#photography

Unknown Depths

/ PK Read / Leave a comment

It was on a trip to the Cayman Islands, Little Cayman to be specific, that I acquired my conflicted sense of wonder and discomfort in the sea.

I was a teenager, snorkling the surface waters of Bloody Bay while family descended the vertical cliff known as the Great Wall West.

Below me to one side, a bright sandy seabed, perhaps 20 feet below. Sunlit, crystal clear. To the other side, darkness as the sea floor dropped away in a steep underwater wall.

"Great Wall West", shear coral reef wall Little Cayman Island Photo: Jim Hellemn

“Great Wall West”, the sheer coral reef wall off Little Cayman Island
Photo: Jim Hellemn

As I floated on the sunny sea, a fever of several large manta rays approached below. Gliding smoothly along the sandy floor, they appeared in my range of vision, and then swiftly floated out over the lip of the great wall and swooped into blackness.

It wasn’t the size of the rays, the number of them, or the distance between me and them, that sent shivers down my spine.

It was the thought that if such strange animals could vanish so quickly into those dark depths, then almost anything could come right back out with no warning. They were in their element; I was out of mine.

Our Changing Seas III, ceramic installation illustrating the changes in world coral reef systems. Art/photo: Courtney Mattison/Arthur Evans

Our Changing Seas III, ceramic installation illustrating the changes in world coral reef systems.
Art/photo: Courtney Mattison/Arthur Evans

Last year, images emerged of a previously unknown species of snailfish found five miles (8 km) deep into the Pacific’s seven-mile-deep (11 km) Mariana Trench. The deepest known fish ever recorded.

Fragile in appearance, ghostlike, the 6-inch (15 cm) fish was on the hunt for prey when caught on film by an international research team using the Hadal-Lander, a deep sea exploration vehicle.

A new species of deep-sea snailfish with a glowing cranium and transparent body has been discovered over 500 meters deep. This discovery smashes the record for deepest fish known to exist in the world. Photo : PA/Oceanlab, University of Aberdeen

A new species of deep-sea snailfish with a glowing cranium and transparent body,
the deepest fish known to exist in the world.
Photo : PA/Oceanlab, University of Aberdeen

But how fragile could the snailfish be, really, if it is able to survive and hunt five miles down?

For the first time, researchers also filmed and collected a ‘supergiant’ amphipod over a foot long (34 cm), a massive version of creatures normally sized between 1-1.5 inches (2-3 cm).

The teams and technology behind the Hadal-Lander exploration work to understand what we know about the environment, animals and the various geological and ecological processes of the deepest ocean region on the planet.

A selection of crustacean samples recovered from the Mariana Trench. Photo: University of Aberdeen

A selection of crustacean samples recovered from the Mariana Trench.
Photo: University of Aberdeen

Meanwhile, over at the Sea Life Aquarium in New Zealand, Sony managed to teach an octopus how to use a water-resistant camera to film visitors on the other side of the aquarium glass. The octopus, a female named Rambo, took only three tries to get it right, faster than most humans. Even if it’s only for a marketing stunt, that’s one smart beastie.

I marvel at the breadth and array of aquatic life, at types of intelligence so different from our own; I respect the phenomenal physical capacities to withstand extreme water pressure and thrive in darkness. It is truly a different element.

And it’s just as I suspected way back on the precipice of the Great Wall West all those years ago: Our oceans are full of creatures with all manner of tricks up their fins, tentacles and tails.

Artist: Ellen Jewett

Artist: Ellen Jewett

Floor of Sand, Roof of Water

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From the new book Shorebreak. Photo: Clark Little

From the new book Shorebreak.
Photo: Clark Little

When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time (every possible minute) on the beaches of California. And one of my favorite activities was to run after the receding waves as far as I dared,, right up to where they were beginning another forward surge, and then turn and sprint back to safety. Or not, sometimes.

Getting away with nothing more than wet ankles counted as winning. Getting drenched or knocked over didn’t. Sure, it was a dangerous game. That’s what made it exciting.

One view I always wanted to see but never did (because I never dared or lost badly enough) was the dry sand beneath the roof of an oncoming wave. And here it is, courtesy of photographer Clark Little in his new book of waves, Shorebreak. Someone who dared to wait for the roof of water, and took a picture for the rest of us.

I worked as a translator on a film a few years ago that looked at the dry land beneath the waves, but in that case, the waves were frozen in icy forms. The film, Unter Dem Eis (Under the Ice) was a German-made documentary about the Inuit of the Canadian eastern seaboard and their tradition of gathering a bounty of winter mussels from beneath the frozen sea.

Gathering mussels Under The Ice, hastening before the sea returns. Source: Context Film

Gathering mussels Under The Ice, hastening before the sea returns.
Source: Context Film

The harvest was only possible for a few hours a year, on days of extremely low tide when the sea beneath the ice retreated enough to allow for a quick expedition.

It looks like walking under water, and in a way, it is. Or was. As the Atlantic Ocean warms and there are fewer days when mussels can be gathered without the ice roof collapsing, the tradition is fading.

Still, it’s a vision out of a dream, walking, or sprinting, on the floor of the ocean, however briefly.

Up Close, Inside

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Two of the finalists in the Nikon’s annual Small World Photomicrography Competition, recognizable in their form, if not in their true identity.

Here, a branch against a clouded landscape.

Nerve and muscle thin section (40x magnification) Image: Dr. David Ward

Nerve and muscle thin section (40x magnification)
Image: David Ward

Here, a chameleon – but an internal view on two levels: The usually invisible skeletal and cartilage structure, and this is an embryo, usually invisible inside an egg.

Veiled Chameleon (Chamaeleo calyptratus) embryo showing cartilage (blue) and bone (red) Image: Dorit Hockman

Veiled Chameleon (Chamaeleo calyptratus) embryo showing cartilage (blue) and bone (red)
Image: Dorit Hockman

Small horizons and internal views, images of what we can’t see with the human eye, and yet manage to see anyway.