I’M KEEN!

CAPE TOWN FREEDIVING

Run by Daniela and John Daines, Cape Town Freediving has been operating for eight years and is a brilliant place to learn. They offer various levels – the Adventure Freediver course is the most suitable for beginners. During this two-day course, internationally certified by Pure Apnea, you will learn how to feel comfortable and safe in the open water, how to use the buddy system, how to rescue someone in trouble, and how to safely increase your breath-hold skills so you can stay underwater longer. Cost: R2 500, including gear hire, a manual, coaching and refreshments.

Cape Town Freediving also offers half-day guided snorkel adventures through the kelp forests that are suitable for anyone older than 12 (children older than 12 must still be accompanied by at least one parent). Previous snorkelling experience is not required, but you must be able to swim comfortably. Cost: R750, including gear hire, refreshments and a guide.

072 879 0772 capetownfreediving.com

WILD BLUE ADVENTURES

If the thought of the big blue and holding your breath is scary, Wild Blue Adventures offers snorkelling in False Bay’s tidal pools, where Yvette Oosthuizen will show you the secret treasures and cryptic creatures found in these thriving ecosystems. Some of the animals you might come across include nudibranchs, klipfish, cuttlefish, octopus, anemones, starfish and shysharks, as well as various seaweeds and algae.

A guided outing costs between R550 and R850 per person, depending on numbers, kit requirements and whether you are local. Each outing lasts about an hour and you’ll receive some underwater snaps of you in action. wildblueadventures.co.za

It’s remarkable how much there is to see in the shallows – all that’s required is attention. Look there! On that rock! A nudibranch as iridescent as a sequined carnival dancer. And over there! A pile of pyjama sharks snoozing on top of each other in a crevice. And here! An octopus peeping out from behind a heap of empty mussel shells; a school of strepies passing through like a wall of cars with yellow racing stripes; a carpet of champia algae as blue as a butterfly’s wing…

When the visibility is poor, there are always the tiny things. Armed with a bit of knowledge, it’s possible to spend an entire dive just staring at one patch of rock where you will discover myriad creatures and universes. Nudibranchs are a type of sea slug and some are so small they’re barely visible to the human eye. But seen through a macro lens, their colours and forms are so exotic and exquisite they’re almost alien. Colonies of hydroids look like beds of flowers but are actually animals. Barnacles wave their cirri to catch plankton. Segmented arthropods meander through the foliage like marine caterpillars, and the embryos of fish eggs secreted onto kelp fronds track the movements of the world with silver eyes.

As land becomes clogged with our cloying humanity – cars, coronaviruses, gated complexes, cut-price phones – the sea is one of the few places where I can breathe easily, even when I’m not breathing. It’s both an escape and a return home.

But it hasn’t always been this way.

After losing my brother to the ocean, I spent years avoiding it. When I drove past the site of his drowning, I would look away and turn up the radio. The significance of my near-daily immersions is not lost on me: I have reclaimed the sea as my own, taming its teeth and neutralising its black hunger. But it’s also more than that – more than I ever dreamt of. Who knew there were jellyfish shaped like rugby balls that light up in a rainbow of colours when they oscillate? How extraordinary that abalone have stalked eyes that peer out from beneath their frilled skirts! How is it possible that an octopus can change

the colour of its skin from red to green to brown to white? How can a klipfish be so bold and fearless that it settles on my shoulder, like a slippery pirate’s parrot, making me laugh and laugh into my snorkel?

I have a better camera now. I also have a better understanding of my place in the ocean. While it’s still a thrill to catch a glimpse of a gully shark, and the sight of a stingray makes my heart pound, I remind myself that they are not here for my entertainment. Nobody has stage-managed this moment. They are in their home, going about their lives – breeding, feeding, maybe taking a stroll – and if I’m not quiet and still, my presence is a disturbance. I am just a strange and slightly saggy visitor. During a recent solo snorkel, floating among the kelp and trying not to focus on my deadman fingers turning white from the cold, I spied a gully shark, then another, gliding below. I waited for them to disappear, took a deep breath, and slowly swam down to the seabed to lie on the sand. Watching. Waiting.

Then, from around the corner of a rock, a big gully swam straight towards me, unaware of my unmoving body. Three more followed, and soon they were right above me, a few centimetres from my face, and I saw the grey velvet of their skin, the sheen around their nostrils, the planet-like gold of their eyes.

“There you are,” I said in my head. “And here am I.”

