Tag: Underwater Photography

  • Jewel Anemones Crowning the Irish Coast

    Mere colour, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways.
    Oscar Wilde

    One of the most dramatic dives I have ever completed was the awesome Fastnet lighthouse off the west Cork coastline. As a young diver of barely sixteen I was on a dive trip with forty other to explore that stretch of coastline.

    Blessed by one of those rare days when the might of the Atlantic Ocean is transformed to a glass like surface we braved the journey out to this rock known as ‘Ireland’s tear drop’ to Irish emigrants: it being the last view of their homeland before the dangerous journeys to a new life in the Americas began.

    Fastnet Lighthouse, 2005 By Tom from Aberystwyth, Wales. Wikicommons (cc)

    Fastnet lighthouse is located thirteen kilometres off the Cork coastline and is an incredible feat of human ingenuity. Built to withstand the mighty swells that normally pound this part of the coastline it towers forty-five metres above the Atlantic Ocean.

    First constructed in 1853 after a shipping disaster involving the loss of ninety-two lives, it was rebuilt by the Irish Lights in 1897 in its current form, using 4,300 tons of dovetailed Cornish granite.

    This was the dramatic backdrop to a dive that even a quarter of a century on stands out in my memory as something truly special. To my naive young self it seemed that dives like this were the norm, as opposed to an event of great note. I have yet to return to this site, with mighty Atlantic swells forcing me back more than once.

    I surfaced from the dive blown away by the walls that dropped from the surface heights down to depths of eighty meters, with a shipwreck also noticeable in the depths below. The sheer cliff faces was dressed in colours reminiscent of the Bermuda shorts I had worn as a youngster in the 1980s.

    Neon colours of pink, yellow and green dressed the sheer faces that in the crystal clear waters of the Atlantic lent me an unmistakable feeling of flying.

    A French photographer that was diving in the group with us surfaced raving about the colours of the Jewel anemones colonies. I was instantly intrigued at how such colourful creatures could survive and thrive in such a remote and windswept location.

    At that point I had only taken a few underwater images, mainly with disposable cameras, so the French photographer’s excitement in response to these colourful creatures left an unmistakable imprint on my younger self. As my underwater photography career expanded, the subject I have always sought out has been this beautiful and colourful creature clinging to the most exposed rocks in the most remote locations.

    Jewel anemones are asexual, reproducing by splitting into two identical species connected by a thin sliver. They form colonies of identical creatures on rock faces up to eighty meters in depth. They thrive in high energy zones, where the waters of the Atlantic wash over them with great force.

    Their method of reproduction means you normally find patches of colour fighting for real estate. Neon Green battles with neon pink for prime locations on the surface of underwater cliff faces. Rarely seen on the east coast, they are to be found in all of the most dramatic sites I have dived along the Atlantic coast.

    As well as finding them on cliffs they can be found clinging in a similar manner to shipwrecks, fighting the same battles of colour for the best seats on the exposed sides of sunken vessels.

    Over my time diving whenever I have had the chance to dive with a camera in hand I have sought out battles of different colours, and tried to capture the beauty that the colour imparts on the final image.

    In showing the image to non-divers I relish their disbelief that such colours exist below the waters that surround this country. It is assumed that only in the tropical zones where coral reefs bloom can such vibrant colours exist. This notion is shattered by the beautiful vibrant colours of these incredible rock clinging creatures.

    When training new divers the images of jewel anomies always brings an audible intake of breath as they realise what to expect on future dives. Dive sites around Ireland are actually filled with colour, but the nature of water and the way it absorbs light means that in order to bring these colours out in their true glory the underwater photographer requires powerful strobes, or flashes, to reveal the vibrant colour.

    As a diver setting out, one of the first pieces of equipment to acquire is a torch. In recent times the technology driving the underwater torch has gone through a massive innovation cycle with the introduction of LED torches.

    Now for relatively little money a powerful torch can be purchased that only a few years ago would have required a suitcase battery to power it.

