Latest news with #scubadiving
The Guardian
6 hours ago
- The Guardian
Diving for the disappeared: the dangerous underwater hunt for Colombia's missing
As scuba diver Pedro Albarracín scours the muddy seabed surrounding Skull Island, opposite the Colombian port city of Buenaventura, he invokes the protection of Yemayá, goddess of the seas, and Oshun, goddess of the rivers – deities of the Yoruba faith. The dark waters of the San Antonio estuary around him are believed to conceal the bodies of at least 190 people disappeared during Colombia's long and violent armed conflict, a struggle that gave the islet its morbid name. Before his dive, religious leaders bless Albarracín, imbuing him with spiritual protection, and remind him to call on the goddesses for guidance and safety in his search for human remains. 'This support from the religious leaders is very important to us,' says Albarracín. 'Feeling that they are supporting you and using their ancestral practices to provide you with that protection feeds your confidence. The heart that they put into the mission permeates you and gives you a little bit more courage.' The dives, which took place late last year, were part of an unprecedented exercise in Colombia. The operation marked the first time that an official, state-backed search had taken place along Buenaventura's San Antonio estuary, with the active involvement of the community. With a remarkable combination of sonar technology, rigorous forensic investigations, and anthropological work with guidance from religious leaders, local fishers and piangüeras – mangrove shellfish gatherers – the government's Search Unit for Persons Reported Missing (UBPD) aims to recover those who disappeared, as well as provide some healing to victims and the community. Buenaventura, a port city on Colombia's Pacific coast, has long been scarred by paramilitary violence. According to the UBPD, at least 940 people are considered to have disappeared in the area. The figure could be much higher. Colombia's National Movement of Victims of State Crimes believes the number of those disappeared in Buenaventura to be more than 1,300. The UBPD's search along the San Antonio estuary focused on victims who disappeared between 1989 and 2016, when the conflict officially ended, after a peace deal was signed between the Colombian government and members of the Farc rebel group. 'This [search] had not been possible before because the security conditions did not allow for it,' says María Victoria Rodríguez, the UBPD coordinator who led the operation. 'We knew what the difficulties were, that the tides wouldn't help us, that the possibility of finding something here was very complex, but it had to be done.' Most of those missing are believed to be victims of armed groups, whose methods were brutal. They reportedly dismembered victims and placed them in steel drums full of cement before dumping them in the murky waters of the estuary. They would also allegedly tie victims to the low roots of the web of mangroves that lie along the coast, and let the strong tides and wildlife do the rest. The effort in the San Antonio estuary is part of a larger push by the UBPD to locate Colombia's disappeared – a herculean task in a country where more than 120,000 people are believed to have gone missing during the armed conflict. Since beginning operations in 2018, the UBPD has recovered 2,490 bodies, with 1,239 recovered in 2024 alone. The involvement of local communities challenges the silence that for decades cloaked Buenaventura's disappearances. Many families never reported missing relatives, fearing retaliation or simply not believing the state would act. During the search, a dive team equipped with high-powered 11,000-lumen lamps to penetrate the dark waters combed the estuary, while leaders of the fishing community helped them navigate the tides. 'It is one of the most dangerous dives I have ever done and one of the most intense searches I have ever undertaken,' says Albarracín, who searched a 20-metre radius surrounding each designated point of interest. In parallel, another team ventured on to the marshy low-tide terrain, where the piangüeras – renowned for their skill in navigating the mud-bound mangroves while harvesting molluscs – combed through seven designated search corridors in the mud. There, the UBPD team quickly realised that their standard kit was useless, as the muddy terrain made heavy equipment redundant and rendered investigators and anthropologists unfamiliar with the landscape virtually immobile. Rodríguez says: 'There was no other element that we could use in this field other than the piangüeras' hands. This knowledge that isn't in textbooks, and that we ourselves don't have, allowed us to minimise errors.' Before the searches began, religious leaders carried out a spiritual reconciliation ceremony to ask the estuary for forgiveness – a symbolic act to acknowledge the pain it had absorbed as a site of body disposal. An altar was built at the UBPD's office in Buenaventura, where religious leaders remained throughout the mission, reading messages and interpreting signs, including changes in the weather, believed to be communications from their gods. Before venturing into the waters, the teams were harmonised – the UBPD scientists as well as community members who would be entering the estuary. Each received a small protective bracelet, meant to accompany them throughout their fieldwork. The waters surrounding Buenaventura are murky and dark, subject to strong currents and shifting tides. They are also heavily contaminated by the city's busy port as well as by the surrounding stilt communities, which often use the waterways to dispose of waste. As a result, no remains were found in the San Antonio estuary over the 17-day search. Since then, scuba diving efforts have been on hold. The project's future is in the hands of the Special Jurisdiction for Peace, a judicial body set up to address the legacy of the armed conflict. For the UBPD and the broader community of Buenaventura, such efforts are pivotal. 'These communities have their own spiritual relationship with the physical body,' says Adriel Ruiz, head of the Corporación Memoria y Paz, a local NGO that works alongside victims of the conflict in Buenaventura. 'Once someone disappears, it breaks these psycho-spiritual and religious dynamics and generates a social deterioration, a collective damage. Finding them is key for the community.'
