Eerily Beautiful, Capturing images of the Salish Sea life

Exploring the multiple dive spots of the Inlet: Henderson, Willis & Slugget Point, Deep Cove, Senanus Island.

The astonishing sea life around Campbell River and adjacent islands in the Strait of Georgia.

Goodbye to Canada: Visiting the Race Rocks Marine Protected area to dive this famous Double Black Diamond site.

In 1980 I decided to become a scuba diver. I just finished reading my first Cousteau and couldn’t imagine any grander adventure than exploring the world’s oceans from a cool ship full of brave scientists, who plunge into the depths in black neoprene suits with fashionable yellow stripes. When I drew this scene at school for my art class assignment named “My future occupation”, my teacher thought there was something seriously wrong with me. We were living under the communist regime in land -locked Czechoslovakia and I was7 years old.

It took me decades to fulfill my childhood dream, but I finally arrived. I brought on this quest my second passion - photography and found them to be an excellent combo.

This first edition of Underwater Exploration evolved from my National Geographic Open Explorer blog written under the title “EERILY BEAUTIFUL” and covers my Canadian diving adventures of the summer of 2019.

Red sea urchin (Strongylocentrotus franciscanus)

With the end of my trip to Canada fast approaching I am eager to explore some new spots.

Photos and short descriptions of selected local species found during our dives.

Even though I somehow created a mental picture of what to expect, I hadn’t imagined all the surprises that awaited me.

Three day trip to dive Campbell River, a world class destination for scuba.

Our mini expeditions around the Saanich Inlet, a short drive from the city of Victoria.

What to say as I prepare to fly back home.

Double Black Diamond dive site in Juan de Fuca Strait.

F

irst he gave me a “What’s wrong with you?” look, but then understood I was serious. His facial expression changed as he answered: “The best in the world!”

This stuck with me. But it wasn’t until last year, when I finally got the opportunity to see for myself. I was astounded. Granted, the water is cold! (around 10 Celsius) and diving in several layers of clothing and 36 pounds of lead on the belt, takes a bit of getting used to. The rewards are worth the effort though.

Abundance of life, its variety, shapes and color, which most of us associate with tropical waters will surprise you around here.

I found the perfect dive buddy too. Larry Taylor is a Victorian who knows every cool spot underwater around here, has patience with cold-diving novices and loves to take photos to boot! Last summer we spent countless chilly hours together underwater, “parked” over rock piles teeming with life, snapping macros of nudibranchs, sculpins, tube dwelling anemones and other sea creatures.

In a few days I will be back in British Columbia. Gear is ready, plans are made. This time we will also travel north to explore the current swept reefs around Campbell River. Time to get wet, time to get cold, time to explore the eerie emerald Salish Sea.

White-lined dirona (Dirona albolineata)

I

am, back in Canada - shivering body, chattering teeth, numb face masking my happy grin. I am bobbing on the surface after my first dive at Henderson Point, one of my favorite spots in Saanich Inlet.

My friend, guide and mentor Larry, floating next to me. I am trying to convey my excitement, but all I manage is a mumble.

The 10°C water effectively paralyzed my face. No matter. This was a great first dive.

We found a den of a Giant Pacific octopus (Enteroctopus dofleini) with its inevitable cemetery of crab shells piled high up at its entrance, I had a staring contest with a good sized Lingcod (Ophiodon elongatus), Larry pointed out to me dozens of nudibranchs, crabs, sculpins and other creatures I came to visit and hopefully photograph.

It was a good test run for some of my gear too, since tomorrow we are heading out again and this time a bit deeper. The plan is to visit some Glass sponges. I have never seen those before. Can’t wait.

Tube anemone (Pachycerianthus fimbriatus)

S

o how was the sponges dive?

Deep, dark, short and utterly fascinating. Even though I somehow created a mental picture of what to expect, I hadn’t imagined all the surprises that awaited me.

What proved to be spot on was my expectation to be the rookie on this trip. The “Sponge charter” as today was unofficially labeled, was organized

by Rockfish Divers - an outfit from Victoria, preferred by many experienced

locals. As the participants started to converge on the pier, it was immediately evident that they knew their trade. If you see someone putting on all of their cold diving gear in 2 minutes flat, you know they are not new to this. Good thing I arrived first!

Once on board, the ride-in takes only a few minutes. Our destination - the north side of the Senanus Island in Saanich Inlet is less than 2 miles from the Angler’s Anchorage Marina, our point of departure.

After a short briefing about the dive mostly for my benefit - we are ready to go. I buddy up with Larry and follow him as the second diver overboard.

Tyler, Rockfish owner and today also the captain of the vessel, passes me my camera rig. Larry makes the “Thumbs down” sign and we are ready to dive.

Or .. that’s what I thought...

Copper rockfish (Sebastes caurinus) peeking out of Cloud sponge (Aphrocallistes vastus)

I deflate my BCD and dry suit but sink only a few inches. Damn, I am too buoyant. How did that happen? I turn upside down and use my fins to propel myself downward. That works, but when I right myself I start going up again. Meanwhile, Larry has gone through the soupy cloudy water below and I cannot see him anymore. I try again with the same result. I bob up again. I am ready to ask Tyler for more lead, when Larry pops up next to me.

“I am too light”, I explain. “I will give it one more try.” I do my flip again and Larry follows me down. Four feet below the surface he pushes my head down a few more inches. That works and I finally start to sink. We are on our way.

As we parachute down through clouds of plankton, I switch on my camera and flashes. My drysuit starts to squeeze as the pressure increases. I pump in some air. Then, quite suddenly the view opens. I see Larry hovering over a slope composed of smaller boulders and rocky outcrops.

