Over / Under Photography

Grey whale off Baja, MX. Difficult split shot to get, but got lucky with this one image of the grey whale asking for a face rub off Mag Bay, MX.

Over / under photographs, also called split shots, are some of the most compelling images in ocean photography. 

They show two worlds at once: the one below, and the one we know.

When they work, they feel magical.

But they are also one of the most frustrating images to pull off consistently.

I’m not the authority on over / under photography. There are photographers who have dedicated their entire careers to mastering this style. 

What I do have, though, is enough time in the water, and enough failed attempts, to share what I’ve learned the hard way.

If you’re struggling with split shots, you’re not alone.

Let’s start with the biggest truth upfront:

Dome port size is everything.

The larger the dome, the easier it is to displace water away from the lens and create a clean, stable waterline across the frame. 

This directly affects sharpness, composition, and how forgiving the shot is when conditions aren’t perfect.

Flat calm seas allowed me to attempt this split shot of a blue shark off Cabo San Lucas, MX. the seas were perfect, and I got lucky with this one shot. I shot many many images to try and capture one that I was happy with.

The Reality:

• 10-inch (or larger) dome ports

• Best option for consistent over / under shots

• More forgiving with water movement

• Easier to keep both halves sharp

• 6-8 inch dome ports

• Technically possible

• Extremely unforgiving

• Requires near-perfect conditions and a lot of luck

My friend Nathan Meadows attempting a split shot of a Southern Giant Petrel.

I’ve managed a very small number of successful split shots using a 6-inch dome port, but I am the first to admit, it’s the worst tool for this job. 

The smaller dome simply doesn’t displace enough water, which means the waterline constantly creeps up into the lens.

If you want consistent results, a larger dome port isn’t optional, it’s necessary.

Can you shoot over / under photos with natural light?

Yes, but only under the right conditions.

Natural light split shots work best when:

• The sun is high

• The water is calm

• The subject is close to the surface

• You don’t need much underwater detail

An example of natural light split shot… dark water conditions, forcing me to up my ISO causing a blown out sky.

The challenge with natural light is exposure balance.

You’re trying to expose a bright sky above water, and a much darker subject below water.

That’s a massive dynamic range.

This is where strobes or video lights become incredibly important.

Underwater lighting allows you to properly expose the underwater subject, while keeping your ISO lower, and avoid blowing out the sky above water.

Without lights, photographers often raise ISO to brighten the underwater scene.

The result?

• Grainy water

• Blown highlights in the sky

• Loss of detail above the waterline

Over/under of a diving brown pelican.

By lighting the underwater subject instead, you can:

• Keep ISO down

• Preserve sky detail

• Maintain cleaner images overall

This is especially important when shooting animals or people beneath the surface.

Over / under images demand depth of field.

You’re asking one frame to hold focus, inches from the dome port underwater, and potentially miles into the distance above water

For that reason, I typically shoot split shots between f/15 and f/22.

Yes, this means:

• Less light reaching the sensor

• More demand on strobes or video lights

• Higher technical difficulty

But the payoff is worth it. Smaller apertures help keep both halves of the image decently sharp, which is important for this type of photography.

Even with perfect gear, split shots depend heavily on, calm seas, minimal chop, clean water and very patient subjects.

Some days, everything lines up. Most days, it doesn’t.

But that’s part of the process.

Shallow water and perfect conditions allowed for my best split shot using natural light of this crocodile off Banco Chinchorro, MX.

Over / under photography is not something you “figure out” once and then repeat easily. It’s a style that demands the right equipment, the right conditions, and a lot of patience.

If you’re trying to do this with a small dome port, understand that success will be rare, not because you lack skill, but because physics is working against you.

But, when it does come together, there’s nothing quite like it. 

Two worlds. One frame… And a moment that reminds you why you keep trying.

Why I Start Packing a Week Before I Leave

I’m a week out from the first trip of the season, and I’ve already started packing.

Not because I’m anxious.
Not because I’m trying to be hyper-organized.

But because I’ve learned, the hard way, that packing early makes everything else easier.

Packing before a wildlife trip isn’t something I do in one sitting.

It’s something I let unfold.

When I start early, packing becomes a slow, thoughtful process instead of a rushed checklist. 

As I go about my days, I’ll suddenly remember something I’ll need… a cable, a charger, a spare battery, a piece of gear, medication, a notebook.

When that happens, I don’t make a mental note and hope I remember later.

I grab it, and I put it in the bag.

That’s the key.

Starting early allows your brain to do what it’s good at: remembering things in context.

When you’re walking the dog, driving, or lying in bed at night, your mind naturally revisits upcoming events. 

