the water but our tents hadn't been so lucky, having leaked rather extravagantly.

Sheltering from the rain

After cleaning up our camera gear and drying the tent to the best of our abilities we decided to clean ourselves off by jumping into the river. We noted with some interest that the water had increased in level as the rain continued to pour down, where the water had been gushing over the rocks, it was now more of a cataract, white flecked and angry brown.

Continued to (Part 3) (Part 4)

Setting up camp (Gal Oya Part 2)

2010-06-02T09:31:00.004+05:30

Continued from (Part 1)

After a handful of hours of sleep and the long, arduous drive, we celebrated by carrying a mountain of camping gear down a small path to our campsite on the banks of the Gal Oya. In the spirit of trying out this Web 2.0 business, I did a small videolog of our approach to the campsite. Note that most of the time I'm talking utter nonsense due to equal measures of exhaustion, concentrating on not trying to fall down the path and my general ability to talk nonsense. David Attenborough I most certainly am not. Also please note there might be a small amount of swearing in the clip so close your ears if you're sensitive to that kind of thing.

Videos aside, we carried everything but the kitchen table (oh wait...we did carry the kitchen table down) to the site and set up. Thankfully the tents (rather brilliant knock offs of $500 REI tents) were easy to install and put up and in the space of an hour we were sorted. All there was to do was jump in the river, which we thought was quite high (little did we know how mistaken we were on this as we saw on the second day) and cool off. Before that however we took some time off to be bitten vigorously by the Kadiya's that were everywhere in Gal Oya...and I mean everywhere! Our tracker also rather oddly proved to be the laziest individual I have ever come across, not lifting a finger to help us or direct us as to the best site to camp, etc. Rarely have I seen customer service done so badly and it was a shame because he seemed quite intelligent and enthusiastic about the wilds.

Unloading the gear; Setting up camp

A cold beer, gold leaf and a dip in the Gal Oya followed by a rice and curry followed. Pure bliss as the sun set on our little camp in the jungle.

Continued to (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

The Road to Gal Oya (Gal Oya Part 1)

2010-05-31T09:49:00.006+05:30

“Let me call you back and let you know if I’m in”

10 seconds later…

“I’m in.”

It really didn’t take much arm twisting for me to say yes to a three day camping trip to Gal Oya when S called to let me know a space had opened up on their trip. Gal Oya looms large in my family lore, my grandfather having been one of the lead engineers when the Senanayake Samudra was being built. All my life I’ve heard fascinating tales of elephants interrupting picnics, inspection tours and arguments with foreign engineers. Add this lore to the obsessive fascination I already have for the dry zone and Gal Oya was indeed my Lankan Shangri La.

So it was that I found myself at C’s place at the ungodly hour of midnight helping pack the vehicle for the trip. A trusty old Toyota doublecab was our chariot to the jungles but before we could leave we had to set up the seats and canopy in the back. What looked quite simple was of course not quite so and a lot of grunting, lifting and cuts from the metal poles were required before the canopy was set. Then came lugging all the gear into the back, ranging from chairs, to a tent, to gas cylinders to…rather interestingly…the kitchen table. I was reassured that all this material was essential for a successful camping trip, which I guess it was.

The last ingredient was the man-servant, whom we tried to fit into the back but he just wouldn’t fit into the last gap between the kitchen table and the stack of chairs. I jest...of course the man-servant, our man Friday, Shantha (may he rest in peace), rode with us in the back, in fact we picked him at a random junction on the way to Ratnapura, where we also picked up D. As a result our ride in the back was quite…squishy…for want of a better word to describe it.

So the overloaded doublecab pottered on, and on, and on. The road to Gal Oya, at least the one we took through the Victoria-Randenigala-Rantembe Sanctuary was very long but extravagant with the scenery. The cloudy hills cloaked in intermediate zone forest rose up on either side of the road as it snaked by the blue-grey reservoirs. This had been one of my favourite parts of the country as a kid and going down these same roads over a decade later was quite a nostalgic and fraught experience. Where before the roads had been quiet and elephants made an occasional appearance, now all we had were trucks plying the deteriorated road and since elephants have been killed on the road, they probably give it a wide berth.

Trucks passing by; Randenigala hills

The hillsides once covered in forest had also been denuded in certain areas with cultivation spreading up them, scarring the green of the trees with great brown gashes. The beauty of Randenigala was still apparent, but she was a ravaged beauty, with wounds that would pour silt into the reservoirs, clogging them up and reducing our electricity generation capabilities.

Mango seller; Mango eating

Stopping for some mango, we came down out of the hills where the landscape stretched into the causeway by the road, shimmering water and green vegetation. Sri Lanka despite all its problems provides some amazing landscapes and we were treated to more as we took a short cut to Bibile. Green verdant forests rose up on either side of the road except where they had been taken down in little lots where either lush paddy fields lounged or rows of emaciated looking corn marched.

Causeway road; Rainclouds gather

Paddy fields in the jungle; The sun breaks through; Modified bus in Bibile

Tired and a little more than a little cramped, it was with some relief that we passed Bibile and turned off into the park. Despite our tiredness, the interest was palpable as we drove through a landscape that was very different from what we had ever seen before. Straight limbed, black barked trees rose up on either side of the road growing out of the knee high grass. It wasn’t quite the dry scrub of Yala or the green jungle of Wasgamuwa but something in between. A small herd of elephants broke in front of the vehicle and ran into cover, as we started exploring this new jungle wonderland.

Gal Oya jungles

Continued to (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

The Net Closes

2010-05-28T13:49:00.002+05:30

“The noble fish, weighing up to four hundred pounds apiece, swam around and around…We pondered how it would feel to be trapped with the other animals and have to live their tragedy. Dumas and I were the only ones in the creeping, constricting prison who knew the outcome, and we were destined to escape. Perhaps we were oversentimental but we were ashamed of the knowledge. I had an impulse to take my belt knife and cut a hole for a mass break to Freedom.

The death chamber was reduced to a third of its size. The atmosphere grew excited, franctic. The herd swam restlessly faster, but still in formation. Their eyes passed us with almost human expressions of fright.

…Never have I beheld a site lie the death cell in the last moments. The fish were out of control…With the seeming momentum of locomotives, the tuna drove at me, head-on, obliquely, crosswise. It was out of the question for me to dodge them. Frightened out of sense of time, I….surfaced amidst the thrashing bodies. There was not a mark on my body. Even while running amok the giant fish had avoided me by inches, merely massaging me with backwash as they sped past.”

A poignant passage from The Silent World, by that deity of the deep, Jacques Costeau via another brilliant book, Song for the Blue Ocean by Carl Safina about the last moments of some Blue-finned tuna as a seine net closes in on them.

Read both books, especially the Song for the Blue Ocean. It is a moving, accurate, heavily researched account of what we are doing to the ocean. Of how we are destroying on of the life support systems that keeps us human alive on this spaceship earth.

Waiting for that Perfect Picture

2010-05-25T15:01:00.002+05:30

“A perfect picture, where the whole world holds its breath”

That line from the Match by Romesh Gunasekera has been one of my favourite quotes on photography, despite it being not from a real photographer. For me however it holds the line holds a looking-glass quality of an ideal that can never really be achieved in the real world. There is no perfect picture, all pictures have good and bad and there are too many subjects in the world and stories to be told with photography for there to be a perfect picture. But I still like the quote.

The photography bug most definitely bit me for the first time in Moneragala. While it had been on my radar before and I was intensely interested in it, it was in Moneragala that I first had the access to a reasonably good digital camera and subject matter that really pulled me into photography. As I had to use the camera for my everyday research, I also had the opportunity to use it for extra-curricular activities so to speak. That may not have been the most inspired way of getting into photography but at least it worked.

From my trip there were two photographs that I look back fondly on, mostly because it was the first time I thought coherently and clearly about the most essential components of a photograph, the composition and the exposure together with a healthy dose of patience that was required for both shots.

The first picture was probably the easier of the two. It was in a dank, smelly pool of water that I noticed an ethereally beautiful Lotus flower blooming out of the muck. Crawling into the thicket that surrounded the flower, the light just didn’t seem right. I wanted to show the brilliance of the flower contrasted with its dark surroundings. I figured the light coming straight down through the thicket would be the best option. Thus I spent the next couple of hours to the vast amusement of Nuwan, my assistant, crawling in and out of the thicket to get the lighting just right. In the end I lucked out as the flower still had water droplets on it that reflected the play of the direct light down on it which made the image, at least for me, sparkle. Exposing for the flower also meant its surroundings were largely dark, which was perfect for me.

The second picture I am ridiculously fond of is this Chocolate Soldier whom I had to chase (in a very discreet manner) for around 30 minutes to find the exact spot to take a shot with a balanced exposure. Most of the spots it landed in were either too dark or too light, since this was midday in a small patch of forest. Even when it did land in the right location, the careful stalking I had to engage in was not good enough to keep it there until I got the image. Finally everything came together, the butterfly alighted in an area where the light was diffused just enough to give the image a soft light that really brought out the butterfly’s colours and provided definition to the image.

The bug bit (not the butterfly of course) and these two learning experiences were the first of many where I was acutely conscious of what went into getting an image that worked. Of course I’m still on this learning curve and foresee being on it for some time to come.

Dive Log: Parak Gala & Cargo Wreck (13/03/2010)

2010-05-24T08:27:00.000+05:30

Dive #41 and #42, diving off Mount Lavinia with Colombo Divers, Boatman Ravinda, Divemaster Jehan, and two American dive buddies whose names I cannot recall (as usual).

Parak Gala: Bottom time – 43 minutes; Depth – 22.1 meters

Snap! I stared disconcerted at the severed strap of my dive mask. A number of profanities raced through my head as I realized I had left my spare strap on land, in my backpack. The conditions were extremely rocky with white flecked grey waves all around us and there was no chance of getting back to shore to get my strap. Thankfully there was an extra mask in the boat and despite the bad fit I pulled it on and got into the water.

There I was made to wait for what seemed like an interminable time while the waves playfully slapped me in the face and smacked me up against the boat while my erstwhile dive buddies took their own cool time getting ready. Finally all geared and ready, we started to descend. Unfortunately the older of the American couple hadn’t dived for a long time and took all of Jehan’s and the other buddy’s help in getting down. I in the meantime amused myself by standing on my head while being treated to the amusing spectacle of Jehan riding on the back of the American guys tank to help keep him down.

Unfortunately the long hiatus from diving and the challenging conditions with a visibility of around 3m was too much for the American guy and he had to surface with Jehan supervising while the other lady and I were left below to complete our dive (she was a trained instructor as well). We had come to a new dive site to try it out but all we could find was patchy rocks amongst the sand. Since the reefs off Colombo ran north to south paralleling the shore we tried swimming in those directions to see how our reef lay. To my dismay it seemed like we had missed the reef all together and ended up on some random rocks.

