the Wonders of Wakatobi – Scuba Diver Australasia 2012

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I suspect that like me, many serious underwater photographers dread the rigmarole associated with getting their precious, fragile equipment through foreign airports and land transfers. This wasn’t the case, however, during my recent visit to Wakatobi Dive Resort. The resort is located in the remote Tukang Besi island chain on the edge of Indonesia’s Banda Sea. But unlike many other out-of-the-way diving destinations in the region, getting there is easy, because the resort provides direct charter flights from Bali, along with a warm and welcoming staff that is there to help you at every step of the way. As son as I handed my gear over to the Wakatobi team at Bali’s Denpasar International Airport, I felt I was on vacation, even before reaching the island. Arrival and check in at the resort was equally relaxing, and as I prepared for my first dive, the staff once again took care of every detail. Before long, I was finning out over the shallow sea grass beds that lie inside of Wakatobi’s House Reef, catching glimpses of the many tiny creatures that lurk in the shallows. There would be plenty of time to photograph them later, I knew, so I kept swimming toward the edge of the reef. Peering down over the drop off for the first time brought a sense of sheer joy and amazement. The clear water created a panorama of colorful coral gardens populated by lively reef fish. Mesmerized, I followed the reef toward the resort’s jetty, taking in the marine life. When it was finally time to get out of the water, I gazed across the sea towards a small tropical island perched on the horizon, and with the warmth of the setting sun on my face I thought “those blogs were true…Wakatobi is the real deal.” I first learned of Wakatobi by following a link on Facebook. Now, just 12 months later, I felt privileged to be here, walking along the shoreline toward my Villa. I’d just completed one of the most memorable dives of my life, and this was just the first day. With cameras secure and dive equipment taken care of by the dive center, I was free to sit and watch the last rays of light disappear behind the horizon and anticipate what the next day’s adventures would bring.

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Next morning, I find myself looking up at the surface from a depth of 15 meters, with more than 40 meters of reef visible to the left and right. With so much color and life surrounding me, the choices for photography are almost overwhelming. But it doesn’t take me long to settle into a routine. I am accompanied by my personal dive guide, Kaz, who not only leads me to the most interesting subjects, but also carried my second housing! Not wanting to miss out on macro opportunities I brought two housings, and diving with a guide allows me to switch between wide and macro subjects with ease. My primary focus will be to capture Wakatobi’s reefs using a compact close focus wide-angle set up, but I also won’t miss out on opportunities to capture reef scenes. Having the support and assistance of a personal guide does come at a price, but it’s well worth the investment as Wakatobi’s guides are very experienced, and there’s a lot of 5-star customer service thrown in for good measure. Exploring the deeper depths of this dive site, I find large numbers of fan corals sitting on ledges next to the drop off. Complementing these delicate towering structures are colorful forests of whip and soft corals surrounded by swarms of newly hatched fry. For most of the dive I was distracted by the magical array of colors, and by the end I fully understand why the region is considered one of the most bio-diverse ecosystems on the planet. When I surface and pass my cameras up to the boat crew, I’m pleased to see that they know just how to handle the equipment. By the time I get onto the boat, both housings are rinsed in freshwater and placed safely under towels. During the surface interval, Kaz and I get to know each other. We will be diving together for the next two weeks, and he wants to learn what I am specifically looking during my stay. With the genuinely friends guides and the boat crew making sure that I have plenty of cake and coffee, we sail gently to our next dive.