That’s when the important stuff surfaces… not when you’re staring at an empty suitcase the night before departure.

So instead of fighting that process, I use it.

I create lists:

• Things I need

• Things I want

• Last-minute questions

• Items I need to double-check

• Gear that needs charging or purchasing.

The lists aren’t meant to be perfect. They’re meant to catch thoughts before they disappear.

As I think of something, I write it down, or it goes into the appropriate bag. 

Packing isn’t just about gear.

Before every trip, I make sure I contact every guest personally right before we leave. 

Not weeks before. Not in mass emails. Right before the trip.

It matters.

It catches last-minute concerns.

It makes sure that on arrival day, I know where everyone is.

That, too, is part of my packing.

Rushed packing creates rushed thinking.

Rushed thinking leads to:

• forgotten items

• over packing

• unnecessary stress

• distraction

• mental noise that follows you into the field

Packing early does the opposite.

It clears space.

By the time departure day arrives, I’m not asking myself “Did I forget something?”

I’m already thinking about conditions, weather, wildlife, and being present.

That’s where I want my attention to be.

You don’t need to be obsessive.

You don’t need to be perfect.

You just need to start.

Let the process work in the background while you live your life. 

Grab things as they come to mind. 

Write things down. 

Stack them up. 

Because the goal of packing is to arrive clear, focused, and present.

And that starts long before you zip up your bag.

Nature Isn’t a Luxury... It’s a Relationship

This morning I woke up and went for a jog.

The winds were howling, easily pushing 20 knots. 

The kind of wind that rattles trees, blows dirt in your face, stings your ears, and makes you want to stay inside.

I have access to a treadmill at my local gym. 

Climate-controlled. Predictable. Easy.

But instead, I went to the park.

I asked myself why, as I was tying my shoes. 

Why choose discomfort when comfort was available just a few minutes away?

The answer was simple.

Because it was outside.

I wanted the sun on my face.

The trees moving overhead.

A blue sky.

Gravel crunching beneath my feet.

I wanted to feel something real.

Nature was calling… not loudly, not dramatically, just persistently. 

And I’ve learned over the years that when that call comes, you have to answer.

The gym would have been easier.

But the park was better.

Sadly, not all of us live where nature is everywhere.

I don’t live on a tropical island.

I don’t live on a ranch surrounded by open land and quiet mornings.

If you do, you’ve won one of life’s ultimate lotteries.

You’re connected to nature 24/7, without effort. 

You don’t have to plan it or seek it out. 

It’s just there.

But for many of us, especially those living in suburbs or cities, connecting to nature doesn’t happen by accident anymore.

You have to go out of your way to find it.

And that matters.

I make it a point to reconnect with nature daily.

Whether that means going for a run, taking a walk, sitting quietly, or simply watching the sunset.

Even when it’s not perfect.

The sunsets at home aren’t the same as the ones I see on our expeditions. 

There are cars, buildings, powerlines, reminders of the world we’ve built, layered over the one we inherited.

But the Texas sunsets where I live can still be pretty spectacular.

Choosing the park over the treadmill wasn’t about fitness.

It was about remembering.

Remembering that nature isn’t a luxury, it’s a relationship.

And like any relationship, it fades when neglected and strengthens with attention.

Unfortunately, we don’t always get to live where nature is untouched.

But we almost always have a choice to step closer to it.

Even when it’s windy.

Even when it’s imperfect.

Even when the world we’ve built gets in the way.

You don’t have to go far to reconnect.

You just have to step outside your door.

When Boardrooms Decide What Lives and Dies

Many years ago, when I was the editor of Shark Diver Magazine, I was invited to sit in on a meeting in Cancún, Mexico.

The room was filled with hotel owners and tourism stakeholders.

 They were there to discuss a problem.

Sharks.

Specifically, the rise in shark encounters with people along their coast.

The question being debated was straightforward and deeply unsettling:

What should be done about them?

Culling was discussed.

More lifeguards were discussed.

Liability, and profit were carefully weighed.

What was not discussed was why the sharks were there in the first place.

Along that stretch of coastline, massive artificial reefs made of concrete structures had been placed offshore to prevent beach erosion. 

The project worked. The beaches stabilized. Tourism thrived.

But those same structures also created habitat.

Small fish arrived.
Reef life flourished.
And behind them came the predators.

The sharks weren’t invading anything.

They were responding exactly as nature does when opportunity appears.

Yet in that room, the conversation wasn’t about coexistence, or about understanding the ecosystem they had altered. 

It was about whether these animals, doing what evolution created them to do, should be killed because they had become inconvenient.