Eerie green light shrouds the scene and peters out to black below. I check my gauges. Ninety feet - we are deep already. I level off and follow Larry onward. A few kicks and there they are.

The sponges. Quite frankly - I expected one or two clumps, but there are what seems to be dozens of fragile looking structures looming ghostly white in the dark water.

I approach the one closest to me. I tweak my buoyancy as best I can. The sponge’s body is literally glass - built

from silica stripped directly from the sea water. I need to be careful - they are bound to be fragile. I scan over the sponge in front of me. I tentatively identify it as the Cloud sponge (Aphrocallistes vastus). It is about 4 feet across, creamy white. Now I understand where its name comes from - the sponge with is many folds and smooth curves does look like a cloud. I snap a photo and move on to the next.

Sponge reefs are islands of diversity on otherwise barren sea floor and I am looking for creatures that might be hiding in their folds. Sure enough - there is a small Copper rockfish (Sebastes caurinus) peeking out of its glass cave and I manage to take a shot before my lights scare it away (previous page).

I keep swimming over the reef taking pictures and fiddling with my suit valves trying to manage my body position more effectively. I know I will only be as good a photographer as I am a diver. Without a perfect buoyancy control it will be hard to take good shots.

But, that’s why I am here. Such skills do not come from sitting at a desk. I glance at my dive computer again. At 100 feet our bottom time is quickly running out. In a few minutes I will be bumping into my non deco limits. I wish to stay, but need to go up. Cresting the rocky slope above me I leave the sponges and emerge on a small plateau. I notice several of my fellow

divers coming up from the depths, too.

Physics apply to us all. The ascent buys me a few more minutes to explore so I look around for the next shot. I notice Larry making signs at me with his flashlight and as I come closer he casts the beam on a beautiful Swimming anemone (Stomphia didemon) (page 51) perched in a perfect position on a small rocky crest. Although mostly sedentary, this anemone species can actually walk off on its stalk when threatened by predatory leather stars.

This one however is mercifully still and gives me a chance to take an easy shot.

Then my computer reminds me the dive is over. The day has one more surprise in store for me though. As I approach the permanent anchor rope, marking our way back I look up and stare. Its entire length of at least 60 feet is covered with Giant plumose anemones (Metridium farcimen). A single Giant anemone is a beautiful sight, but an entire skyward ladder of them is simply stunning (right). I realize I could spend an entire tank just exploring the rope itself.

Wow, I need to come back.

Giant plumose anemones (Metridium farcimen)

jellyfish (Phacellophora camtschatica) wrapped around an anchor line close to the northern end of the Senanus Island in Saanich Inlet, BC, Canada. This large jellyfish spends part of its life floating free in the water column, and part attached to reefs, or man made underwater structures where it reproduces asexually.

Fried egg jellyfish (Phacellophora camtschatica)

T

oday, we plan to be milling around The Sluggett Point in Saanich Inlet. A dive site new to me, but short distance both from Henderson and Willis, places I have visited before. We know the visibility in the inlet hasn’t been great recently, but I will take my chances with the suspended particles and swap my macro lens for a wide angle dome. I wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity to take a shot of what would be my first Wolf eel.

Larry found their den the other day and is confident he can find them again. I have seen his navigation skills underwater, many times in featureless, dim and murky circumstances and don’t doubt him for a second.

We park, prep, jump (ok, … walk) into the water.

The entry is shallow for quite some distance and we navigate for a few minutes only 10 feet below the surface. Then we reach a rocky point and plunge into the shadows. I notice there is a lot of silt covering the bottom and I do my best not to stir it up. No need to make the shooting conditions even more challenging. The visibility improves slightly as we go deeper, but is still quite poor. I will have to be very careful with my strobes. If I direct their beam to hit only what I need to illuminate I could keep backscatter at some manageable level. I adjust the strobe position. I feel ready.

Wolf eel (Anarrhichthys ocellatus)

A few moments later Larry signals to me. He usually does that by bobbing his flashlight to draw my attention and then pointing to whatever he is trying to show me. I look at the rock pile he is shining on, but cannot see a thing.

I start circling around, but Larry stops me with a hand signal and urges me to come around the other way.

As I come around his back and finally see what he is shining on I experience a brief “Oh boy” moment. There he is - my first Wolf eel. How exciting! Yet, I know right away that a decent shot will be hard to pull off. The “wolf ”, well aware, is watching us from a den opening lined with boulders of all shapes and sizes. It will be nearly impossible to get my dome close enough and still have space to get my strobe in the correct position.

But I am not here to complain about the perfect world or its lack thereof. I approach and stick my camera forward as close as the boulders allow me. I take a shot. The eel loyal to its curious nature sticks his head out a bit to check us out and … Surprise! There is a lady eel behind him! I aim again trying to get them both in and take another shot. I will certainly not forget my first Wolf eel encounter. I have one photo to show for it. I will call it Mr & Mrs. Wolf.

I will keep on looking for another photo opportunity. The Wolf eels are impressive animals worthy of an impressive photo.

I owe you one.

Red sea cucumber (Cucumaria miniata)

T

oday, since I came armed with my wide angle dome again, I will be looking for something substantially big to fill my camera frame. We are back at Henderson Point - one of our favorite sites in the Inlet. As soon as we are in, I confirm that visibility continues to be an issue. The first 30 feet resembles a snow storm, such is the amount of suspended particles in the water column. We push deeper, but conditions improve only very slightly. What improves considerably though is my mood. I come across exactly what I have been hoping for. Advancing over a slanted rock in front of me is the Sunflower sea star, the largest sea star species on the planet. That in itself would be impressive enough, but the list of peculiarities goes on. Just consider the following:

* * * * * *

heaviest known star - up to 5 kg most arms of any star species (15 to 24) longest arms - up to 40 cm second fastest star - 10 cm/s can regrow lost arms 15,000 tube feet with suction cups

Sunflower sea stars are predators and will consume practically anything they can hunt down. Mussels, sea urchins, fish, crabs, barnacles, sea cucumbers, clams, gastropods, sand dollars, and occasionally algae and sponges.