Telegraph
14-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Rachel Riley being eaten by a shark won't help ocean conservation
Imagine that you are scared of water, to the point where you haven't gone into the sea past your knees for 20 years. You have two children, and you'd like to swim with them on holiday. Do you a) sign up for swimming lessons at your local pool, or b) sign up for an ITV reality show in which you have to scuba dive with sharks? Shark! Celebrity Infested Waters (ITV1) is a reasonably entertaining watch, mostly because Amandaland actress Lucy Punch is in it, but the funniest thing about it is the way it pretends to be a programme about shark conservation. My concern for the world's shark populations is not going to be affected by whether or not they eat Rachel Riley from Countdown. Let's get real. The celebrities agreed to this because their agent told them they could have a lovely holiday in the Bahamas. Well, six of these celebrities have a great time: Punch, Riley, Lenny Henry, Ross Noble, Ade Adepitan and Dougie Poynter. The seventh is Helen George. The Call the Midwife actress is the one with a phobia of the sea, and either she wasn't listening when her agent explained the concept of this show or her agent sold her a doozy, because George seems to have fundamentally misunderstood the assignment. 'I genuinely thought we'd only meet sharks once in this experience,' she says, while the others look at her with pity. She has just been told, on day one, that she will be cage-diving with bull sharks. In a nice touch, the team of experts guiding them through this experience includes an Australian who only has one arm because the other one was bitten off by a bull shark in Sydney Harbour. He now dedicates his time to promoting shark conservation 'because the real danger is not an ocean with sharks, it's an ocean without them'. He doesn't expand on this, and nor does another expert who says that bull sharks are vital because they 'take care of sick animals' in the ocean, and you might expect a bit more from a programme about shark conservation. Instead, there are lots of jokes, mostly supplied by Punch and Henry. 'What am I most scared of? Well, I'm scared of a shark attack, obviously,' says Punch. 'They are savage tubes of teeth.' She is paired with Henry during the cage dive, and they're in good spirits throughout. Henry says: 'This is the realest thing I've ever seen, and I've done panto in Lewisham.' It does look frightening, even with metal bars between the humans and the sharks. George is paired with one of the experts, who thinks that the best way to calm her nerves is to say: 'Helen, you are surrounded 360 degrees by sharks! This one is MASSIVE!' The poor woman has a panic attack, and you don't blame her. It's uncomfortable to watch, but then again, she could have stayed at home.
