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Ocean conservation benefits from the many informative and visually stunning collections of underwater photos that are available in a format known as the "coffee table" book. The down side is that these editions too often remain there, on the coffee table, becoming expensive and unwieldy interior decorations.
Michele Westmorland, recognized underwater photographer and recent inductee into the Women Divers Hall of Fame, took a different approach with her book, Ocean Duets. Producing a smaller, slimmer edition - one that won't throw your back out or crack the coffee table glass - 
Michele and writer Barbara Sleeper have a produced a very accessible and readable edition based on the concept of so many animals that live in the sea can be seen in pairs. From the tiniest of shrimp to anemone or clownfish to massive manatees, manta rays, and whales - the ocean is full of these "duets." Sometimes as mating pairs, other times developing symbiotic relationships, these pairings represent the linkage that binds the marine ecosystem together. Ocean Duets captures these relationships from around the world, but particularly from one of Michele's favorite haunts: Melanesia and the stunning reefs of Papua New Guinea to Sulawesi in Indonesia.
A busy lady, constantly living out of a suitcase and dive bag, Michele is preparing to return to Melanesia after a side trip to the Cocos Islands, I caught up with her at a recent lecture at the Aquarium of the Pacific where Michele not only presented her underwater work to impress the audience with the need for ocean conservation, but she also made the connection between the ocean and man with her images of the island people and their cultures. She is an advocate of the idea that if you travel to these remote but ecologically important locales, it can be just as important to see the interconnection between the sea and the land as it is just to marvel at what is below the waves.
Ocean Duets is available at Amazon.com. Printed on high gloss, heavy stock with a foreward by Dr. Sylvia Earle, it would be a great edition to anyone's underwater library, from families with children eager to learn about the colorful creatures in the sea to the well-informed ocean conservationist.
"It is now with a sense of urgency that I encourage everyone to use whatever talents and resources are available to continue to explore and understand the nature of this extraordinary ocean planet - as depicted so beautifully in the colorful images and captivating creatures of Ocean Duets." - Dr. Sylvia Earle.
Available at Amazon.com.
Last night, my long-standing dive buddy, Budd Riker, and I did a night dive at Shaw's Cove in Laguna Beach, California. Budd had been out to this dive location two nights before and was amazed at the range of sea life he came across. One round stingray after another, large mantis shrimp strolling across the sandy bottom, and surprisingly good visibility considering the flat sandy bottom of the cove.
But as can, frustratingly, often be the case when you come across an unusual occurrence, Budd had not brought his digital SLR camera that particular evening. And so here we were on Sunday, hoping for a repeat performance. On this dive, I kept my video camera at home (not much fun dragging a 70-pound rig through the surf) and was going to act as Budd's scout, using my underwater light to search for subjects to shoot.
We arrived as the sun was beginning to set. Some dark clouds were rolling in, but that did not matter to us (whereas in a daytime dive, losing the sun's ambient light would be a bit disappointing). Shaw's Cove has a large rocky reef structure to the right side that extends perhaps 200 yards out. At the moment, the tide had much of the top of the reef exposed and so Budd and I spent some time combing over the tidepools and recalling some of the many dives we had made here.
Budd has done literally thousands of dives at Shaw's Cove both for pleasure and when he used to be a scuba diving instructor. I had not done anywhere near as many, but still knew many of the contours of Shaw's Cove's reef structure. We talked of the "Crack" and grotto that runs across the reef and how much fun it was to investigate its many passages - always mindful of the occasional swell that could rush through, sending you on a roller coaster ride and slamming you against the rocks or a wall of spiny sea urchins if your timing was all wrong. Ah, the good times.
And so we waited for night to fall, reminiscing over past dives and noting how so many formations seem unchanged after all these many years. There seemed to be a consistency to the sea, a familiarity at Shaw's Cove that said, no matter what the ocean has been through, there are some things in life that never change. Now, with a black sky above, Budd and I suited up and waded through the very calm surf. Budd was ready for images of the many creatures he saw just a few nights ago. And I was ready to be his hunting dog, pointing them out to him.
That was the plan. The ocean saw things a bit differently that night.
We swam on the surface for a while before descending to 18 feet to begin our dive. Shaw's Cove has a wide sandy plain that drops off slowly, so one can travel quite a ways and still be relatively shallow - at several hundred yards off shore you can still only be at 25 to 30 feet in depth. We moved out slowly, keeping our eyes alert for those multitudes of stingrays and mantis shrimp.
But tonight was to be a very different night. First, I saw, through the beam of my light, what first appeared to be a considerable amount of particles floating in the water; sea grass pulverized by wave action perhaps. "Well, this loss of visibility won't make Budd very happy," I thought. Then I realized that the particles had an interesting dancing movement to them. Plankton! A multitude of minute larvae gyrating about - I felt like I was trapped in a goldfish bowl full of sea monkeys.
Next up on the changing menu was the contour of the sandy sea bottom itself. What was very flat a few nights ago, with small ripples in the sand, was now transformed into deeper ridges and valleys of sand, exposing purple sand dollars and allowing small ghost shrimp or juvenile halibut or flounder to find safe haven in the deep sandy depressions. Only a couple of small rays appeared and there were no mantis shrimp to be seen. Several types of crabs were scuttling about, raising their claws in defiance of the bright lights that gazed down upon them. We came upon two small crabs in the throes of conjugal bliss and while Budd snapped photos, the male slowly dug into the sand, holding fast to his mate and taking her with him. Oh, no. Hounded by the paparazzi once again.
