Blue Planet UK featured my latest filming adventure – wild herring spawn – on Friday 29^th March. You can watch the 6-min film on iPlayer (starting at 28mins 17secs) or a shortened trailer here.

The adventure began last year, when Keltic Seafare’s scallop divers found maerl seabed off Gairloch covered in a massive mat of tiny herring eggs. Even the scallops were laden with eggs. Alasdair Hughson of Keltic Seafare sent me the photos that triggered this project.

Traditionally west coast herring spawned in Spring off Gairloch, but they were last seen in the 1970s when the herring fishery collapsed. Some of the older local fishermen could remember fishing for them, but for the most part knowledge had been lost in the mists of time. We were starting with very little information and lots of nagging questions. Do they spawn during the day or at night? Do they only spawn in calm weather as claimed by some fishermen? Which predators would turn up? What tell-tale events help you find them? Do they congregate in the loch before moving to the spawning ground? So many questions, lots of hearsay, but no way to know the facts.

In early March I drove 10 hours north to Gairloch, to join devoted fish biologist Peter Cunningham of Wester Ross Fisheries Trust. Peter has been studying herring movements for ten years and with his advice and expertise to guide us, we would try and film the arrival of the herring. Bill Whyte generously offered his boat and skippering skills. We had good weather for the first few dives, but we were early and couldn’t find a single herring or any sign of seabird feeding.

I realised this was not going to be a quick project and I would have to hang around for the fish and weather to align. It felt like a 50:50 chance of getting the story. Accommodation pressure and cost was relieved by the generosity of David and Patricia Sturrock, who allowed me and ever-helpful diving photographer George Brown to stay in their converted croft, Cairns Cottage.

A weather system of rolling storms set in, making progress difficult. Bill had commitments elsewhere, so we were without a boat until Peter spoke to Noel Hawkins of the Scottish Wildlife Trust, who introduced John MacKenzie of Wester Ross Adventures, a new snorkelling business run from a lovely 26-foot Sea Osprey boat, K2.

On day 7 the weather came good for half a day. John, Peter, and Noel dropped me into a huge shoal of herring on two consecutive dives. On the echo sounder, the shoal filled the water between the seabed at 24m up to 10m below the boat. The fish were moving around pre-spawning, avoiding the seals and gannets. It was an amazing sight to be surrounded by so many fish, an enormous shoal of herring so dense that it blocked out the sun. A total eclipse made of herring!

We dived again that night, hoping for spawning, but the fish were still moving around and swam away so quickly I didn’t get a chance to film them.

It wasn’t until day 12 that another weather window briefly opened. Just a morning of light winds between two storms, but sea conditions settled rapidly and allowed us to get out at 6:30am. The ever-vigilant Peter spotted gannet and seal activity off Red Point and John’s echo sounder showed that the fish had spread out on the bottom and were within a metre of the seabed in a depth of 18m.

I dropped down with my camera into milky blue water that changed into a thick soup of sandy-coloured mirk near the seabed. It was almost dark as I swam along with my video light cutting through the fog. At regular intervals I disturbed spawning herring, their silver bodies scattering before me. The mirk was herring milt, and the seabed was covered with sticky eggs, like a thick mat left by a recent hailstorm, smothering the maerl.

I could hear explosions above me and realised it was the noise of gannets breaking the water surface at high speed. On my way back to the surface I was joined by an inquisitive gannet who swam up to me and stared straight into the camera.

I would have loved to spend more time with the herring but the next storm was gathering and we had to find shelter. That afternoon, I followed the progress of spawning from the cliff top. Diving gannets showed the position of the shoal. We didn’t know if the fish would spawn in rough weather, but they did. The patch of water above the spawning fish turned turquoise where the light was reflected back to the surface by the milty water.

A dreadful forecast sent me home for a week to return for the next weather window. Again, it only lasted for half a day and it seemed like madness driving for 20 hours for such a fleeting moment, but I managed two dives on the egg mat where I filmed in both macro and wide to capture the whole story. My reward was thousands of tiny herring eyes looking back at me as I filmed. Another amazing spectacle of nature, and the project was complete!