    Some of the best underwater photographers in the world describe the technique of capturing underwater imagery as painting with light. The placement of the light or strobes will completely change the final imagery with the true colours being brought out through the introduction of artificial light, which was absorbed by the water column on to the subject.

    The colour patterns that these amazing colonies produce across the walls, spread out around the Irish coastline, are truly dramatic and the battles between the different colonies make for the most amazing and dazzling splashes of colour, unique to the geographical location of the dive.

    The translucent nature of the species means they can bring incredible colour to either macro or wide-angle photography, like imagery of flowers above water. The colours bring a light into even the darkest of moods.

    Another dive season has ended along the Irish coastline in recent weeks, and thankfully it has coincided with the return of travel restrictions, so although 2020 was a much shorter dive season I had the opportunity to get some exciting dive trips in during a truncated season.

    As the Atlantic storm cycles move quickly through the alphabet of names the waters are churned, with visibility dropping to only a few feet, and so the number of divers entering the water drops dramatically. Although there are many dive sites dive open throughout the year the restrictions on travel means divers are unable to travel to these sheltered locations. As the seasons in our marine environment moves into the winter stage only the bravest of divers head into the seas to get their fix of the underwater world.

  • Dublin Bay’s Unsettled Future

    Jacques Cousteau, the inventor of the aqua-lung which finally allowed human beings to roam freely under water once said: ‘The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.’

    Like many other kids growing up in Dublin, I first learned to swim in the two-hundred-year old man-made harbour of Sandycove. Gifted a birthday present of a rubber diving mask by an adventurous uncle I was immediately mesmerised by an incredible world that didn’t follow the predictable conventions of dry land, with shimmering shoals of white bait and sand eels darting among the stunningly beautiful kelp forests that surround Sandycove.

    Like Jacques Cousteau, the sea had caught me in its net and my early love of underwater Dublin Bay led me to become first a snorkeler and then a scuba diver. I qualified as a scuba-diving instructor in 1998, and since then I have been working with the fantastic team in Oceandivers, who have had the pleasure of introducing thousands of divers to the incredible underwater world on our doorstep in Dublin Bay.

    Hook Head Wexford.

    Underwater Photography

    I took up underwater photography soon after becoming a dive instructor. Since then I have been bringing a camera along with me on dives as much as possible. I began shooting on 35mm film with an amphibious camera, and have kept up as much as possible with the fast moving technology over the past twenty years.

    Bringing electrical equipment into salt water is never a smart idea, let alone cameras that cost thousands of euros! I have had more than a few teary endings to dives as water snuck past a vital rubber barrier.

    Saint John’s Point Donegal.

    I have spent hundreds of hours photographing some of the country’s most dramatic landscapes, hidden away from most of the population, and am constantly on the look out for new audiences for the beautiful underwater scenes I am lucky enough to capture.

    Being underwater is not something our body can endure for long without the assistance of technology, primarily the aqualung that Cousteau invented in the 1940’s, which heralded the arrival of the underwater sport of scuba diving. With over ten thousand certified scuba divers now in Ireland, we have a substantial number of active amateurs and professionals diving regularly all year round, all along our incredible 5,500 km of coastline.

    Divers on Dublin Bay.

    These divers are rewarded for braving our cooler waters with incredible scenes of raw nature, and dramatic underwater scenery that rivals any of the best dive locations in the world.

    Cousteau himself rated some of the sites he dived in Ireland as being among the best in the world. The west coast in particular offers a multitude of islands and sea cliffs in deep clear Atlantic water, interspersed with the wrecks of unfortunate vessels that ran aground in the oft wild conditions. To explore every dive site on the west coast would take a lifetime, with new sites being discovered every season by intrepid divers.

    Horn Head Donegal.

    Dublin Bay

    Due to the density of population in our capital city, Dublin Bay is one of the most well-dived locations in the country, despite at times having less than ideal diving conditions.

    Divers trade in ‘Viz’ or underwater visibility. As a rule, the clearer the water the better the dive. Divers depart from Dun Laoghaire Harbour to the south and Howth harbour in the north, finding adventures around Dalkey Island or Lambay Island; or surveying shipwrecks off the Old Bailey Lighthouse or on the Kish sandbank.

