PS -- If you haven't visited Blue Heron Bridge, book a trip now. It's worth every penny.

Full disclosure -- I was fortunate enough to have my first short film, “Peace & Quiet,” screened at this year’s exhibition, so I’m admittedly biased. That said, from the venue, to the number of attendees, to the quality of the films screened, to the professional filmmakers in attendance, this year’s SDUFEX blew my mind.

The exhibition was founded in 2000 by several divers/underwater filmmakers -- including Mary Lynn Price, Chuck Nicklin and Karen Straus -- to showcase the world’s best underwater short films. This year's SDUFEX, held at Irwin M. Jacobs Qualcomm Hall Sept. 9-10, featured 34 short films from professional filmmakers like Howard and Michelle Hall, J.D. Duff, Mary Lynn Price, and amateurs like me. Michael Gates also presented the winning film from its "Capture the World" competition.

When I arrived at the exhibition on Friday night, I was immediately impressed by Qualcomm Hall--it's a spectacular, state-of-the-art 534-seat hall intended to be used by non-profit organizations. Undulating blue and green lights and underwater still photos projected on the 22x30 foot screen made it feel like Qualcomm Hall was underwater.

Qualcomm Hall

One of the biggest questions I had leading up to the exhibition was "How many people would attend?" The hall was filling up quickly, with only a handful of empty chairs remaining. After taking our seats, my girlfriend Carolina and I noticed a line forming on the isle to our right. My eyes started at the end of the line, backtracking to its source—Howard and Michelle Hall sitting directly behind me. Being the Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie of underwater filmmaking, everyone was taking the opportunity to say hello. I knew that the Hall's film, "100 Miles," was the last film being shown at the exhibition, but I honestly didn't expect them to be in attendance. The pressure was on--my film screened two films before the Hall's.

A few minutes later, the lights dimmed and the exhibition’s hosts -– Karen Straus and Ken Given –- took the stage. Karen sported a white t-shirt with a BCD and scuba tank imprinted on it. She exuded excitement. Ken wore a tuxedo shirt with matching purple Converse. He was noticeably more nervous than Karen, but his critique of his occasional fumbling of lines was endearing. The duo worked well off each other and kept the attendees entertained.

While Simon Spear's "Circle of Life” kicked off the exhibition, I was floored by Nannette Van Antwerp's “Pacific Drifters." She was in attendance, but elected not to personally introduce her film. Her second film, “Crustaceans of Ambon," screened Saturday night and was equally impressive.

Around 9:30 pm, the exhibition's first night ended and we headed to P.F. Chang's to eat, drink and recap the exhibition. We concluded that Friday night’s films fell into two categories -- films with music and films with music and narration. Being a writer, I naturally gravitate towards the latter category. I personally think the biggest opportunity for amateur underwater filmmakers lies in their ability to shoot stellar video, write a compelling narrative and choose music that amplifies emotions.

Carolina kept me busy Saturday. She knew that if she brought me back to our hotel room too early, I’d bounce off the walls with nervous energy and drive her nuts. We jogged around La Jolla Cove and enviously gawked at the divers entering the water. One diver told us that the cove was a great place to see leopard sharks, which I badly need footage of. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough time to dive and attend the exhibition.

When we arrived at Qualcomm Hall that evening, a line had already formed from the hall’s back door stretching out across the lobby. Petrified, I walked up to the front desk to get our tickets. Since my film was being screened that night, I was given a badge that said “Filmmaker” in bold black letters. It should have said “Lucky to Be Here.” The badge was like tucking my shirt into my underwear -- it drew stares. The doors opened and Carolina and I made a b-line for the seats we sat in the previous night. The seats quickly filled up and people kept streaming in -- it was a packed house.

The lights dimmed, Karen and Ken again greeted attendees. This time, Karen wore a shirt featuring glow-in-the-dark fish that didn’t glow. Not to be outdone, Ken sported an orange tuxedo shirt with matching Converse.