Undeterred we explored the five or so small rocks that lay muddy brown on the bottom and were treated to an amazing amount of diversity in marine life amongst the nondescript bottom. My dive buddy spotted a Brittle Star http://www.aquaticsworlduk.com/images/T/brittlestar-01.jpg that was a wondering on the rocks, moving its feathery tentacles as it sought a refuge during the day. A few small white and black nudibranches, Phyllidiella zeylanica and Phyllidiopsis phiphiensis glistened in the silt, the size of my fingernail and almost impossible to spot. My mask was fogging up and extremely uncomfortable still but we still managed to spot a small juvenile Giant Moray, its jaws slender and sylph like in contrast to the brute strength they would personify when grown up. Also wonderfully camouflaged were two juvenile Scorpion fish, their brown tendrils matching the silty rocks to perfection. Actually this last was quite disconcerting as always, one touch on an innocuous piece of the reef could lay you up in hospital in excruciating pain.

Chastened into remembering to always be an aware diver, we wound up and fought through the chop back onto the boat.

Cargo Wreck: Bottom time – 46 minutes; Depth – 29.6 meters

We dropped the American couple back on shore because of a meeting they had to go for and Jehan and I headed out back to the Cargo Wreck. The weather had deteriorated somewhat and the chop was even stronger. Anchoring onto the wreck it was apparent we would have to descend in a strong current which whipped at my mask and reg as we went down the line hand over hand.

Getting to the wreck we were greeted by around 4m of visibility and as we swam down the ghostly ship, an etch in the blue ocean we were greeted by a huge sand patch that the current had pushed out from underneath the ship. You could see the swirl of water coming through and pulling Snappers under and over the bottom of the ship. Noting that it would be quite unpleasant being stuck under a shipwreck we moved up the ship out of harms way. Jehan took a small break to swim into the ship a bit while I hung around and watched him swim around for a bit from a porthole. We then swam into one of the huge cargo holds and hung there in the semi-darkness, watching what looked like gigantic Snappers and Wrasses swimming around a few meters away from us. The gloom meant we could only see a distant silvery shimmer in the blackness as the fish moved around. A spooky experience which was heightened by the fact that I was again having issues with the uncomfortable replacement mask (I had left my extra strap at home).

Swimming out back into daylight with a sense of relief we were surprised to see three very large Porcupine fish hanging out by the mast, a new site for me as the ones I had seen before were usually fairly small and down at the bottom of the wreck. To top off what was undoubtably an eerie dive, we took up the anchor and left around 5m of line so we could maintain our depth during our safety stop.

With the anchor off the bottom, the boat was pushed along with the current and it was an eerie experience to hang on, the water seemingly whipping past us, blurrily blue as we hung in the middle of the giant expanse of the ocean. Quite a humbling experience actually, on how small an individual really is in this big blue planet.

The Golden Gecko (Moneragala Chronicles)

2010-05-19T10:36:00.000+05:30

Calodactylodes illingworthorum, not exactly a name that rolls off the tongue is it? Luckily it also goes by the somewhat less tongue-twisting name the Golden Gecko. It was, courtesy of my herpetology crazy assistant, my first introduction to the fascinating array of Sri Lanka's Geckos. Rather astonishingly Sri Lanka enjoys a grand total of 42 species of Geckos of which a staggering 31 are endemic to the country, i.e. found nowhere else in the world except our sunny island. Certainly makes you look twice at the Hunas skittering around you doesn't it? illingworthorum is not only endemic to Sri Lanka but was officially described only in 1953 by that Dion of paleontology and zoology of old Lanka, P.E.P. Deraniyagala.

A wary Golden Gecko (Calodactylodes illingworthorum)

Unfortunately the Golden Gecko along with most of Lanka's diverse and endemic reptiles are threatened by habitat destruction by clearing of forest and expansion of agriculture. This is especially a problem for species like illingworthorum which live on discrete boulder outcrops and the destruction of habitat can isolate populations very easily. Continued isolation and destruction of their boulder habitats could lead to that one way alley out of which there is no return, extinction.

Our first sighting of illingworthorum was at dusk as we washed at the stream close to our quarters. As dusk set and the birds started their night calls amongst the rushing water, a dark shape shot across one of the boulders that scattered the banks of the stream. As a call for action for a couple of interested animal geeks, this was a clarion call. Hastening to get our torches we searched high and low amongst the boulders. Eventually finding a small cave, we bravely (well I might have shivered a bit at the prospect) crouched down into it.

Golden Gecko, note the gold coloured neck that gives it its name

As our eyes focused and adjusted to the now bright light of the torches in an enclosed space, a whitish mass made itself apparent on the wall of the cave. To our delight we had found a nesting spot for illingworthorum. Rather interestingly (well I found it interesting since I'm a science geek), this gecko lays its eggs in the same place over and over again. Thus the eggs that we saw were plastered over the hatched remains of previous nestings. An adult watched us warily, beautifully mottled brown and gray with its distinctive orange throat glowing in our torch light, guarding its eggs. We took a few pictures for posterity and then took its leave, a watchful parent reptile. A rather touching show of affection from a humble Huna in the most unexpected location of a random dank cave.

L-R: Eggs laid over the remains of old eggs; Adult Golden Gecko and egg

Dive Log: Cargo Wreck & Barracuda Reef (12/03/2010)

2010-05-18T15:57:00.001+05:30

Dive #39 and #40, diving off Mount Lavinia with Colombo Divers, Boatman Ravinda , Divemaster Jehan, and instructor Shaf.

Cargo Wreck: Bottom time – 44 minutes; Depth – 31 meters

This was a dive with a couple of old hands at the game, Shaf and Jehan, and the plan was to spend as much time underwater as possible without going into ridiculous deco times. As we hit the wreck, bait balls boiled out of the blue, Fusiliers exploding past us as they surged silvery in the water. There was more of a current than usual hence the activity of the Fusiliers. On the body of the wreck there were the usual suspects roaming around, a school of Blue-lined Snappers, a phalanx of blue and yellow swimming along.

Shaf peeled away from us to go explore the innards of the wreck (please note that wreck exploration and solo diving requires very specialized training and as such should only be done by suitably qualified divers). I finned down to one of the lifeboats lying disconsolately on the bottom, ghosting the sand. Even this small rusted hulk on the seafloor provided an excellent habitat for ocean organisms, bristle stars poked out of the openings and as I explored more, I was delighted to see two minuscule Pipefish, brown and white splotched which were apparently having a tryst on the top of the lifeboat. I excitedly waved Jehan over to show him the romantic twosome before swimming over the lifeboat to investigate the yellow-white sand around the boat.

That was where I had some slight misgivings about the dive. The sand was peppered with Gobys who poked their heads incongruously out of their holes to watch me warily. As I watched the fish, two merged into one and then split. Blinking a couple of times I stared again in disconcertion as the Gobys continued their party trick, two then one, two then one. That’s when I realized that the late night I had had before had caused me to get narced. There was little danger though as I had not the slightest desire to do anything like taking my reg off and attempting to skip along the ocean bottom. I gestured to Jehan that we should go up and level off at the top of the ship so that we could get more bottom time out of this dive and moved slowly up the wreck.

At the lip of the wreck, the surge was apparent and riding it was quite fun as the underwater wave pushed us up and under the edge of the top of the ship. Some caution is needed with this however as if the surge is too strong and you’re distracted (which is very easy given the preponderance of life on the wreck) you can either be slammed into the wreck or suffer an uncontrolled ascent to the surface from 20 meters, neither option being a good one. After enjoying the underwater surfing for a bit we ate up the rest of our time taking a closer look at the rubble of the ship scattered around its deck and mid ship. Having sunk in a storm, there were signs of a violent demise everywhere on the ship, giant tires and twisted metal littered the ship. The savage beauty of what nature can do to man’s creations is very much in evidence on this wreck.

Barracuda Reef: Bottom time – 52 minutes; Depth – 23.2 meters

Buddying up with Shaf can sometimes be an exhausting activity. While I like moseying around a reef, poking my head into crevasses in the hope of finding some interesting macro stuff to gaze adoringly and possibly have my head bitten off by a testy Moray Eel, Shaf like to swim….a lot….

So we swam along, taking some time out to check out the usual Phyllidia ocellata which were actually the two resident ones which are always present near the GPS point that we anchor on and a Chromodoris geminus that we chanced on, quite a beautiful specimen almost glowing blue and yellow. And we continued swimming along, me pausing occasionally to stick a head in a crevasse, only to look up and see Shaf disappearing determinedly into the blue yonder. Of course Jehan was right next to me the whole time so I wasn’t exactly solo diving but Shaf in addition to being quite active under water has the sharpest eyes I have ever seen underwater. So I didn’t really want to miss out on anything he happened upon so we swam along, keeping an eye on each other.

We took a break from exploring the reef to have our hands cleaned by a zealous cleaner shrimp, beautifully red and yellow striped with ludicrously long white antennae. If you ever come across these critters on a dive, you can get a good manicure done by them in no time at all. Shaf entertained himself by playing with a see-through ghost shrimp while we had our manicures done. Moving on we noted that our no-deco time was ticking down and as Shaf and I exchanged signs that we needed to level off, a sudden movement from a ledge looming over us to the right grabbed our attention. A stunning, extremely large Batfish burst from under the reef, spooked by us and moving fast, a round, silver, black and yellow blur. What a way to end a dive!

While Shaf may enjoy swimming fast while diving, he does also like to be the most chill person I have ever seen ascending, hanging motionless and coming up at a snails pace with just his breathing. I quite enjoyed the experience as well, keeping him company, floating in the warm, blue embrace of the ocean, watching the tendrils and filaments of little sea creatures drifting by. Coming up from such a meditative trip is always tough for me as I break the surface and the sunlight is no longer filtered through the Grand Bleu.

Dive Log: Trug & Ten Fathoms (05/03/2010)

2010-05-12T14:30:00.003+05:30

Dive #36 and #37, diving off Mount Lavinia with Colombo Divers, Boatman Ravinda, Divemaster Jehan and buddy Daniel.

Trug: Bottom time – 36 minutes; Depth – 29.2 meters

It was time for a bit of a change. The Trug was our poison of choice for our next dive, a barge in about 30m of water which due to its relatively small size is sometimes difficult to find in rougher seas. Today was however a flat calm day and Ravinda navigated and hooked onto the wreck without any issues. The water here wasn’t the deep blue that you usually see on the Cargo but had more of a greenish tinge, out of which the wreck appeared, like a spaceship rising out of the depths.