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Before I know it, Kaz and I descend down onto our second dive of the day. After another long bottom time (70 minutes plus!) and many more rewarding photo opps, we head for the dive center. With housings safely stowed and batteries charging, I prepare to wash and hang my dive gear, only to find that that our boat crew has already taken care of everything. With these chores handled, I’m soon back at my villa to join my wife, who doesn’t dive, with plenty of time to enjoy the afternoon sun and take a swim. The select villa offers a luxurious sun lounging jetty with a plunge pool overlooking the water. We sit back, enjoy the amazing sunset, and discover another special part of the Wakatobi Experience. On our next morning dive, Kaz already knows the animals I want to photograph, and delivers me to the doorstep of an inquisitive cuttlefish that hovers over a lush area of pink and purple sponges. With no other divers competing for photo opportunities or in the shot, I find myself actually relaxing while taking a series of photos of this patient cephalopod. Gazing up from my subject, I am once more overwhelmed by the pristine topography of the reef; I look for Kaz, who is a few meters ahead pointing at something else he has found. I fin towards him, but am then distracted by a vibrant fan coral surround by fry. Like a candy shop, yellow, pink, purple and orange soft corals compete with each other for space and again I find myself a little confused on which shot I want to take. When I finally catch up with a very patient Kaz, he points at a pair of pygmy seahorses. But the shot is difficult, and with risk of damaging corals we move onwards in search of the other animals on my wish list. Amazingly, in the course of the dive Kaz manages to find the four types of pygmy seahorse native to Wakatobi (H. pontohi, H. severnsi, H. denise and H. bargibanti).There is a lot to be said about not having to share a perfect wilderness with many people. Back on the surface, there is not a single dive boat on the horizon – only the sound of splashing jacks chasing their prey. In such a magnificent setting, you can’t help but be relaxed. Smiling, Kaz says he knows I’ll love the next dive. We enter the water and peer down 18 meters onto an expansive sandy area the size of a football pitch, which is situated on the top of a coral pinnacle. I wonder what he’s been going on about. Touching down on the sandy surface, and feeling a bit like the man on the moon, I can see the reef in the distance. As we approach it, I for the first time feel the pull of a strong current.

baverstock wakatobi 006 Arriving at the edge of the pinnacle, which plateaus off to depth, I am presented with an incredible selection of marine life. The strong moving water obviously provides a healthy source of nutrients. Swirling fluidly like a river around the coral reef and sponges, shoals of apagons and sweepers swim effortlessly keeping a tight formation for safety from predators. It is as if the entire scene were composed by an artist, and perfectly placed in the middle of all of this life is a large sea anemone, within which a pair of clowns kept watch over their kingdom. The best is yet to come. Kaz lures me away, assuring me with his eyes to trust him, I an come back to this spot later. We move on, and I soon find myself kneeling in front of a giant towering sponge, with a tornado of glassfish swirling around it while several grouper sporadically dart into the cloud of movement. Heading to shallower water takes us over a field of hard corals where a large shoal of batfish and snapper cruise. Sadly I’m now low on air, but surprisingly I find I can spend the remaining 5 minutes of my dive along the shallow shoreline, which has changed from coral reef into a lush sea grass environment. It is a nursery for all things small, and I am blown away by the abundance of life in this area. I watch sea snakes weave in and out of the coralline algae-covered coral blocks, searching for easy food. Kaz signals to reminded me that it’s time to go. As I reluctantly fin toward our boat, I muse on how amazing this place is. And with the dive sites being so close to the resort, I find that I also have plenty of time to enjoy lunch without worrying about a tight deadline for the next dive, and never need miss freshly cooked food at dinner due to a late return. Instead I find myself unwinding in the most relaxing restaurant environment that I could possibly wish for on a small island. In all of the dive resorts I have visited, which includes some 5-star islands in the Maldives, I can’t recall ever having such a choice of well-cooked, top-quality cuisine. With over 20 members to the food and beverage team taking great care of each guest’s culinary requirements, I didn’t have a single grumble during my two-week stay – other than a need to get back to the gym when I’m back home.

