It was a moment I will never forget and still can’t quite get over: looking into the eyes of a humpback whale and her calf. The calf seemed curious and swam over its mother to get a better look at me. Then, before my brain could barely process what was happening, the two swam away.
I encountered these whales in October 2023 in the Cook Islands while filming a documentary I hosted and produced about deep sea mining for Scripps News’ “In Real Life” documentary series. This small island nation in the middle of the Pacific may become one of the first countries in the world to start mining the deep sea for critical minerals, such as cobalt. Some entrepreneurs and nations see the bottom of the ocean as the next frontier to exploit for minerals used in vehicle batteries, solar panels, and other technologies vital to the green energy transition. However, scientists and environmentalists warn that we know too little about the deep sea to fully understand the ramifications of these nascent mining technologies. And, as battery technology and mineral recycling programs improve, experts question whether deep sea mining is necessary to combat climate change.
That day, our documentary crew and I were out at sea to go scuba diving with Teina Rongo, a local marine biologist and conservationist, and his team from Kōrero O Te `Ōrau, an organization dedicated to environmental and cultural preservation. Suddenly, we spotted a whale blow on the water’s surface: a humpback whale was swimming in shallow waters not far from shore, accompanied by her calf. I squealed with excitement. Rongo didn’t have to ask twice whether we wanted to try to film them underwater: I scrambled to pull on my mask, snorkel, and fins, and dove in with my heavy underwater camera set-up. My colleague Michelle jumped in behind me with her video camera.
By the time I was in the water, the whales had swum further than I could see, with the underwater visibility at about 15 meters. Rongo and his colleagues pointed in the direction they had gone and I kicked my fins as hard as I could, squinting into the blue-green waters for any sign of the whales, my heart pounding. Then, I saw a large, dark shape emerge from the shadows, and the humpback whale mother and her calf came into view. Their big, round eyes peered at me. A deep sense of awe – and a wave of adrenaline – rushed over me, as I panted from the exertion into my snorkel, and I almost forgot to bring my viewfinder up to my eye.
As a photojournalist, I often have to remain laser-focused on capturing an unfolding scene, while simultaneously processing emotions of shock, disbelief, or even fear as I witness a news event from feet away, such as when I’m covering a protest or conflict. But this time I was almost overwhelmed by the profoundness and privilege of being this close to a massive, beautiful, sentient wild being. I have been an avid scuba diver for 20 years, and photographing underwater for 10, but I had never swam with a whale before. The whales stayed with me for just a few long seconds, allowing me to capture a few frames before they swam away and disappeared again into the blue.
I came back to the boat exhilarated, but I had to get ready for the actual reason we had gone out to sea: to film Kōrero O Te `Ōrau’s efforts to kill crown-of-thorns starfish, a coral-eating species that can be a normal part of the ecosystem. But excess nutrients in the water – usually from pollution caused by human activities like agriculture – can lead crown-of-thorns populations to grow unchecked, destroying entire reefs. Parts of the Cook Islands, like many areas in the Pacific, have been facing outbreaks of crown-of-thorns, which have been consuming reefs at a frightening pace. Coral reefs are vital ecosystems that, despite covering only 0.1% of the seafloor, provide habitat for at least a quarter of all known marine species. According to NOAA, more than half a billion people rely on coral reefs for food, income, and protection from storms and erosion, especially as climate change causes more severe weather. Crown-of-thorns outbreaks are just one of many threats to coral reefs, including warming waters, ocean acidification, pollution, and overfishing.
Rongo drew parallels between the overgrowth of crown-of-thorns and the drive to mine the deep sea: when economic development is prioritized above all else, it often occurs to the detriment of the ecosystems on which we all ultimately rely. To Rongo, a scientist and native Cook Islander, mining the deep sea would pose an existential risk to the ecosystems vital to their livelihoods and culture – and thus violate his people’s sacred duty to protect the ocean.
As a journalist who tells environmental stories through photography and film, it can be challenging to translate issues that are critical to our planet, but feel distant to most audiences. How do you get people to understand the importance of habitats that are thousands of feet below sea level or the mining of materials they might have never heard of? The whales I saw, while not directly related to deep sea mining, served to remind the audience of what’s at stake: the very existence of the beautiful biodiversity that our planet supports.
I believe the current climate and biodiversity crisis is the greatest challenge that humanity has ever faced. I am drawn to telling stories on the environment because we need audiences to understand, care, and crucially, feel empowered rather than hopeless. I had the privilege of seeing these whales myself, and of feeling the deep and visceral sense of wonder and awe that such an encounter with nature can provoke. I see it as my responsibility to transmit that feeling to a wider audience, and I hope that such imagery can help to make viewers understand our connectedness with all living things, and our responsibility to this planet.