The difference in scale was the first impression I received, almost a tinge of disappointment after being spoilt by the immensity of the Cargo Wreck looming over me on most of my previous dives. I was soon however intrigued by the different spatial look of the wreck, since the boat had sunk upside down the keel rose like an aquatic spaceship out of the green, the twin rudders and giant propellers rising over us.

The Lionfish were the primary attraction on this dive, initially resting bat-like and macabre on the side of the rusted ship. This state of somnambulism however did not last for long. As we rounded the ship and came back along the wreck, the Lionfish had roused themselves and were now awaiting our return, in a neatly arranged line. There was no aggression in their demeanor, more a wary interest in what we were doing on their wreck. As we drifted over the line stretched out incongruously on the sand, they turned as one to look at us, flaring their beautiful red and white fins. We had to keep a close eye for the Lionfish for the rest of the dive as they popped up at the most unexpected places and the last thing you wanted to do was accidentally squash one of them against the wreck, which would probably earn you a stab from their venomous spine which I’m assuming wouldn’t be too pleasant.

As usual I couldn’t take my macro hat off and found a tiny, ethereally pink nudibranch that was moving up the side of the wreck, looking like a centimeter long piece of animated candy floss. Daniel distracted me with some difficulty from the nudi to show me a huge Honeycomb Moray that was gaping at us out of an old tire. Taking a break from the outside of the wreck we swam into the gloomy interior of the ship via the spacious swim though. The experience was eerie to say the least, the almost total darkness enveloping you while glass fish hung motionless in the interior of the wreck, little shards of reflected light in the black. Other fish moved ghostly in the distance and it was hard not to give into some primordial fear of being eaten by a monster of the deep. Of course the reality was that it was much more likely I would be inadvertently stabbed by an affectionate Lionfish so I calmed myself down and swam out of the other side of the ship gracefully bumping my head against the exit as I got distracted by the bubbles steaming out of the side of the ship.

As our time had come to an end we started our ascent amongst a storm of Fusiliers, flashing silver and yellow through the water as they gulped down floating particles in a slight current. Spanish Mackarel swam through the shoals looking for a snack, emenating an aura of power and purpose as they sleekly swam along. The Trug maybe a relatively small wreck, but the wonders on it are immense.

Ten Fathoms: Bottom time – 43 minutes; Depth – 17.2 meters

This was a typically murky dive on one of Colombo’s inner reefs. Bambadahaya as its known locally (Bamba – fathom, Dahaya – ten) proved to be a nudibranch heaven. Initially our attention was taken by a multitude of fish including a shoal of Blue-Lined Snappers and what looked like Jackhandle Barracuda. However the macro soon took over, to Daniel’s amusement as he couldn’t really understand why I was getting so excited about these little wonders. Of course not many people would understand and I barely understand myself but I do pretty much adore these brightly coloured, minute organisms which I consider a reward for being really attentive to your surroundings on a dive.

The warm up for the nudi’s were around seven nudis ranging from Phyllieda ocellata, Chromodoris fidelis and Phyllidiella zeylanica scattered on the reef as we scrutinized every inch. The crème de la crème was however at the end of the dive, out of the brown mucky water emerged a coral pink clam and on that clam was a nudibranch that made me metaphorically rub my eyes (metaphorically since I was wearing a mask). Delicate cerrata, like a multitude of red and yellow fronds covered the nudi as it sat picture perfect on the clam. It was then and there that I decided to empty all my savings accounts and get a camera for the next season, to have missed that shot is something I will regret for some time. The closest I can come to identifying what that nudi looked like was this just with a different colour scheme. I was so fascinated I literally had to be torn away from the nudi, since we had already gone into deco and it was most definitely time to leave.

Dive Log: Cargo Wreck & Barracuda Reef (4/03/2010)

2010-05-10T09:25:00.002+05:30

Dive #34 and #35, diving off Mount Lavinia with Colombo Divers, Boatman Ravinda, Divemaster Jehan, Dive guide Nishan and buddies Daniel and Buddhi.

Cargo Wreck: Bottom time – 34 minutes; Depth – 30.6 meters

Spear-fishermen are a constant bane for divers, primarily those who think that it is sporting to strap tanks onto themselves and spear large, charismatic fish like Groupers and Rays. Most of the big fish are now nowhere to be seen because of the indiscriminate fishing done by such gentlemen who have wiped out such slow reproducing fish. The Cargo Wreck had a claim to fame that it was the home of two spectacularly giant Rays, known rather brilliantly as Elvis and Priscilla. I hadn’t seen them on the wreck yet and in fact no one had seen them that season and it was feared that they had ended up, via a spear-fisherman, at a fish market and on someone’s plate.

We started the dive at the bow of the ship and slowly moved to the stern, covering the 200m length while being constantly visually assaulted by the non-stop fish life on the wreck. Amongst the mysterious dark nooks and crannies of the wreck life exploded. I noticed a Cleaner Wrasse that looked like it was suffering from a bout of anorexia and was quite delighted to discover it was instead a Blue-Striped Fangblenny, iridescent blue and midnight black. Incidently this similarity is not a coincidence and the Fangblenny is actually a mimic for the Cleaner Wrasse to get close to fish to bite pieces of skin and scales with its fangs (no really….fangs).

I drifted towards an especially interesting section of the wreck which appeared to be where some sort of gear mechanism had been placed. Amongst the ghostly green gears, now rusted into immobility, was a whole ecosystem of shrimps. Yellow and green striped shrimps scurried amongst the darkness while another type of shrimp which was tiny and entirely translucent drifted through them, seemingly unconcerned about their apparent fragility.

Getting to the stern of the wreck I continued to investigate the surface of the ship, hoping to find more macro life, when, out of the corner of my eye I noticed an anomaly in the sand away from the ship. Glancing over I looked intently at the shape, which in the shimmery water suddenly resolved into two gigantic rays resting in the sand, Elvis and Priscilla! Even from a distance they were immense, though one was clearly about a third larger than the other but the bigger of the two looked about a meter or more in width. I turned to alert my dive buddies but they were already staring in awe at the two leviathans, resplendent in their majesty. I was beside myself in joy, the rays escaped the predations of the human hunters, and we had finally seen the King and Queen of the Cargo Wreck.

Barracuda Reef: Bottom time – 46 minutes; Depth – 23.5 meters

The one-two of the Cargo Wreck and Barracuda wreck never disappoints. The Barracuda were seemingly absent today but as we pottered along the reef we spooked a large Flower Grouper. You could almost see its eyes pop out as it suddenly saw us at close quarters and in a flurry of fins made a mad dive for a crevice in the reef. As to how a fish that was about half a meter fit into that gap I know not, but in a blink it was gone and we could not find it in the shadows no matter how hard we looked. In reality this disappearing act is probably the prime reason as to why it is still alive and not on someone’s dinner plate so I wished it well in its future escape endeavors and moved on.

The rest of the dive was a mix of big and small. I managed to find what would turn out to be the resident Barracuda Reef Pipefish, its 5cm body cleverly camouflaged against the rocky jumble of the reef. Next was a Giant Moray gaping blindly out of another gap in the reef. Though formidable looking if not downright scary, these fish can be approached quite closely. Just don’t go sticking a hand into their hole or trying anything silly with them or you will end losing a body part. Daniel was on fire with the macro scouting pointing out a number of greeny-brown spotted side-gilled slugs moving along the bottom, most probably Berthella martensi. The nudibranches were in evidence with the usual Phyllidia ocellata and Chromodoris geminus crawling around.

The grand finale however came along as our non-decompression time counted down and we started our slow ascent out of our underwater heaven. In the distance a shape loomed and came closer. A huge (and I mean huge, it looked as big as me) Humphead Wrasse moved in the distance before being obscured as we moved further up our dive profile. A giant of the deeps, elusive and rarely seen, to wrap up our dive.

Dive Log: Cargo Wreck & Serendip Reef (27/02/2010)

2010-05-06T09:17:00.001+05:30

Dive #29 and #30 (and #31), diving off Mount Lavinia with Colombo Divers, Boatman Ravinda, dive buddies Nishan and Anu.

Cargo Wreck: Bottom time – 41 minutes; Depth – 29.1 meters

Some anomaly of the wreck attracted a second glance from me. As I swam in closer I was slightly taken aback to see a bit of the wreck move quite sinuously. Looking at my dive computer to confirm I was nowhere near 30 meters and as such couldn’t be narced I looked at the writhing piece of the wreck with unabashed interest. I almost whooped into my regulator when I realized that I had been staring at what looked like an elongated seahorse on a diet.

Beckoning Nishan over excitedly I pointed out the creature, which he later (once he didn’t have a regulator in his mouth) identified as a species of Pipefish, which for those of you who are scientifically inclined are in the Syngnathidae family, which includes the seahorses.

After metaphorically patting myself on the back for making this exciting discovery I occupied myself for the rest of the dive by poking my head into the dark portholes to stare at the eerie depths of the wreck, the twisted metal eerily green/brown in the darkness as fish flitted ghost like across the scene.

The beauty of the Cargo Wreck is that there’s literally something new every time you dive it. Each time the ship gets more familiar, the outlines more distinct, but everything else gets more mysterious. Nishan pointed us in the direction of a porthole that ran through the entire ship. Looking through this was almost like looking though an animated version of an old school View-Master as brightly coloured fish swirled and weaved tantalizingly past your circular view. One Oriental Sweetlip that came up to the porthole seemed ludicrously surprised to see me staring back at me, its black and yellow head contrasting with the deep blue behind it.

Apparently Nishan had never seen that porthole despite diving the site hundreds of times. The Cargo never fails to amaze.

Serendib Reef: Bottom time – 58 minutes; Depth – 22.5 meters

Everybody say double digit decompression stop!

The problem with diving Serendib reef is that I tend to get a bit caught up in the wonders of the reef (though this happens to me on Barracuda as well) and the combination of a deep dive beforehand and a conservative computer usually means that I have to spend some close attention to my non-deco time ticking down else I have to hang midwater for an inordinately long time period until my computer decides its safe for me to get to the surface.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) there was a lot to distract me on this dive. We were smack bang in the middle of the coral heads that Serendib was known for. And life simply swarmed. A Spot-Tailed Dartfish immediately caught my attention as it flitted in front of me, sinous and defying a closer look. One of the coral heads harboured an Electric Ray and as usual we all mimed touching it and getting our hair stuck on end. Sometimes I think we collectively have a bit too much nitrogen in our system.

