🦈 The Shark That Changed Everything

Bull Shark off Playa Del Carmen, MX. 1/320, f10, ISO 1000

It was my very first ocean dive. I was in Cozumel, Mexico, drifting clumsily over the reef, still overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it all—the colors, the movement, the vastness. I was a new diver, wide-eyed and breathing way too fast, trying to take it all in.

Then my divemaster pointed down.
And there it was.

A bull shark, cruising calmly near the bottom.

I was flooded with emotion—awe, fear, curiosity, all mixed together. Part of me wanted to swim toward it, to see it closer. Another part of me wanted to turn and get out of the water as fast as I could.

All I knew about sharks at that time was what I had learned from movies and the media: that sometimes, they eat people.

Lemon Shark getting it’s teeth cleaned off Tiger Beach, Bahamas, i/320, f9, ISO 800

Shortly after that moment, my tank ran low—a classic rookie mistake. I was breathing too hard, too fast. And instead of surfacing with me, my dive master sent me up alone.

Such a terrible thing to do with a new diver.

Blue Shark off Cabo San Lucas, MX. 1/320, f9, ISO 1000

I’ll never forget floating there on the open surface, alone, terrified, staring down into the deep blue, knowing there was a shark somewhere below me. I had no idea where the boat was.

It took a while for the boat to find me, or at least it felt like it took a while.

The boat eventually found me. As I sat there catching my breath, my mind was racing.

Why didn’t the shark come after us?
Why didn’t it rise up and eat me?
Why? Why? Why?

Oceanic Whitetip off Dominica Island, Caribbean. 1/320, f9, ISO 1250

And that was it.
That moment, that one encounter… it changed everything.

Because everything I thought I knew about sharks was wrong.

And I needed to know more.

That single dive—over 26 years ago—sent me on a path that I’m still walking today. I’ve spent decades diving with sharks around the world, and I’m still asking questions.

Caribbean Reef Sharks off Tiger Beach Bahamas. 1/320, f9, ISO 500

Because the more I know, the more I realize how little I know.

And that’s what I love most about these animals.

They keep me curious, they keep me humble… and they keep me coming back for more.

Conservation Starts in Your Backyard

We often think of conservation as something that happens in distant lands—deep in the Amazon, under Arctic ice, or on remote coral reefs.

But the truth is, conservation begins much closer to home.

It starts in our backyards, in the spaces just beyond our doorsteps. And what we do in these small spaces matters far more than most of us realize.

Nature is deeply connected.

What happens in your yard, your neighborhood, your town—ripples outward.

The fertilizer you use, the trees you plant (or cut down), the wildlife you welcome or chase away... it all echoes beyond your fence line.

Where I live in South Texas, we were once one of the world’s top bird-watching destinations. Our skies were filled with vibrant migrations—hundreds of species passing through, season after season.

But I’ve seen it change… Fast.

Habitat destruction, the heavy use of pesticides, and the disappearance of wild spaces are pushing our birds away—or worse, pushing them to extinction. Every year, the number of birds that make their way through here shrinks.

It’s not a slow fade anymore… It’s alarming.

And it’s not just birds. Insects. Mammals. Reptiles. It’s all connected.

A bird loses its nesting ground because we removed a native tree. That loss affects the insects it feeds on, the predators that rely on it, and the plants that relied on its movement for pollination.

It’s a domino effect… And we’re seeing those dominos fall.

I’ve spent years traveling the world photographing wildlife, from gorillas in Uganda to polar bears in the Arctic. And I’ve learned that the health of the wildest places is directly influenced by the choices we make in the tamest ones.

We’re part of this system too.

The more we care for the patch of earth we’re standing on—the more likely we are to protect the rest of it.

Conservation doesn’t just belong to scientists or global organizations. It belongs to all of us.

So let’s start small.

Let native plants grow wild. Put up a water bowl for the birds. Skip the pesticides.

Teach your kids to love snakes instead of fear them. Celebrate the raccoons and coyotes and opossums that pass through your neighborhood.

They’re part of the web too.

Because when you care for your backyard, you’re not just helping your local ecosystem—you’re helping the planet… One connected piece at a time.

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A Day in the Life of a Wildlife Guide and Photographer — Why This Name Finally Feels Right

Over the years, I’ve named and renamed this blog more times than I can count.

Each time, I was trying to capture what we do—the energy of the work, the magic of the wildlife, the grit of the journey. But nothing ever quite felt right. It just didn’t fully reflect who I am or what this life is actually like.