Sitting there, I felt helpless.

But it became painfully clear to me:

Nature no longer decides what gets to live or die.

We do.

And those decisions are often made far from the water, far from the forest, and far from the consequences… inside boardrooms where balance sheets carry more weight than ecosystems.

Sadly, this isn’t an isolated story.

Our oceans are overfished and polluted.

Forests are cut down faster than they can recover.

Species that once lived or died according to Nature’s Law are now subject to quarterly profits and corporate agendas.

We’ve convinced ourselves that we’re managing nature.

In reality, we’re breaking systems we barely understand.

There is nothing intelligent about destroying the ecosystems that keeps us all alive.

And yet, we continue.

I don’t pretend to have all the answers.

I don’t think anyone does.

This isn’t a call for perfection… It’s a call to care.

We may not sit in those boardrooms, but we live downstream from their decisions.

And when we protect our wild places, we’re not just saving animals or landscapes.

We’re saving ourselves.

Final Thoughts on 2025

As the calendar turns and we head into a new year, I wanted to take a moment to pause and reflect.

This year brought amazing moments, wild places, unforgettable animals, and most importantly, incredible people. 

View fullsize

Dominica Sperm whales 2025

It brought calm days and hard days. 

It brought chaos and stillness. 

It brought moments where everything aligned, and moments where patience was the only option.

Norway Orcas 2025

We crossed oceans.
We waited out weather.
We searched when nothing showed.
And we were rewarded when the ocean decided to open its doors.

There were trips that tested us and trips that flowed effortlessly. 

Brazil Jaguar Photo expedition 2025

There were days that drained every ounce of energy, and days that filled the soul back up completely. 

That’s the nature of this life, and it’s something I’ve learned to respect more deeply with each passing year.

More than anything, 2025 reminded me why I do this.

Churchill Canada Beluga whales 2025

I do it to help people experience moments they’ll carry for the rest of their lives.

I do it to tell the real stories, not just the highlight reel.

And I do it because nature, the animals, and these places still have so much to teach us… if we slow down long enough to listen.

To everyone who traveled with us this year…

Thank You. 

Katmai, Alaska Brown Bears 2025

Your trust, curiosity, patience, and sense of wonder are what make these expeditions what they are.

To everyone who followed along through trip reports, Wild Minute videos, blogs, and the many stories I have shared, thank you for being a part of the journey, even from afar. 

Your support means more than you probably realize.

Churchill Canada Polar Bears 2025

As we step into the end of 25’ and prepare for what’s next, I’m carrying a deep sense of gratitude. 

Gratitude for safe returns, for shared laughter, for hard-earned lessons, and for a year that reminded me just how lucky I am to live this life.

We just want to say thank you.
For the support, the trust, and the shared adventures.
Wishing you all a wonderful holiday season. Eli & Mari

We’ll take a short pause now, to rest, to reflect, to be present with family, before the next season begins.

The journey continues.

Just at a different pace for a little while.

Here’s to closing out 2025 with gratitude, clarity, and respect for everything the year gave us.

Happy Holidays, wishing each of you… Love and Light!

Why You Should Always Travel With AirTags: How Mine Saved My Luggage… Again.

Today was a perfect reminder of why I never fly without AirTags in my luggage.

My day started with a delayed first flight, which meant that when I finally landed in Houston, I had to sprint across the airport to catch my connection to Baja. 

I made it to the gate just as boarding began.

Victory number one. 

But as soon as I sat down on the plane, the next question hit me:

“Did my bag make it?”

I always travel with AirTags in my gear because nothing calms my mind more than being able to track my bags in real time. 

And today, that little piece of technology kept me sane.

The airtag I use for my gear. Apple airtags.

We were about 20 minutes from departure, and I refreshed the AirTag location.

My bag was still sitting outside Terminal A… but I was in Terminal D.

Not good.

I waited five minutes, checked again: still Terminal A.

At this point I started to get nervous, so I opened the United app. 

In case you don’t know, United also tracks your bag and tells you when it’s scanned on or off a flight.

Five minutes later I refreshed everything:

The AirTag showed my bag in Terminal D, and it also showed it scanned and loaded on my United flight app.

Perfect. It on the plane.

When we landed in Cabo, I cleared customs and waited at the baggage claim.

And waited.
And waited.
And waited.

My bag didn’t come out.

The belt stopped, and about six of us stood there empty-handed.

Everyone else went to the customer service desk, but none of them had AirTags, so they had no clue where their bags were.

I opened my AirTag app…

My bag was definitely here. Somewhere close.

But not on the belt.

So I walked toward the desk, watching the little dot on the map get closer and closer.