This suspicion was further heightened when the sand winked at me as I swam over it. Having never had sand wink at me I decided in the interests of maintaining my sanity to take a closer look. At first look, the sand remained defiantly stationary, white with small black speckles. Then just as I started harbouring thoughts of aborting the dive due to pending lunacy, the sand winked again. I exhaled and sank to within inches of the cheeky sand spot to try and figure out what was going on at which stage the sand got up, dusted itself vigorously and swam off. The mystery had been solved and I excitedly beckoned the other divers over to take a look at the perfectly camouflaged Flathead, which had no designs on affecting my sanity and instead had simply been lying there waiting for dinner to approach.

Patting myself on the back for my observational skills, which incidently is tough when wearing full Scuba gear, I returned to the more familiar territory of the Oriental Sweetlips and the Sandperches to enjoy the rest of my dive on an aptly named dive site.

There she blows! (Sri Lankan version Part 2)

2010-04-28T08:04:00.001+05:30

Continued from here

4.30 dawned dark and bleary, as we hobbled down to congregate at various randomly decided locations before getting together in a loosely knit convoy for the 20 minute drive to Mirissa. Once we in a roundabout manner found Mirissa Water Sports, a stones throw from the harbour; the next step was to provide all our details, ID numbers, address, hair colour, when we last had a shave, etc for the Navy’s benefit. Actually I jest; it was just name and ID number.

Fighting off the rather friendly dogs at the harbour we boarded the two storey boat, the Spirit of Dondra and were issued humongous life-jackets which I quickly discarded (I wouldn’t recommend this to the regular traveler but I have issues with bravado) as we moved out of the harbour. We gathered steam and headed out into the deep blue of the open ocean as Six Pence None the Richer still played in my head and Mirissa gleamed golden and newly minted in the early morning light.

(L-R): Boarding the boat, Mirissa Sunrise

The boat ride seemed to go on interminably, the boat swaying in the swells. While most of my boatmates slumbered on the top deck to catch up from the early start, I gazed around at the sea in a whole new perspective. Being a frequent diver, I spend a lot of time in small boats almost at eye level with the sea. Here I was around 6m above the sea and the grandiosity of the swells had to be seen to be believed, one could easily imagine the kinetic energy generated by those swells to be immense as the giant sheets of deep blue water rippled slowly across our path.

On the watch

Flying fish skittered across the surface every now and then, these were bigger than what I had seen as well and they flew for meters. On occasion looking into the glare of the sun, a flying fish skimmed so far across the waves, dipping in once to get more momentum that I thought I must have misidentified some kind of sea dwelling bird.

Mirissa Water Sports

The first whale sighting was relatively understated, mostly because most of us missed both the whale and the excitement amongst the MWS boys who shouted directions down to the boat captain as we turned towards the spout. The whale watchers were finally roused from their respective slumbers and cameras were eagerly pointed towards the whale as it whooshed an exhalation, misting the blue horizon as its bulk moved seamlessly, grey through the water. After a few breaths at the surface, the ludicrously small dorsal fin arched through the water as the immense creature, over 30 meters long, propelled itself into a dive, giant flukes cresting through the water as it sounded. The scale of the whale was brought home to me when I saw the pool of still water amongst the swells of the ocean that the gigantic body had created during its dive.

Blue whale breaching

What followed was quite similar to my Californian experience but just nowhere near as cold. The whale dived, fluking as we desperately clicked off as many pictures as possible and then we waited patiently until it surfaced again. The Mirissa and Fisheries Corporation boats’ behavior with the whale was exemplary, quiet engines, staying in the whale’s safe zone and maintaining a minimum 100 meter distance to the whale, except when the whale decided to come closer on one memorable occasion.

L-R: Whale spouting, Mirissa Water Sports and the whale

Unfortunately our experience was hugely marred by some extremely irresponsible (not to mention obviously cheap) tourists who had chartered a local fishing boat to come whale watching. The boat sounded like they had jerry rigged a Tuk Tuk engine and the fishermen had absolutely no respect for the animal, charging up and down and scaring the whale into taking short surface breaks. The irresponsibility of the fishermen is one thing, but the sheer stupidity of the tourists is something that has to be seen to be believed. For the sake of a few thousand rupees theses cheap tourists put the wellbeing of one of the world’s most majestic animals at risk.

Irresponsible Tourists

Rant aside we watched the whale for a couple of hours before heading back to shore. The 20 strong crowd variously napped, chatted, ate innumerable biscuits or stared hypnotized at the sea. After a while it occurred to some of us that we were not in fact heading back to shore, unless we were trying to make landfall somewhere in Africa. Consulting the Mirissa boys, it turned out that a shoal of Spinner Dolphins had been sighted and we were heading to check them out. Having previously missed the Spinners at Kalpitiya, I was quite excited about finally seeing some high spirited shenanigans from these famous acrobats of the sea.

Airborne Spinner dolphins

And they didn’t disappoint. The atmosphere on the boat while watching the Spinners was sharply different from when the Blue Whale was surfacing. While the whale with its slow almost languorous movements inspired a more reverent awe at the immensity of its sheer bulk, the Spinners inspired sheer excitement as they zipped breathlessly through the water taking a break once in awhile to do headstands or take flight out of the water. You could almost hear the entire group gasp collectively as they shot past our bow, shimmering silver streaks in the deep blue water, bubbles exploding around them.

Swimming past the boat

To be honest with the immensity of the pod and the non-stop action around I didn’t know where to look and eventually put my camera down and simply enjoyed the show. After about an hour we decided to make a move but a large pod started coming at us with a path crossing directly in front of us. The Mirissa boys killed the engine and we waited patiently for the pod to cross our bow. Unfortunately another fishing boat with tourists on board decided the best way to show their (all foreign) customers the dolphins were to drive directly into the pod. Of course this scared the hell out of the poor dolphins and they submerged, not to be seen again. The stupidity of the tourists and the fishermen had to be seen to be believed. People should really know better.

Irresponsible tourists Part II

Apart from the slightly sour taste in our mouths from the irresponsible tourists scaring the whales and dolphins, the trip was an unbridled success. Unawatune, despite the badly planned development is still not as bad as Hikkaduwa and the bay has a charm that is simply missing in Hikkaduwa. Bishu’s is a delightful place to stay and the Mirissa Water Sports whale watching excursion though a bit basic to those who are used to the more sophisticated excursions in the developed world is still a step in the right direction. If you do go to Mirissa to see the whales, please be responsible and use Mirissa or the Ceylon Fisheries boat and avoid the cheap fishing boats that are destroying the natural heritage that attracts the tourists in the first place.

Whale in the Indian Ocean

Eye to Eye with an elephant in Yala

2010-04-26T09:27:00.001+05:30

Back in February before diving fever took over.

Sugathe: Stay calm and don't get excited.

I don't think he needed to tell us twice!

There she blows! (Sri Lankan version Part 1)

2010-04-20T17:39:00.003+05:30

It was a funny sense of Déjà vu that I felt, as the boat slipped out of the Mirissa fishing harbour as the sun rose on the southern edge of Sri Lanka. I had the Sixpence None the Richer song in my head again, There she goes, in some psychosomatic flashback to my California trip to see Blue Whales. This trip was totally different though, in more ways than geographical. While the California experience had been purely to see the biggest animal that had ever existed the Mirissa/Unawatune trip was a weekend away with sea, sand, food and good company in equal quantities.

The venue for the weekend was Bishu’s (you can call the gentleman at 0777708880 right after reading this post…trust me it's the best budget place to stay in Una), cunningly disguised as the Unawatuna Bay hotel where a group of 20 of us (well mostly 20) crashed down for a weekend of chilling out and…wait…I already mentioned above what conspired for the weekend. But did I mention chilling out?

After a long trafficky dive down to Unawatune and settling down at Bishu’s, we headed for dinner with Kosala at the Submarine Diving School. I hear they’re pretty good at all things diving related, but I’ll be damned if they don’t have a Michelin starred chef working there. The food was relatively simple, grilled fish, devilled crab, salad and potatoes. The fish however was the most delicate and flavourful I had had in months, the salad was absolutely divine, a million flavours hitting your palette at the same time while the crab was…well spectacular to say the least. To say I took my time and demolished everything on my plate is probably the understatement of the year. Add the beautifully lit crescent bay, the white sands, quietly swishing ocean and the starry night and it was an absolutely perfect night and the best way to start what was to be the perfect weekend.

Saturday may have dawned bright and early in sunny southern Sri Lanka, but since I haven’t slept in since around November 2009, I decided to take a chill pill and stay in bed until the rest of the crew turned up to Bishu’s. Of course I didn’t get to sleep too much as some of the others on the trip came in bright and early from Colombo and roused us for lunch. Might I take a moment here and say the lunch at Bishu’s is absolutely brilliant. I had an interesting opportunity to contrast Unawatune Beach Resort’s sandwiches (supplied for breakfast by a friend) to Bishu’s lunch. The former was tasteless and hugely overpriced at Rs.500 for some sandwiches and soggy fries while the latter was the epitome of delicious Lankan style food. So here’s another tip, avoid UBR if you want value for money, there are much better options out there.

In order to digest our lunch fully, we decided in a fit of enthusiasm to hike to the nearby Jungle Beach and relax in the ocean. On our first 2:1 slope on the way, my enthusiasm waned somewhat, being weighed down by a full stomach and dripping with sweat in the humidity. However getting to Jungle Beach, my enthusiasm was (somewhat) restored. The beach is very pretty and picturesque, turquoise blue and green water, but in usual Sri Lankan fashion, people who come to the beach, tourists and fishermen, seem to have an uncontrollable urge to pollute it and there are plastic bags and other unseemly things lying around.

Jungle Beach

Credit: Dhammika Heenpella / Images of Sri Lanka

This drawback was however quite easy to forget while relaxing in the bathtub warm waters of the bay. I tried a small snorkeling expedition with a friends mask but it was too ill-fitting to do much with apart from spot a frightened puffer fish and skim the sand in search for small shells, odd pieces of rock and other things that only I would ever find interesting. Despite almost taking out a couple of people with my headstands and flailing legs to keep me under water, I had quite a lot of fun. The snorkeling does appear quite good here though if you can get further out into the bay as can be seen from one of my friend’s pictures here. Note that he didn’t snorkel, just waded in and stuck his waterproof camera underwater to get these fabulous pictures.

Powder Blue Surgeon Fish

Credit: Dhammika Heenpella / Images of Sri Lanka

It was with regret that we waded out as the sun set and headed back to Bishu’s to dry off, change and head back to the Submarine Diving School for a BBQ they had set up for us. I could wax on about this feast as well, but I’m afraid the culinary enthusiasts amongst my readers (assuming I have any) would hasten to throw themselves out of the nearest window. Suffice to say that I would like to take a moment to thank Kosala, Shirley and the staff of the Submarine Dive School for putting together what was arguably the best BBQ on (and off) the beach I have ever had.

