January 10, 2011: Award-winning underwater cinematographer, Adam Ravetch works in one of the most unforgiving, hostile environments imaginable: Under the ice in the Arctic. And with camera in hand, he pursues some of the most elusive and dangerous Arctic life, including polar bears and walrus. The critically-acclaimed film, “Arctic Tale” narrated by Queen Latifah told the story of a polar bear cub and a walrus pup against the backdrop of a changing Arctic environment and showcased 15 years worth of Adam’s incredible footage and insights. Adam joins us this week to tell us how he did it, and what’s next!

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This Week: Underwater Cinematographer, Adam Ravetch

From Beneath the Ice to the Big Screen: Adventure and Discovery with Narwhals, Polar Bears, Walrus, and Camera

Marine naturalist, Arctic ice diver, and award-winning wildlife filmmaker, Adam Ravetch has been involved in film projects that has taken him to the far corners of the earth. Dedicated to creative filmmaking, he strives to bring to the screen the unforgettable  stories of marine animals.

Ravetch has become one of a handful of filmmakers to shoot beneath the Arctic ice cap. Over nearly 20 years, the unforgiving Arctic has rewarded Ravetch with some of his most fantastic moments, including his footage of polar bears predating on walrus and his close-up footage of the first moments of a newborn walrus calf with her mother.

In 1990, Ravetch teamed up with his wife, director/writer Sarah Robertson to make five Arctic films, produced by their company Arctic Bear Productions, for National Geographic and the acclaimed PBS “Nature” series. They have collected awards from around the globe including an Emmy.

Ravetch co-directed his first theatrical film for National Geographic Films and Paramount Vantage, Arctic Tale, released in 2007. Recently he filmed a one-of-a-kind behavior sequence of a walrus herd defending and beating down an attacking polar bear for the BBC’s Planet Earth Series and he is now filming a first-of-its-kind 3-D feature about polar bears.

Underwater Cinematographer, Adam Ravetch (Photo by David E. Guggenheim)

Ravetch’s career spans from the Red Sea to Micronesia but it is the Polar Sea that has captured his imagination.  Born and educated in California, Ravetch received his BS in zoology from San Diego State University. At this time SCUBA diving for Ravetch became a passion. He took every Scuba course that was offered, and later, would even give lessons to a Middle East prince. While attending California State University, Ravetch completed shark research at the Graduate School of Marine Biology. Shortly after he received the Our World Underwater Scholarship, which enabled him to travel across North America meeting and learning from the greatest minds working in marine science. Impatient with science, Ravetch became interested in the more physical job of underwater photography and wildlife filmmaking.

With a view at helping to preserve the Arctic, and Ravetch and Robertson founded The Arctic Exploration Fund, an organization that seeks to discover and film the responses of Arctic wildlife reacting to the rapid environmental changes taking place in the North.

Photo Gallery: Adam Ravetch and the Making of “Arctic Tale”

“Arctic Tale” Trailer

Get “Arctic Tale” !!

The destination was Seacamp, a marine science camp on Big Pine Key, the largest of the Lower Keys, roughly 35 miles east of Key West. As the chartered bus headed south over the old, narrow Overseas Highway, I marveled at the turquoise waters below me. I also marveled at the bus driver’s ability to keep us alive along the narrow pavement laid down upon the trestles where the Flagler Railroad once ran, long destroyed by a terrible hurricane. The railroad track now made up the guard rails.

Founded in 1966, Seacamp was among the first marine science camps and my 15-year-old, Philadelphia-raised perspective was about to change permanently. For my 15th birthday, my parents obliged my obsession with the TV series, “Sea Hunt” (starring Lloyd Bridges) and granted me my wish: SCUBA lessons. Thanks to an ad in “Boy’s Life” magazine, I found Seacamp, and in a day or so would find myself entering that world I’ve never really left since. Nearly 40 feet below the surface, I was sitting in white sands in those warm, turquoise waters, six miles due south of Big Pine Key at Looe Key, now a National Marine Sanctuary, curious angelfish eyeing me and drifting across the reef.