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The days begin to merge into a pleasant blur of diving, dining and relaxing. My first week has provided me with some incredible photographic opportunities and memorable vacation experiences. One day, as I watched Kaz draw another of his detailed maps of the next dive site, I am momentarily distracted by thoughts of how many days I have left in Wakatobi. This thought soon passes, and I am quickly drawn back into the moment, and as usual, am excited at what’s in store for the next dive. Upon entering the water, I’m greeted with a magical but now very familiar scene, as morning sun’s rays shimmer over the soft corals that blanket the shallow reef. I can understand why so many snorkelers also visit Wakatobi. As shoals of surgeons, wrasse and butterflies chase each other over the shallow reef, I watch as snorkeling couples follow them effortlessly in the mild current. The profile of this dive site is considerate towards the newcomers that had just arrived on the island, but no less spectacular than some of the deeper sites. At 10 meters, the light creates incredible visibility, and as Kaz explores nearby, searching for large crocodile fish, I find myself composing perfect portraits of clownfish with the lush coral environment as a backdrop. As we navigate the reef, I recognize the familiar behavior of a small shoal of Convict blennies in the distance. I had seen many during my stay but as I approach this group, the behavior of the shoal evolves into something much bigger. Quadrupling in size, and hovering like a swarm of bees over the reef, the shoal begins to morph its shape, changing from a beehive into a teardrop, then a magnificent tornado. With no other photographers waiting eagerly their turn for an image, I capture 20 minutes of this incredible behavior before a large trevally dives into the shoal disbursing them into the safe confines of the coral reef. Back on the boat, there is a buzz of excitement from the snorkelers who have had their first taste of the Wakatobi experience. baverstock wakatobi 005

Approaching the end of my second week, I have put many of Wakatobi’s best sites into my logbook, but there is one that I have yet to experience. I had seen the more distance sections of the house reef from the surface on the day that I had arrived, and during daily departures and returns, but had yet to experience it from below. Taking into consideration I had witnessed some pretty incredible marine environments in the past days, I’m unsure if this closer-to-home dive experience will match my expectations. Stepping off the jetty onto the dive boat, our group kits up, and within five minutes we arrive at the entry point. With a fairly strong current, this drift dive on the house reef proves to be one of the best experiences of the trip. Incredibly, the house reef is in great condition, offering large shoals of fish and turtles, topped off by fabulous coral coverage. Prior to entering the water, Kaz and I had agreed that I should get at least a few pygmy seahorses photographs. Knowing the sites extremely well, he’s assured me he’ll have no problem finding a pair of Bargibanti seahorses in an area that will not be difficult to photograph. As always, Kaz did not disappoint, and a few minutes later, with a nice male and female photograph under my belt, we continue with our dive. Incredibly, it just seems to get better and as we approach the resort, the abundance of fish continues to increase. Like all of my dives, the safety stop at five meters offers some special photographic encounters, and a chance to recall all of the wonderful moments I’ve just experienced and captured in photos. It is a fitting finale to an incredible and productive two weeks of diving at a place that truly deserves to be called “a diver’s paradise.”

Massive Turn Out for the Big Jumeirah Sea Turtle Race

photograph by Nick England

guests and residents watch patiently as the turtles make their way down to the water – photograph by Nick England

Gulf News: Over 1000 supporters watch The Big Jumeirah Sea Turtle Race

Dubai: Over 1000 supporters of the Dubai Turtle Rehabilitation Project attended The Big Jumeirah Sea Turtle Race to watch six satellite tagged sea turtles and 150 Hawksbill turtles released back into the ocean at Madinat Jumeirah. Hundreds cheered as the turtles made their way back into the sea at the event which was designed to raise awareness of the project and its role in rehabilitating sick and injured sea turtles.
Since its inception in 2004, the Dubai Turtle Rehabilitation Project has released over 550 turtles.

photograph by Simone Caprodossi

eagerly entering the water is storm the loggerhead sea turtle – photograph by Simone Caprodossi

For the race itself, six rehabilitated sea turtles (two Green Sea Turtles, two Loggerhead Turtles and two Hawksbill Turtles) were each tagged with a harmless satellite device that monitors their whereabouts in the earth’s oceans. Each is sponsored by a different Jumeirah Property (Jumeirah Beach Hotel; Madinat Jumeirah; Jumeirah Zabeel Saray; Jumeirah Living; Wild Wadi Waterpark; Burj Al Arab) who will go head to head in the competition to see who will be crowned the winner of The Great Jumeirah Turtle Release. The results will be revealed on 31 October 2012 where the turtle who travels the farthest will be announced the winner.Members of the public can follow the turtles’ journey online from a public forum which will be made available following the release at http://www.Facebook.com/turtle.rehabilitation

sponsored by Burj Al Arab

a fond fairwell, warren baverstock films storm setting off on his new journey – sponsored by Burj Al Arab

See Storm and the other turtles journey

Dubai Turtle Rehabilitation Project & Burj Al Arab Aquarium covered in National Geographic Magazine

click to read article at National Geographic

click to read article at National Geographic

Article by Kennedy Warne

The old fisherman sat on a scrap of carpet in a thatched shelter by the sea.