BBQ in progress

Credit: Dhammika Heenpella / Images of Sri Lanka

Satiated, replete and all the other adjectives you can think of to imply a full stomach, we took our leave off the warm Unawatune night and retired to bed early with the eager prospect (well not for some) of waking up at 4.30 the next morning to see the largest animal that has ever existed in the world.

To be continued

Dive Log: Taprobane East Wreck & Taprobane West (26/02/2010)

2010-04-19T09:00:00.003+05:30

Dive #29 and #30 (and #31), diving off Mount Lavinia with Colombo Divers, Boatman Ravinda, Divemaster Jehan, Dive guide DJ and buddy Karin.

Taprobane East Wreck: Bottom time – 35 minutes; Depth – 31.6 meters

Imagine a canvas of pure white sand and aquamarine blue, a picture perfect tropical paradise beach with the endless bowl of the blue sky replaced by the ocean. Into this starkly beautiful landscape had sunk a small boat, initially probably sullying the pristine scene with its harsh man-made lines, oil and diesel leaking. Time has however smoothed this out and now it is heaven underwater, the rusted shell covered in green and pink soft corals and fish exploding out of every nook and cranny.

Heaven's Gate (picture courtesy of Dharshana Jayawardena off Dive Sri Lanka)

As we sank through the 30 meter plus visibility waters, the rusted wreck looked strangely abstract and as we got closer, amorphous. As we got closer to the bottom the reason for the shape-shifting became obvious as an immense shoal of glass fish obscured the wreck. Literally pushing through the glinting shoal we moved over the sunken ship settling down into the sand at the stern where the fish life was more languid but still diverse.

Glass fish surrounding the wreck (picture courtesy of Dharshana Jayawardena off Dive Sri Lanka)

An Electric Ray swam slowly into view while Blue-Lined Snappers and Fusiliers shoaled. Swimming back onto the main body of the wreck and exploring the skeletal remains we came across a Scorpion fish hiding amongst the rust coloured remains of the deck while Sweetlips playing hide and seek with us.

This was one of those dives again where there was just too much happening initially to absorb it all. This is a site that needs to be dived again and again to get adjusted to the life kaleidoscoping all around it and get into the nuances of the biodiversity that is so abundant on this small oasis of life amongst the white sand underwater desert. I simply spent my last few minutes of non-decompression time swimming into the shoal of Glassfish by myself and making 360 degree turns in the shoal to enjoy the sunlight arching through the thousand tiny translucent fish, the light rays glittering and sharding through them as bliss overcame me, 30 meters down in heaven.

Jehan and I explore the wreck (picture courtesy of Dharshana Jayawardena off Dive Sri Lanka)

Taprobane West: Bottom time – 43 minutes; Depth – 21.5 meters

We could see the reef from the boat and backrolling into the warm waters we could hear the reef rustling below us. According to Ravindra, this strangely serene sound is distinctive to reefs and they often use it to locate them when the bottom cannot be seen.

Taprobane West is similar to Serendip Reef in that you get this sensation of swimming in a giant fish bowl with the endless visibility and the white sand that peppers the bottom. Apparently according to DJ the huge shoals of fish that were usually present were absent, however I kept myself quite entertained with the profuse macro life on the reef. Tiny yellow leaf-like fish hid amongst the rocks while Shrimp Gobies vigorously defended their subterranean lairs. Each coral head, representing half a century to a century worth of growth was an ecosystem to itself. Apparently it was naptime at the reef because all the Red-Toothed Triggerfish were ensconsed within sandy holes with only their blue-fin tips visible, looking ludicrously like bright-blue parrots hiding with only their crossed wingtips shown.

The highlight of the dive for me however was when J and I found a huge Mantis Shrimp sheltering in a perfectly circular hole in the ground. Inching closer we were astonished to see tiny, translucent red and white banded offspring drifting up out of the hole. Unfortunately as my decompression time was ticking close to double digits we had to take leave of this watery birth scene and take regretful leave of paradise, clambering back onto the hot and sunny boat back to reality.

P.S.

Palagala: Bottom time – 34 minutes; Depth – 13.5 meters

Dive #31, mostly due to Jehan mentioning idly that another diver was coming for an afternoon dive and asking if I wanted to tag along and my inability to say no to diving. This was largely a quiet dive on Palagala, murky visibility limited to about 3-4 meters and a new diver who had issues with his buoyancy. Most of our time was spent miming breathing in and out full underwater to try and get him to sort himself out in between him excitedly pointing at the fish swirling around us in the green. But then it was a dive…so I was happy.

Dive Log: Palagala & Bambadahaya (Ten Fathoms) (27/01/2010)

2010-04-14T08:30:00.008+05:30

Dive #15 and #16, diving off Mount Lavinia with Colombo Divers, Boatman Ravinda, Instructor Shaf and Divemaster Jehan.

Palagala: Bottom time – 46 minutes; Depth – 12.7 meters

This was actually my first dive with my own gear and only my third dive with Colombo Divers following my fiasco of a performance on the first two dives. I think Shaf was still a bit circumspect about my diving abilities but we headed off for the short boat ride to Palagala and hit the bottom. Truth be told I’m quite far behind on my dive logs these days and I can’t really remember much about this dive. What I do remember was that I was somewhat of a better performer during this dive though I faintly recall being pulled down by Shaf during the safety stop once.

A juvenile Golden Trevalley also made an entertaining interlude for us, swimming up off the reef and getting quite pally with us. Apparently they are quite fond of swimming up to large fish and following them for protection. Of course every now and then they miscalculate and end up getting eaten (or so the caption says for the below picture from the Discovery Channel website. Our little fellow though just swam with us for awhile, peering in our masks until he decided we were not impressive enough to provide him protection and absconded into the green waters, his yellow and black stripes fading quickly in the distance.

Golden Trevalley vs. Whale Shark from here.

Shaf was really enthusiastic about Nudibranches as well and pointed out a large Phyllidia ocellata in an overhang but that’s about where my memory of this early dive fails.

Bambadahaya (Ten Fathoms): Bottom time – 34 minutes; Depth – 19.2 meters

This dive was quite similar to Palagala apart from being a bit deeper, the rocky shelves of a typical Sri Lankan reef with slightly murky conditions, 5-8 meters of visibility. Again my memory is kind of shoddy on this dive but apart from some Blue-Lined Snappers and Bannerfish the main attraction were the Nudibranchs that Shaf with his eagle eye spied for us to look at. Phyllidia ocellata, Phyllidiopsis phiphiensis and Chromodoris geminus were all in attendance and please do click through to the pictures to take a look at the superlative colours from Nudipixels.net.

I’m not entirely sure why my memory is so shoddy from these first couple of dives but I’m going to put it down to spending most of my time concentrating on surviving underwater with little time to take in the sights and sounds. I guess the fact that I’m here writing this means I did a fairly reasonable job.

What can I say except.

Live to Dive!

Dive Log: Catalina Islands, Big Giger Reef & Eagle Reef (06/06/2009)

2010-04-12T08:49:00.002+05:30

Dive #9 and #10, a continuation of the boat trip diving in the Catalina Islands with the Magician Scuba Charter, Captain Jerry, the pirate divemaster and dive buddy Praveen.

Big Geiger Reef: Bottom time – 16 minutes; Depth – 10 meters

What a disaster of a dive! As we swam to another cliff face and kelp forest I noticed P continually clearing his mask. Getting through the kelp we moved into an area covered in red and green seagrass and P motioned to me to surface. Apparently his mask kept flooding and his eyes were killing him. We tried to figure out what was going on but with no luck, every time we descended, his mask flooded and he was most definitely not enjoying himself.

Signaling to the boat crew, who were looking at us in some consternation as we bobbed on the surface, that we were ok, we began a surface swim back to the boat over blue water. This was ardous and long and my leg started cramping up half way leaving both of us tired and exceedingly annoyed. The only enlivenment was a shoal of bait fish that came up and suddenly took off, flashing silvery into the blue. I looked around for what scared them (hopefully not a Great White) but there was nothing to be seen.

Eagle Reef: Bottom time – 29 min; Depth – 20 meters

It took a bit of convincing to get P into the water this time. Even I was a bit freaked because where before we had a cliff face to help with our navigation, this reef was alone in the water away from any discernible landmarks. Thankfully another diver in a drysuit wanted to buddy with us and we descended down the anchor line for the deepest dive of our lives. Huge rocks, caverns and dimness greeted us at 20 meters. The kelp forest here was truly huge, reaching up through the water to the invisible surface. It also seemed almost alive, swirling in the grey water. A couple of times when I was stationary looking at things, the kelp seemed to engulf me hungrily and it took some calm nerves and quiet tugging to break free of the slimy, soft fronds.

This was a fascinating dive, with our buddy showing us sights that our amateur eyes would have normally missed, nudibranches and a giant lobster hiding in a cave in the rocks. We surfaced as our no-decompression time ticked down and clambered on board with our reputation restored. In fact P was quite chuffed to hear Captain Jerry say to the pirate divemaster that the new guys had done good.

The bright blue Catalina seas glinted as we lay tired on the deck, happy that we had seen our first proper kelp forests and more than anything we had survived!

The last thing to do on the boat was to take a shower, which was an experience in itself. With the strong surges this basically consisted of bouncing from wall to wall in the shower catching a trickle of hot water mid bang. Refreshing and energetic at the same time.

Dive Log: Catalina Islands, Red Crane Quarry & Little Geiger Reef (06/06/2009)

2010-04-07T08:45:00.003+05:30

Dive #7 and #8, diving in the Catalina Islands with the Magician Scuba charter, Captain Jerry, the pirate divemaster and dive buddy Praveen.

Red Crane Quarry: Bottom time – 31 minutes; Depth – 9.5 meters

Tired and scared. Those would be the most appropriate adjectives to describe Praveen and my train of thoughts as we huddled together in the leaden morning at the Long Beach harbour, the cold wind nipping at us unmercifully even in June. We had picked up our gear from Sports Chalet the night before and had spent a rather panicked night trying to figure out how our dive computers worked, watching a navigation DVD and reading the Open Water manual to try and recollect what we had learnt during our certification course almost half a year ago. The primary reason for the panic was when we were told that the Divemaster on the boat would actually stay on the boat during the dive and not accompany us as was the norm in the tropics.

Actually on second thoughts, shit scared and tired was probably more accurate for us. Added to our blithering fears about the upcoming dive was that no matter where we seemed to walk in the Long Beach harbour we could not find the damn boat. P’s manic grin just got wider and wider while my breathing grew more and more laboured. Finally we stumbled upon the boat’s berth and staggered on with our gear, joining a motley crew of fellow divers loaded down with bags and bags of gear.

