With great anticipation, I donned my gear and waited for the signal to jump in. My camera at my side and my Canadian dive buddy as eager as I was to get in, we launched ourselves over the side and into the clear blue waters. Down the mooring line we went until the soft white sand became apparent below us. This would end up being my favourite dive, despite the continued feeling of being overwhelmed with sights. From the sand we headed up the reef, over corals of every shape and size.
The amount of absorption of red light decreased as we headed into the shallow water of the reef. Greens, blues, browns, and yellows became more vivid as oranges, pinks, and reds began to appear. With these colours came a huge increase in the abundance and diversity of fish, with great schools of damselfish shimmering over the branching corals, goatfish disturbing the sandy bottom, and butterfly fish pecking in and around the coral. A rainbow of colours lay out before me in many different patterns, with fish of every shape and size.
Among this ichthyological cornucopia were a few gems. Although I knew very little of the species' names, I knew many of the families. A particular favourite was the moorish idol with it's yellow, white, and black stripes and distinctive large dorsal fin swepping back far beyond the rest of the body. Another was the majestic six bar angelfish, which hardly resembles the freshwater angelfish we are all used to. These fish definitely have a sturdy and unique body form which has a regal quality to it which I found fascinating.
Another favorite was the clownfish. The boat schedule was rife with Nemo references and these little fish did not disappoint. Many different species exist across this reef and I saw at least three different species on this one dive. In a large, mostly retracted anemone, I found two pink anemonefish, attempting to remain within the security of the retracted tentacles. The second was likely a variation or relative of Clark's anemonefish and several of them were found venturing out of the coral branches far from their anemone. The third species I was unable to identify since they were reluctant to venture far from the protection of the anemone's stinging tentacles. So many species in such a short span was truly astounding and provided great amusement as I watched these fish with their unmistakable pattern of oranges and white, dancing among the colourful tentacles.
Another point of fascination for me was the cleaner wrasses that had set up shop at many of the coral heads. The striking colouration of white and black stripes highlighted by neon blue when combined with a distinctive behavioural display, signaled other fish that they were open for business. They would then proceed to clean small crustacean parasites and dead skin off the other fish. Unlike the documentaries however, not all fish were looking for service and many darted off when the wrasse began. Still, I found myself stopping to watch these fascinating fish at every opportunity.
Of course, it would be odd of me to not fixate on the amazing diversity of invertebrates. Like my experiences in New Zealand, the crustaceans were difficult to find and the invertebrate life appeared to be sparse compared to the fish, but this is where it differs significantly from the temperate waters I have become used to swimming in. In fact, the very habitat is constructed by invertebrates rather than bedrock and I had already gotten a great taste of the coral diversity. This time however, I was able to get an up close look at the individual creatures rather than just the enormous colonies. Globular, plate, and dendritic corals were abound and since I was diving, I could even make out the individual cups that housed the polyps. Some were small and possibly more recently settled colonies while others formed massive structures built up over many years. Branching corals were particularly interesting, with some species having few but very long, thin, and delicate branches while others were more robust and many branching species. Occasionally I even found a few solitary corals!
Another favourite and certainly one that I have seen on television programs since I was a child, was the Christmas Tree worm. I believe I also corrected my grade 8 science teacher who claimed it to be a plant, going so far as to bring in additional evidence, much to her dismay (always the big nerd, and proud of it!). Like being in the documentaries of The Last Frontier with John Stoneman, which helped to fuel my desire to become a marine biologist, I found these little guys burrowed into the massive globular corals, extending their radioles or "plume" in order to catch phytoplankton and other floating debris. They can come in many colours and I was fortunate to see both light white and blue coloured individuals.
While photographing the pink anemone fish I was also privileged to see a gorgeous flat worm about ten centimetres long. The pictures were not particularly showing, but the colouration pattern on this creature was amazing. As it fluttered down from somewhere, it revealed it's ventral side to be a bright plum which was also visible in distinctive striping on it's dorsal side. This side however was predominantly green and shined like a fine gemstone. The greens varied from bright neon to dark forest and shimmered as the emerald creature undulated it's way under the coral debris. The second picture is probably a bit too blown up but it really highlights the jeweled veil pattern of this extraordinary find.
One group of animals that was out in full force on the reef were the echinoderms. Sea cucumbers of various species were found all over the reef, all with various brown colouration patterns and unique textures to their skin including one that appeared to be adorned with small fleshy stars. One was even actively feeding, it's black and white fringed arms spread out sifting for any food scraps it can find.
Seastars were not overly abundant but occasionally one was found roaming the sandy bottom or attached to the underside of some coral. No crown-of-thorns sea stars on this trip though, which was both promising and disappointing.
Another echinoderm that was frequently seen on the reef was the crinoid. Back in Canada, crinoids are more prominent in the fossil record than in the shallow subtidal of the east coast. Not having seen one before, along with their prominent featuring in many underwater programs on television, made their viewing a particular delight for me. These ancient and rather delicate looking creatures were either hidden away in rock crevices, waiting until nightfall to emerge and feed, or proudly perched atop corals, their feathery arms extended to catch passing prey and floating detritus.
But by far, the most impressive part of this dive were the Tridacna or giant clams. These creatures were once prized for consumption and are now extirpated from much of their historic ranges with most listed as endangered. The meat they could provide must have been substantial, given that the size of animals I saw ranged from thirty centimetres to a metre and a half across. Like the flatworm, the mantles of these extraordinary creatures is like a jeweled tapestry, mottled with greens and blues. The waved shells, although aligned, rarely closed much when I was investigating them and almost seemed incapable of closing fully like the softshelled clams of the Bay of Fundy. They were nestled in among the coral and fallen debris, their great girth seemingly unmovable by the forces of nature that befell many of the branching corals around them.
They are truly an exquisite animal and it is hard to believe that these creatures might some day not be around. Divers and snorkelers might only see the discarded shells of these gigantic animals, a thought that makes one pause and contemplate many things in their life and how we all affect the natural world around us. Efforts to conserve these and many other species are critical to preserving the wonders this world has to offer and ensure our most important resource, the environment, is maintained for generations to come. I also had the privilege to get up close with a true giant. While finishing up our dive and crossing the barrens of wave destroyed corals, I came across this behemoth. The empty shell of a truly monstrous giant clam lay open among the rubble. The scene seemed fitting in the somber grey and diffused light. It must have been a metre and a half across and I stuck my hand in just to prove to myself how big this thing actually was. It seemed hardly surprising that ancient mariners claimed stories of getting one's leg stuck in this great creature, although with that fleshy mantle, the limb could have easily been removed from the shell.
As I looked around, thinking about the endangered status we had labeled this creature with because of our shortsightedness, I noticed on the right hand side of the top valve that a small clam was perched. Upon further inspection, other corals grew all around the clam and on the rock and felled coral branches. In what appeared to be a relatively dead and lifeless area, life was thriving and continuing to grow. The new were replacing the old and future generations were literally building on the foundations of previous generations, a perfect metaphor for life and family. We all must work hard to create a proper foundation by taking the appropriate steps conserve life rather than just exploit it, giving back to the environment to ensure it's continuation for the generations to come.
Running low on air and thinking of my family, especially the one (two) people on board the ship above me, I started my ascent to share my experiences with Mary-Ellen before another dive and my night dive.
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