I truly wonder who thought of giving them such a sunny name. Of course, the similarity in between their body shape and the famous flower is uncanny, but if it were up to me I would call them the Terminators.

I

have great expectations for today’s dive.

That in itself is not unusual. I am always thrilled to get underwater, especially on a site I have never visited before. Today, however, the reason for my excitement is quite material.

After a deliberate consideration of the issue I had to finally admit to myself that I am not going to get easily over the fact that I always freeze my butt off while cold water diving.

This, undoubtedly, is the result of my living in tropical Mexico for the past 19 years. My cold resistance, which I enjoyed while growing up in the Czech Republic is gone and who knows how long it would take me to acquire it back.

A few weeks in Canada, I now know, won’t do it. Time to get some warm underwear.

Specialized scuba gear is expensive so I try my luck on a local used goods website. And bingo! There it was - Santi BZ 400 Extreme, top of the line thermal underwear. Used twice, being sold for 50% off. Long story short, I bought it and I am going to try it out today and see if the hype is justified.

White-lined dirona (Dirona albolineata)

Our plan today is to explore the Deep Cove in Saanich Inlet. Larry paints a picture of the dive profile, pointing to locations of underwater features on the far side of the cove. I learn that we will need to navigate a fairly featureless sea floor to get there. A thin line of rope installed by well meaning divers some time ago, should help us find the way. On the shore Larry confirms the compass bearing and we step in. The visibility underwater is horrendous. Two feet, maybe three. I follow Larry, who masterfully hovers above the bottom, frog kicking not to stir up the silt. In a moment all I can see is the two rectangles of reflective tape stuck to the bottom of his fins. I keep my eyes on those and swim on. A few minutes later I spot a thin rope running over the sea floor. We are on the right course. A few more minutes of swimming go by, when a dark shape starts to fade into the view.

A broken wreck of a middle sized old rail line barge stretches out on both sides, disappearing

into the soup a few feet from where I stop. “Let’s explore around,’’ Larry’s hands say. He plays his light over the jutting splinters of the barge. There is actually lots of small life around. We find many species of nudibranchs, anemones, crabs, fish, jelly fish, sea cucumbers and sea stars. I take photos and occasionally glance at my dive computer to check my air. Then the computer beeps announcing 60 minutes of elapsed time. What? An hour and I am not cold yet!

The Santi undergarments works like a charm!

We wrap up the dive at 74 minutes. I drive home happy with some of the macro shots I took and thrilled with the realization that my days of chattering teeth might truly be over.

Sea clown (Triopha catalinae)

I

saw this common crab specis on almost every dive, usually in shallow water, foraging amongst the stallks of sea grass or around boulders on rocky bottoms.

A few times I found males clutching smaller females in their powerful claws.

Red rock crabs mate in the summer during the soft shell phase following female’s moult and males will often guard a female for several weeks prior to moulting to ensure their fatherhood.

Red rock crabs use their strong pincers to crack open barnacles and clams.

Their fantastically robust body resembles something out of a sci-fi movie.

A

few days ago we left the murky waters of Saanich Inlet behind and staged our base from Campbell River further up north on Vancouver Island. Thanks to very high currents caused by tidal waters squeezing through channels separating the many islands in between the mainland and Vancouver island, the sea life around here thrives.

I knew this was one of the most renowned spots in the cold water diving. My excitement to explore it matched its fame. What I saw today however, far exceeded my expectations.

I will need some time to fully assimilate the experience and process all images I have taken.

A diary of our dives on following pages.

The first day of our expedition to Campbell River we don’t waste any time. After a few hours drive and a quick lunch, we are at the Marina, ready to roll. A few loads of gear on top of a two wheel cart over a dangerously steep (low tide) entry ramp has given us a good warm up.

Our “ride” will be a sturdy looking aluminum dive boat, property of Abyssal Diving Charters.

We find that we will have it all for ourselves for the next few days. With lots of space to spare we pile in with our gear and start preparations.

A few minutes later, Earl, our captain and Abyssal owner appears and we shake hands. With several decades of local diving to his credit, he is just the guide you need when exploring “new” waters. He has a plan for us. In about an hour the tide conditions will be optimal at the Copper Cliffs, he says. We nod and start getting dressed as Earl gets the boat underway.

Twenty minutes later we are under the looming cliff side. Larry has dived here before, so Earl’s briefing is more for my ears. As he starts explaining in detail depths, currents, walls, ledges and potential animal encounters I understand how intimately he knows the underwater world around here. He doesn’t stop watching the water while he speaks,

I can see his eyes read the current, eddies, ripples, the dance of underwater vegetation, always looking for subtle changes that will indicate it is time to get in. When the moment comes, Larry gives me a few last instructions. “If you get hit by the current, do not panic.

Stop to think and look for a way to get out. Often you will need to move only a few feet to get into calmer water.” I will remember this soon enough!

We plunge in and descend quickly along the cliff walls that keep their sheer profile for another 100 feet below the water surface. Everything Earl told us to expect is there. Several clumps of Plumose anemones (Metridium farcimen), carpets of Strawberry anemones (Corynactis californica), Cloud sponges (Aphrocallistes vastus), a myriad of sea stars and sea urchins and another thousand different creatures to blow your mind. I follow Larry north along the wall.

In a while we come across a rockfall and as we clear the wall we feel the current speeding up. I stop taking photos and grab on some rocks to steady myself. I look at Larry and read his hand gestures. “Up and closer to the wall on our right”, I understand.

