Video Seminar by Steve Fish

There are still places in the world where one can go to dive locations that are still unspoiled by human impact. My most recent assignment took me to the region of Raja Ampat where I was to document the marine life and reefs of a newly formed marine sanctuary. Located off the western tip of Papua New Guinea, Raja Ampat is perhaps the most remote and pristine area in the Indonesian archipelago. It covers an area of roughly 7,000 square kilometers and is loaded with forested limestone islands, mangrove ringed lagoons and reefs. The reefs in particular make this place so special. Raja Ampat is believed to have the richest marine biodiversity of any place on the planet.

Andy Miners, a veteran live-aboard dive master in the region since 1999, was so taken by the beauty and pristine condition of Raja Ampat’s reefs, that he made it his personal mission to preserve them. He negotiated a long-term lease on Batbitim Island and immediately laid plans to construct an eco resort and conservation center. A man of no small vision, Andy managed to secure an area of 200 square kilometers surrounding Batbitim Island as a no take zone, the first marine protected area in Raja Ampat. Perhaps even more exciting is that fact that he rallied support for the protected area from the surrounding villages. When open to public (construction is scheduled to be complete in late 2007) Misool Eco Resort will be a dream destination for those seeking solitude and incredible diving in the worlds richest and most diverse marine environment.

After 7 flights and a long boat trip, 11,000 air miles and 70 hours of travel, we finally arrived at our camp on Batbitim Island in the Misool region of southern Raja Ampat. I was accompanied by my friends Justin and Taro who, because of my recent back injury, were doubling as my personal porters. We were loaded with gear including three full sets of dive gear and an arsenal of photo and video equipment. Our planned stay of a just a week was a relatively short considering the distance we had traveled.

Dropping down to the reefs on my first dive, I was awestruck by the diversity of fish life and intensity of the reef colors. The amount of marine life was staggering, rivaling that of the Galapagos Islands. The water was deep blue with visibility beyond 100 feet. I hit record on my Bluefin HD video housing and sucked it all in. Each day, we filmed from sun up into night.

It wasn’t until later in the week that something struck us. We had not seen sharks on any of our dives. The only exception was a small shark on the house reef belonging to the newly discovered species of epaulette shark (the walking shark). We hadn’t even managed a single glimpse of a shark passing in the blue. For such a rich and healthy marine environment, this didn’t seem right. There should have been reef sharks on every dive. But there were none.

On our last full day of diving, we came face to face with a predator that explained the total absence of sharks. Having just finished a dive on Gorgonian Passage, located on the eastern boundary of the preserve, we began motoring back to the Batbitim while taking in the breath-taking scenery. Only minutes into our journey back, we noticed a suspicious boat anchored in the mouth of a lagoon. We figured it was a local fisherman with a hand-line, probably fishing for dinner. Curious as to what he was up to in the preserve, we altered course to intercept the boat. As we drew closer, we made a grizzly discovery. On the deck of this fishing boat were dozens of shark fins, recently severed and now drying in the sun. Flies were buzzing around the fins on the blood soaked decking. By the looks of the fins, these must have been from small reef sharks.

An odd reflection from the shallow reef below the fishing boat caught our attention. The outline was unmistakable. This was a body of shark. It was immediately evident that the shark had no fins or tail. The ripples on the waters surface dissipated as the breeze died down. Through the clear water, more shark carcasses came into focus, strewn below on the reef. As we pulled alongside the boat, the strong smell of drying shark flesh baked by the equatorial sun enveloped us. The fishermen glanced up from his meager lunch and gave us a questioning look. I imagine that for him and for us, this was an unusual and wholly unanticipated encounter.

It’s hard to describe my thoughts at that moment. Blood stained fins, mutilated sharks, the stench, and an unconcerned fisherman, all in this paradise lagoon. Everything about the situation was wrong. My mind screamed, How can this be, this isn’t really happening! The feeling of powerlessness was overwhelming. We were too late. He had taken the last sharks. If we had arrived earlier we could have freed some of the sharks. But we hadn’t. My hands were shaking from anger and desperation. Here was the reason we had not seen any sharks this week. My mind sank into despair.