So powerful were the experiences I would have in those few weeks that I returned for three summers as a camper, followed by eight summers as an instructor, and I’ve never lost touch for long with the camp’s leaders, Irene Hooper and Grace Upshaw, who are still changing lives there today. I knew before the end of that incredible summer in 1974 that I had found a cause worth dedicating myself to. The oceans were incredibly beautiful, tantalizingly mysterious, but to my amazement — even back then — in grave peril. Like so many others, I thought the oceans to be too vast and limitless, and to my eye, appeared so pristine that it was hard to imagine that we were already taking too many creatures from the sea and dumping too much of our waste into it.

A Seacamp flattop teaching vessel at Looe Key (Photo courtesy of Seacamp Association)

My treasured memories of Seacamp would fill a volume, but a few came to mind this morning as I realized that it was June 24, the first day of camp for more than a hundred new campers, settling into their new bunks for the next two and half weeks. I remember being first to the bottom on a deep dive to 125 feet and finding a collosal sea turtle asleep just inches from where I stood. I remember surfacing from a dive to find it hailing sideways, our boat surrounded by three menacing waterspouts. I remember peering down into the water from atop the old Bahia Honda bridge at night to see the slow-moving, eerie sillhouette of an enormous shark, illuminated by the bioluminescent plankton in the water. I remember seeing my first tarpon underwater — massive, prehistoric-looking fish, a group of six swimming past me, their huge scales gleaming in the morning sunlight like polished silver. I remember Mel Fisher, discoverer of the Spanish Galleon, Atocha, proudly slapping a silver ingot he recovered from the wreck onto a table top, its great report stunning the audience into silence, then boastfully telling us it was worth 50 thousand dollars! I remember my surprise at seeing tiny Key Deer quietly yet swiftly swimming from island to island in the backcountry. And I remember laughing harder than I’ve ever laughed as two dolphins hijacked the canoe of two of my students and gave them the ride of their young lives. (I almost lost my job over that one — a tall tale for another time.)

Today, many Seacamp alumni are my close friends and colleagues. If you saw the wonderful film, Arctic Tale, it was made by Seacamp alumnus Adam Ravetch, who’s gone on to become a major underwater filmmaker. Dr. James A. Bohnsack, who was my favorite instructor at Seacamp and someone I consider one of the biggest influences in my life, is the Team Leader for Ecosystems and Biodiversity Investigations in the Protected Resources Branch at NOAA’s Southeast Fisheries Science Center in Miami. His voice and leadership have been critical for protecting fish resources. Dr. James D. Thomas, a good friend and colleague, is a professor at NOVA Southeastern University and has traveled the world in search of tiny crustaceans called amphipods and helping to unlock environmental trends through patterns in their distribution. Jim is helping us now identify the myriad of amphipods we collected in the Bering Sea during the Greenpeace-led expedition in 2007. I recently met fellow Seacamper, Gaelin Rosenwaks, at the Explorer’s Club in New York and learned of Global Ocean Exploration, a company she founded to “devoted to bringing cutting-edge expedition research science to the public through photography, writing, film, and web-based products.”  As I write this, Gaelin is blogging from aboard a research ship near the Hebrides studying salmon. Not all Seacampers go on to work in marine science…in fact, most don’t. Some are accountants, attorneys, software engineers, interpreters, teachers, etc. But I doubt any can forget their Seacamp experiences, and most I’ve met since continue to hold a special place in their heart for the oceans and a greater, enduring awareness of their fragility.

When I began the Ocean Doctor’s “50 Years – 50 States -50 Speeches Expedition” earlier this year, my Seacamp experiences were, predictably, front and center in my mind. Young people have a natural fascination about the ocean, if only given the chance to experience it. I wish I could toss all of the nearly 10,000 students in the 12 states I’ve visited so far into those turquoise waters of Looe Key. Short of that, I hope that my words, images and videos can convey a small fraction of the wonder of those waters. From the heartwarming responses I’m receiving from students all over the country — even students who’ve never seen the ocean — I’m optimistic.

Big Pine Key coming into view as my flight returns to Miami from Havana

Never could I imagine in 1974 that I would spend a decade of my career working less than 100 miles south of the Keys on a large island, sitting at night with a mojito in my hand gazing northward toward the Keys. As I returned from Havana a couple of weeks ago and peered out the window (yes, I still prefer the window), the first land I saw was Big Pine Key, and there was Seacamp, still occupying that special corner of the island, and that special place in my heart.