I climb rather than swim a few feet in the indicated direction. Sure enough, the current is much weaker here. Awesome. We ascend slowly following the rock strewn slope and enjoy the sights for the next few minutes.

Then we decide to level off and move further north along the next wall

section. As we leave our sheltered location, the current speeds up again.

Strong enough to ruin my chance for more photos, but still at a perfectly enjoyable sightseeing pace. This doesn’t last long though. Suddenly, everything is a whirl. I am very close to the wall now and lucky enough to quickly find a decent hand hold. That slows my progress and I see Larry slip past me and disappear. I hold on. I check my gauges. I am ok on air, but the prudent course of action is to go up. Easier said than done. As I let go of my handhold, I start moving fast along the wall again. I grab my camera rig to protect the wide angle dome from smashing against the rock wall. I look for another place to grab on. Then I spot an overhang ahead and above me and steer to get to it. I happen to calculate well and in a few moments I am there. I see a long crack in the wall on my right and put my hand into it anchor myself. That works, I stop. I check the depth. Six meters. Perfect.

A good enough spot for a safety stop.

As the compulsory 3 minutes tick by I hope Larry is ok too and not too worried about me.

When I surface, Earl’s boat is only a few meters away from me. He has eyes on me the moment I appear. I know he had known all along where we are at. I ask about Larry and he points out to a clump of bubbles not far from my location. All good then. A minute later, we are both on board. First dive in Campbell River. Check. First test by high current. Check.

Giant plumose anemone (Metridium farcimen)

O

ur second dive turns out to be much less kinetic than the first. We drop to nice calm waters off the Whiskey Point at a shallow shelf covered with kelp. Earl paints a mental map of the dive for us again before we jump in. Once more he is spot on with his description.

We trace along the route he recom-

mended us to take knowing he will be following our every movement from the boat. Once at our target depth I notice a set of spheres sitting in a group on a rocky ledge, surrounded by a carpet of Strawberry anemones.

Tennis balls! I have been expecting surprises, but certainly not in a form of sports equipment. The color of a well used ball is exact, their surface a short

cropped fluff. They even show the wavy stitching pattern where it should be. As I come closer however I realize these cannot be tennis balls after all.

They are too large and a bit short of perfectly round. Fascinated I snap a photo for future reference.

Later I find that I wasn’t too far off actually and certainly not the first to

notice the similarities. These creatures are called Tennis ball sponges (Craniella spinosa) and I will eventually find them again regularly during our future dives.

ing slow undulations. It also comes handy when current picks up at the end of our dive. Firmly attached to the rocky substrate, it provides a great anchor to hold on to during our safety stop.

We spend the rest of the dive gliding over a fairly shallow ledge among the Bull kelp (Nereocystis luetkeana) roots.

We swim on alongside the wall and eventually through the kelp forest itself. I find kelp very beautiful when seen from underneath with its sooth-

Tennis ball sponges (Craniella spinosa)

C

ertainly one of the strangest ocean creatures I have encountered so far.

I spotted this translucent sea slug floating in the water column during a recent safety spot. Constantly in motion and “insubstantial� it was hard to focus on and hit with my strobe at the same time, but after a few tries I managed this photo.

* up to 7 inches long (18 cm) * predator of planktonic invertebrates * prey swallowed whole * produces a watermelon-like smelling secretion when disturbed

T

he perfectly camouflaged Buffalo sculpins like to rest motionless on rocky ledges.

I have been able to approach quite a few of them to within inches of their nose.

Their “starry� eyes and rugged looking facial features, together with their sedentary nature make them a perfect subject for a novice underwater photographer.

I assumed Buffalo sculpins to be exclusively predatory, but apparently they consume quite a bit of vegetable matter, especially algae.

Sea lemon (Peltodoris nobilis)

The second day of our Campbell River trip greets us with mercifully convenient 9 AM first dive call. Plenty of time for a good sleep and a calorie-rich breakfast (seems to be the thing around here!). Five minute drive to marina, gear up during the short boat ride and we are in the water by ten.

After the first two dives yesterday I believe I know what to expect. - Wrong. As soon as we descend, I am stunned again by the color around me. Fields of Strawberry anemones (Corynactis californica) stretch out below me dotted white and yellow with several sponge species. Sea urchins and sea stars prowl around.

We glide along the wall and I greet several Lingcod (Ophiodon elongatus) sitting patiently in rocky crevasses.

I am experiencing what happened to me several times in the past when exploring new waters. A certain form of a trance borne of a sensory overload and the purest form of wonder. I am having a hard time

taking all this in on a conscious level. But I know the scenes unrolling around me in the beam of my flashlight will replay in my head many times over in the future.

As our air starts running low and we slowly ascend I spot the largest nudibranch I have ever seen. A Sea lemon (Peltodoris nobilis), bright yellow, loaf of bread size chunk standing out against the reds and burgundy of the surrounding reef. I swoop down and take a quick shot (previous page).

Lingcod (Ophiodon elongatus)

Leather star (Dermasterias imbricata)

I

am sipping a piping hot Seafood chowder on the public dock at Quathiaski Cove digesting the delicious snack and my impressions from the Steep Island, when the topic of our next dive comes up. “I can drop you off at the Old Wharf for a nice muck dive.” says Earl. “What do you mean? A muck dive?” English is not my native language, but “muck” in my vocabulary carries a bit of a negative connotation.

“Well, you just saw a nice wall, perhaps you can dive the shallows and see a different kind of life down there …”

Earl explains. That sound more promising, but I am still a bit sceptical when 30 minutes later I take the plunge to join Larry in the relative stillness of the sheltered cove.

I descend through clear, shallow and calm water. A good start. I might even be able to grip my camera rig with both hands for a change. The bottom is flat, dotted with rocks of all sizes and covered with … well, “muck”!

