Divers spend much of their time underwater with a select group of buddies — the ones we trust to get us through the dive and surface with fresh experiences and stories to tell. Newly certified divers have had limited interactions underwater, having dived only with classmates, instructors, and assistant instructors during their classes.
The spectacular ecosystem of Indonesia’s Raja Ampat offers ample opportunities for fish portraits and macro shots with a 100mm lens, but the broad expanses of pristine hard corals punctuated with colorful soft corals and sea fans made it difficult for me to forego using my wide-angle lens during a recent liveaboard trip.
To clear up any confusion divers may have about patent foramen ovale (PFO), I will share how I explain the condition to patients.
Shallow coral heads are on both sides of the M’il Channel opening as we slow down to locate our mooring ball. The incoming tide brings clean, blue water into the lagoon, creating opportunities for encounters with one of Yap’s main attractions just a few feet below the surface.
During a recent dive trip to Chuuk, I really wanted to see the San Francisco Maru wreck. I never imagined, however, that I would have a near-death experience immediately upon entering the water.
Most fans of big animal action are familiar with the legendary Galápagos, Cocos, and Socorro dive destinations. All are remote and remarkable. Far fewer people know of — let alone have dived — another open-ocean oasis in the eastern tropical Pacific region: Isla Malpelo.
It was 2004, the dawn of digital photography, and I was conflicted about whether to shoot film or digital. I had brought housings for both cameras with me to Thailand. Carrying two housings on a dive was ponderous, but I could manage it if I didn’t take two sets of strobes. My solution was to rig both housings with wet connectors called EO pigtails, which went into the regular sync socket, allowing me to connect and disconnect my strobes underwater.
