I Am Blogie

The AquaShots Underwater Photo Contest is an annual activity that aims to showcase the beauty and diversity of undersea life in the Davao Gulf. (Recently, the Gulf was declared as a priority area for marine biodiversity protection.) It is a project of the Davao Reef Divers Club.

A few years ago, the Davao Reef Divers Club began holding the AquaShots contest to help keep interest in scuba diving alive. While scuba diving in itself is a worthwhile activity, underwater photography provides divers with an added challenge. Taking pictures underwater is a lot different than on land: not only are you a photographer (who has to know about proper white balance, etc.), but also a certified scuba diver (who has to constantly keep safe diving practices in mind, among other things).

While AquaShots is participated in by divers and snorkeling enthusiasts, the output — pictures of tropical fish, colorful sea slugs, coral, and more — is for everybody’s enjoyment. It is hoped by the Davao Reef Divers Club that, by sharing what they see and experience under the sea, everyone who sees their photographs will come to appreciate the splendor of the seas. And, hopefully, join in the effort to keep Davao Gulf clean and healthy.

Tropical bottletail squid

The Davao Gulf is home to thousands of species of marine life. There are squids that are no bigger than your pinky fingernail, and there are whales as big as container vans. Hard and soft coral varieties are in abundance all over the gulf. Through AquaShots, every Dabawenyo has a chance to see these wonders.

AquaShots 2011, which runs from 19 to 21 November at the Gaisano Mall of Davao, features three categories: Underwater Macro, Underwater Wide, and Topside. With over 100 entries in this year’s contest, it is by far the largest turnout to date. Winners will be recognized during the Club’s Christmas Party next month.

If you’d like to join the Davao Reef Divers Club, call 300-1092 and talk to John or Dick.

One fear that I’m sure each diver holds is the prospect of panicking underwater. Even the most seasoned scuba diver will admit that it’s a possibility. The question is, how would you handle it?

I’ve logged 122 dives so far, and in all those dives, I’d like to think I’ve been mindful of safety — mine and my companions’. But there have been three occasions when I met panic face to face, and I’d like to relate now how I beat it.

The first time I knew I was probably in a state of panic underwater was when I first experienced strong currents. I was still very much a newbie diver then. Immediately upon entering the water, I felt this terrible force that kept me from moving. No matter how much effort I exerted, I could barely move; meanwhile, my dive companions were already far ahead of me. It was a totally new situation for me, and I wasn’t equipped to handle it. Number one concern for me then was air: If I fought the current, I might go through my tank faster than the others would. I didn’t want to inconvenience them, so I surfaced. I was only at 10 or 12 feet (3m) then anyway.

During one of my checkout dives as an Open Water student, there was a strong current again, and my mind recalled that previous experience. Suddenly I felt trapped and fast losing control. Irrationally, I felt like surfacing right away, but I was already at 60 feet. I knew I shouldn’t shoot up, but I stopped my descent and urgently signaled to my dive master, Carabao Dive Center’s Karlo Butlig. I guess he saw in my face that I was wild-eyed, so he deliberately and carefully checked my gear one by one. Later I realized it was his way of reassuring me that everything was OK. Thanks to Karlo, the moment passed and I felt much better.

Clownfish

(During surface interval, I told the DM that seeing clownfish has a calming effect on me somehow. On our second dive that day, he went out of his way to look for clownfish. I don’t know why it is, but to this day I always feel relaxed when I spot those feisty little anemonefish.)

My next encounter with near panic was much scarier. I completely ran out of air underwater! My buddy, Andy Cadby, and I had come from a deep dive and was now hovering at 45 feet (14m), on the final leg of our dive. That was when my second stage seemed to have jammed, and then I remembered that the SPG showed only 500psi (less than 35 bars) when I last checked. I had gotten so engrossed in taking photos of schooling bannerfish and other fish that my air situation escaped my attention!

Schooling bannerfish

It was a precarious spot I put myself in, and the feeling from not being able to breathe anymore was simply horrifying. A part of me wanted to surface immediately, to kick as hard as I could to reach the open air above. But another part resisted and kept me from moving my legs. However, I was already floating up slowly, due to the empty tank. Right away, my left hand went to the bottom of my tank for the tank banger.