His face was like a walnut shell, and his eyes squinted with a lifetime of gazing into the white-hot glare of Arabia. The shamal was blowing off the sea in scorching gusts, making even the date palms droop. “It is the western wind,” the man said in a raspy voice. “I feel its warmth.”

Behind him, the village of Film, notched into the mountains of Oman’s Musandam Peninsula, shimmered like a brazier. Goats panted in the shade cast by upturned boats and the walls of a mosque. Just breathing made me feel as if my nostrils might burst into flame. Sami Alhaj, my Yemeni dive partner, said: “Underwater, with the corals, we get a little piece of heaven. Above water, with this wind, we get a little piece of hell.”

We soon fled the inferno and descended into paradise once more. Color marked our passage between worlds as vividly as temperature did. Where the colors of land were those of the spice suq—pepper, cinnamon, mustard, mace—the undersea world was drenched in the sumptuous hues of a sultan’s palace. Long, waving indigo arms of soft corals mingled with pomegranate fronds of feather stars. Speckled-gray moray eels, whose gaping mouths reveal a startling burst of yellow, leered out of crevices, while butterflyfish flitted past in tangerine flashes.

Had the legendary Scheherazade known the richness of these seas, she would have had stories for another thousand and one Arabian nights. She might have piqued the king’s curiosity with the riddle of the reefs of Dhofar, in southern Oman; they flourish as coral gardens in winter and seaweed forests in summer. The trigger for this ecological shift—found nowhere else—is the onset of the khareef, the southwesterly monsoon, which bathes the coast in an upwelling of cold, nutrient-rich water. Seaweed, dormant in the warm months, responds to the cooler conditions with a burst of luxuriant growth, carpeting the reefs with green, red, and golden fronds.

Or she might have told the story of the tribe of mudskippers that have their sheikhdom on the shores of Kuwait Bay. Their name in Persian means “lazy ones,” because they appear too lethargic to follow the falling tide. Instead, each goggle-eyed fish builds and patrols its own mud-rimmed swimming pool. Shining in slippery coats of mud, they wriggle through the slurry of their ponds, waddle along the walls on their broad pectoral fins, then fling themselves into the air, exuberant as porpoises.

Might she have mentioned the ghost crabs of Masira Island? They build perfect miniature Mount Fujis of sand every night, only to have them leveled by the winds the next day. Scheherazade would have had no shortage of material.

“I am the sea. In my depths all treasures dwell. Have they asked the divers about my pearls?” the Egyptian poet Muhammad Hafiz Ibrahim wrote a century ago. Few survive today of those champions of the sea, the pearl divers of generations past who sought the greatest treasure of all. Forty, fifty, a hundred times a day they dropped to the seafloor, as deep as 65 feet, without goggles and often wearing only a thin woven garment to protect against jellyfish stings. With other risks, they took their chances. Men died from stingray jabs, from poisonous stonefish spines, from shark bites. Clownfish—cruel joke—attacked their eyes. Their eardrums burst, and some went blind from constant exposure to the salty water.

Pearls were the diamonds of the ancient world. In Hafiz’s time they were the Persian Gulf’s most valuable resource, and 70,000 men were engaged in collecting them. But the divers saw little of the wealth they brought up. The oysters were thrown into a common pile, to be opened the next day, when dead. Even if a diver brought up a pearl of Steinbeckian magnificence, he would never know it. Debt drove them to dive. Debt inherited from their fathers and their father’s fathers.