As the boat sputtered out of the harbour with the gulls harshly sending us on our way, P and I moved into the cabin area to grab a couple of muffins to calm our nerves down and try and have a nap. A brief chat and a wary eye on the Divemaster with his gold, skull and crossbones earring however calmed us down enough to have a quiet nap as the boat headed out to the Catalina islands, one of California’s prime dive destinations.

The grey morning turned into a bright blue sky and a sunny day and the brown speckled hills of Catalina rose up before us as we reached the islands. The boat moored in a little cove as the Divemaster gave us the brief on depths and what to look out for and at. Both P and I exchanged scared looks and decided we would stick to the edge of the cliff and the shallow kelp forests there, around 10m in depth. Struggling into our 7mm wetsuits and generally impressing everyone present with our (lack of) dexterity in getting our gear together we took giant strides off the boat, swam to the chain leading to the mooring and descended along the chain to where the water met the cliff. Nervously noting the position of the chain and taking a compass heading we set out explore the shallower waters. Sunlight streamed through the kelp as bright orange Garibaldi swarmed around us protecting their nesting sites. Peering closer amongst the rocks I excitedly pointed out the Catalina gobies shining red and blue amongst the rocks to P.

As we swam along we saw some of the other more experienced divers in the blue depths of around 20m pass us, bubbles streaming up towards the surface. P and I looked at each other, wordlessly confirmed that we were still cowards and continued to hug the rock face back to the chain and headed back to the boat with plenty of air to spare.

Little Geiger Reef: Bottom time – 25 minutes; Depth – 10 meters

We were somewhat more confident after having survived our first solo immersion in the ocean and were looking forward to this dive. This time the boat moored further out in the kelp and we decided (in our cowardice) to stick to the shallower area between the boat and the island. Falling ungracefully into the water and giving the Divemaster (who I must say had a slightly skeptical look in his eyes) a shaky ok signal we moved to a sandy area before deflating our BC’s and starting to descend.

Looking between my fins at the sandy bottom I noticed a slight aberration in the sand, an outline of something triangular shaped. As I moved closer and closer to it I suddenly realized it was a California Stingray directly below me, almost half a meter wide. All I could remember at that exact moment was Steve Irwin and paralyzed I kept descending towards it as it lay directly below me. Luckily for me the Stingray was smarter than me and quietly flapped off as I got to a couple of meters over its head and I was spared a barb in the heart or more likely my arse.

The excitement of the Stingray over we paused for a few moments to get our buoyancy under control, took a heading and proceeded to explore the kelp forest. There were huge boulders littering the ocean floor and these provided both interesting places to explore while at the same time being quite spooky, with the prospect of some hitherto unknown sea monster of Catalina engulfing me while I poked naively around. Did I mention we were cowards on this dive? The rocks also provided a more practical problem because I was trying to swim in a straight line as possible, in order to navigate back to the boat when we decided to head back. I was quite reluctant to swim around boulders (someone of them were pretty big) as I rather foolishly thought this would throw my navigation off but we managed ok in the end.

The major excitement of the dive came when I accidentally scared the crap out of a Grey Seal who came charging through the kelp at me, silvery with bubbles in the blue water. I was awestruck at the grace with which it moved in the water. Effortlessly it came to a complete stop about 5 meters from me and stared at me in puzzlement before pirouetting into the depths. I looked behind excitedly to share ok signs with P but he had unfortunately been behind a rock the whole time and had missed the excitement.

We headed back towards the boat as our air was running low (well not really low but we were being extra conservative) and gave the Divemaster (a hopefully pleasant) surprise by getting back onto the boat completely intact.

To be continued

Dive Log: Cargo Wreck & Barracuda Reef (24/02/2010)

2010-04-05T08:43:00.002+05:30

Dive #46 and #47, diving off Mount Lavinia with Colombo Divers, Boatman Ravinda , Divemaster Jehan, Dive guide Nishan and buddy whose name I cannot remember.

Cargo Wreck: Bottom time – 49 minutes; Depth – 31.3 meters

It was a dark and stormy morning as I moseyed down to the Dive center greeted by Nishan, Jehan and our buddy who were sitting solemnly in a row outside the center. My heart quailed a bit when Nishan said the dive for the day was cancelled due to rain. I hadn’t dived for over a week and a half due to a trip out of Colombo to see whales in Mirissa (more on that later) and a hectic schedule had kept me in office. I was starting to hallucinate at my desk with the white wall in front of me suddenly turning into deep blue with a trumpet fish dancing temptingly in front of me. As you can see I needed to dive (though I am wondering with some trepidation as to what the heck will happen when dive season ends).

Thankfully Nishan was just having me on…well to a certain extent. We did have to wait to see how the conditions panned out and what Ravindra said about going out since he was the boatman with all the experience. We sheltered under the roof off the dive center as the rain seemed to go on interminably. Finally getting a break in the rain we loaded our gear into the boat and stood ready to go as the waves crashed and surged around us in the surf. Ravindra though, played the waves adroitly with superlative skill, waiting for just the right moment, the right break in the waves and we got out with barely a splash.

The first time I went out to the Cargo wreck it was a grey morning as well, but that time the sea had been as flat calm. Today it was as grey but an angry, white tipped grey with monsoon like swells. We even had trouble hooking onto the wreck due to the surge but eventually we hooked on after a few tries. Rolling in and moving down the greyness of the morning turned into the blue of the Cargo wreck. The visibility wasn’t the best, 8 meters or so but the fish life was profuse.

As I hovered above Nishan as he equalized a sudden movement caught my eye. I looked down hurriedly and was greeted to the somewhat comical sight of Nishan obliviously and diligently pressing down on his nose while a few meters below him Elvis or Priscilla (one of the two resident giant Sting Rays) pelted hell for leather across the sand heading for the safety of the wreck. Hooting excitedly through my regulator to get Nishan’s attention I exhaled and finned down to rest in the sand at 30m and stare delightedly at the Sting Ray as it flurried the sand, burying itself in it, white flakes drifting down around its bulbous eyes. Nishan wagged his finger at me as I took my leave off the Ray, shamefacedly scattering the sand as I regained my forgotten buoyancy.

As we swam around the wreck at 30m I had a strange sensation. Drifting over the familiar lifeboat on the sand it felt like the mother of all head rushes. Trying to figure out what the heck was going on, I suddenly came to the realization that I was probably narced. The late night out before was apparently causing me to experience the rapture of the depths, something I had never had before even at 30 meters. Making a mental note(s) not to go out before dives, keep my reg in my mouth and avoid conversations with any fish that seem so inclined I moved up the wreck to a higher profile and things seemed to calm down.

The surge conditions had apparently brought a bucket load of nutrients to the Cargo along with the somewhat limited visibility (well limited to those spoilt by tropical conditions) and the fish life was abundant. Shoals of bait fish surged above the wreck as we hung taking it all in. The silvery fish moved as one as a Surgeon fish suddenly rose and hit the shoal for a quick snack. Things got more exciting as five Bonitos flashed by on the hunt, hitting the shoal again and again, the epitome of speed and grace in the water. Large Yellow Backed Fusiliers were also in attendance getting cleaned by Cleaner Wrasses which in their enthusiasm for their job went headfirst into the Fusilier’s mouths. Nishan ever the comedian took his regulator out of his mouth and mimed the Wrasses doing a cleaning job on his teeth.

As our non-decompression time came to an end and we swam to the anchor line, the Bonitos zipped by right under us, concentrated silver streaks in the blue. Nishan and I exchanged happy grins as another brilliant dive on the Cargo came to an end.

Barracuda Reef: Bottom time – 46 minutes; Depth – 23.5 meters

The cut-cake, square-sectioned wonderland of Barracuda Reef rose up at us, the crevices sure to provide us with a lot of fish and macro life. Apparently the resident Lionfish had been busy over the past week and a half I hadn’t dived and reproduced quite happily. A few young lionfish drifted through the rocky canyons, looking ethereally beautiful with long delicate fins, pale white and brown. I called Jehan over and borrowed his torch to look at a goby like fish that was the same colour as the red and yellow coral on the rocks hopping around in the beam.

A couple of Phyllidiopsis phiphiensis nudibranches were present while the regular Phyllidia ocellata were present as well, resplendently dark orange and yellow. As I drifted over the reef I suddenly came across two Goatfish on a patch of coral having a quiet moment together, the looks of outrage from them were apparent as I beat a hasty retreat leaving them to their own devices. There was yet another surprise as we moved over the reef as I noted a white, pointy head poking out of a hole in the reef. Swimming over thinking it was a Moray I was a bit perplexed by what looked like some sort of thin white headed fish hiding in the hole and staring at me beadily. No-one seemed to have any idea what it was though it could quite possibly have been a Snake Eel judging from the shape of the head.

I was so absorbed in the intricacies of the reef that I failed to notice my ultra conservative computer had decided I needed 10 minutes of decompression time. As I slowly ascended, Jehan pointed excitedly into the misty blue as another Giant Ray flapped gracefully away about 20 meters away. Two dives and two Giant Rays, life certainly was good despite the extended deco stop screwing with my sinuses.

Unfortunately the conditions topside weren’t as forgiving as they were in the Big Blue, the surge still pretty big, stiff winds and intense surf on the beach. Ravindra waited; hand on the throttle, eyes intently watching the waves before judging the perfect break and gunning us onto the beach as smoothly as silk. A truly professional boatman.

Dive Log: Escondido Beach (22/2/2009)

2010-03-31T08:01:00.003+05:30

Old school beach dive back in California off the shores of Malibu, Dive #6 with Divemaster Dave, Phil, Brian and P from the Pacific Explorers Club.

Escondido Beach: Bottom time – 17 minutes; Depth – 10 meters

27 feet (i.e. 10m) down, this was not exactly how I had envisioned my first California dive, off Escondido beach in Malibu. They had promised me kelp trees and that most definitely was there. I was after all seated right next to one. As I had raised my hand and released the air from my BC and slid under the waves, everything disappeared into a pea soup green haze. Divemaster Dave, Phil, Brian and P sank right next to me, yet when I hit the bottom they were nowhere to be seen.

And boy did I hit bottom. For some reason, it seems that people dive out here in California with much more weights than we did back home. Even taking in the discrepancy of wearing a full wetsuit, hood, etc 27 pounds seemed a bit excessive. As soon as I went negative on my buoyancy, I shot through the water so quickly my sinuses didn’t so much equalize as implode quietly. I’m glad I didn’t do this over the Marianna because I’d still be falling.