Our shared hope now is that the publicity from this project will lead to official recognition of this herring spawning ground and ensure that it is fully protected all year around. We believe it is the maerl habitat that west coast herring prefer for their eggs. Maerl is so delicate in its structure, and so slow growing, that bottom trawlers must be kept away from this habitat at all costs, to ensure the continued recovery of herring.

Herring are such an important part of the marine food chain. They are predated by almost every other marine species, at different stages of their life cycle: sandeels, the cod family, seals, seabirds, humans, cetaceans. If we learn from the over-fishing mistakes of the past, a healthy and robust population of herring could become the keystone for wildlife recovery off the west coast of Scotland.

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This project would have been impossible without the support of Gairloch’s local heroes. Heartfelt thanks to you all:

The indomitable Peter Cunningham, a devoted expert and wise guide. His enthusiasm and depth of knowledge is incredible. He’s been running a herring project for 10 years and none of this would have possible without Peter. He rallied local people and resources, filmed a lot of the boat shots, and so is now a Blue Planet UK cameraman on top of everything else he does (scientist, naturalist, artist, TV and radio star, McGandalf…)!

Our wonderful skippers John MacKenzie (weeks 2 and 3) Wester Ross Sea Adventures and Bill Whyte (week 1) generously offered their boats and skippering skills to match infrequent, ever-moving weather windows. Their enthusiasm and boating skills got us exactly where we needed to be.

The Wester Ross Fisheries Trust got fully behind the project, freed Peter to focus on the herring spawn, and contributed towards project costs.

David and Patricia Sturrock generously provided Cairns Cottage, their lovely self-catering converted croft in Port Henderson, for three weeks for a peppercorn rent. This enabled us to stick out the rough weather and film magical moments sandwiched between storms. Patricia’s expertise as a marine biologist also helped us access scientific papers and check our facts.

Photographer and fellow diver George Brown of Inverness Sub Aqua Club brought his wonderful company, impressive marine knowledge, and compressor for air fills.

Director of Keltic Seafare Alasdair Hughson sent me the photos of herring eggs on the seabed, with positional information, that kick-started the filming project. He also provided additional air fills for diving.

Noel Hawkins of the Scottish Wildlife Trust helped us access people and resources essential to the project – and became a Blue Planet UK cameraman along the way!

Gairloch harbourmaster Len Campbell helped us sort berthing and kept us up to date on the latest herring reports from local fishermen, especially Jody McNeil, skipper of Harvest Moon.

Sincere thanks to all of you. Your generous support, expertise, encouragement and friendship have been the fishbones at the centre of this project.

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Words by Andy and Jackie.

Diving out of Kinlochbervie last week, I had hoped to get to exciting, remote sites like Handa Island and Cape Wrath but the weather confined us to the shelter of Loch Inchard. My disappointment turned to gladness with two magical and unexpected dives in the company of Curled Octopus – Eledone cirrhosa.

Usually these animals are wary and jet off at high speed, not to be seen again. But these two animals stayed 20 minutes each, giving me a glimpse into their world. The first octopus was the most interesting and mobile. He had been through the wars as he’d lost two legs. I named him Harry the Hexopus (cousin of Disney’s Hank the Septopus – the seven-legged star of Finding Dory). Harry treated me to an eight-minute tour of his garden.

I don’t usually leave long clips uncut, but I played this back in the bunkhouse and everyone was glued to the screen. I hope it’s interesting for others too.

With thanks to Mike Bramham and the Highland Divers team for a great dive trip on Andy Holbrow’s boat, The Lady Nicola.

It’s bad enough that Scottish inshore waters are open to destructive fishing methods, or that salmon farms propose expansions when they have a shocking record of polluting our waters with waste and chemicals, infesting wild salmon with lice, causing distress to cetaceans with acoustic deterrent devices, and shooting seals. This is a long enough list of things to fight against, but here comes another one…

A company called Marine Biopolymers propose to harvest 30,000 tonnes of kelp annually from Scottish waters. Adapted trawlers with large-toothed grabs could be allowed to plough their way through our kelp forests, destroying hundreds of square miles of seabed habitat, making casualties of the animals who live on kelp.

