Photo of the Week (08/22/2012): Taking the batfish for a walk

No dive on the Medhafaru wreck is complete without the Batfish. These large, spade shaped fish come in shoals of about 10 and are a delight. Some of the friendliest fish around its not uncommon to be given an escort by them and they love playing with bubbles, chasing them down and engulfing them.



True clowns of the sea and guaranteed to make your surface interval amusing.

Top 10 Memorable Ocean Experiences of 2011: No. 08 – Seas of the East

The seas of Batticaloa. The mysterious East. After so many years of war and restrictions these seas were the great unknown and rumours of shipwrecks and reefs hounded my dreams. It was with some excitement to say the least that we collected on the beach in Thennadi Bay, Mankerni in August where a flat sea met white sand in preparation for three days of exploratory dives.


This was rough shod diving to say the least. The tank valves and o-rings looked quite worse for wear and much cursing and the hiss of air escaping accompanied us setting up the tanks. At the end of our battle with the tanks we had around 120 bar left in each tank and to compound things my integrated computer decided to run out battery as we rolled over for the first dive. Thus the introduction to the east left a bit to be desired, low on air and 4 meters of visibility and no idea about depth, bottom time or how much air I had left. The fish life on Leather coral reef though was prolific, anemones and clown fish dotted the rocks and we almost had to push through the shoals of snappers. Unfortunately I had made the rather silly decision not to take my camera with me so no photos were forthcoming.


A delicate battery change later we assembled back on the beach the next morning with the promise of a new shipwreck, an unidentified mammoth ship lying 27 meters deep off Vakarai. After our usual battle with the tanks and o-rings we headed out. Viz was not the best as we headed down to the wreck and to be frank the first sight of the wreck left a bit to be desired. It was upside down and we started swimming along the stern. The size of the ship was impressive and there were a few interesting anemones on the ship but it was nothing much too really write home about. A sudden concussion jarred us while we swam, an unfortunate indication that the lazier fishermen in the area were dynamiting, destroying and raping the very reefs their livelihoods depended upon.

Bubble anemone on the hull

There were loads of these small anemones on the ship as well

The slightly boring dive continued until we reached the section where the ship seemed to have been wrenched apart. The ship’s structure ended abruptly and there was an open space after which the next half of the ship lay. This section was truly awe inspiring. The top of the structure appeared to have a multitude of holes in the top through which the light streamed, like a giant underwater cathedral. On its own this section of the ship looked amazing. The ship also pulsed with life, solid shoals of snappers swam in and out of the ship while multi coloured coral dotted every available surface. Anemones complete with clown fish dotted the wreck here and there and friendly butterfly fish swirled around. Unfortunately as we had taken some time to get to the spot we were almost out of air so had to come up for a surface interval before we could get back down to explore more thoroughly.

Fish explosion

Friendly batfish

On the second dive we headed straight for the broken section of the ship and just hung there enjoying the show, almost too befuddled to even take photographs. As we adjusted to the hustle and bustle of the wreck, I moved in to photograph what looked like an anemone flowing in the current, a quick glance to my computer confirming I had around 60 bar and enough bottom time left.

Last photo I took before the shit hit the ceiling

With that in mind it was quite disconcerting to suddenly have my regulator stop delivering air, checking my computer I absorbed the fact that a second after it showed 60 bar, it showed a blinking zero bar. It must have taken split seconds but as I continued to watch the gauge it went up to 50 and as I took a breath went down to zero again delivering a minute amount of air. This being a classic symptom of a tank that hasn’t been opened properly I rather quickly swam up to another diver and indicated I was out of air. Breathing out of the octo, I checked my tank but it was fully open which completely threw me. Getting back onto the boat, a bit shakily, the mystery was solved as it turned out that the tank was corroded and the corrosion had come up and blocked the valve. Trying to get the reg of the valve was the next task and finally when we wrenched it off, aluminum oxide blew out coating myself and the boatman in fine, grit.


It was an ignominious end to what had been two spectacular dives. Unfortunately as we had come specifically to explore sites we didn’t have the time to go back to this wreck and ended our last day with a dive to a shallow but interesting wreck, the Lady McCullum and another reef. The giant wreck would have to wait for another day.

Fish on the Lady McCullum

The sun sets on the seas of the east

Photo of the Week (04/09/2012): Soft Coral at Athnagulpita (B&W)

20 meters underwater a boat ride from Colombo, lies a huge bed of soft coral. Unfortunately these corals are under threat from ships anchoring and destroying them.

Photo of the Week (02/06/2012): Bait ball action on the Medhafaru

Ok, it's not the best image (by any stretch of the imagination), but this was my 200th dive, I was in intense pain with imploded sinuses and int he middle of a baitball with tuna and seer hitting it. I completely forgot to switch my camera to AV out of Manual but I did get this one shot that showed some recognizable fish.

Top 10 Memorable Ocean Experiences of 2011: No. 03 – Visited by Cousteau

It was the first trip to Gingiri for the season, three old hands, M, DJ and myself. Visibility wasn’t flash, around 10-12 meters which isn’t what we usually expect at the other reefs but this was still decent. We split off to do our own thing, DJ relaxing on the sand communing with the powers that be while I tried to (largely unsuccessfully) do some wide-angle photography.

Fail on wide-angle, mostly because I don't have a wide-angle lens

DJ taking a break

The dive passed quite uneventfully with a huge stingray being the highlight, though a highlight kept at a safe distance and we clambered back on to the boat ready for the interminable surface interval, necessary to ensure we did not die a horrible death due to decompression illness on the next dive. This surface interval was enlivened however by being surrounded by a number of dolphins, sadly none close enough to swim with and take a peek at.

Huge stingray, keep a good distance!

As we geared up for the second time, little did we know that the dive to Taprobane reef was going to be a life changing one. Again we spread out along the reef 20 meters down, M and I distracted by trying to photograph random fish and corals. I was trying to take a portrait of a shy fish model when I noticed DJ waving and pointing like someone possessed. Following the direction of his arm, all I could see was something blurry and white in the distance. This however slowly resolved itself into a pod of dolphins. Obviously the noise of our bubbles had alerted them to something new in the water and they had come to investigate.


The beauty was surreal, the pod moving sleekly through the water, at one with their element like I could never imagine. The pod remained at the outer reaches of our vision, 10-12 meters away but I swear I looked one in the eye as the dolphins gracefully pivoted and left us, their curiosity satisfied. As brief as that moment was, for mystery and the almost supernaturelness of the encounter it was most definitely one of the best moments of 2011.




P.S. Before anyone asks, we were all too gobsmacked to take photographs and visibility was too bad as well. We kept a lookout after our encounter but the messengers of Cousteau did not come back.

Keeping an eye out for a return

Photo of the Week (01/30/2012): Pro Divers

There is nothing better than to dive with a group of accomplished divers. A dive group consisting of Divemasters and Instructors displaying perfect buoyancy during an ascent from a deep dive to 36 meters on the Gorgonian Gardens off Colombo.

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

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

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

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.

Read more here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Old Man and the Sea

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.