    The silt and sandy bottom around Dublin Bay is in a state of constant motion, drawn by the strong tidal flows moving down the east coast of the country. These massive sand banks are also easily disturbed by strong southerly or easterly winds, leading to dramatic drops in visibility when a strong wind blows. Unlike the deep water off the west coast, Dublin Bay is a relatively shallow body of water with a primarily sandy bottom.

    Coral Garden Dalkey Island, Dublin Bay.

    The sediment and sand along the northern half of the Bay is particularly plentiful, meaning the dive sites there are extremely poor, with visibility rarely rising above a metre or two. But on the southern side of the Bay there are sites where visibility regularly reaches beyond five metres, providing reasonable conditions for divers to train in.

    Hook Head, Wexford

    Sandycove is among the few locations in the Bay where divers can regularly access clear water with the depths required to train new divers in safe conditions.

    Recently, under the guise of Covid-19 prevention measures, divers were denied vehicular access to the site as a result of a poorly designed bike track. This removes one of the last accessible dive sites within the city, and hopefully a solution can be found.

    Dalkey Island, Dublin Bay.

    Dalkey Island

    The rocky outpost of Dalkey Island, jutting proudly out of the sandy sea bed, offers the best of the boat dive sites in Dublin Bay, with an incredible ecosystem flourishing just a stone’s throw from the capital.

    Watched over by a thriving seal colony along the surrounding coastline, Dalkey Island offers a thriving marine environment, which is fed by rushing tidal flows as the waters empty from Dublin Bay and are funnelled through the two sounds between the island and the mainland.

    This incredible wilderness is close to the heart of the city, but alas so few take the opportunity to visit it either above water or below. Yet DART services run every few minutes from the centre of the city out to Dalkey (a less than 30 minute ride), from where a ferry leaves for the unspoilt Island.

    The Bills Rocks off Galway.

    Dead Zones

    As indicated, a few natural factors deny Dublin Bay the crystal clear water that divers can find along most of the west coast. This sand and silt in Dublin Bay is easily stirred up by wind so visibility can drop from ten meters to under a meter in the space of a few hours. Moreover, as you move along the coast from the north to south numerous large rivers carry silt into the low depths of the Irish Sea, with the same process occurring along the Welsh coastline; the distance between Dublin and the island of Anglesey, where the port of Holyhead is located is barely a hundred kilometres.

    Killary Fjord, Galway.

    Looking to the future for Dublin Bay, the biggest concern is that what has happened in the Baltic Sea will be replicated on the Irish Sea, including Dublin Bay.

    Dead zones form when an excessive level of nutrients, primarily nitrogen and phosphorus, enter coastal waters and fertilize algal blooms. When these algae die and float to the bottom, they provide a rich energy source for bacteria, which in the act of decomposition absorb oxygen from surrounding waters.

    The Irish Sea has already numerous dead zones recorded around river estuaries, especially from the large rivers in the south east. The worry now is that these will expand and overwhelm more of the Irish Sea’s thriving wildlife.

    Over the last forty years the Baltic Sea has transitioned into a near holistic dead zone, as divers watched on in horror, and the relevant authorities in different countries failed to act.

    Killary Fjord, Galway.

    A similar fate is not inconceivable for the Irish Sea, if sufficient care is not taken of this precious resource. Although we have the advantage over the Baltic Sea of an opening onto the wild Atlantic on either end – allowing a flushing effect from the tide – what we do above ground will ultimately makes its way into the Irish Sea

    Decisions made by our farming, construction and logging industries, along with our waste water handling, will decide whether we preserve this unique ecosystem – the last remaining great stretch of wilderness on our doorstep.

    Conservation will also requires the same level of commitment from our near neighbour across the water, as we share a guardianship of this body of water, and the decisions we make in Ireland will be insufficient.

    All Photographs are taken by Daniel Mc Auley from Dublin Bay, Donegal and Co Clare.