Until now.

I’ve finally landed on a name that feels good:
A Day in the Life of a Wildlife Guide and Photographer.

It fits, because that's truly what this blog and my YouTube channel have become—a window into what we do out there. Not just the epic moments with polar bears, orcas on the hunt, or dancing with sharks... but the full reality of our days in the field.

The early mornings.
The gear failures.
The missed sightings.
The quiet days where the ocean feels empty.
The magic we chase anyway.

If you’ve watched my YouTube videos, you already know they’re far from polished.

They’re raw, in-the-moment, and definitely flawed—but I love them that way. They’re honest. They share the heart and soul of what we experience out there.

Until now, I’ve mostly shared highlights—those big, cinematic moments when nature delivers something unforgettable. And don’t get me wrong—I’ll keep sharing those.

But I’ve been thinking…

Maybe it’s time to start sharing the lows, as well.

The days when nothing shows up.
The long waits.
The breakdowns.
The hours of effort that go into those brief flashes of beauty.

It might bore some people. But I think others might find it refreshing. Real. Even inspiring. Because that’s what these trips are actually like.

Wild places don’t follow scripts. And neither do we.

So, this name—A Day in the Life of a Wildlife Guide and Photographer—is more than just a title. It’s a direction. For this blog. For our channel. For how I want to tell these stories.

Thanks for being here, and for following along on this wild ride.

Let’s see what tomorrow brings.

Travel Day. Goodbye Baja… Sort of.

May 24 – Travel Day
I'm headed home! It’s wild how fast these past four weeks have flown by—packed with magic, incredible wildlife, wild weather, and unforgettable moments shared with amazing people. I feel so lucky and humbled that this is my job. That I get to introduce people to wildlife, help them along their photography journey, and tell stories through it all.

Now I’m sitting here thinking: what are they seeing out in Baja’s waters today?

Actually—never mind. I probably don’t want to know… FOMO is real.

I already miss Baja, but thankfully I’ll be back in just two weeks. This is a short break. Originally, I was supposed to head to Africa to swim with Nile crocodiles, but that trip has been postponed until later. More on that another time.

For now, I’m going to recharge with some much-needed family time, do laundry, get some fresh merchandise made (I’m out of ball caps and my SDM t-shirts are worn to death), and then head back to Baja—because I’ve got unfinished business.

Top of the list? Orcas hunting mobula rays. That’s the moment we’re after.

We did witness them kill and eat a mola mola, which was incredible to see. Felt bad for the mola—but that’s the circle of life.

In the ocean, something is always eating something else. Molas have to eat, and so do orcas.

I woke up at 5 a.m. today to drive two hours to the airport and drop off our trusty van, Beluga. She was good to us—reliable, sturdy, and part of the team.

I always feel a little guilty peeling off the Tibby sticker from her nose before returning her to the rental company. I know it sounds strange to get sentimental about a van, but I really believe things carry meaning. Maybe not a heartbeat like ours, but they have a kind of spirit—especially when they’ve carried you through an adventure.

During this short break, I’ll be editing a few YouTube videos, writing daily blogs, and sharing behind-the-lens stories from our time in Baja—including what it took to get specific shots.

Right now, I’m sitting in the Houston airport, waiting for one last flight home… and still wondering what they saw out there today in Baja.

Damn it. I really don’t want to know... but yeah, I do.

The Shot You’ll Never Get... And Why It Still Matters.

In wildlife photography, we’re taught to chase the shot—to anticipate, to prepare, to capture the moment when everything aligns.

But every once in a while, the moment comes… and the shot doesn’t.

And that’s okay.

Image by Ines Goovaerts

I’ve missed more shots than I’ve taken. I’ve been in the perfect position to take the picture when the animal moves into perfect light, while I was still fumbling with my settings, and I didn’t get the shot.

Some of those missed shots still sting… probably always will.

But others have become the ones I cherish most.

Because being there—fully there—was more powerful than any photo I could have taken.

There’s a kind of magic in the moment that doesn’t let itself be captured.

You experience it with your whole body: the light, the movement, the presence of something wild that is also curious about you. And when you lift your camera and miss the focus, or the animal moves away, or the settings are wrong, it doesn’t erase the magic.

It just reminds you… you’re not in control.

That’s the truth of this work. We can train, study behavior, know our gear, scout the light—but in the end, nature decides.

And that’s what makes the shot—when it comes—so meaningful.