Karen and Ken

Saturday's films were as impressive as Friday's. Before long, it was my turn to introduce “Peace & Quiet.” As instructed, I walked to stage under the cover of dark while the film before mine played. I worked my way up the staircase to the right of the stage and sat in an empty chair next to Ken. I was comfortable the entire night. But now my underwear was riding up my butt and my socks were bunching up in my shoes. I was quickly losing my cool.

These past two nights, I’d paid particularly close attention to what people said during their introductions. Like the films, Carolina and I broke the introductions down into two categories -- nonchalant introductions and serious introductions. I don’t take myself too seriously, but I was really excited to be at the exhibition, so I decided to take a different route with my introduction. My game plan solidified meer minutes before I found myself sitting next to Ken, growing increasingly nervous, counting down the seconds until I was introduced. I whipped out my iPhone and took a photo of the audience to ease my nerves.

Photo of the audience from the left side of the stage

Then I realized Karen was at the podium introducing me. Two weeks prior, Karen had emailed me to ask how to pronounce my name. I told her that everyone mispronounces my name. To emphasize the point, I shared that an announcer once called me Joe Rolaids during a baseball game. Karen found it so ammusing that she recounted the story to the audience. I thought to myself, “Not a bad start, thanks Karen.”

As I made my way to the stage, Karen extended her hand. I awkwardly shook her hand, took a few steps to the podium, began anxiously rubbing my hands together and launched into my introduction...

My introduction, filmed by Carolina

The photo I took during my introduction

After my introduction, I walked off the stage where I was hugged by Karen and given a blue mug with the SDUFEX etched into it. I stopped in the isle against the right wall and watched my film.

I thought I’d be nervous seeing my film projected on a screen a few hundred times larger than my living-room TV in front of more than 500 people. I wasn’t. I felt a sense of accomplishment.

Three minutes and thirty five seconds later, it was over. J.D. Duff introduced his film shortly thereafter, followed by Howard Hall. Naturally, both were stunning. Howard’s ended with, “Everything in this film was shot within 100 miles of where you sit.” The audience errupted.

While the exhibition was over, SDUFEX was holding a dinner for the filmmakers at the nearby Hyatt. I wasn’t at the dinner to eat and drink. I was there to network with other filmmakers. Grasping a Manhattan in one hand, I ask questions like, “What is your workflow,” to anyone who would listen. Midway through a conversation with Mary Lynn Price, who is an extremely genuine person, not to mention a great filmmaker, Howard Hall sat down across the table from me and Michelle Hall sat to my right. Mary immediately turned to him and said, “Howard, have you met Joe? You should answer his question.” For the next 45 minutes, Howard, Michelle and Mary took turns answering all my questions.

I learned a lot in 45 minutes. But one thing stood out. When I asked Howard and Michelle to describe their workflow, Howard put both hands face down on the table, leaned forward and shot me a stare reminiscent of Dirty Harry. He emphasized the importance of writing the narrative and then identifying the shots needed to visually tell the story before starting to film. While he’s perhaps best known for his footage, his passion for writing was evident.

Around midnight, everyone got up, pushed in their chairs, said their goodbyes and headed home. I'd been riding an emotional roller coaster all weekend. While the ride, SDUFEX, was over, adrenaline was still coursing through my veins. Back at our hotel, I couldn't sleep so Carolina and I recapped the exhibition. Surprised best summed it up. Surprised by the beauty of the venue, quality of the films and number of attendees.

What surprised us most though were the filmmakers -- they were unbeievably friendly, thoughtful and generous. Howard, Michelle, Mary and every other filmmaker could have ignored us at dinner, and I wouldn't have blamed them. But they didn't. I couldn't have asked for a better birthday and can't wait for next year's SDUFEX.

Many of the exhibition's organizers and judges are professional underwater filmmakers, like Mary Lynn Price, whose work I greatly admire and follow. What's also humbling is that my amatuer film is included in the same program as Howard Hall's "100 Miles" and J.D. Duff's "Cocos Island, Costa Rica." Can you believe that? I feel very fortunate to be able to say that.

I'm attending the exhibition and will tweet live from my Twitter handle @jroualdes Sept. 9-10. The week after, I'll post a blog recapping my experiences.