Yahoo
14-07-2025
- Yahoo
I've Been Planning Trips to Fiji for Decades—These are the Best Islands for Every Type of Traveler
Fiji may bring to mind a singular image of swaying palms, vibrant coral reefs, and turquoise lagoons, but it's far from a one-size-fits-all destination. Whether you're seeking a romantic getaway or family-friendly fun, scuba diving or cultural connection, there's an island in this region for you. The best part? There are wonderful hotels in this area, most of which have their own private charters, helicopters, or sea planes that make it easy to reach them once you land on one of the two main islands, Viti Levu and Vanua Levu. There are more than 300 islands in the Fiji archipelago, so it can seem daunting to pick one—but it doesn't have to be. I've gathered more than two decades of experience curating bespoke trips to Fiji, and these are my top picks for every type of traveler. Don't miss Como Laucala Island, an island hideaway in a league of its own. The property, which guests can access via private aircraft or the resort's own fleet, spans just under 3,000 acres and has 25 residences with panoramic views, private pools, and exceptional personalized service. Guests can also expect farm-to-table dining, indulgent spa rituals, and an impressive collection of experiences, including golf, horseback riding, mountain biking, and a full range of water sports. For an ultra-exclusive experience, look toward Vatuvara Private Islands Resort, located on the 800-acre Kaibu Island, and Dolphin Island, a secluded 14-acre island just north of Viti Levu, Fiji's largest island. Catering to just six and eight guests respectively, these are the places to enjoy a totally private tropical escape with family or friends. Whether you're traveling with toddlers, teens, grandparents, or all of the above, Kokomo Private Island—just an hour-long air transfer from Nadi International Airport on Kokomo's own aircraft—has something for guests of all ages. The island's three-to-six bedroom residences, each equipped with their own private swimming pool, are ideal for multigenerational family vacations. Active travelers can swim with manta rays, scuba dive in the Great Astrolabe Reef, or participate in hands-on coral restoration. For a moment of relaxation, try sunrise yoga, sunset cocktails, or a tailored treatment at their spa. And for the youngest guests, Kokomo also has a Kids Club, Teens Club, and complimentary nanny services. Those looking for an adults-only, intimate island experience should consider the recently reimagined Royal Davui resort, a tiny island south of Viti Levu. In the fall of 2024, the property underwent an extensive multi-million dollar refurbishment in honor of its 20th anniversary, which saw the addition of private plunge pools and modern furniture to the 16 villas. Other options include tranquil Tokoriki Island—often a winner in T+L's annual World's Best Awards—with its thatch-roofed villas, and Likuliku Lagoon Resort. The latter has dreamy overwater bungalows, its own private island that couples can picnic on, and the Likuliku Lagoon, where guests can reserve custom experiences. In the western Mamanuca Islands, Six Senses Fiji offers surfing lessons for every level—and it's just minutes away from Cloudbreak, a reef pass often recognized as one of the most challenging surf breaks in the world. For some post-surf relaxation and restoration, guests can enjoy spa treatments like heated massages using lava shells, tailored wellness packages, and daily yoga sessions. Scuba divers, on the other hand, will appreciate Jean-Michel Cousteau Resort's easy access to Namena Marine reserve—the largest no-take coral reserve in Fiji—and Royal Davui Island Resort's proximity to Beqa Lagoon, where thrill-seekers can dive with sharks. Other luxury Fiji resorts, including Como Laucala Island and Vomo Island, also give individuals the chance to take dive courses and receive certifications. There are no tennis courts or televisions on Turtle Island, a family-owned resort in the Yasawa Group archipelago that perfectly defines barefoot, laidback luxury. Here, guests have the chance to participate in and witness local traditions, including ceremonies highlighting Fiji's national drink, kava; feasts prepared in a lovo, a traditional underground oven; and meke, a communal folk dance used to tell stories through song. Perhaps the best way to experience all that Fiji has to offer is by superyacht charter. This way, you'll have a tailored itinerary, providing the freedom to explore several Fijian islands—including some of the most remote and pristine corners of this idyllic archipelago. Aboard luxury ships like the Rua Moana and the Sea Eagle, travelers can dine on chef-prepared meals, have movie nights on the deck, and take part in water sports while discovering a more hidden side of Fiji, from the Sawa-i-Lau limestone caves to the lush rainforests of Taveuni. Sarah Farag is a member of Travel + Leisure's A-List and specializes in New Zealand and Fiji trips. You can create a tailor-made itinerary with Farag by contacting her at sarah@ Read the original article on Travel & Leisure
The Guardian
12-07-2025
- General
- The Guardian
One wrong move could be fatal: the divers risking their lives to save whales from ‘ghost nets'
