Not just Shark
Pictures: Elasmodiver contains photos of sharks, skates, rays, and
chimaera's from around the world. It began as a simple web based
field guide to help divers find the best places to encounter
different species of sharks and rays but it has slowly evolved into
a much larger project containing information on all aspects of shark
diving and photography. There are now more than a thousand shark
pictures and sections on shark evolution, biology, and
conservation. There is a large library of reviewed shark books, a
constantly outdated shark taxonomy page, a monster list of shark
links, and deeper in the site there are numerous articles and
stories about shark encounters. Elasmodiver is now so difficult to
check for updates, that new information and pictures are listed on
an Elasmodiver Updates Page that can be accessed here:
If you're looking
for a broader range of marine life pictures the following links
represent a new area of elasmodiver.com that contains pictures of
other marine organisms and of marine habitats. This expansion of
Elasmodiver is in its first stages but will eventually include pages
on all types of marine mammals, bony fishes and marine invertebrates
as well as coastal habitats, reefscapes and other imagess relating
to the ocean. Please return regularly to enjoy the progress.
Descending through layers of heavy leafed bull kelp laden with yellowtail
rockfish, I am extremely tempted to linger in Vancouver Islands lush kelp
forests, but tonight I am on a mission to explore British Columbias
badlands.
Although virtually ignored by visiting divers, the marine plateau that
covers most of the Salish Sea is a haven for oddball creatures that are as
alien and intriguing as the landscape they inhabit.
Leveling off a meter above the muck, I spot my dive buddy scanning the
substrate. Almost immediately, the hot purple reflections of a dozen tiny
stubby squids (01) flicker in the beams of our modeling lights.
The closest animal shrugs off its muddy blanket and tiptoes away from me
over the sand. It shifts from deep plum to an exquisite two-tone gold and
pink plumage, (02) which is probably a visual signal of some kind but the
meaning is lost on my mammalian sensibilities.
In the weird world of cephalopods, stubby squids and their relatives are
hard to categorize. They are part of the bobtail squid family, which are not
actually squids at all. They are more closely related to cuttlefishes and
are poor swimmers that spend a great deal of their time submerged in the
substrate.
Of the 70 or so miniscule species that have been identified so far, each
variant has its own unique color scheme. Some - like the aptly named pajama
squid have a bizarre pinstriped torso, but most sport opalescent skin
tones that morph from one kaleidoscopic hue to the next as their mood or
environment changes.
Another stubby squid - this one about the size of a cherry - shoots upward
into the water column perhaps hoping to make a quick getaway in the
darkness. It tries out a few different looks then settles on a sparkling
bronze cast (03) that is as close to camouflage as it can muster. When it
reaches the reef, it suddenly transforms into an albino version of itself
(04) and disappears among the ivory colored plumose anemones.
Stealing myself away from the shimmering cephalopods, I take a quick compass
bearing, and frog kick deeper into the marine desert.
Like many terrestrial deserts, the terrain is scrubby rather than uniformly
sandy. Moon snails and brittle stars navigate around palm tree shaped
tubeworms and clumps of low lying lettuce kelp.
When I eventually reach an area of monochrome mud, a whos who of North
Pacific flatfishes explode from their hiding places like motion triggered
land mines (05).
Nearby a sailfin sculpin (06) lowers its flag-like dorsal in a futile effort
to evade detection. As I head towards it, camera at the ready, I become
aware of two unnervingly huge, unblinking eyes looking back at me from below
the sand. After a quick double take, my brain translates the image and the
black irises become ocelli attached to the wings of a resting big skate
(07).
Big skates are the largest of North Americas skates growing up to a
whopping 2.4 meters in length. They are also one of the most abundant
species in BC waters but they are rarely seen on the reef itself so most
divers never have the opportunity to encounter one.
Their egg cases (08), which they lay in pairs, are equally enormous and
contain up to 7 embryos that can remain inside their keratin capsules for
more than a year before emerging.