Once they had disappeared into the kelp forest, I rose slowly to the surface, back to the sun and the sounds of people on the beach; the braying of a band of penguins standing sentry on a nearby rock.

Torn between staying and leaving, always greedy for more, I made my way back to shore. I dived down to check on the red anemones that cluster around one particular rock, the one to the right of where the zebra fish hang out. Turning to look back at the forest, a shaft of light through the fronds turned a school of hottentots into a suspended silver chandelier. Tomorrow. This will all still be here tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.

If we slow down and move consciously.

If we’re not wallies.

PHOTO TIPS

Underwater photography is a whole different game compared to taking pictures on land. There are often currents and surge, and subjects are skittish and quick. Then there’s the issue of light – water absorbs light and affects white balance, so some fiddling with exposure is required. Also, suspended particles lit by a flash (known as backscatter) often make your image more foggy bathtub than pristine aquarium.

However, underwater photography is one of the most rewarding and creative pursuits, delivering reflections and distortions, colour and dreamy light, crazy creatures and composition challenges.

Start in still, shallow water – I began by snapping pictures of anemones in tidal pools. And while a fancy underwater housing with a dome port and strobes will obviously give you the best results, a good compact camera like the weatherproof Olympus Tough (latest model TG-6 R9 695 at orms.co.za) produces excellent quality shots and is small enough to tuck into your hand, allowing you to be nimble.

The Tough also has an incredible microscope function that can capture the tiniest creatures. Some of the nudibranchs I’ve photographed have been only 3 mm long, and the detail the camera picks up is astounding.

DIVE DEEPER

These books will help you identify the creatures you encounter.

• A Field Guide to the Marine Animals of the Cape Peninsula by Georgina Jones (SURG)

• Two Oceans: A Guide to the Marine Life of Southern Africa by George Branch, Charles Griffiths, Margo Branch and Lynnath Beckley (Penguin Random House)

• Nudibranchs of the Cape Peninsula and False Bay by Guido Zsilavecz (SURG)

GOOD READ

Helen Walne is also the author of the beautiful memoir The Diving, which tells of her tortuous relationship with her late brother, Richard. Published by Penguin Random House and available as an eBook.

LONG BEACH, SIMON’S TOWN

When the southeaster is whipping up False Bay, Long Beach is usually sheltered and clean, and is easily accessible from the beach. A small wreck about 20 m from shore teems with fish and is covered in pretty plants studded with large square-mouthed striped anemones. Look closely and you might spot a clutch of elegant nudibranchs.

WINDMILL BEACH, SIMON’S TOWN

Comprising two main channels, this shallow and compact site is easily accessed from the beach and provides a taste of everything Cape Town diving has to offer: kelp forests, reefs, colourful walls, overhangs and sandy clearings. Animals you might encounter here include red roman, octopus, pipefish, pyjama shark, jellyfish, nudibranch, cuttlefish and even a seal or two. If you’re really lucky, a ray might make an appearance, or an otter.

WATER’S EDGE, SIMON’S TOWN

This spot is more open than Windmill and requires a more careful reading of the swell, but it offers depth, bright nooks and crannies, tall kelp and schools of zebra fish in the shallows. It’s also a nudibranch garden where the occasional ray swims through. In summer, gully sharks gather. There’s a penguin colony here, too. Snorkellers must observe the signs prohibiting entry.

A-FRAME, SIMON’S TOWN

A few kilometres south of Simon’s Town, A-Frame is a small site dominated by a large rock with walls covered in beautiful fans, anemones, invertebrates and seaweed. There’s also a short swim-through to the left, tall kelp and – in good visibility – sandy spots that resemble turquoise, tropical scenes.

CASTLE ROCK, SIMON’S TOWN

This site is further south, past Miller’s Point, and it’s a veritable playground of colour and life. Shy and comical-looking janbruin fish are regularly spotted here amid the numerous outcrops and gullies. The site can be exposed to surge and swell, so read the conditions before getting in.

SANDY COVE, OUDEKRAAL

A favourite with local freedivers, this site’s main drawcard is Strawberry Rocks, home to a small colony of Cape fur seals that are often curious and playful and might end up joining you in the water. As with any wildlife encounter, the seals must not be chased or harassed, and if they seem aggressive (their bite is worse than their bark), leave them alone.

Sandy Cove is on the western side of the peninsula, so the water temperature can be a challenge, but the depth and incredible clarity (on a good day) more than make up for a few shivers.