It felt like an eternity that I was banging on my tank. I couldn’t see Andy anywhere — I guess, in my near-panicked state (and the poor viz), I couldn’t sense him behind me. And just when I was totally out of breath for nearly a minute (and the dive computer screaming for me to descend), I saw my dive buddy finning energetically towards me with octopus already in his outstretched hand.

After my first lungful of sweet, heavenly air, Andy pulled me back to proper depth and we both fulfilled our deco stops. He saved my life, and even kept me safe from the bends.

In both situations, I didn’t really panic. Not totally anyway. There was always a lucid part of me that remained in control. Recently, though, I nearly had it bad. Very bad.

Our dive group was to swim through an underwater cave on a wall at maybe 80 feet (24m). I used to have claustrophobia — at least, I thought I’d gotten over it — and then discovered during this dive that I still had it.

Upon descending, we’d missed the cave entrance by a few meters and had to swim towards it against an impossibly strong current (again!). I was panting hard by the time I reached it. And when I saw the mouth of the cave — dark and foreboding — my sight grew dim. It wasn’t narc, it was something I thought I’d overcome decades ago. The long-forgotten claustrophobic sensations resurfaced and took hold of my senses. I wanted to spit out my regulator, throw away my mask and extricate myself from my constricting BCD. Even my fins felt too tight and heavy on me.

My sober side was fighting to regain dominance, and it was telling me that I was losing it. And fast. If not for something entirely from left field, I would’ve shot straight up and ignored all training. I was able to grab hold of one of my dive buddies, Christian Te. I can just imagine how I must’ve looked to him when I gave the hand signal for “trouble”, and the one for “go up”. Somehow, I was able to keep myself from surfacing, though. I held on to a rock, heart palpitating wildly, and tried to focus on the coral in front of me. (Sadly, no clownfish were in sight.)

The moment I realized that Christian had lost his chance to go through the cave, my heart stopped beating frantically and the bout of claustrophobia passed. The embarrassment from having shown weakness was so overwhelming it crowded out other irrational, and more dangerous, emotions. And then I was back to my senses, chagrined but completely safe.

Lessons learned:

Andy & Christian

• Always let your buddy know if something’s wrong. Somehow, just letting them know could mitigate a potentially hairy situation.
• Carry a signalling device at all times — there are several kinds to choose from.
• Know your limits. There’s no sense at all in being macho when diving.
• When you feel illogical fears coming on, keep breathing. Starving your brain of oxygen would only heighten the panic.
• Mind your pressure gauge constantly.
• Before diving, agree with your buddy at what psi/bar level you should safety-stop.
• Know all there is to know about a dive site. Part of the reason why I panicked when I saw the cave was the errant thought that I’d be inside it for too long. I hadn’t heard it when the dive master mentioned it would take less than two minutes to swim through the cave.

I’m thankful for the dive buddies that I have, and for the dive masters and instructors who have taught me generously. Still, no matter how much training and experience you have under your weight belt, it all boils down to how you face your fears — underwater or otherwise.

To break the routine of weekend diving, I recently went with a dive buddy on a backpacker-style dive trip. Well, it wasn’t exactly “roughing it out” because it was just at nearby Samal and life’s comforts were ever within reach — but the point is, we hardly availed of them. The plan was to discover what two dive sites, which we hadn’t experienced yet, could offer: Isla Reta and Kaputian.

Andy (a British national who’s a certified dive master) and I rode the 9:00am boat, Pacific, from Sta. Ana Wharf to Sta. Cruz on Talikud Island. The trip took almost an hour and a half — these public commuter boats are rather slow — and ₱60 per person one-way. We brought 10 cylinders from the Carabao Dive Center for our planned dives (that’s ₱200/tank). Isla Reta Beach Resort is but a stone’s throw away from the Sta. Cruz pier, but we hired a small banca for ₱100 to take us and our gear to the beach. (Going back to the pier the following day, we discovered that you could actually request for the resort’s staff to help you with your luggage.)

Laton - the trademark of a Dabawenyo diver

When diving locally, I pack my gear in a yellow plastic barrel, locally called “laton”, which can fit everything except a tank. It’s very convenient and it keeps my fins, BCD, mask, gauges, etc. safe and secure. It can even be used for soaking gear! (Apparently, this practice of using a laton to transport scuba equipment is uniquely Dabawenyo.)