For the full story, read Michael Schwirtz's New York Times article here.

Click here for the full story.

The footage prompted Hanlon to ask Wetpixel forum members if “this sort of activity really acceptable for people's entertainment and does this do any good for shark or marine conservation?” In response, one person said, “Discovery & Shark Week are BOGUS, moronic & destructive.” Another said, “I haven’t watched a Shark Week program in over a decade. This shows I’ve made the right decision.” I searched for positive responses, but was unable to find any.

As I’ve said before, I’m not a fan of SHARK WEEK. Sadly, this video pretty much sums up why. I’m doubtful the Discovery Channel will learn its lesson though because SHARK WEEK opened to 3.3 million viewers its first hour, which was one of the annual programming event's best Sunday night numbers ever.

Do you think SHARK WEEK does anything good for shark conservation?

My attention immediately shifted from Bob to the hammerheads. They’re the reason I woke up at 5 a.m. on my vacation and braved a 45-minute boat ride in six-foot swells. About those swells—the Pailolo Channel separating Maui and Molokai is one of the roughest channels in the world, and it was living up to its reputation. The six-foot swells tossed the boat side-to-side like a pendulum making it difficult to focus on the brief and stay dry.

Suddenly, a loud thud rang from the back of the boat. Everyone spun around, fearing a tank had fallen from a rack and crushed their gear. Bob was in the middle of the boat’s deck, wearing a camouflage wetsuit, wrestling with a rebreather. Despite the swells and waves that littered spray across the boat, Bob had managed to gear up. But he wasn’t done. He waved over our dive master, who quickly clipped a bright yellow tank to his waist, and then handed him a camcorder in a large Gates housing. With all his gear, Bob looked more like an astronaut than a diver. Just then, the boat pulled up to the pinnacles and idled. One giant stride later, Bob was gone. The boat’s crew shouted, “Bob’s away!”

Who the hell is Bob? Unsatisfied by the answer the diver master had given me earlier, I scrambled up the ladder to the captain. “Bob is Bob,” he said. I was beginning to think the crew had something against me. “He’s been diving this sight twice a week for the past year,” he said. “He’ll meet up with you guys at the end of your dive. You can interrogate him then.” Pleased that I’d uncovered some info about Bob, I headed down the staircase to prep for my dive.

One hour later, I was back on the boat, without Bob. “I thought you said Bob would meet up with us at the end of our dive,” I said to the captain. “Yeah, your second dive.” Bob’s rebreather didn’t expel bubbles that frighten hammerheads and it allowed him to stay down for hours at a time.

Nearing the end our second dive, Bob appeared. He was hovering behind a ledge preparing to ambush a camera-shy, five-foot-long barracuda. As we boarder the boat, I overheard Bob talking to a dive master. “I’ve never been so close to a hammerhead,” he said, sporting a grin from ear-to-ear.

“He likes chocolate chip cookies,” a dive master said. “I’m sorry,” I replied. “Bob, he likes cookies.” I immediately made a b-line for the cookie jar, snatched two and then approached Bob. “Would you like a cookie,” I asked. He looked up and said nothing. “Would you like a cookie,” I repeated. “You’ll have to speak up,” he replied. I thrust the cookie towards him. “Oh, thanks!”

With my peace offering accepted, I began hurling questions at Bob: How close did you get to the hammerhead? Are you an underwater filmmaker? Why do you dive the site so frequently?
“The shark got so close it almost swallowed my camera lens,” he said, cracking a smile. Slowly but surely, Bob opened up.

At one point, he casually mentioned that he’d been a black coral diver “a long time ago.” A jewelry store owner had told me earlier in my vacation that black coral is rare and extremely difficult to harvest. It grows at depths exceeding 200 ft.—exposing divers to several potentially deadly hazards like nitrogen narcosis and tiger sharks. To say that black coral diving is dangerous is an understatement, and back then Bob didn’t even have the benefit of modern dive technology and mixed gases.