After a day of scuba diving, Luis Antonio 'Toño' Lloreda was exhausted. Then a friend brought urgent news. 'Toño, man, there's a whale caught in a net out there.' Lloreda, 43, had freed other, smaller wildlife from fishing nets but this would be his first marine animal of such size. The four to five metres-long juvenile humpback, accompanied by its mother, had a net studded with hooks wrapped around its fin and mouth. One wrong move could have been fatal for Lloreda or the whale. 'To connect with the whale, I used what we call intuitive interspecies communication,' says Lloreda, explaining that this involves non-verbal, energetic communication. 'I asked the mother for permission – energetically,' he says. 'At first, she didn't want our help. But when I showed her we meant no harm, she let us in. Luis Antonio 'Toño' Lloreda holds a photo of the whale he freed from a fishing net 'She positioned herself below us. Then I asked the calf. When the calf became very still, I reached into her mouth and removed the net.' The mother and calf swam for 50 metres before pausing to rest. Lloreda is one of nine Guardianes del Mar (Guardians of the Sea), a grassroots African-Colombian collective from six coastal communities around Colombia's Gulf of Tribugá, a biodiversity hotspot on the Pacific coast that spans 600,000 hectares of ocean, forest and mangroves. The region, where dense Chocó rainforest meets the ocean, is a Unesco biosphere reserve and is designated a 'hope spot' by the non-profit organisation Mission Blue for its ecological significance. From left: Guardians of the sea Lloreda, Benjamin Gonzales, Camilo Morante, Neyi Ibargüen and Diego Scuba diving is crucial for identifying and removing ghost fishing gear – lost or abandoned commercial nets made mostly of near-indestructible plastics – but it is prohibitively expensive. With sponsorship from Ecomares and Conservation International, Lloreda and his colleagues have trained not only in diving, but in removing fishing gear from coral with quick, precise and safe techniques. Many guardians double as coral gardeners and reef surveyors, collecting data for both their communities and scientific partners. Three, including Lloreda, are trained to free marine animals. The guardians also act as coral gardeners and reef surveyors According to WWF, 50,000 tonnes of fishing gear are lost or abandoned in the oceans globally each year. These 'ghost nets' drift across borders, ensnaring coral, turtles, sharks – and whales. In the Gulf of Tribugá alone, Guardianes del Mar estimates that 3-4 humpback whales become entangled each year. Since its formal launch in 2023, the group says it has removed more than 120kg of ghost gear – 700kg if you include efforts since 2017. Learning to dive has been essential to the community's efforts to protect their environment, says Neyi Ibargüen, 32, the gulf's first certified female diver. 'Wherever ghost gear lands becomes a cemetery. But we can't save what we can't see.' Guardianes del Mar is working to certify more local divers so they can have a greater impact. But it faces mounting logistical and financial hurdles. Morante, scissors in hand, removes fishing rope from the coral 'We used to send the nets to Buenaventura for recycling, but fuel costs are too high,' says Benjamin Gonzales, 53, one of the senior guardians. There are no roads – the communities are connected mainly by boat – so any rubbish or recycling must be transported out by boat or plane. Today, the nets are repurposed into bracelets and sold in Germany and locally in Nuquí, the main coastal municipality. Lead weights are melted down into new dive weights for the local shop, run by Guardianes del Mar advocate Liliana Arango. The spirit of mutual care between people and nature runs deep in Tribugá, where the population numbers about 7,000. African-Colombian communities here are descended from formerly enslaved people who escaped Spanish rule and crossed the jungle to reach the coast. They were welcomed by the Indigenous Emberá, and today co-govern the region through a state-recognised model of local autonomy. A recently recovered net is loaded with weights, which can be melted down into new dive weights This community-led stewardship not only helps tackle ghost nets but was crucial in defeating plans to build a deepwater port in Tribugá – a development that would have brought roads, industry and irreversible damage to the area. 'We saw how the port in Buenaventura changed everything – more violence, displacement, pollution. We didn't want that here,' says Camilo Morante, 25, the youngest guardian and the group's legal representative. Buenaventura, 200km south of the Gulf of Tribugá, became Colombia's largest Pacific port after privatisation in the 1990s. Promises of development never materialised. Instead, crime and poverty surged, prompting mass protests in 2017 and 2021. Morante knows the strength of everyone working together and how much it has helped the guardians. 'Everyone in this community fishes, so we can't tell anyone to stop using nets,' he says. 'The most important thing is that we raise consciousness locally so that we understand the consequences of our actions. With one end tethered to the boat in the distance, Morante has the task of rolling up the massive net
The Guardian
11-07-2025
- General
- The Guardian
