Eli Martinez

April 9, 2025

Spring Songbirds of South Padre Island

Eli Martinez

April 9, 2025

*Painted Bunting image captured in 2023. 1/800, f/6.3, ISO 6400*

Chasing Color in the Coastal Wind

April is one of my favorite times to be on South Padre Island, Texas. Although not for the beach crowds or warm breezes, but for the tiny flashes of color darting through the trees and brush.

This is spring migration season, and South Padre becomes a rest stop for some of the most vibrant songbirds you'll see all year.

I try to make it out at least a few times every April. Each visit feels like a treasure hunt—never quite knowing what I’ll find, but always hoping for something wild and unexpected.

*Summer Tanager, 1/1000, f/7.1, ISO 1000*

While I consider myself more of an amateur birder than a pro, I’ve developed a deep appreciation for these seasonal visitors. I may not always remember the names of every species I see, but I absolutely love the challenge of capturing them on camera.

What I love is being out in nature, camera in hand, seeking out birds to photograph—it’s my church; it’s peaceful, unpredictable, and always rewarding in its own way.

And yes, I’m even willing to deal with the mosquitoes that seem to find me no matter where I stand.

On this trip, I was specifically hoping to photograph a painted bunting—a bird so colorful it looks like someone cranked the saturation slider too far. The varied bunting was also on my list, a rare beauty for this area that sometimes makes an appearance this time of year.

Neither showed up for me today.

But that’s part of what keeps this kind of photography exciting—you never really know what the island will offer.

*Indigo Bunting, 1/1250, f/7.1, ISO 1250*

I may not have crossed off my buntings, but I did manage to photograph an indigo bunting—that rich blue plumage never gets old—and a few summer tanagers, with their brilliant red and yellow flashes cutting through the greenery like sparks.

These birds are small, and they move so fast.

Photographing song birds is all about patience, timing, and luck.

*Summer tanager, 1/1000, f/7.1, ISO 1250*

A Few Takeaways

Mornings are best. The light is soft and the birds are more active.
Bring a long lens—300mm minimum, but 500mm+ is even better.
Keep your shutter fast (1/1000 or faster) to freeze motion.
Expect more misses than hits. These birds are quick.
And bring your determination—it helps more than any setting.

I am hoping to return to SPI one more time this month, before I head out to Baja for orcas. Because you never know—maybe that painted bunting will be waiting for me and my camera, perched in the open, on that perfect branch, bathed in perfect light.

And if not, well… I’ll be the one out there again, talking to myself, chasing shadows, and hoping the mosquitoes go easy on me this time.

*Orchard Oriole, 1/1250, f/7.1, ISO 1250*

Eli Martinez

April 4, 2025

Into the Blue Cathedral: Photographing White Sharks at Guadalupe Island

Eli Martinez

April 4, 2025

There are places in the world where nature sets the stage so perfectly, it feels unreal…

Guadalupe Island is one of them.

With some of the clearest visibility on the planet, the waters surrounding this volcanic island off the coast of Mexico offer more than just shark encounters. It offer light, drama, and dimension.

Here, the sun doesn’t just shine—it pierces the ocean, sending down beams of light that dance through the water.

Seeing the light dance is like something out of a dream.

I call them god rays (I didn’t coin the phrase, but I believe it.). When that light break through the surface, it feels less like diving and more like stepping into an underwater cathedral.

But what truly makes this place special isn’t just the light… it’s the subject.

The great white shark, arguably the most iconic predator on the planet, moves through the frame with power, grace, and mystery. And when that movement is wrapped in perfect light?

That’s when photographs stop being documentation and start becoming something else entirely.

Great white shark photography isn’t just about being in the water with them—it’s about knowing how to work with the conditions you're given. And at Guadalupe, the conditions are something special.

Because of the incredible water clarity and the quality of light, you’re able to shoot with more flexibility than in most shark diving locations. On this trip, settings made all the difference.

I shot the majority of my images at 1/250 to 1/320 shutter speed, f/9, and ISO 400.

Normally, when I’m shooting over deep water, I have to crank the ISO up to 800 or even 1000 just to compensate for light loss. But at Guadalupe, the visibility and natural light are so clean that I was able to drop the ISO down to 400—reducing noise and letting the clarity of the water and the detail of the shark speak for themselves.

The f/9 aperture gave me just the right depth of field to keep the shark tack sharp while letting the background light beams fall off softly—keeping that surreal, glowing atmosphere intact.

It’s a reminder that the ocean gives you moments—but it’s your settings that preserve them.

Photographing white sharks at Guadalupe isn’t without its obstacles—and one of the biggest is also the most visible: the cage.

I’ll be honest—I’m not a fan of shooting from cages. But I also understand why they’re necessary. Not to protect divers from the sharks, but to protect the sharks from the divers.

If everyone were allowed to swim freely with great whites, the potential for accidents would skyrocket. Not just from people ignoring safety protocols around an apex predator—but from inexperienced divers with poor buoyancy control, chasing sharks too deep or drifting away from the vessel entirely. It would be chaos. And eventually, something would happen that would ruin it for everyone—and for the sharks most of all.

So the cages stay.

But they do make photography challenging. The surface cages are attached to the dive vessel, and as swells pass through, they rock—sometimes violently. Trying to frame a moving subject while you’re being tossed around isn’t easy. Add in bubbles from other divers, bars in the way, and the fact that you’re sharing the space, and you’ve got to work hard for each shot.