Gliding behind Larry I am trying not to stir up the sediment. I feel in control, hovering inches over the floor, tweaking my buoyancy with my breathing.

Great! Then I see an Orange sea pen (Ptilosarcus gurneyi) on my far right.

I fan out and nod at Larry. He understands and makes a sign with his hand “I will explore around here, too”. A few strokes and I arrive at the Sea pen.

Fitting name - the colony of polyps resembles a plump old fashioned quill sticking out of an ink bottle. I get as low as I can with my camera, switch off my left strobe and take a shot raking the Sea pen with my right strobe only.

This makes it stand out against the bottom and its neighbors. I have time so I fish out my homemade underwater magnifying glass and check the image for focus. Spot on. Great again.

I float on, occasionally checking for Larry’s position. I visit more sea pens, find a rock crowned with Red sea urchins, resembling Mickey Mouse head and at the site of the old wharf an old truck tire graced with more urchins. A bit later I find a Leather star (Dermasterias imbricata) in the process of swallowing a sponge (left ). Wonderful. I watch the slow motion battle for a while. I am really enjoying myself. There is so much to see and at 45 feet this can be an easy, long and enjoyable dive… Or, that’s what I thought.

A few minutes later an urge, hard to satisfy in a dry suit, starts nagging at me. “Jeez, not now!”, I think. I try and ignore it for a while. Bad idea. “Sh..t, sh..t”. I look around and find Larry.

I tug at his fin and then realize that I am not sure what the official PADI hand signal for such an emergency is.

I improvise. Larry looks at my crotch focused hand dance and then into my eyes. Unlike my gesturing, his expression is crystal clear and usually can be described with a 3 letter abbreviation starting with the letter W. I try again.

Wow, now I really have to go. The pantomime somehow made the urge even more pressing. Finally, he understands and I shoot for the surface. After almost an hour in the water this cannot be a race though. I ascend as slowly as I possible can given the circumstances.

Quite frankly, it is excruciating. When I break surface I squeal: “Need to peeeeee”. Earl, not new to such emergencies is quick to grab my camera and I climb and strip the multiple layers in record time. A minute later, when all is better again I slump on one of the benches and laugh.

I am sorry this dive was cut short, but I am a firm “muck dive” convert now.

o

ne sea pen is a colony of specialized polyps. They start their life cycle as a free floating, non feeding larva called planula. The larva promptly settles and roots itself into the bottom, where it starts to metamorphose into a polyp. This is how the stem (rachis) of the pen originates. Shortly thereafter feathery leaves grow horizontally from the stem. These are covered with autozooids - polyps in charge of feeding the colony by catching plankton. They also produce eggs and sperm. The siphonozooids, or pumping polyps, live in dense congregation on the sides of the rachis. They inflate or deflate the colony by taking in or expelling water.

* up to 50 cm tall * predator of planktonic invertebrates * prayed upon by Leather stars, Sunflower stars and several nudibranch species * from Alaska to Southern California

L

arry has something special in mind for today’s last dive. Yesterday, when cruising along the Steep Island, he turned to me and said: “Here at this rocky point, you could see lots of Feather dusters.” I was very curious, since I have never seen any at all. But the current was ripping and diving was out of the question. Today however the tide will be perfect at 5 PM. So after a nice long surface interval and a lunch (no coffee on account of my previous experience!) we are ready to check out the spot.

During the ride-in I learn that we will be going quite deep. Noted. This will be our third dive of the day and with our tissues saturated by nitrogen I will be watching my non deco limits like a hawk. Larry briefs me while Earl maneuvers the boat within feet of the rocky outcrop. “When we get in we drop immediately to avoid any current.

Follow me and we will meet up at about 50 feet”, he says. And that’s what we do. I follow Larry overboard, grab my camera from Earl and go straight down. If there is any current, I cannot feel it. The timing is perfect. Larry, who is always faster, is waiting for me at the agreed depth “hanging” a few feet off the wall. Darkness swallows everything below. I catch up and he points at a large black clump on the wall below us. I nosedive deeper and arrive at a huge colony of Feather duster worms (Eudistylia vancouveri).

There must be a hundred of them.

While I am playing my light over it and admiring the scene, Larry tugs at my suit. I turn to him and see that he is pointing downward. Then he peels off and starts descending. I am reluctant to leave the spot. I have just started to explore the worms! There must be a reason for his departure though, so I follow. Thirty feet deeper I notice that the wall below me looks even darker.

I play my light over it and it hits me.

The entire wall, as far as I can see is covered with Feather dusters.

If I saw a hundred above, here, there are tens of thousands. The lonely clump above was just a little teaser.

This is what we came here for - a Feather duster metropolis. No matter where I turn, all I see is a solid forest of the Feather duster tubes. Up, down, left and right, They are everywhere!

And they are feeding. Fluffy heads composed of purple and maroon plumes called radioles are sticking out of the leathery two feet long tubes filtering particles of food carried by the water. Feather dusters do not need to move. In places like this, food comes to them swept in by currents. No wonder they like this spot. As I come to inspect the individual worms closer I notice that most of the tubes are dotted with Brooding anemones (Epiactis prolifera) (Photo). After a while we discover the edge of the worm field.

Instead of petering out, the colony suddenly ends. It seems the prime real estate is the rocky point itself and the worms are not interested in anything but the best location. So far no current has been bothering us, but eventually our non deco limits call the end of the dive. It is time to return. This has been fascinating …. but I am looking forward to putting my beanie on. My head is freeeeezing!

Feather duster worms (Eudistylia vancouveri) with Brooding anemones (Epiactis prolifera) living on top of their tubes

I

am standing on the Abyssal’s deck all geared up with my fins dangling over dark water.