One wrong move could be fatal: the divers risking their lives to save whales from ‘ghost nets'
After a day of scuba diving, Luis Antonio 'Toño' Lloreda was exhausted. Then a friend brought urgent news. 'Toño, man, there's a whale caught in a net out there.' Lloreda, 43, had freed other, smaller wildlife from fishing nets but this would be his first marine animal of such size. The four to five metres-long juvenile humpback, accompanied by its mother, had a net studded with hooks wrapped around its fin and mouth. One wrong move could have been fatal for Lloreda or the whale. 'To connect with the whale, I used what we call intuitive interspecies communication,' says Lloreda, explaining that this involves non-verbal, energetic communication. 'I asked the mother for permission – energetically,' he says. 'At first, she didn't want our help. But when I showed her we meant no harm, she let us in. Luis Antonio 'Toño' Lloreda holds a photo of the whale he freed from a fishing net 'She positioned herself below us. Then I asked the calf. When the calf became very still, I reached into her mouth and removed the net.' The mother and calf swam for 50 metres before pausing to rest. Lloreda is one of nine Guardianes del Mar (Guardians of the Sea), a grassroots African-Colombian collective from six coastal communities around Colombia's Gulf of Tribugá, a biodiversity hotspot on the Pacific coast that spans 600,000 hectares of ocean, forest and mangroves. The region, where dense Chocó rainforest meets the ocean, is a Unesco biosphere reserve and is designated a 'hope spot' by the non-profit organisation Mission Blue for its ecological significance. From left: Guardians of the sea Lloreda, Benjamin Gonzales, Camilo Morante, Neyi Ibargüen and Diego Scuba diving is crucial for identifying and removing ghost fishing gear – lost or abandoned commercial nets made mostly of near-indestructible plastics – but it is prohibitively expensive. With sponsorship from Ecomares and Conservation International, Lloreda and his colleagues have trained not only in diving, but in removing fishing gear from coral with quick, precise and safe techniques. Many guardians double as coral gardeners and reef surveyors, collecting data for both their communities and scientific partners. Three, including Lloreda, are trained to free marine animals. The guardians also act as coral gardeners and reef surveyors According to WWF, 50,000 tonnes of fishing gear are lost or abandoned in the oceans globally each year. These 'ghost nets' drift across borders, ensnaring coral, turtles, sharks – and whales. In the Gulf of Tribugá alone, Guardianes del Mar estimates that 3-4 humpback whales become entangled each year. Since its formal launch in 2023, the group says it has removed more than 120kg of ghost gear – 700kg if you include efforts since 2017. Learning to dive has been essential to the community's efforts to protect their environment, says Neyi Ibargüen, 32, the gulf's first certified female diver. 'Wherever ghost gear lands becomes a cemetery. But we can't save what we can't see.' Guardianes del Mar is working to certify more local divers so they can have a greater impact. But it faces mounting logistical and financial hurdles. Morante, scissors in hand, removes fishing rope from the coral 'We used to send the nets to Buenaventura for recycling, but fuel costs are too high,' says Benjamin Gonzales, 53, one of the senior guardians. There are no roads – the communities are connected mainly by boat – so any rubbish or recycling must be transported out by boat or plane. Today, the nets are repurposed into bracelets and sold in Germany and locally in Nuquí, the main coastal municipality. Lead weights are melted down into new dive weights for the local shop, run by Guardianes del Mar advocate Liliana Arango. The spirit of mutual care between people and nature runs deep in Tribugá, where the population numbers about 7,000. African-Colombian communities here are descended from formerly enslaved people who escaped Spanish rule and crossed the jungle to reach the coast. They were welcomed by the Indigenous Emberá, and today co-govern the region through a state-recognised model of local autonomy. A recently recovered net is loaded with weights, which can be melted down into new dive weights This community-led stewardship not only helps tackle ghost nets but was crucial in defeating plans to build a deepwater port in Tribugá – a development that would have brought roads, industry and irreversible damage to the area. 'We saw how the port in Buenaventura changed everything – more violence, displacement, pollution. We didn't want that here,' says Camilo Morante, 25, the youngest guardian and the group's legal representative. Buenaventura, 200km south of the Gulf of Tribugá, became Colombia's largest Pacific port after privatisation in the 1990s. Promises of development never materialised. Instead, crime and poverty surged, prompting mass protests in 2017 and 2021. Morante knows the strength of everyone working together and how much it has helped the guardians. 'Everyone in this community fishes, so we can't tell anyone to stop using nets,' he says. 'The most important thing is that we raise consciousness locally so that we understand the consequences of our actions. With one end tethered to the boat in the distance, Morante has the task of rolling up the massive net