Lethargically, the enormous animal takes flight. I briefly fall into step
beside it, marveling at its camouflaged dorsum and impressive wingspan but
in no time the big skate outpaces me. I break off pursuit and settle next to
a ghostly white nudibranch that is almost the size of my hand.
It is a type of tritonia (09), which thrives out here in the barrens. The
tritonia is closing in on an orange sea pen; its favorite food.
Like all nudibranchs, tritonia are unpalatable to most potential predators
but they are fair game for BCs gargantuan sunflower stars. One of these -
the size of a wagon wheel - is in hot pursuit, which in the sunflower world,
means shuffling along imperceptibly slowly on thousands of tiny protruding
feet (10).
I watch its progress for a while and then - to avoid a lengthy surface swim
against the outrushing tide - I begin to arc back in the direction of the
rocky reef.
Flatfish continue to detonate at my approach and Dungeness crabs sink deeper
into the dirt, much of which has been dumped here from the sprawling Frazer
River, which dominates this part of the BC coastline.
Without warning, a true denizen of the detritus flies towards me and
proceeds to bounce off of my dome port. It is a chimaera or spotted ratfish.
I can vaguely pick out others of its kind at the edge of the darkness,
plowing through the mud in search of crustaceans, mollusks and other tasty
tidbits (11).
Although spotted ratfish which have cartilaginous skeletons and are
distantly related to sharks - occasionally show up on offshore reefs, they
are far more common out here in the mud where their food supply is
relatively abundant.
If the laws of physics were slightly different and we could drop down a few
hundred extra feet, ratfish would be one of the most common animals seen by
divers in the Pacific Northwest. Constrained as we are at the upper limit of
their vertical range, spotted ratfish sightings are still a special treat
and this particular one seems determined to swim directly into my camera,
perhaps enamored with its own reflection (12).
It is clearly a male, identifiable by its well-defined claspers and
tenaculum; a protruding appendage with a Velcro-like pad on the ratfishs
forehead, which it uses to grasp the female when mating.
I try to pull back to compose a profile shot but the ratfish continues
battering my dome port. This behavior is very odd for such a normally shy
animal and I take full advantage of the rare opportunity to capture some
dynamic images.
Temporarily blinded by my strobes, the ratfish eventually swims giddily
away. Low on air, I too must head off, but I pause momentarily to wonder at
a hooded nudibranch free swimming over the sand (13).
Although commonly seen resting on kelp stalks and sea grass near the reef,
the hooded nudibranch is pelagic in nature and this individual may travel
many miles through the badlands before finding a suitable place to feed and
procreate.
Its entire front end is dominated by a huge oral hood that works like a
Venus fly trap. The fang-like sensors around the edge of the orifice tell
the mouth to close when it runs into a tasty snack.
For propulsion, the hooded nudibranch undulates its translucent body until
it pulls itself up off the bottom and then rides the currents using its
sail-like cerrata.
Unexpectedly soon, the reef reappears. Like an astronaut returning from a
moonwalk I embrace the familiar landmarks, but I am reluctant to leave the
otherworldliness of the badlands. The marine plateau of the Salish Sea is
truly where the wild things are. A place where form is only loosely
controlled by function and design appears to have no boundaries.
Where to dive:
Just about anywhere along British Columbias rugged coastline you can expect
to find a wealth of strange marine life beyond the reef. For an easy
introduction to muck diving, try jumping off of Ogden Point Breakwater in
Victoria and swimming out perpendicular to the reef.
When to dive:
Ratfish and stubby squids are much easier to find at night. During the
winter months, sunset can occur as early as 4pm making night diving that
much easier.
What to bring:
Make sure you bring a compass, a signaling device and a back up dive light
or two or three! Study the tide tables and try not to drift too far from
your entry/exit point.
Author:
Andy Murch
Andy is a Photojournalist and outspoken conservationist specializing in
images of sharks and rays.