You might remember me saying this several times before - when diving around here, tide and current are the kings you obey. Today, the message was clear. To dive at “Row and be damned” (sounds ominous, I know), the wake up call is at five. Now, one hour later, dim light of an overcast morning shrouds the water surface. What I expect underwater is something resembling a night dive.

Lingcod (Ophiodon elongatus)

I am not wrong. When I reach 40 feet and meet up with Larry on a rocky shelf, everything around me is black. The sensation of diving inside a dark pit disappears immediately when I switch my lights on. What I see is far from monochromatic. A fairy tale landscape stretches out in front of me. A field of Strawberry anemones topped by peaks of Glass sponges. I see sea urchins roving over the undulating red cushion and here and there Tennis ball sponges peek out of the scenery. Black backdrop of dark water frames the scene (previous page).

Everything seems exceptionally still. There is next to no current and we spend the dive leisurely traveling along the wall keeping deep water on our right. I manage to sneak up on a small Lingcod (Ophiodon elongatus) perched on top of a solitary boulder (left). As far as early morning calls go, this one was worth every yawn.

T he most striking feature of this anemone is its ability to detach itself swiftly from the substrate and swim away employing a series of jerky movements of its base and disk. This form of flight mechanism is its only salvation from predatory Leather stars. I have never seen this in the wild myself, but found this startling behavior documented in several videos online.

It is truly astonishing that an animal, which we consider very sedentary, suddenly comes alive, in an instant transformed into an active swimmer.

I

think that all divers have some sort of a wish list in their head. I have not written down mine yet, but it must have hundreds of items on it, I am sure. That’s because I am nuts and sometimes wish I could live underwater. For now those I could tick off as completed are only a fraction of the lot. So far I have been able to fulfill my childhood dream to swim with Whale sharks and Giant manta rays, dive the reefs of Cozumel and see the kelp forests of the American North West, observe sea turtles sleeping on the sea floor and gaze down a wall dropping down to an unknown abyss.

I have seen sea creatures of fantastic shapes and colors - big and tiny nudibranchs, crabs that look like Transformers, anemones both small and giant, undulating chains of salps, carpets of mobula rays swirling around me like a tornado. Today, as I am getting ready for another dive I do not know yet that soon I will be able to tick off another wish on my list.

Giant Pacific octopus (Enteroctopus dofleini)

To spice things up, Earl will take us to another one of his famous muck dive sites. A channel separating the main mass of the Quadra from the small Grouse island. Obeying the tide as usual, he decides to drop us off on the northern shore of the channel. If all goes as planned, we should be able to traverse it completely underwater to the northern tip of Grouse - a distance of about 1,000 feet. We are told to expect a fairly shallow, rock strewn bottom with lots of life.

Larry and I plan to stay within an eye shot and proceed parallel to each other across the flats. We take a compass bearing and dive in. Fairly large boulders around us dot the floor, sheltering inquisitive China rockfish (Sebastes nebulosus) and shy Kelp greenlings (Hexagrammos decagrammus). The rock surfaces themselves are almost invisible under the living coating of Strawberry anemones, algae, sea urchins, sponges, nudibranchs and a myriad of other creatures.

I am very happy taking it all in, occasionally snapping a photo and keeping an eye on Larry’s whereabouts. Then I take a left turn around one very colorful boulder and come eye to eye with a Giant Pacific octopus (Enteroctopus dofleini) - a member of the largest octopus species on the planet! I have already had the pleasure of encountering this species before, but in all cases the octopus was either hiding deep inside its impressive den, or moved away too quickly for me to take a decent shot. My friend here though is parked at the bottom of the boulder, patiently contemplating my presence.

I dare come closer, expecting the octopus to dart away at any second. The octo doesn’t move. I come even closer, find a spot to lie down and wait. The octopus moves its tentacles back and forth, but doesn’t seem to be in the least alarmed by me, my camera rig or the flashing strobes.

I extend my arms as much as I can - now my wide angle dome almost touching the closest tentacles. I notice two Copper rockfish peeking over the

boulder’s edge drawn by my flashing lights. I press the shutter and get the photo I had been hoping for since the day I entered the cold waters of BC for the very first time. Happy with myself I give up taking more shots and instead observe the animal in front of me. Its left eye, focused on my every movement, its tentacles swirling over the sea floor and its skin mimicking the colorful backdrop, the octopus is a mesmerizing sight. I could stay here forever, but figure I should not stray too far from my dive buddy. I raise my head to check for his bubbles and find Larry only about 20 feet away from me taking photos of yet another octopus.

Seems like “my” octo has a neighbor. I wonder if they know each other!?

Lingcod (Ophiodon elongatus)

White-lined dirona (Dirona albolineata)

F

rosted nudibranch is a predatory sea slug that can grow up to 18 cm (7 inches) long. Its semi transparent body with prominent cerata can range in color from white to pink and orange-yellow. Diornas feed primarily on small crustaceans, tunicates, sponges and snails.

I have encountered them quite frequently on my dives in shallow water. Literature sources state they can be found to up to 30 m depth (100 ft). They are always a stunning sight and one never gets tired of photographing them,

THE END of the ROAD

“I give up photography.

I cannot give this place justice with any image, I think.

Might as well just take it in”

E

xcitement blends in my head with nostalgia as I zip up my dry suit one last time on this trip. The past three days have put Campbell River firmly on top of my personal dive list. I should ask Earl if his site choice is purely incidental. Be that as it may, I like its symbolism - our last dive is a spot called the End of the Road.

I assume my place on the Abyssal’s launchpad and step into the water. Cold emerald bubbles swirl around my mask.