Then I asked the inevitable question: What was your most dangerous dive? Bob took a bite of his cookie, seemingly reluctant to indulge me. Perhaps he didn’t want to talk about close calls or maybe he’d had so many that he needed time to choose which story to tell me. Bob swallowed, and then dove into his story.

He was 45 minutes or so into a dive around 180 ft. when he went to flip the J valve to access his reserve. But when he reached back, he couldn’t feel the hanger. He removed the tanks from his back to take a closer look and discovered the hanger was gone. 180 ft. down, 45 minutes into his dive with an empty tank and no way to access his reserve, Bob removed his belt and bolted for the surface. When he porpoised, the boat crew immediately tossed him a tank with a regulator attached to it. Bob descended to 100 ft. to decompress. At that point, it became clear to me why Bob was hard of hearing. He should have died that day, but he didn’t. “Someone was looking out for me,” he said.

Some of his friends weren’t so lucky. Some were killed by decompression sickness and air embolisms, one was attacked by a tiger shark and others simply didn’t return from dives.

The next day, I stopped by Bob’s Front St. shop, Whaler’s Locker. The store offers sun burnt, tropical shirt sporting tourists jewelry, most of which comes from the sea. It’s as much a museum as it is a jewelry store. Bob’s daughter was working behind the counter. Making small talk, my girlfriend Carolina mentioned that I’d been on a dive boat with her father. She said divers frequent Whaler’s locker boasting that they’d dove with Bob, which annoyed her. “They didn’t dive with my dad, they were on a boat with him,” she said.

Since we passed her test, she began to tell us more about Bob. Surprisingly, he’d stopped diving altogether several years ago. It wasn’t until she invited him to “tag along” for an open water course that he got back into diving. After completing the open water course, Bob took several more courses and eventually purchased a rebreather. His daughter had considered purchasing one too, but decided against it when she read the manual that accompanied it. “Every other word was WARNING,” she said. “That thing has 100 ways to kill you.”

Two days later, I left Maui and a crew of filmmakers arrived. They were putting the final touches on a documentary about black coral divers and needed to interview Bob. He told me that he was apprehensive about the film because he hadn’t told his family much about his experiences black coral diving. “I guess they’ll know now,” he said.

Sea Lions @ Breakwater Wall from Joe Roualdes on Vimeo.

Next video, we'll illustrate how to build an inexpensive snoot. Let us know if you have any questions or requests for future Frugal Photographer videos.

ScubaDiverInfo, The Frugal Photographer: UW Tripod from Joe Roualdes on Vimeo.

"The number seems incredibly low--it was very surprising for us," said Taylor Chapple, who published the report in this week's journal Biology Letters. "If you look at other protected marine mammals such as polar bears or killer whales, their populations are far bigger than white sharks."

Chapple's team floated seal decoys between Bodega Bay and Monterey. When the sharks surfaced to explore the decoys, his team took photos of the shark's distinctive fins, which were used to help tell the sharks apart and calculate the total population.

Unfortunately, this study is the first-of-its kind, so it is still uncertain whether or not great white shark populations are rising, falling or stable. On the bright side though, this is a step in the right direction.

We're attending "Program 7: Sharks & Vanishing Marine Life" Saturday starting at 1:00 pm PT. If you're interested in attending the festival, but can't, don't worry--we're tweeting live throughout. My Twitter handel is @jroualdes if you're interested in following the conversation online. I'll also post an article shortly thereafter summarizing key takeaways.

While all of Program 7 looks promising, I'm personally most excited about the "Sharks, Fins and Sustainability" panel starting at 3:15 pm PT.

After all the money I've spent on lenses, housings, video lights, memory cards, no I have to spend several hundred more bucks on a tripod? Not necessarily. Two weeks ago, I was reading Tony Wu's blog, which I recommend all underwater photographers and videographers read, and noticed a photo he'd taken of the rig he used during his recent trip to Ambon. Are those two Gorillapods mounted to his tray? Yeah!

In his blog, Wu says his rig included, "a few Gorillapods, and a bunch of homemade bits and pieces held together by miscellaneous nuts, bolts, tape and crossed fingers." Now, I'm no engineer. But if Wu can do it, I'm sure I can.