Yet pearling was equally a matter of deep cultural pride, part of a maritime tradition that is as Arabian as deserts and dates. Through the waters of the Persian Gulf, East met West, the wealth of Africa and India flowing to the empires of Europe. Until the 1930s, great Kuwaiti dhows, or booms, with names like The Triumph of Righteousness and The Light of the Earth and Sea, set their lateen sails to the billowing northeasterly wind that blew them to Zanzibar and Mangalore. Months later the khareef brought them home again. The seasonal fluctuations of the winds were the fuel of Arabian commerce. The winds were Allah’s, and the winds were free.

Then came oil, and a seafaring way of life that had endured for millennia melted away at the breath of a new monetary lord. Oil was the genie that granted the wishes of modernization and affluence. Arabia was transformed—from camels to Cadillacs, mud houses to megamalls—as its citizens rode the magic carpet of petro-wealth.

Today human hands are reaching deep into Arabia’s seas and taking more treasure than the seas can possibly replenish. Overfishing, pollution, seabed dredging, and massive coastal modification are crippling marine ecosystems by degrading water quality and exacerbating toxic algal blooms. In 2010 a group of marine scientists described the region’s most strategic waterway, the Persian Gulf, as “a sea in decline,” bedeviled by a storm of malign influences. “If current trends continue,” they wrote, we will “lose a unique marine environment.”

One of the groups at greatest risk are sharks. Of all the insults to Arabia’s marine life, none is more grotesque than the mountains of shark carcasses that arrive every evening in the Deira Fish Market in Dubai, trucked from landing sites around Oman and the United Arab Emirates, from there to make their way east—a stinking tide of fins and flesh.

Rima Jabado, conspicuous in her yellow rubber boots and pink top, moves through the market counting and measuring hammerheads, threshers, bulls, silkies, and makos: the thoroughbreds of Arabia’s seas, carted here to be hocked like horsemeat. Totemic animals that divers dream of encountering underwater are hauled out of the backs of trucks with meat hooks and lined up on the pavement, grimy and bloodied, row upon row of scowling mouths.

An auctioneer works his way along the line, followed by a retinue of buyers calculating profit margins on their smart phones. In their wake a man expertly severs the fins and lays them out on plastic tarps for separate sale. A pickup truck pulls up, and the driver unloads a dozen sacks of dried fins. He plunges his hands into a sack and lifts out handfuls of small gray triangles, stiff as plywood. There must be several thousand fins in this one shipment.

“When I started working here, I thought, That’s a lot of sharks,” Jabado, a doctoral student at United Arab Emirates University, tells me. “But when you see it every day, you ask, How is this possible? How can this last?”

A muezzin gives the evening call to prayer from a mosque whose minarets make artful silhouettes against a golden sky. Across the parking lot, the fish market is crowded with Emirati housewives gliding down aisles of laden stalls, passing their purchases to Pakistani boys who wheel them in garden barrows to a rank of SUVs.

The old name for this part of Arabia was the Pirate Coast. Trading ships carried companies of archers to repel thieves. But how to solve the plunder of the sea itself? Jabado travels the length of the U.A.E. coast, from Abu Dhabi to Ras al Khaimah, tallying sharks and interviewing fishermen. Everywhere it is the same story: Catches are down, and fishing intensity is up.

One of the questions Jabado asks the fishermen is whether they think sharks should be protected. Some say, No, why should we protect them? Sharks are a gift from God. He will replenish them. Others say that sharks should be protected but that it needs to happen across the region. If we protect them here, do you think the Iranians are going to stop taking them? they tell her. Why should I stop fishing for sharks and miss out on revenue if some other person keeps taking them?

Eight countries border the gulf. “They have the same kind of culture and heritage, mostly speak the same language, face the same problems, and share the same resources,” Jabado says. “Why aren’t they working together?”

Her concerns run deeper than fisheries management. The impact of an environmental disaster in so shallow and enclosed a waterway is appalling to contemplate. There are many hundreds of oil and gas platforms in the gulf, and tens of thousands of tanker movements annually through a narrow stretch of the Strait of Hormuz between the Musandam Peninsula and Iran. “What if there was a Deepwater Horizon event here?” she asks. “The average depth of the gulf is about 30 meters. One big spill could wipe out whole marine ecosystems.”