I look up and receive a nod and my rig from Earl on board. Larry has gone down, I follow. We meet up and swim north scanning our surroundings composed of large boulders scattered over a steep slope. Colors and shapes, now fondly familiar show in my light beam. We cruise by, totally relaxed, unrushed.

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THE END OF THE ROAD Campbell River, BC July 25th, 2019

THE END OF THE ROAD Campbell River, BC A few minutes later my pulse quickens as I spot an empty shell of a Puget Sound king crab (Lopholithodes mandtii). I take the opportunity to thoroughly explore it. Something tricky had its former occupant still been inside it! The shell is truly fantastic. Knobby, chunky and quite colorful - a perfect Transformer body armor. I ask Larry to perch it on his forearm to give it a scale (below). Then we place the shell back in its resting place and carry on.

As we dive deeper, the slope on our right becomes a wall. Plunging over its lip I tweak my buoyancy, switch on my hand mounted flashlight and stare. Has Earl saved for us the best for the last? The entire wall as far as the vis allows me to see is covered with colorful life. There is a shallow, open mouthed cave in front of me completely upholstered with yellow sponges and red strawberry anemones. It looks like a giant, dazzlingly flamboyant cushy sofa.

I give up photography. “I cannot give this place justice with any image”, I think. “Might as well just take it in”. I look over to Larry and see him slowly nod at me twice. “Holy shit”, his eyes say it all. I use the light on my left hand to zoom my attention on the details of the scenery. Painted greenlings (Oxylebius pictus) dart in and out their hiding places among corals and sponges. Sea urchins adorn the soft undulating wall of the cave (previous page).

61

I finally remember I have a job to do here, too. “At least a snapshot of the grand seascape”, I reason with myself.

As we ascend with out tanks close to their reserves, I look down one last time. I choke a bit, but I feel very happy. I feel grateful and very privileged to have come and seen the cold water paradise of the Campbell River.

THE END OF THE ROAD Campbell River, BC July 25th, 2019

W

ith the end of my trip to Canada fast approaching I am eager to explore some new spots. So when we find out that Rockfish is planning a charter to the Western shore of Vancouver Island, Larry and I do not hesitate to sign up. The plan is to do two dives the second of which will be at the famous Race Rocks marine reserve. Our meeting point is Pedder Bay. Long, sheltered cove that opens up into the often turbulent waters of Juan de Fuca strait. The weather is overcast and also quite windy - something that could quickly become a concern on the open channel. But while the conditions are not optimal, there is no need to abort our plan yet. We hope the weather holds if not improve, load our gear and pile in the dive boat. Our group today is quite small.

Four divers - all but one (guess who), old timers.

As we leave the bay, we are happy to notice that the wind hasn’t picked up.

Great, diving is on! Tyler - our captain and Rockfish owner picks our first dive site on the protected side of the Bedford Islands. There is a slight current running eastwards, but due to the geography of the spot, the water movement is quite complex. The initial recommendation is to follow the current east, but we know our dive plans will need to be flexible. Tyler will drop us off as close to the kelp beds as he possibly can, but once underwater we will likely need to improvise. I buddy up with Larry as always. Our plan more than anything is try to stick together.

Closely followed by having fun and take some nice photos, of course!

Sunflower sea star (Pycnopodia helianthoides)

We dive in at the edge of the kelp and quickly drop to the bottom. I feel cold grip me. “Jeez - it is much colder here than inside the Saanich Inlet�. I follow Larry east over a landscape of small boulders at the foot of the kelp forest. Visibility is quite good even under the overcast sky. As I pass over one smaller boulder my eyes are drawn to a funny sight. A group of swimming scallops (Chlamys hastata) is perched on the top of the rock. They look exactly like grinning dentures! (below).

When disturbed these scallops are capable of active locomotion and will dart away in a jerky swimming fashion by opening and closing their valves.

As we move on, the current starts to push us into the opposite direction. We obediently turn around but not to back track, we tuck ourselves deeper into the kelp.

That proves to be a great idea. It becomes quickly evident that lots of life looks for a shelter here. We find large ball ups of herring, flashing silver above us, many Oregon tritons (Fusitriton oregonensis) busy laying eggs in their tidy circular patches (following page), a beautiful blue tipped Sunflower Sea Star (Pycnopodia helianthoides) crawling through a crevice (opposite). Large fish eating anemones grace the bottom and undulating blades of kelp complete the quiet serene scenery.

Oregon tritons (Fusitriton oregonensis)

We spend the rest of our dive on a small sandy patch, surrounded by boulders and walls of kelp exploring the exuberant variety of life within our arms’ reach.

There really isn’t any reason to move. There is so much to see right here.

o

ne of the wonderfully adorned smaller nudibranchs, which I haven’t seen all too often during my dives. Perhaps due to its size, or simply because it is more rare than other species. As for their natural history, I have been able to find only precious little info online.

Found from California to Alaska, this 25mm long nudibranch is easily recognized by its white and yellow tipped cerata.

It is apparently also found on the other side of Pacific in the Sea of Japan.

I DON’T THINK I HAVE EVER WRITTEN ABOUT OUR SURFACE INTERVALS. TODAY I AM MAKING AN EXCEPTION. THE REASON WILL SOON BECOME EVIDENT.

A

fter our nice relaxed Bedford Island dive we pop up on the surface and make our way back to the boat. We climb in, ditch the gear and I reach for a snack. Before I take the first bite however, Larry points to a cooler lying on the floor and asks me if I want to throw my neoprene hood in. I guess I look confused so he volunteers more info. “There is hot water and it is nice to warm your head up before getting in again.” “Would it be ever!” I think.

As I approach the cooler Larry continues. “There is plenty. You can pour some over your head, too.” So I do just that. Now, do you know the feeling when you grab a warm cup of tea with your bare cold hands after a long winter hike? Yes? Forget it. This is about one thousand times better. I stand on the deck with my head steaming, dumping more and more water over my head. I cannot stop.