And so what was familiar was now different. The sea can be a very fickle place. Some things can appear unchanged, dependable - this will last for eternity. And yet, below the waves, there is a very fragile and constantly evolving world taking place. Set into motion by waves, currents, temperatures, and the bio-rhythms of thousands of sea creatures, the yin-yang of the sea is susceptible to all of these influences and those imposed upon it by man.
Eventually feeling the chill of the early Spring water temperature, Budd and I surfaced and made our way back to shore. More surprised than disappointed that his hoped-for quarry had eluded him, Budd still had some great pictures from our dive. As we stepped out of the surf, we found that the dark clouds from earlier in the evening had now turned into a light rain; another reminder that our world is ever-changing.
It was a good dive and a reminder that we can never take the ocean and all that live within it for granted.
See more at Budd Riker Photography and Budd's blog.
Sunny weather is greeting the first arrivals to the BLUE Ocean Film Festival & Conservation Summit. The Monterey area (Monterey, Pacific Grove, Seaside, and more) is one of those great places on the California coast where, given the work opportunity, I would certain consider relocating.
First up on the day's agenda was my underwater video workshop, an opportunity for beginning and aspiring videographers to get a chance to hone their underwater skills with 2 dives in Monterey Bay and a classroom session. The water conditions were, perhaps, a bit typical for Monterey: the water can have an emerald green hue to it with some reduced visibility from incoming particulates. But that did not detract us from what turned out to be the big attraction of the dives.
The past week there had been a large influx of West Coast Sea Nettles - a small but beautiful sea jelly with w 3- to 4-inch dome, trailing white fleshy appendages, and dark red tentacles that trailed up to 18-inches. Did I say a large influx? Well, congregating in a layer from the surface to about 25 feet, they were in the hundreds if not thousands. Getting below them and looking up through the emerald water, it reminded me of the fresh water jellies of Palau - on steroids!
I had told the workshop participants that on this first dive I would have them focus getting key shots for building a video: master wide shots, tighter medium shots, close-ups, etc. Once we submerged and saw the gelatinous panorama laid out before us, I think class was immediately postponed on account of something that divers just don't get to see every day.
See or feel. It was impossible to not come in contact with the trailing tentacles of the sea nettles and that meant we were going to get stung. Fortunately, not badly; we would exit the water with a bit of a rash on the face or some puffy lips, but it would dissipate quickly. But the images in our minds - and hopefully our cameras - of these amazing jellies would last much longer.
That evening saw several receptions opening the festival. Famed photographer, David Doubilet, had a wonderful gallery exhibit of his work and it became the focal point of the evening with filmmakers and ocean conservationists talking shop over wine and cheese. David has become one of the uncontested masters of the above and below shots - half in the water, half out - and he was telling me he was not quite sure what made him gravitate often to this type of shot but thinks it may have to do with what impressed him with the ocean as a child. Above is the world we live in, and just below is the world we dream in.
I told him what impresses me with his above and below shots is how, in one frame of film, he is bringing together these two worlds; that they are not separate, a place that people cannot relate to, but are actually two worlds that share an important connection, a bond that is crucial to our future.
Well, I did say there was wine. . .
Today, the festival and conservation summit begins in earnest with industry discussion groups and more meet-and-greets. Friday through Saturday will see more of the sames along with a barrage of wonderful ocean films. It's shaping up to be a great week. More reports to come.
Being involved with video and film, I sometimes just like to revel in the pictures - no story, no facts and figures, just the impact of images that announce "here is something worth protecting."
For the past ten years, over 2,000 scientists from 80 countries have been cataloging pictures of marine life, sometimes rare and unusual deep sea marine life. Their efforts are part of the Census of Marine Life, or CoML, the final report from which will be released in October.
The drawback with these and other kinds of dramatic pictures of the seas is that it can give the impression that everything is all right. "The coral reefs are fine; just look it these amazing photos. There's plenty of healthy sealife; just look at this photo gallery." Well, you can find a little bit of peace in a ghetto; a little bit of humanity in the midst of a disaster - but it doesn't mean everything is all right.
This brief collection of images, published online in the BBC News, should only serve to remind us that the oceans need our concerted efforts to protect and conserve it. For the sake of its own beauty, for the sake of our own survival.
See more images and videos at the CoML website.
Ocean conservation benefits from the many informative and visually stunning collections of underwater photos that are available in a format known as the "coffee table" book. The down side is that these editions too often remain there, on the coffee table, becoming expensive and unwieldy interior decorations.
Michele and writer Barbara Sleeper have a produced a very accessible and readable edition based on the concept of so many animals that live in the sea can be seen in pairs. From the tiniest of shrimp to anemone or clownfish to massive manatees, manta rays, and whales - the ocean is full of these "duets." Sometimes as mating pairs, other times developing symbiotic relationships, these pairings represent the linkage that binds the marine ecosystem together. Ocean Duets captures these relationships from around the world, but particularly from one of Michele's favorite haunts: Melanesia and the stunning reefs of Papua New Guinea to Sulawesi in Indonesia.