There are inklings that the unified approach Jabado seeks may be starting to take shape. Several countries are considering following the lead of the United Arab Emirates in giving legal protection to a single species of shark: the whale shark, the biggest fish in the sea. The giant filter feeders have been turning up in unexpected places. In 2009 David Robinson, a Dubai-based whale shark researcher, was startled when a Google image search turned up a photograph of whale sharks swimming among the platforms of Al Shaheen, a major oil and gas field off the coast of Qatar.

“The photograph was on the Facebook page of a worker on a gas rig,” Robinson said. “I sent him a message, he added me as a friend, and now we’re getting a stream of pictures from him and others. In one photograph I counted 150 animals. I’d like to say we discovered the sharks through tirelessly scouring the oceans, but that would be a lie. It was through scouring the oceans of cyberspace! Science by Facebook—a bit embarrassing, really.”

The discovery of whale sharks at Al Shaheen has led to other finds. Seasonal mass spawning of lobsters has been observed, with the lobsters rising to the surface at night and turning the sea into a vast crustacean soup. With fishing banned and boat traffic restricted in many oil and gas fields, these areas likely serve as de facto marine reserves. The platforms certainly act as giant fish-aggregating devices. At Al Shaheen, with a flare stack belching flame overhead, I watched a shoal of jacks circle the legs of the platform and spinner dolphins launch their lissome bodies into the air. A hammerhead cruised at the edge of visibility, finding sanctuary within the ring of fire.

A sense of marine guardianship seems to be growing across the region. In Kuwait hundreds of keen amateur divers have formed the ecological equivalent of SWAT teams, dedicated to repairing the environmental damage of war and waste. They lift sunken vessels from the seabed and remove tons of snared fishing nets from Kuwait’s coral reefs.

Off the island of Qaruh, I helped cut away a net that was twined around the brittle stubs of staghorn coral—a nightmare of knotted nylon mesh that yielded reluctantly to our collection of chef’s knives and garden shears. Our odd assortment of reef repairmen included a computer engineer, a television producer, and a former leader of Kuwait’s Grand Mosque. On the return journey, crossing a smooth, tawny sea with a dust storm billowing on the horizon, two of the team found space among the scuba gear on deck to pray. Oblivious to the symphonic thunder of twin 200-horsepower outboards, they prostrated their bodies and uttered the ancient words of invocation and praise, giving voice to the hope that good might come to the world.

At the other end of the Persian Gulf, in Dubai, public-spirited beachgoers collect stranded turtles and take them to a rehabilitation facility in the luxury Burj al Arab hotel. In 2011, 350 juvenile turtles were brought in, many victims of “cold stunning”—inertia caused by the winter drop in sea temperature. “If they survive the first 24 hours, there’s a 99 percent chance they’ll recover,” Warren Baverstock, the aquarium operations manager, said as we walked along a line of bubbling tanks. He reached in to scratch the backs of splashing turtles, which twisted their necks and flippers in pleasure at the attention. “They always know where the sea is,” he said. “They swim up and down the wall nearest the sea, lifting their heads up, looking for it.”

Mass releases of the rehabilitated turtles are staged at a nearby beach to publicize the work and reinforce the message that Arabia’s marine life is valuable, vulnerable, and in need of protection. Each turtle is implanted with a microchip for identification. In the seven years the project has been operating, no turtle has washed ashore twice.

The hotel’s most famous patient was an adult green turtle called Dibba, which had arrived with a fractured skull. Baverstock and his team needed 18 months to rehabilitate the turtle, but Dibba, released with a satellite transmitter glued to its carapace, repaid its caregivers with a 259-day, 5,000-mile migratory journey, looping down the Arabian Sea, passing the Maldives, skirting Sri Lanka, and reaching as far as the Andaman Islands before the transmitter battery failed.