And then, right as I reached the counter, the AirTag pinged right in front of me.

I peered over the desk…

There was my bag. Sitting inside the office.

No explanation.

Proper tag still attached.

The guy who rolled it in even acted a little strange about it.

But thanks to the AirTag, I found it immediately.

Without it?

I’d probably be filling out a claim with everyone else.

This Isn’t the First Time an AirTag Saved Me.

This is actually the third time the AirTag helped me find my luggage.

Once in Africa, my bag was left outside and never put on the belt.

Another time in California, it was sent down the wrong carousel.

In both cases, the AirTag was the only reason I recovered it.

So if you travel, even once a year, put AirTags in your luggage.

• They give you peace of mind.

• They save you time and stress.

• They help airport staff find your bag faster.

• They show you instantly whether your luggage made the plane.

• They prevent your gear from going missing indefinitely.

And if you travel as much as I do?

They’re not optional… They’re essential.

Timing Is Everything

Some of the best images of my life never made it to my memory cards.

Not because the wildlife wasn’t there… but because I wasn’t ready when the magic happened.

There’s a truth in wildlife photography that takes years to fully accept, and even longer to master:

Timing is everything.

Wildlife behavior happens in flashes.

A second too late, and the moment is gone. 

In the wild, nature doesn’t repeat itself for the camera. 

You either catch the moment, or you don’t.

There is no reset button.

Jaguar hunting a Yacare Caiman in the Northern Pantanal

I’ve learned this lesson the hard way.

Over the years, I’ve lost more moments than I’ve captured…

My camera was still in the bag. My settings were wrong. I was focused on the wrong animal when the right one did something unforgettable.

And every one of those missed moments stays with you.

Because each one had the potential to be… THE IMAGE.

the kind that wins awards.
the kind that becomes a signature shot.
the kind that tells a story no one else has told.

But they slipped away.

Brown bear catching a salmon in Katmai Alaska.

Wildlife doesn’t care if you’re ready.

It doesn’t wait for you to switch lenses or adjust ISO.
It doesn’t warn you before something incredible happens.
It just happens, fast, unpredictable, and often only once.

That’s the beauty and the heartbreak of behavior photography.

Orca hunting a mola mola off Baja Mexico

So what do you do? 

You prepare. You stay ready. You become a student of timing.

• You keep your camera out, not in the bag.

• You learn to read animals like a language.

• You anticipate behavior before it unfolds.

• You adjust your settings before the moment arrives.

• You watch the scene with your eyes, not your screen.

Tiger Heron eating a tree frog off the Northern Pantanal, Brazil.

Because the more you’re ready, the more the wild reveals.

It doesn’t mean you stop missing shots, trust me, I still miss plenty.

But you start missing fewer.

And the ones you catch?

They are gifts from nature.

And they belong to the photographer who’s ready when the magic happened.

Polar Bear getting attacked by an Arctic tern off Churchill, Canada.

🎥 Introducing The Wild Minute… The Wild in Motion

There are moments on our trips that can’t be shared with words alone, the sound of an orca’s breath breaking the surface, the laughter of our team on a long travel day, the quiet stillness after a storm.

The idea for The Wild Minute was born out of that space between still photos and full trip reports.

I wanted a place to share the heartbeat of what we experience out there. 

They will be short, one-minute video stories from the field, raw, unfiltered, and real. 

Some will be encounters with wildlife. Others are travel days, reflections, or simple slices of life between the big moments.

For years, our written blogs and daily trip reports have told the stories behind the images. 

Now, The Wild Minute adds another way to share the sounds, movement, and the pulse of being there.

My hope is that it helps you feel a little closer to these places and the incredible animals that call them home.

A sample of what The Wild Minute will look and feel like.

Each clip will live on our website, connected to the stories and expeditions they came from. 

So whether you prefer reading the trip reports, watching the moments unfold, or both, you can follow the journey in real time, one minute at a time. I am keeping them short so they don’t eat up too much of your time.

Our next adventure takes us north, to Churchill, Canada, where polar bears roam the edge of Hudson Bay. 

That’s where Wild Minute will begin. The journey starts November 2, and so will the stories.

We’ll continue sharing our written trip reports and photos from the field, but now they’ll be complimented by short, one-minute video stories that I hope will bring you even closer to the experience. 

You’ll still get the trip reports, because I love writing, but now you’ll also feel the emotion, the sound, and the pulse of the adventures as it happens.

When a Chimp Outsmarted Us!

We were following a chimpanzee through the forest, moving quietly as it walked with purpose. 

For a while, it felt like it was letting us tag along, stopping, listening, glancing back every so often. 