But when it all lines up—the light, the shark, the split second of stillness—it’s magic.

Lessons Learned Beneath the Surface

After all these years, white sharks still teach me something every time I’m in the water with them. Here are a few takeaways from this particular trip to Guadalupe:

1. Be Ready, But Be Still

The action can come out of nowhere, and you have to be ready to shoot—but being calm and still in the water makes you part of the environment. Sharks respond to that. So do the photos.

2. Light Is Your Storyteller

The sharks are always majestic—but it’s the light that tells the story. Waiting for the right moment, when the rays hit just right, can turn a good photo into one that feels holy.

3. Gear Is Only Half the Game

Knowing your camera is important—but so is knowing your environment. Respect the cage. Anticipate the swell. Time your shots between the bounce. The ocean has its rhythm—your job is to learn how to move with it.

Sadly, Guadalupe Island is now closed to tourism indefinitely.

The Mexican government’s decision has left many of us—photographers, divers, conservationists—without access to one of the most important great white shark sanctuaries in the world.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have had the opportunity to photograph these animals here over the years. Every trip gave me something: a deeper appreciation, a better image, a new story to tell. But more than that, it gave me connection—to the ocean, to the sharks, and to the people who came to witness something wild and rare.

My hope is that one day, Guadalupe will open again. Because I truly believe that ecotourism is one of the few things that can protect sharks—especially these sharks.

When the boats stop coming, the oversight stops too. And without that constant presence, this island becomes a target.

A quiet, unguarded place where poachers can slip in, and the very animals we came to celebrate may begin to disappear.

So yes, I hope we do go back.
Not just for the photos.
Not just for the thrill.
But for the sharks, and for our shared future with them.

Until then, I carry these images with me as reminders of what’s possible when wild places are protected… and what’s at stake when they’re not.

Eli Martinez

March 31, 2025

The Last Light at Banco Chinchorro

Eli Martinez

March 31, 2025

A farewell to a crocodile sanctuary unlike any other…

For over seven years, I’ve been leading trips to the remote, wild waters of Banco Chinchorro, Mexico—a place where ancient reptiles glide beneath crystalline shallows and where time seems to pause. I’ve seen a lot out here. Murky days, clear days, quiet crocs, bold crocs. But during our 2020 season, something changed.

This trip… this one was different.

It was, without question, the best crocodile diving expedition we've ever had in Banco Chinchorro. Everything aligned. The light. The action. The water. The energy.

*My best split shot. 1/250, f/11, ISO 200*

Visibility Like I’ve Never Seen Before

The water clarity was unreal—like diving in a swimming pool.

On most trips, we expect to work around pockets of silt or lose clarity when the tides shift. But this time, even when the tide was low and the typical “crappy water” rolled in… it didn’t matter. We still had insane visibility. We could see every ripple, every movement, every scale.

It felt like the ocean had opened up just for us.

We spent two full days diving with the crocs, and the action was non-stop. There were quiet moments, sure—but they were the kind that build tension in the best way.

You knew something was coming. You could feel it.

And then Gambit would appear.

Our star croc. The dream model. The absolute legend.

Gambit has always been the star of this sanctuary, but on this trip, he was pure magic. Calm, curious, photogenic. He gave us photo opportunities I couldn’t have scripted. \

Every photo felt like a gift.

A Photographer’s Dream

It’s rare to have such a wild subject in such perfect conditions. Every element lined up—light piercing the shallows, the patterns of sunlight danced across Gambit’s back, the stillness of the mangroves above. We shot wide, we shot tight, we played with reflections and motion.

The ocean gave us everything.

And sadly a storm was brewing....

We had been hearing rumors that licenses might get pulled. Every year it seemed was a struggle for the operator to get the croc diving permits released.

We had no idea this would be one of the final season’s that croc diving in Banco Chinchorro was allowed.

The End of an Era

Sadly, not long after this trip, the permits that allowed us to dive with crocodiles in this sanctuary were revoked. The sanctuary closed to all in-water activity. The era of swimming with crocs at Banco Chinchorro—at least for now—is over.

No more mornings with coffee and crocs. No more floating eye to eye with ancient reptiles in perfect water.

No more moments like this.

But this trip stays with me. It’s burned into my memory. Not just because of how good it was technically—but because it was the final chapter of something rare and special.

This was the send-off we didn’t know we needed.

And I’m so grateful we were there for it.

Lessons from this trip…

Every expedition teaches you something. But when the location is this special—and it turns out to be the one of the last trips here ever… you hold onto those lessons a little tighter.

Here are a few that stayed with me:

1. Never Take a Wild Place for Granted

We always say it, but this trip drove it home: nothing is guaranteed. Permits can change. Ecosystems can close. Species can vanish. If a place is calling to you… go now.

Document it. Experience it. Respect it.

2. Water Clarity Can Change Everything

Great wildlife photography isn’t just about the subject, it’s about the conditions. And on this trip, the visibility was a reminder that even one variable, like clearer water can elevate every image.

Sometimes you just have to keep showing up until all the elements click.

3. The Best Animal Encounters Happen When You’re Present, Not Just Shooting

With Gambit, it wasn’t just the images, it was the interaction. Being still, being open, watching his behavior… that’s when the best moments happened.

Sometimes the best shot comes after you lower the camera for a moment… and just soak it all in.