Andy immediately took control of the situation. For all his time in these waters, Andy had never personally come upon a boat in the process of finning. He wasn’t about to tolerate it in the preserve. Boarding the boat he requested to see the man’s fishing permit. Having spent many years in Indonesia interacting with the local villagers, Andy is remarkably fluent in the local language. His decisive action snapped me out of my trance. Suddenly it was crystal clear what I had to do. I popped open the door on my video housing, lifted my camcorder and hit record. I filmed all I could. The fins, the boat, the fishermen, the sharks rolling below on the reef, the surrounding lagoon, more shots of fins—different angles. I just kept the camera rolling. It had to repress my feelings of disgust and anger. Others must be exposed to what I was witnessing this day.

After a short while, a small dugout canoe approached from deeper within the lagoon. Balled up in the bow of the boat was a monofilament gill net. Further forward in the bow were various colorful reef fish and a titan trigger fish. The fisherman from the canoe boarded the fishing boat and informed Andy that he was in charge of this boat. While this transpired, I reloaded my camcorder into the housing and threw on my snorkel gear. Top side was only part of the story. What lay below on the reef was perhaps even more important.

Once in the water, I took a deep breath and descended 10 feet to the reef. My stomach turned as I focused on the first of the finned sharks. The shark was seemed almost alive, but was very dead. Its eyes still had a flicker of life. Its ghastly wounds were so fresh. This slaughter had just happened. I imagined the exhausted shark violently pulled on the boat deck. While its fins and tail are savagely sliced off, it wriggles in vain to free itself. Bleeding profusely, the shark is dumped in the water, but with no fins, it helplessly sinks to the bottom. The lack of flow over its gills gradually starves it of precious oxygen. The shark fights to move but cannot. Finless, it is trapped on the bottom, pinned in the coral. Eventually the shark suffocates and life drains from its body.

The camera was rolling again. I had tunnel vision. The surge and current in the shallow water made it all but impossible to stabilize my shots. I had to focus if I wanted this footage to useful for my cause. I filmed each of the sharks. I positioned myself to improve composition for better footage. My heart was screaming at me, “How can you worry about things like that right now?” My mind answered, “Because I have to. People have to see what is going on and I have to show them!” I continued filming. I counted almost a dozen black tip reef sharks, all juveniles. My focus was finally broken by the sound of our speedboat approaching. I surfaced. It was time to go.

Climbing back in the boat, I was struck by the look on everyone’s faces. They all looked how I felt. As we motored out of the lagoon, Andy explained that the fishermen had produced a hand written permit that was apparently signed by the head of the local villages. Andy would address this when we got back to the island. The permit cost the equivalent of USD30 and gave the fisherman the right to fin sharks for 30 days. Doing quick math, I estimated 300 hundred sharks for 30 bucks. That’s 10 cents a shark. Is that all a sharks life is worth? A bowl of shark fin soup sells for up to $150 USD in Asia. Each of these sharks would produce more than a few bowls worth. Doing a little more math, I calculated $1000 USD in shark fin soup per shark. So, the local community was receiving 10 cents per shark and the fisherman perhaps only $10 per shark. That left 99% of the profit going to the wealthy traders, suppliers and restaurant owners. I wondered how anyone could argue that by halting shark finning, you are denying poor local communities of sustenance. Shark fin traders were exploiting the ignorance of these villagers by laying waste to there natural resources.

We somberly motored back toward Batbitim Island. There wasn’t much to say and we all had plenty to occupy our minds. Eventually we spotted the opening of another large mangrove sanctuary. Earlier that morning we had decided we would explore it on our way back. Everything was different now and our enthusiasm was gone. Reluctantly, we kept to plan and slowly floated in to the lagoon. It was breathtaking. Turquoise waters, met dense mangroves, rising to deep green rainforest, and back dropped by radiant blue skies. A magnificent osprey soared from the tree tops while a school of large parrot fish darted below. We soaked it all in, cleansing our souls of the ugliness of the past hour. There was still so much beauty here, still so much worth preserving. A sudden movement below the surface caught our attention. A black tip shark glided past our boat in the shallows, moving with deliberation, making its way to the mouth of the sanctuary. All eyes were glued to the shark. Silently we followed its movements until its silhouette melted in reflections of the mangroves on the water. We all smiled—a living shark. This one had made it. We hoped there were more. We had some conservation work left to do here and with renewed conviction, we were ready for it.

Story: Shawn Heinrichs
Photos: Justin Ebert