The Best Frogfish Finder

A few months ago, I wrote a blog piece called "The Best Leopard Spotter,"  about Stu Porter, who was my guide on my photographic exploration of South Africa last fall. Now I've been lucky enough to find Stu's underwater equivalent, a young man named Nestor Vidotto.

Nestor is currently the captain of the Caribbean Explorer II, a fine liveaboard dive boat that I've now spent a total of four weeks on over the past few years. On those trips and on others in the Explorer Ventures fleet, I had gotten to know every crew member on last week's voyage except Nestor, who took the helm of the boat a couple of months ago.

I joined old friends from my old dive club in Maryland for this trip, most of whom had also done multiple trips on the CExII. Most of us arrived about the same time from the states. So it was a happy reunion on the dock at Bobby's Marina on St. Martin the day before Bastille Day. Everyone was there but Nestor, who was busy with last minute details on the boat.

I soon met him and learned that in addition to skippering the boat, he was also the engineer for the week, ensuring that engines, generator and air compressor were all working. He somehow did all of that well enough that he was able to don his own dive gear and jump in the water with us numerous times during the week.

It was a good week for little critters

Most liveaboard captains dive, of course, but the ones I've previously met have generally gone off on their own, enjoying a few peaceful moments away from demanding guests and crew. Nestor prefers going right along with the guests and showing them tiny things that are nearly invisible to normal eyes. I concluded that he has microscopes for eyes.

As a photographer who takes his craft pretty seriously, I tend to avoid crowds underwater, and I usually ignore the signals from guides and divemasters. Not because I am as skilled as they are at finding unusual critters, but because the signals draw other divers like sharks to fresh meat. A mob scene usually ensues. There's no room for a camera rig as big and unwieldy as mine. And all those bodies and fins tend to stir up a major sand storm in the vicinity of whatever critter they're trying to see. Not a good way to get a photograph I would want to show other people.

So when Nestor started banging on his tank near the bottom of the mooring line on a dive site off St. Kitts, I glanced that way, saw there was no emergency and carried on looking for things on a small coral head about 50 feet away. Suddenly, I felt something tapping my arm. It was a long screwdriver, which was attached to Nestor's hand -- his pointer to help people see the tiny critters he had  no trouble with. He signaled me to follow him. A little reluctantly, I did so.

A minute later, he was pointing at something just under the edge of a small crevice and looking at me to make sure I saw it. I didn't. Well, I saw something, a little sponge, bright yellow, a pretty color, but not really worth the diversion. But I figured I'd take a photo anyway, and maybe something would show up when I enlarged the image on the computer.

The frogfish yawns

Nestor then wanted to see my photo, so I showed him my perfectly exposed and tack sharp yellow sponge.  He shook his head no and pointed again. I still saw the yellow sponge. He finally reached for my camera and took a photo himself, then showed it to me. It was not a yellow sponge. It was a very red, very clear frogfish. I looked back to the actual scene, and finally I saw it, nestled up against the bottom of the sponge, totally motionless, very much like a little red sponge.  How Nestor spotted it will be an eternal mystery.

I started taking my own photos of the frogfish. The crevice was fairly tight, so I wasn't able to get a variety of angles. Eventually I swam off, keeping an eye on Nestor to see what else he might find, but then saw a lovely golden tail moray and photographed that for a while.

Near the end of the dive, with air and no-deco time running down, I decided to go back and check on the frogfish. It was still there. I took a few more shots, pretty much like all the others. Finally I started backing off, ready to leave him be, when he suddenly opened his mouth wide in a big yawn. And of course he finished before I could get him in my viewfinder again.

But where there's one yawn, there are often more. At least that's how it works with me. I got the camera back in position and glued my eye to the viewfinder. Sure enough, about 30 seconds later, he yawned again, and within another 15 seconds, yet again. That was one sleepy frogfish. I got three good images of the big yawns, and I was ecstatic.

Back on the boat, Nestor told me to stick with him on the next dive and he would show me things nobody has ever seen.

Microscopic echinoderm

Two other divers joined us for this one. We spent the entire dive in the turtle grass right under the boat, while the other divers (all 14 of them) explored the coral reef that was beyond the visibility. I don't know if it's true that nobody has ever seen these critters before, but Nestor did put me on to a nearly microscopic and beautiful echinoderm, a tiny little lancer dragonet, a pygmy filefish that was doing a great imitation of a broken off piece of turtle grass, and a good sized seahorse that was pretending to be a piece of rope sponge, as well as other things so small I never did figure out what they were.

Nestor has spent most of his life chasing little animals around the Caribbean, and divers lucky enough to explore a reef with him have a real treat in store. He is easily the best frogfish (and other little critter) finder I've seen.

One final note: Nestor is not the only eagle-eyed crew member on the CExII. Claire Keeney, a delightful Scottish pixie, found a deluge of tiny white-spotted sea hares drifting over turtle grass, and at the very end of my very last dive, she found a little bumble bee shrimp exploring the exterior of a sea cucumber. And if Lynn Bean hadn't been hobbled with a foot injury, she would have found lots of nudibranchs for me, as she has done before.