Dave’s instructions rolled through my head, 30 seconds down and if we don’t find each other surface. Of course being on the bottom of the Pacific in conditions that seemed reminiscent of the inside of an Blue Whale after a solid rice and curry session wasn't exactly condusive to recalling those instructions. Visibility was down to a couple of feet and everything was pea soup green.

It was with some relief then that ‘Dave’ appeared out of the gloom, fluorescent tank gleaming. As he motioned for me to follow him and we swam off, I assumed we were going to join up with the rest. Yet we continued swimming, at what seemed to me unseemly haste through the kelp. The brown green streamers pushed at us as we weaved through them. If I thought visibility was bad in the open, under the kelp everything went a chocolate brown. All I could see was the fluorescent tank and the faint gleam of Dave’s torch.

We continued swimming through the kelp, at one point ‘Dave’ jerked up over a rock as something zapped him. I took great care to swim further up over the rock (turns out it was some kind of electric ray). After approximately 17 minutes of exploring this area, getting sick of kelp and learning to control my fear as the light kept ebbing and flowing, Dave gave the thumbs up. Ascending through the green and then dark blue waters, we got to the surface, right hand up as a sacrifice to any passing speedboats, we surfaced.

I was intensely curious to find out what had happened to the original plan of all five of us swimming in one line. Maybe because of the visibility ‘Dave’ had decided to split us up. Of course it was with some surprise that I noted when the mask came off at the surface, that my dive buddy was in fact…not Dave.

I could however hear the real Dave in the distance, yelling. Floating on the surface, nervously eying Phil next to me, I couldn’t for the life of me make out what they were yelling. It was only as Phil looked over curiously and wondered aloud what the problem was, that it started to dawn on me….Phil hadn’t stuck to the plan. He’d grabbed me as a dive buddy and decided to go a wandering without waiting for anyone else. Me, being unable to differentiate people at the best of times and most definitely not underwater and in scuba gear, followed as had been instructed. Admittedly I did think the situation strange at the time, but then how does one discuss these things a couple of stories down in the water? Also if it was any consolation, Phil had thought I was P, which if anyone has seen us in real life would realize how laughable a mistake that would be.

As it turns out Dave had, rather un-gratifyingly in my opinion, decided that I must have panicked and drowned Phil (another experienced diver) with me. He had gotten Brian and P to take off their BCs and tanks, tied them to a kelp plant in order to help him look for our bodies. The worst thing is that P didn’t even defend me, pointed out that I’m not a likely person to panic. He was just trying to figure out how to tell the maternal unit without losing vital body parts. 911 was even being dialed as Phil thankfully decided not to explore anymore.

As it turned out, once we surfaced all was well with the world. Universal OK signals were exchanged and we came back to shore in staggered shifts. One thing is getting through the surf at the beginning of the dive was not an issue. But at the end, freezing, tired, disoriented, it’s a hell of a thing to be battered by waves while carrying that tank and wearing those fins. It was not with much dignity that I exited onto the beach. The rest of the dive club members assured me it was standard at the beginning.

Carrying the weights and tank in a wetsuit up PCH was also not the most fun. But it was worth it, despite some of the worst visibility I have seen outside of a drain in Colombo, I mean for all I know I could have had Jaws next to me I wouldn’t have noticed, the dive was an experience. The main lessons being stick to the plan and learning to recognize white people better. I think I’ve had my fill of kelp but I am looking forward to seeing what populates those forests, Channel Islands next stop!

Dive Log: Cargo Wreck & Serendip Reef for Advanced Open Water (24/02/2010)

2010-03-29T09:20:00.003+05:30

Dive #26 and #27, diving off Mount Lavinia with Colombo Divers, Boatman Ravinda, Divemaster Jehan, buddy Ricardo and Instructor Paris for the second two dives of my Advanced Open Water Course.

Cargo Wreck: Bottom time – 40 minutes; Depth – 31.3 meters

This dive combined my Deep, Multilevel and Wreck dives for my Advanced Certification together. The deep blue over the Cargo beckoned as always as we moored over the site after my briefing about narcosis, wrecks and a diveplan drawn up for the Multilevel dive. This was only second visit to the Cargo and I was excited (there’s my understatement for the year). Roll off and down to the wreck, my descent controlled with my new found buoyancy skills. The usual shoal of fusiliers was missing but as the white speckled ship rose up out of the blue the usual explosion of fish life dazzled.

My old friend the trumpetfish was in attendance but a bit skittish this time as we drifted along the wreck. This being a Deep dive, we bottomed out and 30m as we moved towards the back of the ship. I rather nervously looked around to see if any effects of narcosis would manifest themselves. I figured if Paris or Jehan’s heads suddenly expanded to the size of beach balls or if a Snapper started having a conversation with me that might be a small sign that I was being narced.

Things however remained normal, well as normal as it can be 30m under the sea, swimming under the propeller of a giant sunken cargo ship carrying your own life support system with you. More amazing that normal I guess and the superlatives failed me as I turned on my back as my bubbles streamed past the coral encrusted propeller and we glided under and in between the keel of the ship and the sand.

We took a break for Paris to show me his dive slate with red, blue and green markings to confirm that at these depths these colours looked the same. After a bit more puttering around at 30m oohing and aaahing (figuratively of course) we moved up to 20m per our multilevel dive plan and continued exploring the wreck until our decompression time started ticking down to zero and we took leave of our fishy friends. I surfaced with 82 bar and the Advanced Water Certification having done my first 30m dive. I made a mental note to start reading Diver Down so I didn’t get too cocky.

Serendip Reef: Bottom time – 62 minutes; Depth – 23.1 meters

Don’t let the bottom time shown above fool you. I screwed up on this dive and misread my damn computer which was a bit of a damper end to what was otherwise a brilliant first trip to the outer reef for me. Thus I ended up with something akin to a 20 minute decompression stop at 3m after the last deep dive. It was a rather sobering reminder that I was still very much a beginner diver and I had a fair distance to go with regard to familiarizing myself with my computer and really getting to grips with managing my dive times. I kinda felt bad for Paris, Ricardo and Jehan as they hung around at 3m waiting for my computer to tick down.

Diving Serendip Reef is somewhat akin to swimming in a giant fishtank, albeit one that is over 20 meters deep and full of wondrous life that no fish tank could ever emulate. A small shoal of blue and black surgeonfish swirled as we descended, the white sand contrasting beautifully with the blue, 20m plus visibility water. Specks of coral littered the ocean floor, some alive but some dead (not sure why) Blue Lined Snappers whirled while Gobys peered out from their holes.

The undoubted stars of Serendip however were the Anemone Fish. About 10cm long one defended his Anemone vigorously, swimming up to both Paris and I and chucking at us. This fish had some serious balls, sort of the equivalent of me charging up to a T-Rex and hooting at him (no I don’t have that much balls, show me a real live T-Rex and I’ll need a change of underwear, several changes probably).

After exploring the reef and on our way back I noticed a crab sheltering in the Anemone. Drifting down to investigage, the Anemone Fish was nowhere to be seen. As I moved off however I was treated to the comical sight of the fish poking his head out indignantly from the Anemone with an expression of YOU!!! AGAIN!!!

True characters of the reef, the Anemone fish and it’s a shame that their boldness leads them often to be captured for the aquarium trade, where most die in transport or due to poor care from their erstwhile but often uninformed owners.

Incidentally this was also my last dive with Paris who had to head back to Greece, so I packed him off with a bottle of Old Reserve and an offer to take him on safari to see some leopard if he came back. Here's hoping to see him back in sunny Sri Lanka again!

Dive Log: Palagala (Formosa) for Advanced Open Water (2012/2010)

2010-03-24T09:33:00.004+05:30

Dive #25 and #26, diving off Mount Lavinia with Colombo Divers, Boatman Ravinda, Dive buddy K and Instructor Paris for the first two dives of my Advanced Open Water Course.

Palagala: Bottom time – 33 minutes; Depth – 12.8 meters

A word of explanation, well a few words. To quote PADI, the course “helps you increase your confidence and build your scuba skills so you can become more comfortable in the water. This is a great way to get more dives under your belt while continuing to learn under the supervision of your PADI instructor. This course builds on what you’ve learned and develops new capabilities by introducing you to new activities and new ways to have fun scuba diving.”

Flowery words aside my main aim was to do the Peak Performance Buoyancy (PPB) dive, Navigation dive and Deep dive so I could explore the Colombo dive sites to the fullest. To those who have done the basic Open Water, I would highly recommend this option, some of the best sites like the Cargo Wreck, Taprobane East Wreck and the Trug are accessible once you have this certification and the skills and confidence to go to 30m and manage your buoyancy.

The day started with Paris giving me some briefings on the PPB and Nav dive. The latter briefing was enlivened by Paris making me take a bearing to a coconut tree with my compass, draping my head in a towel and making me walk to said coconut tree. The first try was a miserable failure due either to my stupidity or a short term change I the Earth’s magnetic field (I personally think it’s the latter). After a chastisement from Paris and another, more successful try, we boarded the boat and headed out to Palagala which is Colombo Diver's standard training ground. Accompanying us was another beginner diver who was along for the ride, K.

Rolling off, deflating and sinking to the bottom we moved over to a sandy area to practice my PPB skills. I had lost my snorkel at Palagala the day before and had jokingly asked anyone who dove there the next time to take a look see if they could find it. As I settled in knees first to await instruction from Paris, something caught my eye to the right. Taking a quick glance I saw a snorkel lying there, Hmmm….weird…a snork….OH WAIT!!!! Motioning to Paris to hold on with the instructions, I swam over double checked to make sure it was mine (which in retrospect was a bit silly I guess), pumped my fists and jammed my snorkel into my BC (after all it's not everyday the Sea gives something She took back).

This excitement over, we moved on with my skills. The fin pivot and hovering were skills I hadn’t practiced since getting Open Water certified back in December 2008, however with my new-found ideal weight of 4kg, thing went pretty well and Paris was shaking my hand in no time.

The next skill however took a bit of getting used to, basically maneuvering close to the bottom with your reg and mask almost touching the bottom and skimming it. It took me a few minutes of figuring out how to time my inhalations and exhalations but once the skill came the feeling was exhilarating. With my usual over-enthusiasm I skimmed the sand over and over again, taking a break to point out a rather minute, gorgeously black and white spotted nudibranch all by its lonesome on the sand. Paris eventually had to grab me by my fin and shake my hand to make me stop skimming the sand and as we did that, two Remoras twisted by in the murky waters. Both of us immediately stopped what we were doing and starting looking around for a big fish that the Remora’s often accompany, but no matter how much we looked there was no sign of any Rays or Whale Sharks or anything else in the soupy green.