Because the ones you don’t get?
They shape you.
They sharpen your eye.
They teach you what the camera can’t.

Sometimes, those moments—the ones no one else sees, the ones only you were present for—become the ones that stay with you the longest.

And maybe that’s the real image you came for.

Where the Magic Lives

Tonight, I was in Baja having dinner with my guests. We were walking into the restaurant when I overheard Mike—one of our guests—talking about how he hurt his knee while falling at an active volcano.

What made me laugh wasn’t the story… it was how normal the conversation sounded.

In our world, talking about photographing an active volcano, diving with crocodiles, or photographing polar bears is just part of life.

These aren’t once-in-a-lifetime experiences—they’re Tuesday night conversation over dinner.

The people in this little circle we move through... they’re all the same, yet so incredibly different.

We come from completely different walks of life—different countries, careers, cultures—but here, in this space we share, we’re all kindred spirits.

And it shows.

We talk about the animals we want to see next, the places we’ve been, and the ones still calling to us. We laugh about cold-water dives, close passes, gear failures, and surprise encounters with wild things.

It doesn’t sound exotic. It doesn’t sound special. It just sounds like us—going through the motions of being who we are... or maybe who we were born to be.

It’s in those little moments—over beers, under stars, or walking into a Baja restaurant—that I realize just how rare this tribe is.

We don’t all look the same.

We don’t all talk the same.

But we all know where the magic is.

And we all want to stay there as long as we possibly can.

📸 Gloria – A Love Letter to My Underwater Housing

Image by Brad Roaman

I’ve never written about a camera system before—but Gloria deserves her moment.

For nearly 10 years, Gloria, my Aquatica housing for the Canon 5D Mark IV, has been right by my side.

From the Arctic seas to the warm rivers of Brazil, she has traveled the world with me. She's been the one constant in my journey as an underwater photographer.

*I’m not sponsored by Aquatica. This isn’t a sales pitch or a review—it’s just a thank you.

It’s a love letter to a piece of gear that has never let me down.

Image by Brad Roaman

Gloria has been dropped, dragged through the sand, banged around in pangas, and tossed into rinse buckets more times than I can count. But no matter where I’ve taken her, she’s held up.

She’s compact, tough, and reliable, and she’s done everything I’ve ever asked of her. From zero-visibility dives in the Amazon to crystal-clear encounters with orcas in Baja—Gloria has delivered.

Thanks to this housing, I’ve been able to grow and evolve as a photographer. Every shark pass, every dolphin glide, every rare wildlife moment captured underwater—Gloria helped make it happen.

That One Time She “Failed” Me (And Saved Me)

There’s only been one moment when Gloria didn’t respond.

I was at 150 feet—far deeper than I should have been. A couple dolphins had been hovering in front of me at 90 feet and were sinking slowly. I sank with them, caught in the moment. I think they did that on purpose.

Suddenly, my camera stopped working. I quickly tried to troubleshoot it, checking buttons and switches, but nothing was responding. In that moment of confusion, I looked at my depth gauge—and realized just how deep we had gone.

That brief equipment failure snapped me out of the moment. I ascended and regrouped. Looking back, I think Gloria was trying to tell me, “We’re not supposed to be here.”

So nope… she didn’t fail me. She helped keep me safe.

---

Image by Rodrigo Friscione

MY DOME PORT

Glass dome ports are beautiful—no doubt about it. They are the best way to photograph underwater. But I’ve always used acrylic. And here’s why:

Acrylic is forgiving. We live hard on our gear. From sandy beaches to rough boat rides to fast gear swaps in bad weather, things get banged up. If you scratch a glass dome, it’s game over. But acrylic? It is so forgiving.

I keep a bottle of Novus Fine Scratch Remover in my gear bag at all times. With a little care, I’ve been able to keep my dome port mostly scratch-free—even after all these years. And that’s saying something.

No, it’s not perfect. But it's good enough to keep shooting. And that’s what matters.

Underwater photography is demanding. The moments are fleeting. The conditions are brutal. But Gloria, has never let me down.

She’s helped me tell stories, capture dreams, and build a career I’m proud of.

So here’s to my girl.
To those perfect moments.
The wild places.
The calm water and the chaos.
To the images.
The close calls, and the quiet reliability.

Thank you, Gloria. You’ve been more than just a housing... You’ve been a partner.

What’s in My Bag: Gear I Trust and Recommend

Over the years, I’ve built a kit that works for me in real-world conditions.
Here are the essentials I always carry:

• Aquatica Housing for Canon 5D Mark IV – My workhorse. Rugged, compact, and reliable.