Dibba traced an ancient route imprinted not just on turtles but also on the cultural memory of Arabia’s peoples. This way came the dhows laden with Basra dates and pearls. This way they returned, carrying camphor, silks, sandalwood, and cloves. Every Arabian family had its sea captains and sailors, its pearl divers and boat carpenters—a saltwater legacy written in its genes.

Modernity has dimmed that memory. “We have lost the thirst for the sea that can only be quenched by going to the sea,” one Omani businessman told me with sadness in his eyes. Yet for others the thirst is returning. Increasing numbers of Arabs are going to the sea not to exploit it but to experience it as it is. They are renewing their bond with ancient shores and rediscovering the poet’s truth: “In my depths all treasures dwell.”

Where is Emerald Now?

Okay so 14 days ago the Dubai Turtle Rehabilitation Project successfully released Emerald (AKA Dredger) after over 3 years of intensive rehabilitation. See the photograph below, before and after and refer to my earlier blog to find out more about the procedure: https://warrenbaverstock.wordpress.com/2008/12/01/repair-of-a-fractured-plastron-in-a-green-turtle-chelonia-mydas/#more-334

before…

after…

The question is…where is Emerald now? – well here is the latest update…she is off the coast of Abu Dhabi and she seems to like it there. If you want to keep track of Emerald, all you simply have to do is save this link http://www.seaturtle.org/tracking/index.shtml?tag_id=112054 in your favourites and click on it from time to time to get the latest satellite feedback.

The Wakatobi Experience…..the first verstodigital photographs…


Well i’m finally back from my Wakatobi experience and what an adventure it was. At present I have only just started to work my way through the many photographs I took during my two week stay but progress is good and results are extremely pleasing. I am going to be writing an article about it very soon but meanwhile…here are a few quotes accompanied some images….

stunning colourful soft corals are a common sight at wakatobi…

“As an underwater photographer, Wakatobi exceeded my expectations on so many fronts. From the trouble free check in of my heavy camera gear on Wakatobi’s transfer from Bali through to the provision of a highly knowledgable personal dive site guide, my two week stay was hugely productive and extremely enjoyable.”

gentle slopes covered with hard and soft corals that are buzzing with marine life…

“The daily dive routine was faultless with quite frankly the best organized dive operation I have ever experienced. With nothing being too much trouble for the extremely friendly and sociable boat crew, gearing up for every dive was pleasurable and easy. All you had to do was just be on the boat…Wakatobi’s dive operation took care of everything else.”

from gentle slopes to dramatic drop off.’s…wakatobi has it all…

“from gentle slopes to dramatic drop off.’s…wakatobi has it all…“With hard and soft corals competing for space on the reefs surrounding Wakatobi, you can understand why the team work so hard with the local fishing community to preserve it’s condition. Dropping down on to any of Wakatobi’s dive sites and you are treated to an array of beautiful marine life on a coral backdrop that is simply stunning.”

with critters of all shapes and sizes…wakatobi has an unforgettable surprise on every dive…
“With many different critters on every dive site, Wakatobi lives up to its claims to being an underwater photographers paradise. Shooting mostly wide angle I was blown away by large colorful fan corals, towering sponges and incredibly densely covered coral slopes. When I did shoot macro, pygmy seahorses were plentiful and literally every site offered at least one of the five pygmy’s found in the region.”

with coral so healthy and in such an abundance, competing for space, is a common sight…
“With 5 star food consistent in quality every day and the perfect comfort found in Wakatobi’s new luxurious select villa, I found myself wanting very little other than more hours in the day for diving.”

you can’t help but be taken back by the incredible density of marine life…
“Wakatobi is quite simply a 5 star, luxurious eco dive resort, with some world class diving thown in for good measure.”

the jetty and longhouse…
“With 5 star food consistent in quality every day and the perfect comfort found in Wakatobi’s new luxurious select villa, I found myself wanting very little other than more hours in the day for diving.”

my last sunset at wakatobi…

“Would i return to Wakatobi….i certainly will and am already looking forward to experiencing Wakatobi all over again.”
RSS this blog and keep an eye for more underwater and topside photographs of Wakatobi…