From my Southern Ocean Home to Yours

I completed my first four dives on the Oregon coast, wrapped up in a 7mm wetsuit with a farmer john over top. I remember being so focused on my instructor’s fading fins that I didn’t notice the cold. Not too long after, I found myself battling a tough decision as I worked my way through a 30 minute surface interval: do I take off the suit or do I steep in my soggy shivers? A couple of certifications down the line, my first drysuit would change my life.

Many years later, I work as an underwater videographer and educator, working mostly in temperate and polar water onboard expedition ships. Time in the poles has taught me to trust the old adage, “no bad weather, only bad gear”. My drysuit kit is unequivocally the most important package of gear I own. In Antarctica, water temperatures reach 28 degrees Fahrenheit, -1,5 Celsius. In an environment like this I’m constantly weighing my options, carefully analyzing my decision to boot a piece of gear and invite a new item into the fold.

As a woman, it’s often difficult to find warm layers that fit well. As a human, it’s hard to stay warm underwater in Antarctica. My very favorite piece is the Fourth Element Halo 3D (now upgraded to a HALO AR), an undergarment I religiously rely on for anything below 50F/10C.

The marine polar landscape is vibrant and colorful in a way one may not expect. Topside, Antarctica is covered in black and white. Rocks, snow, penguins, the dorsal fin of a killer whale. Shades of black and grey dominate this habitat. Underwater, things are different. The Antarctic seafloor is rich with color and diversity, in both the shallow and deep sea. On a shallow plunge to recreational dive limits, I might see an array of sea stars, nudibranchs, limpets and anemones. Here, the habitat is comprised of rocky reef, often scraped clean by passing icebergs – but sometimes covered in an algae coat.

Of course, diving in Antarctica is an activity to plan conservatively. Past 100 feet/30 meters, a Remotely Operated Vehicle (ROV) gives me perspective on polar life at true depth, able to reach 1000 feet/300 meters. Down here, sponges and soft coral form a deep-sea reef, offering habitat for myriad critters. Stalked tunicates and many-armed sea stars slowly sway with light current, waiting for their next meal. Down here, animals grow slowly but surely, living for hundreds if not thousands of years.

The ROV camera often picks up footage of krill at depth, the keystone species of the Antarctic food web. These small shrimp-like animals may only reach 3” in length, but they pack a protein punch sought by many polar predators. Krill fill an incredibly important niche by feeding on phytoplankton – photosynthesizers that are readily available as long summer sunlight hours take hold in the Southern Ocean. Though phytoplankton are ubiquitous, they are not a readily available food choice for many animals of the south. Krill are able to feed directly on phytoplankton, creating an efficient energy transfer from these primary producers to critters higher up on the food chain; even sea stars grab a krill snack from time to time!

This important animal has undergone human exploitation for decades, and is still threatened. On your next grocery trip, see if you can find krill oil in the store, and instead of purchasing it, use the opportunity to educate your shopping buddy. Remember that those individuals could have fed a fin whale, leopard seal, penguin or sea star.