Today I reflect on the experiences many of us Seacampers shared, like the pungent, organic scent of mangroves standing in bathtub-warm waters. Like the impossibly beautiful sunsets of painted oranges and purples, and knowing the next night’s would probably be even better. Like the earth-shaking roar from above that triggered our sprint outside to worship the DC3 kissing the treetops as a gray cloud of mosquitocide billowed from its hold on top of us. Like the mild sting of a Casseopea jellyfish in your armpits. Like the sound of the incessant crunching of colorful parrot fish’s beaks against the coral. Like the constant, steely yet curious stare of the barracuda. Like the sandpaper feel of a shark’s skin or the glassy smooth feel of the dome of a Moon Jelly on your fingertips. Like the sickenly sweet taste of bug juice. Like the light of the moon dancing on Coupon Bight as the splashes of distant fish echo in the night. To my fellow Seacampers, I think of you today — and most days. And to Eastern Airlines: A late but sincere thanks for the ride…I’ll never forget it.

The expedition kicked off at Sassarini Elementary in Sonoma, CA. 400 students participated.

We were both anticipating millions of visitors to DC for the Inauguration of Barack Obama, and reflecting on the presidential election. We marveled at the remarkable turnout and engagement of young people in the election and agreed that they weren’t likely to disengage. Our nation’s youth is a major player in today’s political movement. The driver pointed across the Potomac toward the Capitol, “It’s a wakeup call to Members of Congress.” I saw his smile in the rearview mirror.

The Dollar Rent A Car agent at San Francisco International Airport was pushing the extra insurance so hard I felt compelled to deny it, doing my best to beam confidence that his precious Dodge Caliber would stay out of harm’s way. At last at the helm of my first ExpeditionMobile, I journeyed onto the freeway, into the fog, and toward the Golden Gate Bridge. I made the same drive when I was 22, having cashed in all my savings for a TWA plane ticket, a cheap hotel, and subcompact rental car. The ocean was calling me, and I left Philadelphia for the West Coast in search of a career in marine science and conservation. I was lucky enough to find it and spent more than 12 years in California before I left for DC. It still feels like home.

Stop 1 : Sassarini Elementary School: Sonoma, California (January 7, 2009)

If you send an email to Julie Jehly, Watershed Stewardship Coordinator for the Sonoma Ecology Center, you’ll get this autoreply, “Hi – The state has suspended funding the grant that supports my position, and I do not know the date I will return to work.” Julie was the one who reached out back in October to bring me to Sassarini Elementary School. But in the meantime, the California state budget woes had hit her hard. I know from my work running a nature center in Florida that Julie’s work is critically important, helping to mobilize the community to become aware of and protect its environment. She had recently organized dozens of volunteers, which collected more than a ton of garbage in less than three hours from Fryer Creek, Nathanson Creek and other creeks in Sonoma.

She has continued many of her duties – including coordinating my visit – for no pay. Julie, whose job involves recruiting volunteers from the community for the Center, was now herself a volunteer, something that 400 young students should be grateful for.

A beautiful gift from the students at Sassarini School

Soon it was showtime, and the first 200 students, first and second graders, made their way into the cafeteria, which had been hastily converted into an auditorium. They took their places on the floor as Principal Leticia Cruz began the introductions and reminded the students to stay quiet. I was happy that they didn’t. “Ooooooooooo. Woooooowww!,” they exclaimed when the first images of a scuba diver flashed onto the wall. I relished their shrieks of wonder and delight, which went on for a full hour.The third and fourth graders were equally engaged during the second hour. I couldn’t have asked for a better kickoff for the project!

I asked for a show of hands of how many kids wanted to be scientists when they grew up. I was pleased to see lots of hands. Wow…science is cool again. I asked how many were ready to come with me in a submarine to explore the oceans. Just a few hands this time. Perhaps some more time in the swimming pool first.