• Novus Fine Scratch Remover – Essential for acrylic dome maintenance.

• Acrylic Dome Port – Not flashy, but field-tested and field-repairable.

• Portable Handheld Comprerssed Airduster – Discovered thanks to my friend Brad. This thing removes water from buttons and seams so I can change batteries and cards between dives without risking leaks.

• Lint-Free Cloths & Microfiber Towels – A single piece of lint inside your dome port can ruin a shoot. These help me avoid that nightmare.

*These aren’t “sponsored” items. They’re just the tools I rely on—gear that has helped me get the shot and stay in the water for over a decade.

🐘 Noah... The First Conservationist?

Long before the word “conservation” existed, there was a story about a man who received a warning—whether from God, a dream, or something deeper— his very first instinct wasn’t to save gold, or power, or even people.

It was to save animals.

As a kid, that story meant something to me.
In Sunday school, I didn’t care about the rest of the stories, I just wanted to hear about the ark. About the animals. About the idea that someone would do everything they could to make sure no creature was left behind.

It was the only thing I wanted to talk about or learn about.

The story of Noah’s Ark is ancient—older than many of us realize, and echoed across cultures in flood myths from Mesopotamia to Mesoamerica.

But take away the religious framing, and what you’re left with is something even more profound:

a story of one man’s vision to protect life in its most vulnerable and voiceless form.

Imagine being told the world was about to be destroyed.

Noah had a vision so vivid it shook his soul.

Whether you call that divine guidance, a psychedelic experience, or a moment of deep inner knowing… the point is, he believed it.

And what did he do with that belief?

He built an ark.

But not to save a civilization. Not to preserve human culture.
He built it to save wildlife. Every species he could get his hands on. The crawling. The flying. The growling.

View fullsize

Authorities capture and tag polar bears that come too close to the town of Churchill. The bears are safely relocated far away from people.

What hits me most is that Noah’s story, at its core, is about recognizing the value of animal life when everything else is collapsing.

That resonates deeply today. We’re facing our own slow flood—climate change, habitat loss, mass extinction—and still, too often, the animals are last in line. Treated as background. As scenery. As expendable.

Noah didn’t see them that way, and neither do I.

Tracking endangered porbeagle sharks in the Bay of Fundy, Canada.

Whether that story is myth or memory, it tells us something powerful.

That saving the wild isn't just practical. It’s instinctual. It’s moral. It’s deeply human.

And maybe that’s the message.

You don’t need to save everything to make a difference.
You just need to act. To care. To respond to what the world is showing you.

Maybe, in a strange way, every time we choose to protect a species, or defend a habitat, or give a voice to the voiceless, we’re building a small ark of our own.

Dehorning rhinos to save them from poachers.

So here’s to the modern conservationists.

To the ones fighting poachers in Africa, to the ones tracking sharks in the Bahamas, to the photographers reminding everyone that we still have wild places left that are worth protecting.

Thank you for being a soldier in Noah’s army.

Please continue telling stories that might just move someone to act.

Whether your “vision” comes in the form of a dream, a documentary, or a dive—you’re answering the same call… The wild is worth saving.

🤖 Meet Our New Chatbot – Your Personal Wildlife Trip Assistant

Couldn’t resist… Giving you guys a visual. lol

We’re always looking for ways to make your experience smoother, faster, and more personal — and we just added a new tool to help with that.

Say hello to our new website chatbot, now live on SDM Adventures.

Whether you're curious about how our trips work, what’s included, or which expeditions still have space, the chatbot is here to help 24/7. It’s not a robot trying to replace human connection — it’s here to make your life easier. Fast answers to common questions. Help navigating the site. A friendly starting point when inspiration strikes at 2 a.m.

What Can It Help You With?

🟢 Trip Info
Get details about our Baja orca trips, Dominica sperm whales, anaconda diving, jaguar safaris, polar bears, and more — instantly.

🟢 Availability & Booking
Ask what’s sold out, what still has room, and how to reserve your spot.

🟢 Getting Started
Not sure where to begin? The chatbot can help point you toward the right adventure based on your interests.

🟢 FAQ Support
From travel logistics to hotel questions, packing tips to cancellation policies — it’s all built into the bot.

Why We Built It

Because not everyone wants to send an email or wait for a reply. Sometimes you just want a quick answer so you can get back to dreaming about swimming with whale sharks or photographing jaguars.