Kelp grows mostly on rocky reefs close to shore where old-style dredgers and trawlers could not tow their gear without damaging or losing it. This rich habitat escaped man’s industrial fishing methods until now. It has previously been fished by traditional and sustainable methods like creeling that do very little damage. As such it is probably one of the few places of sanctuary left for marine animals.

I have dipped into SubSeaTV’s archive and assembled a sequence of video clips to show how precious our kelp forests are. This is a work in progress and I will be spending more time in the kelp to film the lives of animals that call the kelp forest home.

I’m supporting local people that are passionately opposed to these plans, like Ailsa McLellan who is licensed to hand cut kelp in a sustainable manner. Check out her Facebook page and if you want to help please sign and share her petition.

Back in July, I spent nine hours diving at Studland Bay looking for seahorses – without any success. Conditions were perfect. The shallow bay was flat calm and the sun shone through clear water. Part of the time I was joined by seahorse guru Steve Trewhella but even he couldn’t find the elusive animal.

As it happened, they turned up in Devon and I moved on to have very successful seahorse filming time there.

My dives at Studland were still rewarding. I picked up lovely footage of the habitat in beautiful conditions and was joined by a spectacular school of bass; they make me think of a ghost fish, the way they appear from nowhere and slide almost invisibly through the sun beams. But I am left wondering why seahorses are so scarce at Studland when it used to be a breeding stronghold for them. Seahorse numbers peaked in 2010 but that is also when the greatest effort was put in to record them. Diver survey hours are nothing like they were then. New regulations introduced to protect seahorses have put divers off looking for them and made some fearful of reporting chance encounters.

In July, Steve thought the season might be late starting as juvenile animals like black bream, red mullet, cuttlefish and sticklebacks were also absent. Studland had seen a cold spring and, despite the fantastic start to summer, the water was slower to warm than usual. Recent dives have shown that this was part of the story – Steve told me the other juveniles have now arrived, but still no seahorses.

It’s easy to blame boat anchors and mooring chains – there is no question they damage the habitat – but it’s hard to know if this is the only reason for seahorse decline at Studland. There must be other factors at play, but I don’t know what, and it appears no one else does either. I’m not aware of any scientific projects trying to find out. (Please do get in touch if you know of any projects in progress or in the pipeline.)

I so hope these beautiful and rare animals begin to return to breed at Studland next year.

 

Three weeks ago, I got the call I’d been waiting for. Fellow diver, friend, and photographer Terry Griffiths had found a pair of seahorses in South Devon. They have been recorded there before, but infrequently. I’ve been filming UK seahorses for five years, under licence from the Marine Management Organisation (MMO). The story of seahorses in Studland Bay has been one of tragic decline. Could things be looking up at last?

I dived the site and found a heavily pregnant male close to giving birth, so I dived back to back during daylight hours for the next seven days. On day two, the female returned and thereafter was usually within five metres of her mate. It’s an incredible sight when they meet – they perform a little dance and entwine their tails.

During the week I filmed them, the animals spent a lot of time feeding. As the days passed, the male seemed to get more and more uncomfortable, often writhing around in what appeared to be labour pains.

His babies were born at night. Sadly, I wasn’t there with my camera. The following day, his pouch was slack and the female had moved in very close. They spent the whole day together in the same clump of Sea Oak.

Seahorses usually mate again shortly after the brood is released from the male’s pouch. The female deposits new eggs and he carries them to full gestation.

Next morning, the male was clearly ready to mate again but his advances were rejected. Later that afternoon, the female was more interested, and as darkness began to fall, I filmed the amazing spectacle of their mating dance, where they swim up the water column and bump bellies.

Next day, the male was alone again, carrying a full pouch. The cycle had begun once more.

I don’t believe any of this behaviour has been filmed in the UK before. I feel extremely lucky to have witnessed these extraordinary events, but also to have filmed them under licence, which means I can share them with you. I’ve attached a snippet (6 seconds) from their greeting dance to give you a sense of diving with these wonderful, sensitive animals. I hope to be able to show you the whole story on your TV screens before too long.

If you plan to dive in South Devon, please remember these animals are protected by law. Seahorses can be very difficult to spot, so try to avoid disturbing the seabed. You may be sitting on a seahorse!

Special thanks to Terry Griffiths for all his help, and to Steve Trewhella and Julie Hatcher for all their expertise and guidance.