Two days, three trips to the hardware store, two trips to the camera shop and $60 bucks later, my underwater tripod is done:

While mine can't pan-and-tilt like the $500 tripods and will eventually rust at certain areas, it saved me $440. When I return from Maui, I'll post a video tutorial showing how I built my underwater tripod and how easily you can do the same.

To garner North Carolina Senator Richard Burr's support, an exemption was made allowing people catching smooth dogfish off the state's coast "to bring in fins separately, as long as they account for no more than 12 percent of the total weight of the catch."

While most environmentalists reportedly support the act, it is still uncertain whether or not President Obama will sign it.

Point Lobos is located in Monterey County, three miles south of Carmel on Highway 1. It opens daily at 8 am and closes a half hour after sunset. An entrance fee of $10 per vehicle ($50 per van or small coach) and $10 per diver is charged.

Two-diver teams are allowed to dive Whalers and Bluefish Coves by reservation only. Check the dive calendar before making your reservation to identify which days are available. If you don't make your reseravation several weeks in advance, good luck. Spots fill up quickly. For those of you who don't heed my advice and chose instead to show up at Point Lobos without a reservation only to be turned away, try Monastary Beach just North of Point Lobos. Worth noting is that reservations aren't transferable or refundable.

On Nov. 24, my brother Garrett and friend Tim dove Whalers Cove. Two days earlier, a storm tore through Northern California. That morning though, we were greeted by sunny skies as we pulled into the parking lot. At the end of the parking lot, there's a staircase that leads to a lookout. I recommend every diver survey Point Lobos and plan their dive from this lookout before entering the water. Despite the sunny skies, three to six foot swells crashed into pinnacles just outside Whalers Cove, sending white wash exploding into the sky. To dive safely, we had to dive well away from the pinnacles or risk being thrown into them.

I love diving Point Lobos. But there's one thing I dislike about it--the surface swim. Without a DPV or boat, divers must surface swim roughly 50 yards from the entry point to the South-West point of Whalers Cove before descending because the visibility is often poor in the cove. During the summer, the surface swim can be a pain due to the increased kelp. That doesn't bother me though. What does is being exposed on the surface, where I'm vulnerable to great white sharks. I know, I know. I've read the statistics and I know how unlikely being attacked by a shark is. However, that's probably what Marco Flag was thinking on June 30, 1995, when he was attacked by a great white shark at Blue Fish Cove--the cove adjacent to Whalers Cove. Fortunately, Marco wasn't injured because the shark's jaws clamped down on his tank and a box attached to the front of his weight belt. While I'll likely never see a great white shark outside the Monterey Bay Aquarium, I still like to limit the time I spend on the surface.

After returning from the lookout, we emptied our gear from the car onto two picnic benches. Unlikle Lover's Point and Breakwater, Point Lobos has no grass and the parking lot is comprised of dirt. I recommend divers place their gear on the picnic tables to keep everything clean. While gearing up, an old man walked by us and said, "You're getting into the water. Little cold. Hope you don't die." I thought to myself... not exactly what you want to hear before a dive.

A few minutes later, we entered the water. We surface swam out to the South-West Point, made sure there was no kelp below us, took a compass heading off the pinnacles, then descended. "Crap," I thought to myself as I sunk to the bottom. Less than five feet of visibility, less than one minute into the dive and I've already lost sight of Garrett. Needless to say, conditions were less than stellar. A minute of two later, and we were all back together. Our plan was to swim on the compas heading to the pinnacles along a sand channel, then turn around on our recipracle and head back. Surge was stronger than expected, kicking up walls of sand.

Ten minutes later, we'd descended to 45 ft., the temprature was dropping and conditions hadn't improved. That's when we decided to head South, rathern than proceeding West along the sand channel. We hoped that conditions were better inside the kelp beds along the point. It was a gamble we're all glad we took. Five minutes later we entered the kelp beds just outside Whalers Cove and we're rewarded with nearly 40 ft. of visibility. We spotted a five-foot long leapord shark, which appeared out of nowhere, then slowly swam in between the kelp stocks and out of sight. We also stumbled across a wolf eel hunting in the open. I'd never seen a wolf eel before, and was surprised by it's size--about four feet long and stocky in comparison to a moray eel.