After parking our stuff at a table under the talisay trees at Isla Reta, Andy observed the prevailing currents and chose an entry point on the wide beachline. It was already noon when we finally geared up, but we decided to dive first and then have lunch afterwards.

Isla Reta and Kaputian

Isla Reta’s nearshore is an expanse of sand and seagrass, with budding coral heads here and there. The bottom’s gradual decline is almost unnoticeable, unless you’re watching your depth gauge as you go farther. When we entered the water, the current was running from south to north, but reversed and picked up strength after a few minutes. There’s a berm offshore, and there the current held no sway as I searched for critters to photograph. Maximum depth: 111ft/34m.

Lunch at Isla Reta consisted of two grilled garfish that Andy bought at the local wet market outside the resort. We also had okra, garlic and eggplant — which we also grilled. The resort won’t charge corkage fees for food brought in, only for alcoholic drinks.

After a two-and-a-half-hour surface interval, we plunged in again, but this time chose the northern end of the beach. More of the same surroundings: sand, rubble, seagrass — but lots of photogenic critters!

See our Isla Reta gallery ⇒

The more interesting photos were taken during our night dive, when Andy and I entered through the beach’s southernmost end, at around 8:00pm. Fully geared-up, we hiked along the coast to a jetty and descended from there. Making our way north, we spent a little over an hour at an average depth of 47ft/14m (max 80ft/24m).

Andy, as it turns out, is an excellent spotter of the nearly impossible to see! Thanks to my dive buddy, I saw a tropical bottletail squid, several baby scorpionfish, a juvenile painted stingfish, a cockatoo waspfish, and more!

Before I got my c-card, I thought I’d never be able to handle being underwater at night — the mere thought of being unable to see beyond a flashlight’s illumination gave me very uncomfortable sensations. But now, I can’t get enough of night diving!

We spent the night at one of the resort’s concrete bungalows (₱800/night). We’d eaten dinner before the dive, because the kitchen closes early, and we didn’t want to do any cooking ourselves anymore. A native chicken (whole) cooked adobo style plus rice plus a 1.5-liter bottle of cola set us back less than ₱250 each.

The following day, we took the Hof Gorei boat to Kaputian District on the mainland (that is, the main island of Samal). We also asked the boat to bring our empty tanks back to Davao City — this commuter boat plies the Davao-Talikud-Samal route. Fare: ₱30/person (if I remember right) and ₱6 per tank.

The pier is right beside Kaputian Beach, so we hired a tricycle to carry our 4 tanks and gear to the beach, while Andy and I walked the short distance.

It’s a public beach, operated by the local government, and it’s surrounded by small houses and a fishing community. Entrance fee per person: less than ₱20 (I can’t recall the exact amount anymore).

The dive site could be described as a wasteland by the casual observer, but it’s yet another muck-diving destination for underwater macro photographers. Take a look at our photos:

I was delighted to have spotted conchs, helmet shells and cowries there. Conchs and tritons are the natural predators of the dreaded crown-of-thorns sea star, which are voracious eaters of coral. I really wish the Samal local government would do more to protect these mollusks and try to get their populations up again.

Aside from the critters and the shells, the highlight of the Kaputian dives was when two juvenile jacks (trevally) kept trailing us. They seemed unafraid of us, and even swam at arm’s length more than a few times. (Too bad I don’t have an underwater strobe yet for my camera!)

We did 2 dives at Kaputian and lunched on local fare, procured from the local market. The beach has covered tables (with electrical outlets) for day use, and that’s where we lounged for a bit after our undersea explorations. And we also met up with the Philippine Coast Guard’s Special Operations Group there by chance — they have an outpost beside the beach, and they were conducting skills training that day. It was good catching up with my friends at the SOG, and they were very generous to oblige us when we asked to have our empty tanks loaded onto their fastboats on their return trip.

It’s strange that Kaputian doesn’t have ferry service between Samal and Davao after Hof Gorei‘s scheduled morning trip. The district does have a sizable population…. The only option for us was to take the bus (Island Express) to Davao City. There is a bus stop nearby and the last trip is at 11:00pm; fare: ₱90/person. The bus goes north to Babak District, gets ferried across the channel, and ends up at Magsaysay Park in Davao, after about two hours on the road.

And that was the end of our two-day dive adventure.