On the way back to my hotel, I stopped in Petaluma at the studios of TWiT (This Week in Tech), where Leo Laporte, a tech guru who hosts a syndicated radio show (“The Tech Guy”) and a podcast network of tech shows beams his content around the world. I had stopped by to thank Leo personally for his leadership in the podcasting arena, the advice he had provided over the years and for his influence in helping me use the latest tech tools to share my work on the Internet. Dane Golden, the studio manager, unexpectedly asked me, “Do you want to go on the air right now with Leo…live?” I thought about it for half a second, “Sure!” And so I got to thank Leo in a very public way. As I left I heard him speaking into his microphone, “You never know who’ll drop in at the TWiT Cottage.”

Project DeepSearch: A sub capable of reaching the deepest depths of the ocean

The next day I began the long drive south to Ventura County, and as I passed through Oakland realized I had to stop to see the latest technological developments at Deep Ocean Engineering and Research (DOER), under the watchful eye of its president, Liz Taylor. I was excited to hear Liz tell me the latest about Project DeepSearch, the goal of which is to construct a next-generation manned submarine capable of “full ocean depth.” The last and only time human beings visited the deepest part of the oceans was 1960 — we’ve never returned, and no submarines exist today that are capable of the journey.

Stop 2 : Ventura High School: Ventura, California (January 9, 2009)

The ExpeditionMobile at Ventura High School

I would be giving three speeches before the day was done, the first two back-to-back at Ventura High School, close enough to the Pacific to taste it in the morning air. The fog quickly vanished and the magnificent Channel Islands appeared. When I had lived here I served as president of the Friends of Channel Islands National Park. I remember camping on the islands, touring them, and thinking that this is what California must have looked like before freeways and strip malls. Stunningly beautiful, and perhaps the best kept secret in the National Park System because they are usually invisible from shore, blocked from view by even the lightest fog, so that even residents are surprised when these magical islands suddenly reappear.

At Ventura High School, an always-effervescent Linda Southwick greeted me with her bright smile and ushered me to the auditorium. Nearly 20 years ago I had been Linda’s boss at a consulting firm I had co-founded in Ojai, California called EcoAnalysis. Now I see Linda had found her true calling, as a mathematics and AVID teacher.
(AVID [Advancement Via Individual Determination] is a college prep program for students who are often economically disadvantaged and underachieving which enables them to succeed in rigorous curricula, enter mainstream activities in school, and increase their opportunities to enroll in four-year colleges.)

The students were great, full of energy and interest. But that transition from elementary school to high school does take its toll. When I asked how many people thought being a scientist was “cool,” only one young woman raised her hand. (For the record, it really is cool.) Two hours, two lectures and 200 students later, I was in Linda’s classroom, very much enjoying her interact with her students. I was moved by her obvious deep dedication to her students and their success. She’s tough and means business, but she also knows how to make learning fun.

Stop 3 : Ojai Rotary Club: Ojai, California (January 9, 2009)

Booked long before the idea of this expedition, the Ojai Rotary Club became an honorary stop on the expedition, the only non-school stop on the journey. I thanked program chairman, Jack Jacobs (Jacobs & Jacobs, CPAs), one the finest CPAs and tax accountants in the country, for inviting me to my former home, Ojai, nearly a year ago. That’s why the expedition was launched in California. It was a crowded house, and though they didn’t “ooooo” and “aaaahh” like the elementary school kids, they were very engaged with the presentation. Ojai is a special community, sometimes described as an “eclectic artisans community,” a sometimes haven for actors not wanting to live in the Hollywood scene, a place for horse lovers, professionals, and all sorts of interesting cottage companies, including ours, EcoAnalysis, which was started in a garage. Though we didn’t quite become Apple Computer, we did employ 30 people at one point. And, yes, Ojai is where the fictional bionic woman was supposedly from and is where the classic Lost Horizon was filmed.

It was an inexplicably smog-free, traffic-free drive to LAX to board the flight back to DC. I reflected on my interaction with those elementary school kids in Sonoma and chuckled to myself thinking about some of their responses to questions I asked. “What are some of the biggest problems in the ocean?” I asked. A young boy in the second row said, “Giant squid?” I smiled. I called on another boy in the last row, “Sharks?” he asked. But as I thought about it, maybe their answers weren’t so silly. Maybe they were thinking about themselves as part of that next generation of ocean explorers, but feeling a bit fearful of encountering giant squid and sharks down there. Maybe…

Even in those first minutes face-to-face with a coral reef, the enormity of what I was witnessing was clear to me. I remember thinking, “There’s a whole living world going on down here, and we don’t know anything about it.” While I may have suspected in those moments that I would dedicate my career to something having to do with the oceans, I never would have dreamed that more than three decades later I would be literally immersed in some of the most important work of my life just 90 miles to the south of where I was seated beneath the waves.