Palagala: Bottom time – 35 minutes; Depth – 13.1 meters

This was the navigation dive and I was a whole lot more nervous about this one, primarily because I wasn’t really good at counting my kicks which was essential for estimating distance (I guess I’ve always been bad at this quantitative business). Visibility had also gotten shittier, about 2m, which rather surprisingly helped me with my navigation.

The navigating a straight line felt a bit awkward because of having to concentrate on my fin-kicks but things got more comfortable with navigating a square pattern. With the low visibility I gave my compass my full attention, trying to follow the lubber line keeping the north arrow aligned in the bezel. Looking up at one stage I was rather surprised (if not a bit dismayed) to come face to face with a Lionfish. We exchanged glances for a second, his somewhat pugnacious and mine somewhat frightened before I finned, inhaled hugely and swam over his menacingly raised fins. Seeing the anchor and anchor line glowing blue in the green murkiness was one of the best feelings of my life, knowing that I wasn’t an absolute moron when it came to navigating with a compass.

The last task was leading Paris and K on a tour of Palagala using ‘natural navigation’, i.e. the features of the reef and the compass. This was admittedly a bit easy because I’d dived Palagala so many times before so was quite familiar with the layout of the reef. Also the reef rather handily runs N-S so adjustments of the bezel of the compass were really not required. It was with the usual tinge of regret that we turned around when K gave the time-out signal for reaching 100 bar and exited the water with him just over 50 bar. Not to blow my own trumpet but I exited with over a 100 bar and had at least another 45 minutes of dive time. Oh heck, I did just blow my own trumpet. I do that sometimes.

Dive Log: Palagala (Formosa) and Barracuda (2012/2009)

2010-03-22T08:30:00.000+05:30

Dive #23 and #24, diving off Mount Lavinia with my favourite Dive Shop Colombo Divers, Boatman Ravinda, Dive buddy S and Divemaster Jehan.

Palagala: Bottom time – 47 minutes; Depth – 13 meters

This was the dive with the rather unexpected workout. S hadn’t dived for a bit and as we sank to the bottom I figured there might be some issues. The 3m visibility in Palagala takes a bit of getting used to if most of the dives you had done were the blue, 10m+ visibility ones in Matara or Hikkaduwa. And Palagala had freaked me out the first time. As S hit the bottom I winced a bit as both her hands came in contact with the silt and rock at the bottom. Not because of any damage to the corals, since it was mostly rock, but out of concern for her. Scorpion fish are abundant on the reef, amazingly camouflaged and getting stung by one is no picnic. You really want to take a good look before landing on any stony surfaces here (and in the ocean in general).

We settled down for a bit and tried to sort out S’s buoyancy, almost a year out of diving can play hell with these skills and I felt for her as she struggled a bit to sort herself out. Unfortunately she was a bit overweighted and just couldn’t get a hang of either how much air to put into her BC or to get her breathing sorted to maintain her buoyancy. As we swam around I kept a close eye on her and lifted her over the reef when she seemed about to run into it and kept another close eye to make sure she didn’t shoot to the surface. I must say I never thought I would get a bicep workout underwater but there you go...there's always a first!

All in all quite an interesting dive if not for the usual reasons. Trying to help someone sort themselves underwater was a fascinating experience and probably the first time I got an inkling that I might want to pursue a Divemaster course.

Barracuda Reef: Bottom time – 32 minutes; Depth – 23.4 meters

S suffered from a bout of sea sickness during the surface interval and decided not to do the second dive, so J and I sank into the blue waters of Barracuda Reef, where the usual shoal of Pickhandle Barracuda didn’t fail to delight, shiny yellow and grey against the blue backdrop.

Barracuda Reef really is a superlative dive, the blue coral fans peppering the rocks and crevices with innumerable fish and invertebrate life just inviting a diver to stand on their head, exhale and explore. I had decided to reduce my weights by one kilo and thus I was in the throes of neutral buoyancy nirvana. The one kilo reduction meant I could fine tune my buoyancy without any issues and the sense of freedom as I swooped over the reef was exhilarating.

The dive itself was jaw dropping as usual. A lobster lurked under a rock and refused to come out and play while another shrimp hid in a hole in the rock, feelers sticking out, white and stringy. As we swam over an overhang in the rock I noticed what looked like a spotted plate on the sand, underneath the overhang. Exhaling and sinking down gracefully (even if I do say so myself) I was excited to discover an Electric Ray hiding from the daylight hours. Despite Jehan and I both cooing over him, he simply blinked his eyes, ruffled his body into the sand and studiously ignored us. I guess when you pack a voltage from 50-200V you can afford to be a bit nonchalant.

The grande finale to a perfect dive was what appeared to be a little grooming session between a Giant Moray and the most multi-coloured crab I had seen sans being devilled. The Moray gaped at us out of a cylindrical hole in the reef and as I stared at this in fascination, a little movement on the side of his neck attracted me. There was the crab, sylph and coloured in the shades of bright orange, deep red and a midnight black, skittling around the Moray’s neck. The Moray seemed quite chilled out about this with only the occasional shiver as the crab touched a soft spot (I guess). Leaving this rather uncommon tryst to their own devices, we regretfully noted that our decompression time had come to an end and surfaced to be dragged rather ungracefully (in my case not Jehan’s) back onto the boat by Ravinda.

Dive Log: Hatare Gala and Meda Gala (27/12/2009)

2010-03-18T07:00:00.004+05:30

Dive #11 and #12, diving off Bentota with Thambapanni Dive Center.

Hatare Gala: Bottom time – 31 minutes; Depth – 22 meters

I needed to get out of the hotel, Taj Exotica, despite the nice rooms was vastly overpriced for what you got, especially in terms of food, but we had come there for a short break before the end of 2009 none the wiser. With the lunacy dripping out of the back of my skull I called reception and requested they put me in touch with a dive center. Another phone call and I was booked for bright and early in the morning for a two tank dive.

Then next day a gentleman named Sri who looked liked he was built out of a tree trunk picked me up from the reception and took me to get my equipment sorted out (me being too lazy to bring my BCD and Reg to Bentota). Geared up and meeting another couple who were going to be doing their last two training dives for their Open Water License we headed to the dock. Heading out to the dive sites was an interesting experience as we had to breach the Bentota River, the green-brown, white tipped waters roiling as the fresh water of the river met the saline solution of the sea.

A relatively short ride and we were ready to roll off. My divemaster was an old grizzled Lankan hand, having had many stints at commercial diving in the Middle East under his belt. The back roll was a bit disconcerting since it had been over a year since I’d done a back roll into the water and six months since my last dives in California.

Gurgling down to the bottom, I was greeted by gigantic rock structures amongst white sands. I believe this site is listed on Dive Sri Lanka as the Canoe Rock site because the pictures look pretty similar to what I saw…which I guess is not saying much given the vastness of the ocean. Snappers and fusiliers flitted in and out of the rock as I adjusted to having a BC on and breathing through my mouth again. Equalizing a bit more and coming to terms with the mask pressing against my face, we headed off around the rocks.

The biggest moment of excitement on the dive was when a huge grey shape loomed out of the murk, visibility being a somewhat mediocre 10 meters (what I’m spoiled?!). For a moment a mixture of fear and excitement gripped me as I thought SHARK! But marginally disappointingly it turned out to be a rather good sized Seer fish alternatively known as an Indo-Pacific King Mackerel. Not quite a shark but still exciting stuff.

Medagala: Bottom time – 35 minutes; Depth – 20 meters

The second dive was somewhat similar to the first. More big rocks and sand. I believe this may be the site called the South Reef on Dive Sri Lanka or possibly even vice versa with the previous dive.

The Bump-head Parrotfish were the most obvious of the initial sites as we bottomed out at 20 meters, regulators hissing reassuringly. The fish were feeding heavily on the coral encrusting the rocks and the crunch, crunch of their heavy beaks breaking into the calcium was a constant background symphony to the dive. The big fish seemed to like me in Bentota because a few minutes into the dive a Great Barracuda joined us for a bit. Not wanting to frighten him off I tried to breath as discreetly as possible but on the first bubbles escaping from my reg, the Barracuda (actually a juvenile so relatively small) inched closer in curiosity, silvery black against the black backdrop of the hulking rocks.

After the Barracuda took his/her leave the dive was relatively quiet apart from a couple of giant lobsters pirouetting in a cave. Tried to peer under the ledge into the cave, I realized that I still had a long way to go with handling my neutral buoyancy as I bounced up and down probably scaring the heck out of the lobsters. Back on the boat as we headed back into the Bentota River, the waters looking a lot surlier with the high tide, my divemaster gave me a spiel on how delicious lobsters are freshly caught from the ocean.

As I dried off in the hotel, I looked at the menu.

Rs.3,000 for a lobster

For that price I would expect the lobster to serenade me before dinner as well so I stuck to an overpriced piece of slipper that masqueraded as a burger from the room service menu.

Give Taj Exotica a miss if you are ever in that area, if you like value for money that is.

Jungle Tide

2010-03-15T07:54:00.000+05:30

By John Still was one of the most influential books I have ever read, and one that I go back to every now and then. The copy I have is old, yellow and brittle, its spine worn from hundreds of reads many miles from home, in the cold of London and the blaze of heat that was California. Jungle Tide was one of the books that really solidified my love for the wild and the dry zone.

Still writes beautifully of a variety of aspects of Sri Lanka's wilds, from the mountain forests, Sri Pada, the Wanni, Veddhas and my personal favourite, the Dry Zone jungles and wildlife. His anectodes are many ranging from stalking buffaloes, elephant graveyards, the devil bird, jungle charms to heal centipede bites and even losing the Governer of Ceylon (as Sri Lanka was known then) in the jungle. The charming recounting of his pet bears and leopards always made me want to keep either of the two, well mostly a leopard as a pet when I was kid. Possibly a bit unrealistic living in the middle of Colombo!

The poetic nature of the book and the overall theme of a Jungle Tide conquering all, made a huge impression on me as a youth and I strongly suggest any and all who have an interest in Sri Lanka and its wilds to read this book to truly understand what an amazing natural heritage we have and need to protect for ourselves and our future generations.

"Visions of a regimented earth where birds only sing by request are to me so much more distasteful than the age-old struggle with the jungle tide, that I rejoice in an outlook that to the commercial utiliser of applied science horribly pessimistic. I do not think man will win final victory over the jungle; but rather that the battle will go on in the future as it has in the past with alternating victories on either side, and with the tide of the jungle ever ready to rise and flow over civilisation whenever it grow too proud to keep on learning...or when it gets tired of exerting willpower...or when it makes mistakes" - John Still, 1930