405_April_24

the water temp is 13 degrees, so we'll limit our search to about an hour. As cold as that sounds, the waters are warming in Tassie, where even a degree's difference from one season to the next could quickly spell extinction for the most vulnerable species; the recent decimation of kelp forests provides a case in point. A sense of panic looms as an even hotter summer is predicted, putting the even more critically endangered red handfish in dire and imminent risk. As Matt and I enter the secret spotted handfish site, the substrate is so silty it's almost spongy, and easily disturbed. Other than being a good nursery for baby sharks and occasional hermit crabs, there's very little to see on the sand other than a proliferation of invasive Northern Pacific Sea Stars. Fifty eight minutes in, we've seen countless invasive sea stars, two hermit crabs and one baby draftboard shark. Starting to feel the cold as I always do when beginning to feel bored, I'm tempted to photograph hermit crabs as we do one final scour back where we started our search. Just as hope is fading, I spy the small, strange spotted creature, both conspicuous and dull against the ratty, silty substrate. It's about the length of my fist and seems totally unphased by my presence. I make a handful of images before Matt signals that he's found a second handfish. We struggle to relocate his fish, but after a couple of passes, it's right where he left it, snug beside an invasive Northern Pacific Seastar. It's an alarming juxtaposition, but I take a few images. I'm grateful we've managed to locate a spotted handfish each ahead of my boat dives tomorrow with Eaglehawk Neck Dive Centre. After our handfish dive, I do a quick solo snorkel at Blackmans Bay to photograph a few wistful strands of giant kelp. Like the handfish, the kelp is in a state of crisis, with conservation minded scientists including Eaglehawk co-owner and eminent marine taxonomist Karen Gowlett

Holmes and her business partner Mick Baron committed to raising awareness of interventionary actions. Diving in Tasmania can be a challenging proposition. Dive shops and airfills are few and far between. Weather conditions can be volatile and prohibitive. I've planned three days of diving and mapped out a Plan B itinerary that allows me to reschedule my dives at the end of my trip if necessary. By some miracle, conditions are sunny and relatively calm during my visit. So the next day, I'm privileged to dive Waterfall Bay from Eaglehawk's boat. It's a 15 minute boat ride to the site. Divemaster Georgia with sixty dives under her weightbelt is serving her first shift in her new job, leading a group of three. I opt for solo diving, starting with a cliff wall on one side and kelp, sponge and yellow zooanthid-covered bommies on another. Draughtboard sharks cruise the wall. Longsnout boarfish hide under rock ledges and blue throat wrasse swim amongst tall, thick fronds of kelp. While Georgia finds her divers a single nudibranch, I'm off exploring a tall, open, horseshoe-shaped cave. I head to the back of the horseshoe, my dive light illuminating yellow zooanthids and sponges inhabited by occasional sea stars and red bait crabs. The surge coming in the other direction is stronger than I'm comfortable with, so I head out the way I came in. Unsurprisingly, I'm seasick during the slightly swelly surface interval. Despite layering 7mm and 1.5 mm suits, the 13 degree water has me shivering less than twenty minutes into the second dive. I spend the first ten minutes going through a large, wide Pattersons Arch Cave, which exits up and out. Matt is my buddy again for my second day of diving with Eaglehawk Neck. The water is calmer and clearer than yesterday. Our destination for the first dive is Deep Glenn Bay, with a the sponge garden at 37 metres. We're joined by a large school of butterfly perch and have a rare encounter with a large tuna, unfamiliar to this

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DIVE LOG Australasia #405 - April ‘24