Last week, as I departed Ft. Lauderdale and the 11th International Coral Reef Symposium, the world’s largest coral summit held every four years, the news was sobering. One-third of the world’s corals are well on their way to outright extinction, and the rest are threatened with, among other things, the indignant end of simply dissolving away, as increasing carbon dioxide in the atmosphere from fossil fuel emissions enters the oceans, raising their acidity to the point where any ocean creature with a calcium carbonate shell — from corals to clams — succumbs to the acid waters. When my daughter was 15 and floated above that same reef I had experienced, it had become a pale shadow of the miracle of nature I had so delighted in. Nearly half the corals in the Florida Keys have died in my lifetime. Some are bleached bone white, others shackled in diseased bands of black. Many more lie smothered in broad blankets of algal slime which have robbed the reef of its rainbow of colors, leaving a lifeless green-gray skeleton where countless diversity once eeked from every imaginable crack and crevice. As I beheld this tragic image, little did I imagine that important clues to saving this reef and many more like it around the Caribbean and the world, might lie just 90 miles to the south.

I now sort through assorted dive gear, video equipment, and sunscreen preparing for my 37th visit to that magical place 90 miles to the south, to an island larger than all the other Caribbean islands combined, to an island whose coat of arms bears a key — “llave del golfo“, the key to the Gulf of Mexico — a subtropical nexus where the waters of the Caribbean Sea, Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean intertwine in a sublime undersea cocktail of diversity, color and mystery. Our fourth joint expedition of Proyecto Costa Noroccidental (Project of the Northwest Coast) — a project of the University of Havana’s Center for Marine Research (Centro de Investigaciones Marinas: CIM) and the Harte Research Institute for Gulf of Mexico Studies at Texas A&M University-Corpus Christi — will continue our ongoing project to explore the most unknown corner of the Gulf of Mexico: Cuba’s northwest coastal waters.

A green sea turtle hatchling at Cuba's westernmost point, Guanahacabibes

It is often said that those 90 miles of open water south of the Florida Keys — the Straits of Florida — separate Cuba and the USA. Like a hand-drawn blue borderline, the Straits are often invoked as a symbol of the 50-year-old Cold War that has frozen our two countries so tantalizingly close, yet so tragically far apart. But to the sea turtles, sharks, lobster, whales and other sea life, those same 90 miles of blue unite our countries with racing blue currents, unseen underwater pathways, and a web of colorful life that defies the perceptions of so many of the Gulf of Mexico, who know it only as a hot, muddy cauldron that spawns hurricanes and oil platforms. Cuba, Mexico and the U.S. share the Gulf of Mexico and have a responsibility to work together to understand and protect it. Thankfully, despite debilitating restrictions, which are ever-changing in the cool winds of Cold War politics, we have worked for a solid eight years now with our Cuban colleagues, advancing our understanding of the Gulf of Mexico and providing research opportunities for Cuba’s next generation of marine scientists — nearly 20 have based their Masters and Ph.D. research on our joint projects.

Cuba's next generation of marine scientists participate in & learn from the project

Cuba’s northwest coast – the verdant Pinar del Rí­o province, home to Cuba’s legendary cigars — is the least-developed coastal region of Cuba. But as Cuba’s tourism trade continues to develop and as Cuba’s fledgling offshore oil development expands into the Gulf, we hope that the insights from our joint research help to guide the hand of such development so that some of Cuba’s most precious assets, its coral reefs, will be spared the all too common fate I’ve seen elsewhere in the Caribbean. And there is much at stake. As we dove during the second expedition, it was as if we had been transported decades backward in time, to the healthy, vibrant, towering reefs I remember from my mid-teens. The reefs I have seen in the Archepélago de Los Colorados, the barrier reef that runs along Cuba’s northwest coast, are the healthiest I have seen in my life. For that reason, and because of its unique history and geography, Cuba may hold important clues for coral reefs elsewhere in the Caribbean and perhaps around the world.

