I was 14 the first time I went scuba diving.  We were vacationing in Hawaii over the Christmas holiday and my parents thought that diving would be an excellent way for my brother and me to spend an afternoon.  So we found a local dive shop.  There a dive master suited us up and took us diving with little to no instruction.  Ah, the 80s.  A time when the world threw caution to the the wind.  Hang loose according to the Shaka sign.  I don’t remember being nervous or scared.  I mean – here I was – a girl from rural Manitoba on a dive boat in the Pacific, as it rocked to and fro, standing on the dive platform awaiting my turn to stride in.  As it would turn out, neither my brother nor I could descend the measly thirty feet to the sand bottom as our sinuses wouldn’t allow us to equalize.  So the dive master suggested we take a dose or two of Sudafed and return the next morning for a shore dive.  The following day, we drove out to Hanauma Bay on the southeast coast of O’ahu.  We arrived shortly before 7 am to a deserted beach, carried our heavy gear to the edge of the water, and literally walked into an unimaginable paradise.  We spent the next 90 minutes – our maximum depth in the embayment being only 8 meters – exploring the labyrinth of rocks and coral that teemed with beautiful fish and unique creatures in this volcanic ring.  I vowed then that I would return to the ocean to experience this incredibleness one day. 

Fifteen years later as my first born turned one, I finally became a certified PADI diver after completing my checkout skills in the waters of Kenora near Anicinabe Park.  It was early April and our instructor had found a small area of iceless lake within this Ontario city in which we could finalize our course.  The water was murky and dark and all the same shade of green and the ground was littered with cans, and bottles, and a few shopping carts.  Not quite Hanauma, yet no less exciting as I emerged from the frigid bath having fulfilled my teenage dream.  Over the next year or two, I returned to the waters around Kenora many times to build on my skills and every year or so from that point on, I traveled to much larger blue waters, first in the Caribbean and the Atlantic, then the west coast of North America, and eventually to destinations beyond.  

For my first ocean adventure, I invested in a point and shoot film camera and housing.  Most of the images from that trip were terrible – I mean – taking good photographs of wildlife is difficult on land.  Photography underwater has a whole host of unique challenges from dealing with current and buoyancy, adjusting for focus and magnification, and compensating for the light.  Undeterred, I brought my camera on the next dive trip, and the photographs improved along with my diving skills.  Eventually, I replaced my old film camera with a digital point and shoot and the learning curve flattened somewhat with my ability to review my images while still in the water.  

Today, I take my DSLR and strobes underwater, and although I only dive maybe once a year, my images are to the point where I feel comfortable sharing some of them with you.  Diving is definitely one of my passions as it motivates me to become a better photographer – both above and below the surface.  And, although I love where I live, hovering around just north of the 49th parallel, if I could have but one wish – it would be for an ocean in my backyard!