Nearly an hour later, we reluctantly surfaced. On our surface swim back, we each enthusiastically recounted our favorite parts from the dive. Despite poor conditions initially, it turned out to be another great Point Lobos dive.

Here's the video from our dive:

Whalers Cove from Joe Roualdes on Vimeo.

Black Rock is nearly 200 yards in length, running North-South. At its deepest it's only 30 ft. It's flanked by a reef that roughly 30 yards wide. Before diving Black Rock, contact Lahaina Divers and ask about the dive conditions. If the swell is coming from the South, conditions will likely be ideal. If the swell is coming from the North, be careful. The current at the North point of Black Rock has pulled divers out to the channel seperating Maui and Molokai.

It has two entry points, North of South. Unfortunatley, parking isn't easy. I recommend divers drive all the way to the North end of Kannapali Parkway, just past the entrance to the Sheraton Maui Resort and Spa. Park the car, remove your gear and place it on the grass next to the golf course. Make sure someone stays with the gear while the driver parks the car. Driving South on Kannapali Parkway, there is a small, I repeat, small parking lot North of Whalers Village. Parking is usually avilable before 9 am. After that, good luck.

Gear up on the grass, then walk along the path towards the Beach. There is beach access after you cross the bridge over the golf course fresh water runoff canal. Once you're at the beach, double check your dive gear and then enter the water.

You'll swim South along the North point of Black Rock. The first thing you'll notice is that the brakish fresh water from the golf course mixes wit the salt water--creating an onion-soup like mess that reduces visisbility. Stay the course! It quickly clears up. Swimming South, Black Rock will be on your left. I recommend swimming close to the wall on your way down, then swimming to the outside of the reef on your way back.

Along the wall there, are numerous small caves that green sea turtles use for shelter. During my last trip, my girlfriend Carolina and I nearly aborted our dive due to laughter when we stumbled upon a turtle at least 5 ft. long with its head stuck in a tiny hole and the rest of its body out in the open. While this defense may work for ostriches, it doesn't work for green sea turtles.

The small holes littering Black Rock are also a favorite home for moray eels. I've seen moray's on almost every dive I've made there. I've even seen multiple ones sharing the same hole. While moray eels are beautiful, they also bite, so be careful not to get too close.

Also keep your eyes peeled for small, brightly colored objects that don't quite fit in with their surroundings. They're likely frog fish--a type of anglerfish. Frogfish are a favorite subject for photographers and videographers, but it's not because of their looks. Frogfish are stocky, ranging in size from 1-15 inches long. Their brightly colored bodies have no scales and are covered in algae or hydrozoa to help them blend in with their surroundings. Frogfish use their pectoral and pelvic fins like hands to hold themselves in place on a reef or walk along the sea floor and hunt by lying motionless until prey approaches. Then, in a fraction of a second, they open their mouths, take a deep breathe and swallow their prey whole.

For me, a trip to Black Rock isn't complete without seeing at least one frogfish.

Work your way down Black Rock until you reach the South-most point. You'll know you're there when the wall takes a sharp turn left, running East, and you see people diving into the water. Then, turn around and head back North. I recommend sticking to the outside of the reef this time, instead of hugging the wall.

Keep an eye out for green sea turtles. Sometimes I like to sit in the sand at the South Point of Black Rock waiting for them to swim by. On a single dive one afternoon I counted 14 turtles swimming South. I'm not sure why, but the green sea turtles seem to use Black Rock as a South-bound highway in the late afternoons.

On the outside of the reef you'll likely come across several green sea turtles resting in the sand. While most will swim away when approached, some are inquisitive. During the last dive I made at Black Rock, a turtle crawled across the sand towards me, stopped, then lifted its face to my mask. Inches away, the green sea turtle analyzed my mask for several minutes. It is one of my most memorable diving experiences.

I hope your dives at Black Rock are as memorable as mine.