But at some point, everything changed.

The chimp took a turn downhill, leading us onto a trail that grew narrower and narrower until it finally disappeared altogether. 

Before we knew it, we were surrounded by thick and deep mud.

It was thick, sticky, elephant-made sludge that sucked at our boots and made every step an effort.

I swear that chimp did it on purpose. 

There were easier trails all around, but it chose this one, the kind that only a clever ape with a sense of humor would pick. 

I could almost picture it now, perched in a nearby tree, watching the clumsy humans struggle in the muck, probably shaking its head.

The mud, we learned, was created by forest elephants trudging through after heavy rains. 

It reminded me of those old TV shows from childhood where quicksand was always waiting to swallow the hero, except this was real, smelled awful, and didn’t let go easily.

One of our group, Kimberly sank in up to her thighs. When the guides finally managed to pull her free, her boot stayed behind. 

Her daughters howled with laughter as we all tried to help, slipping and sliding in the muddy trail.

By the time we made it out, the chimp was long gone. 

It took a while to track them down again, but we eventually did, a little muddier, a little wiser, and a lot more respectful of just how clever they are.

Sometimes, the wild reminds you who’s really in charge, and every now and then, it even has a sense of humor about it.

The One Rule I Always Break in Wildlife Photography

Brown pelicans off Magdalena Bay, MX.

Every photographer has a list of rules they were taught to follow… the golden ratios, the perfect exposures, the “never shoot into the light” kind of advice.

But here’s the thing…

I break that last one all the time.

Some of my favorite wildlife photos were taken against the light, silhouettes of bears in the sunset, bobcats glowing in golden dust, orca breaking the surface as the last of Norway’s light descends behind the mountains. 

Orcas off Norway. 1/1600, f5.6, ISO 800

Shooting into the light isn’t easy. 

It’s messy. It blows out highlights, hides details, and breaks every clean rule of composition. 

But it also makes the wild feel alive.

And honestly, I struggle most of the time to get it right. 

When you’re shooting backlit subjects, figuring out the best ISO and shutter speed is always a challenge. 

You rarely have much time to adjust. 

Maned Wolf off the Northern Pantanal. 1/640, f14, ISO 800

With wildlife, you don’t plan for backlit images, you get lucky with them.

Maybe you’re sitting in an area where you know elephants will be passing along a well-worn trail, and you get that perfect chance to prepare. 

But most of the time, you don’t get that choice. 

You’re gifted the moment when the animal suddenly turns left instead of right, or when the whale passes on the “wrong” side, and suddenly, the sun is behind them.

That’s when it happens.

Bobcat off Florida. 1/1000, f5.6, ISO 400

The light burns through the edges of their body, wrapping them in fire, color, and shadow. 

It’s beautiful chaos, the kind that tests your instincts and rewards your patience.

Most animals prefer to keep the sun behind them as they move past people, it helps them see us better. 

And when they can see us better, they relax. 

That small bit of awareness gives us something real: a moment of trust, framed in gold.

Polar Bear off Churchill. 1/1000, f5.6 ISO 640

Photography is supposed to make you feel something, and light, real light, isn’t always neat and controlled. 

Sometimes it’s harsh, unpredictable, wild… like the animals themselves.

If you only ever follow the rules, you’ll get good photos, sharp, balanced, technically correct.

But if you’re willing to bend them, that’s where the magic starts. 

Brown Bear family off Katmai, Alaska. 1/1250 f32, ISO 1250

The image might not be perfect, but it will have a heartbeat.

Every time I press the shutter into the light, I’m reminded that photography isn’t about perfection. 

It’s about emotion, the quiet honesty of what it felt like to be there.

So yes, I shoot into the light. I chase it, even. 

Because the wild isn’t meant to be tamed… and neither is the way we capture it.

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Morelet’s crocodile in the Mangroves, Tulum, MX. 1/250, f9, ISO 1600.
No golden light here, underwater backlit photos are different. Instead of warm tones, you get God rays. Streaks of light firing through the water.

A Few Tips for Shooting Into the Light

Shooting backlit wildlife is one of the hardest things to get right, but when it works, it’s magic. 

Here are a few things I’ve learned
(mostly the hard way):

• Watch your exposure, not your instincts.
  Backlight fools your camera’s meter into underexposing. Don’t trust the screen, watch your histogram and move it slightly to the right to preserve shadow detail.

• Use spot metering when you can.
  Expose for the light on the animal’s face or body, not the sky. That’s where the story is.

• Embrace imperfection.
  Backlit shots rarely look clean, and that’s the point. Let the light spill, let the edges glow, let the wild be wild.