The chatbot doesn’t replace us… it just gives you a fast way to connect.

Of course, if you ever want to talk to someone, we are always just an email or a phone call away.

Sometimes we will also pop onto the Chatbot to chat with you as well.

Give It a Try

You’ll find it floating on the lower right of the website. Ask it anything abiout any of our trips — and let me know what you think.

We’re constantly improving it based on your feedback.

Here’s to making your next wildlife adventure even easier to plan.

See you out there,
Eli

Wetsuit or Rashguard? Choosing the Right Gear for Warm Water Wildlife Adventures

One of the most common questions we get before any of our warm water trips is, “What should I wear in the water?”
Full wetsuit? Shorty? Rashguard and board shorts?

The short answer: It depends on you and your ability to handle the elements.
A longer answer: Let’s break down the real pros and cons.

Rash guard and board shorts with this friendly pod of sperm whales off Dominica.

Rashguard and Board Shorts: The Freedom Option

There’s no denying it—nothing feels better than diving in boardies and a rashguard when the water is warm.

That is my personal choice of diving gear, 80% of my time in the ocean.

You’re free. Unrestricted. No heavy neoprene pinching your neck or squeezing your chest.

You move through the water naturally. You dry off faster. You feel more connected to the ocean.

But it comes with limitations:

“I personally do not like full wetsuits. But I respect the ocean enough to know when it’s smart to cover up.”

• Exposure: The sun will roast you faster than you realize.

• Scrapes and Stings: Jellyfish, floating debris, jellyfish, and even incidental contact with wildlife can and does leave a mark. Oh and did I mention jellyfish???

• No Thermal Buffer: Even in 78°F water, after hours floating or motoring between drops, the chill can creep in—and it gets worse if clouds block out the sun.

Best for:

• Short sessions and warm water locations.

• Midday sun.

• Quick drops (like orca encounters)

Diver with curious blue shark off Cabo.

Full Wetsuit: The Protected Option

A full wetsuit is armor.
It protects against sunburn, jellyfish, reef scrapes, and gives you some insulation on long days out on the water.

But there are trade-offs:

• Restricted movement: You’re bulkier, stiffer, and less agile.

• Overheating: Especially while sitting on the boat between dives.

• Increased Buoyancy: Neoprene floats—which means you'll work harder to stay down while snorkeling or free diving. So you will need dive weights to help you counteract the wetsuit’s buoyancy—even a thin 3mm suit makes a noticeable difference.

Freezing my ass off between dives. Catalina Island. 2006.

However never forget… the ocean can be unforgiving.

No matter how warm the water feels, the open ocean can chill you quickly—especially when clouds block out the sun.

And whether you’re in a wetsuit or board shorts—always bring a boat jacket. You’ll never regret having it, but you’ll definitely regret not having it when you need it most.

Shark Diving Reality Check

When it comes to shark dives, full coverage isn't just about staying warm—it’s about staying safe.
While I usually wear rashguards and board shorts for dolphin and whale encounters in warm water, when I dive with pelagic sharks, like makos and blue, I always wear a full wetsuit.

Diver and curious blue shark

Here’s why:
Exposed arms and legs are at greater risk during a shark dive.

Sharks are curious, and an unseen one can glide in closer than you realize.

A full wetsuit protects your skin and reduces the risk of a bump turning into a bite on your soft fleshy parts.

Best for:

• Extended in-water time (multiple hours)

• Cooler early mornings, and cloudy days.

• Sharks and marlin baitball diving.

Shorty Wetsuit are The Middle Ground

Think of a shorty wetsuit as the best of both worlds—some protection, more freedom.

It covers your core and gives your arms and legs more mobility.

You won't overheat as easily, and you will stay a little bit warmer while in the ocean for an extended period.

Downsides:

• Limited full-body sun protection.

• Legs and arms exposed for jellyfish or debris bumps.

• Some added buoyancy, but less than a full suit.

Diver wearing a 1mm dive skin while snapping images of Gambit the crocodile off Banco Chinchorro.

So... What Do I Wear?

If you ask me:

• Freedom wins when it can. Rashguard and boardies when the action is hot and fast-moving.
  

• Protection wins when it must. Wetsuits when you’re logging serious hours or facing unpredictable conditions.

The ocean doesn’t care how comfortable you are—it tests you, humbles you, and rewards those who come prepared.

Prepare for it. Respect it. Adapt to it.

Embrace the unknown… and we’ll see you out in the wild.