Good friend and colleague, Dr. Gaspar González-Sansón, titular professor at University of Havana, CIM, and co-principal investigator of Proyecto Costa Noroccidental, recently pointed to a number of possible reasons for the health of Cuba’s reefs when we spoke when I was recently in Havana:

• Cuba’s tourism industry did not begin until 1993, necessitated by the demise of the Soviet Union and its aid to the island. Though tourism has proceeded at a rapid pace, it is highly localized at specific resort areas on the coasts.
• The healthiest reefs also happen to be far from shore, such as Los Colorados to the north and Jardines de la Reina to the south, perhaps beyond the reach of harmful concentrations of coastal pollution.
• Cuba does have a commercial fishing fleet, but fishermen principally use hook and line, so unlike nets and trawls which result in catching just about everything, fishing in Cuba is highly selective. In contrast, more than 80 percent of what’s caught in U.S. Gulf of Mexico shrimp trawls is not shrimp — it’s small finfish and other creatures collectively known as “bycatch” that represent the unforgivable waste of this fishing practice. Cuba is now phasing out all bottom trawling on its continental shelf.
  

  Cuban commercial fishing vessel in the Gulf of Mexico

• In the early days of the revolution, President Fidel Castro declared, “Not one drop of water to the sea,” a call to action to dam rivers and streams in order to divert water for use in agriculture and population centers. Reducing fresh water input upset the delicate balance of fresh and salt water in Cuba’s estuaries, resulting in the disappearance of populations intolerant to the saltier waters, such as the white shrimp. In another way, however, this policy may have inadvertently served to help reefs by reducing the transport of fertilizers and pesticides to the reefs.
• Use of fertilizers and pesticides has dropped dramatically since the withdrawal of the Soviet Union. Given that nutrient pollution is a key factor in the growth of coral-smothering algae, this may also be an important factor.

Sunset on Cuba's Gulf of Mexico

In countless ways, the island of Cuba is unique. And when it comes to coral reefs, Cuba is again, unique. Here an island of thriving corals flourishes amid a world of corals dying and disappearing. In this mysterious corner of the Gulf of Mexico where time seems to have stopped, I find hope. Hope that the rich ecosystems of this beautiful island will endure. And I find hope that Cuba’s coral reefs might share some of their tantalizing secrets, secrets that can offer clues to protecting and restoring coral reefs elsewhere, including a special place I still remember in the Florida Keys, just 90 miles to the north.

A Dall's porpoise (top) gives Michelle Ridgway in DeepWorker a sendoff before her dive to 1,700 feet at Zhemchug Canyon in this surreal looking image. Hundreds of Dall's porpoises were present around the ship during the expedition. (Video still by David E. Guggenheim)

The Esperanza began its 2-day steam south and endured gale-force winds and 15-foot seas along the way, but all are well and grateful for the successes along the way. The team achieved a total of 25 sub dives during the expedition, well-exceeding expectations for this part of the world where weather is typically unforgiving.

The team collected nearly a Terabyte (1,000 Gigabytes) of high-definition video, photographs and other data, now being archived, cataloged and distributed. Also collected were numerous coral, sponge, and other invertebrate samples which are being prepared for distribution to scientists around the world for further analysis.

Despite intense effort and late-night searching, the Esperanza was never able to locate the pinnacles reported to be in the Zhemchug Canyon area, pinnacles which are reported to rise within 20 feet of the surface. The team was prepared to scuba dive and video/photo-document these features, however this mystery will have to wait for a future expedition.

Zhemchug Canyon has revealed a diverse ecosystem with interesting and complex interrelationships. It’s also a location where large numbers of squid can be found at depth. Read more on David Guggenheim’s OceanDoctor blog.

The Esperanza is carrying two manned submersibles, a remotely-operated vehicle (ROV) and an international research team to the Bering Sea for a three week survey of Zhemchug and Pribilof Canyons,to map and document deepwater corals living at depths of more than 1,000 feet. The expedition was conceived of and is being led by Greenpeace.

Track the Bering Sea Expedition: Esperanza’s Current Location, Weather & Live Webcam