I keep saying “maaannn!”, “jeeez!” and “this is the best thing ever!” and dump more water. Then I realize the sounds I am making start to resemble something fit for a much more private setting and I get a hold of my vocalization. When I collect myself I turn to my buddies. “You Canadians are geniuses.” And I mean it, too.

Eventually, with this memorable surface interval behind us, we prepare for our next dive. As we arrive at the Race Rocks Marine Protected Area, Tyler circles around to assess the situation.

Conditions are great overall, so we can pick almost any spot we please.

That is not very common. Race Rocks is considered a Double black diamond dive site due to its strong currents and only experienced divers should think of coming here. I have visited many times before, but only once to dive.

I am very excited to find out what’s awaiting us below the surface today.

Giant plumose anemones (Metridium farcimen)

Larry T.

I secretly wish the Steller sea lions would come to check us out underwater, but Tyler had said it is not very common this time of year.

The conditions may be perfect today, but there is always a current running around here. We dive in close to a kelp bed and descend as quickly as we can.

I grab on the kelp stems to pull myself down. Visibility is quite good and as we approach the bottom, I notice a field of white Plumose anemones stretching below me over the undulating ground. I have always found photographing these snowy white anemone fields difficult. The flashes hit and reflect hard on those close to you and leave in the dark those just a bit further afield. Such is the nature of light reflection and dissipation. So I focus on a more manageable, solitary clump nearby (previous page). Then I look over to Larry and see him studying the current. He makes a decision and heads east. I follow. In the slow current we fly over several anemone fields, tucking into the dips of bottom geography, where current dies down to almost nothing. There is no shortage of things to photograph. The reef is covered with anemones, sponges, shrimp, crabs, stars, barnacles and a million other life forms.

I keep slightly behind Larry, so I notice immediately when his head jerks up as a long, lightning fast shadow shoots past us. Sea lion!

The mirage disappears almost instantly to be followed by another one. I count

two, but the sea lions are moving so fast I could be wrong. They stay 20 feet away opting for fighter jet passes above and next to us. I know photography will be futile, but when one gets quite close to Larry I fire a shot half expecting to miss. In the end I am happy I did. As photos go, this is a very lousy one, but a valuable memory of a great moment. My first sea lion dive. (video clip below) The sea lions lose their interest after a few more passes and we won’t see them for the rest of the dive. Never mind, we cannot get bored around here. The diversity and density of life here rivals that of Campbell River.

All that of course makes sense. Both places are subject to strong and almost constant currents that keep the reefs clean of sediment and bring lots of nutrition.

As we start running low on air, we find a clear patch amongst the billowing kelp to chill, take a few more photos and give thanks for such a great dive.

I know this will be possibly my last in Canada this season. I am sad, but not unhappy. This has been a great few weeks. click to play >

Crimson anemone (Cribrinopsis fernaldi)

I was initially tempted to write some sort of a summary to this first issue of UW Exploration but then quickly realized that there is no place for it here. My explorations of the eerily beautiful Canadian seas have just begun. If there is anything to say at this point, it must be a big “Thanks” I am thankful that my life’s journey has led me to explore such a wonderful place. Cheers to my father in law Bob Martin for the countless stories of early Victorian scuba diving and his invaluable insight into all things marine.

And above all a giant thanks to Larry Taylor, my dive buddy, mentor, free of charge scuba rental outfit, taxi driver and most importantly a wonderful companion both above and underwater.

Before I met Larry, I was literally scratching surface of the underwater world.

He showed me through the gates to its enchanted depths.

M

y father in law, Bob Martin was one of the scuba pioneers of Vancouver Island. He started diving at the tender age of 14, well before the neoprene and proper dry suits. He used to plunge into the freezing waters in leaky suits feshioned out of long underwear, painted with latex. No dive computers, no buoyancy control devices. Just pure sense of exploration and adventure.

He wasn’t only a diver, spear fisherman and an early explorer. He also invented and constructed a functional submersible powered by five 2V batteries, that carried him effortlessly beneath the surface. He was 15 years old then.

Today I listen with fascination to his stories and marvel at the sheer courage one must have had to plunge into the cold, dark unknow.

14), vis ( ing and a D div ohn ian nd J John to Canad e i r f oth his ced and introdu ster of b ) t f (le ini ob of 15 rsible. B e the m e g e om ea at th b’s subm ally bec b o u o B t t. ng B ld even onmen i t s e r t wou envi John ies and r fishe

FISH AREN’T SAFE THESE DAYS , even at 70 feet, with these young “frogmen” after them. Thirteen year old Hughie Pite, left of

2570 Esplanade, and friend Bob Martin, 14 of 2367 Pacific, speared this dogfish in murky waters off Ogden Point breakwater on weekend. Bob, who has been diving for four months hit it first and Hughie, with onky two months expertise, finished it off.

- (Colonist, sometime in 1955, Photo by William Boucher)

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The creation of my new book: VIVA NATURA: FIELD GUIDE FOR THE OCEAN EXPLORER An easy to use field guide to the underwater realm. Similar in design and functionality to my Viva Natura: Field Guide to the amphibians, reptiles, birds and mammals, this new book will be loeaded with photographs of the Eastern Pacific sea life.

To acquire original high queality images, I am diving as much as my life dynamics alloow me, while I keeping my day job. Your purchases allow me to continue working on this project.

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Leaving the balmy tropical waters of my west Mexican home I travel to dive around Vancouver Island and capture images of its rich aquatic life. In addition to my scuba gear I am carr ying my Trident ROV hoping to explore some of the less accessible depths and peek into the private lives of creatures living in the darkness.

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