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.

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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.

🦈 What It’s Really Like Swimming with Tiger Sharks

People often imagine that swimming with tiger sharks is a heart-pounding, adrenaline-fueled rush — like stepping into a scene from a thriller movie.

But the truth? It’s not about chasing danger or proving bravery — it’s about respect, awareness, and understanding the rules of sharing water with a true apex predator.

If you understand the rules, they are very safe to swim with.

When you're in the water with a big predator like a tiger shark, respect, and awareness, are everything.

Tiger sharks are ambush predators by nature. Curious, confident, and sometimes mischivious—and they always deserve your full attention.

That’s why two golden rules apply:

1. Never Take Your Eyes Off Them

They know when you’re not looking. If you lose focus, they may test you by sneaking up behind you. Your job is to keep calm, stay alert, and they’ll typically swim away once they know you’re watching.

2. Always Maintain a Safety Bubble

A tiger shark should never be allowed to bump into you. That curious nudge can quickly go bad—what starts as exploratory bump can turn into a bite if boundaries aren’t set.

Use your presence, awareness, and, if needed, a gentle redirection to maintain that safe space.

If a shark does get too close, here’s where technique comes in:

How to Safely Push a Tiger Shark Away

If necessary, you never push a tiger shark by grabbing it’s nose or the underside of the head.
Instead, lay your palm flat on top of its head and gently guide it away.

Why should you not grab their face?

Because under their snouts are highly sensitive pores called the Ampullae of Lorenzini—tiny receptors that detect electrical signals. Touching that area can overstimulate them, causing a shark to reflexively open its mouth wide.

And if you don’t know what you’re doing, things can go wrong fast.

It’s the small details like this that separate a safe, awe-inspiring encounter from a risky one.

Diving with big sharks like tiger sharks isn’t about being fearless—it’s about respecting the animals, and understanding their behavior.

After 20+ years of diving with tiger sharks, I can tell you this:

If you follow these guideline, you’ll walk away with one of the most humbling, beautiful and unforgettable experiences of your life.

There’s a high you get that comes from swimming with tiger sharks that’s hard to put into words.

It’s not the kind of high that comes from adrenaline—it’s deeper than that. It’s the magic you feel when a 12-foot predator swims past you, just feet away, looking at you when it passes.

It’s the raw, almost spiritual feeling of being accepted—even if just for a moment—into their world.

You don’t forget those encounters. They leave you buzzing for days. They humble you, reshape you.

Leaving you changed forever.

💡 Want to Experience This for Yourself?

Join us on one of our upcoming expeditions to Tiger Beach and Bimini for safe, unforgettable encounters with tiger sharks and great hammerheads.

👉 View Trip Details & Availability Here

Wake Up Before Life Passes You By

A reflection on fear, routine, and choosing the wild road.

A few months ago in Brazil, I met a 60-year-old man who lives along the Amazon River. As we chatted, I showed him a video of me playing with a shark. He watched it wide-eyed, completely transfixed, and then turned to me and asked with genuine curiosity, “What kind of fish is that?”

I told him it was a tiger shark.
He’d never seen one before.

Years ago, a younger version of me might’ve found that sad. How could someone live their entire life and never know the wonders of what’s out there?

But now, I think a little differently.

If that man is happy and content in his snow globe, then maybe there’s nothing tragic about it at all. He’s living his life, on his terms. And there’s a kind of perfect peace in that.

But…

If you're filled with wonderlust—if your soul itches for more—then no, that kind of life won’t do.

It’s funny—or maybe sad—how many people move through life on autopilot.
Wake up. Go to work. Feed the kids. Walk the dog. Eat. Sleep.
Day after day. Over and over.

And hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. I do those things too.
But if you’re reading this, I’m guessing that’s not all of you.
That’s just one part.

Because if you’ve found your way here, then something inside you is probably craving more.
More wonder. More adventure.
More moments that leave you changed.

Maybe it’s the ocean that calls you.
Maybe it’s the thrill of being around wildlife.
Or maybe it’s simply being somewhere new—heart pounding, senses wide open.

That’s what I write about.
That’s what I live for.

Bilbo Baggins running through the Shire, yelling out… “I am going on an adventure!” has always given me goosebumps. From the book ‘The Hobbit.’

So here’s the question that’s been sitting with me for years:
How many people live out their lives quietly wishing they were doing something else?

Or wishing they were somewhere else?

I’d bet the number is high.

And it leaves me asking:
Why do we cling to routine like a life raft?
Why are we afraid to step out the door unless we’re certain of the way back?
Why does “safe” always win over “bold”?

Here’s one answer I’ve come to understand:
Our brains are wired to protect us.
It’s an ancient thing—a leftover from the days when our ancestors needed to avoid danger to survive. That wiring is still with us.

It tells us to stay comfortable, to avoid risk, to fear the unknown. And while that instinct might have kept early humans alive, it can also hold us back from the very things that make us feel alive today.

We often have to fight through those negative thoughts just to try something new.

But when we do—when we push past that internal resistance—the reward is powerful.
The clarity. The breath. The feeling in your chest like the world just opened up.

That’s the good stuff… and that’s why I keep chasing it.

Because here’s the truth:
Life won’t wait for your “one day I’m gonna…”

So if you’re reading this and you’ve been wishing and daydreaming your way through the weeks, hoping for the “right time” to do that thing, take that trip, or become who you know you really are…

This is your wake-up call.

There’s a wild world out there. Full of beauty. Full of risk. Full of stories waiting to be lived.

And it’s calling your name.

🎒 How to Pack for a Wildlife Photography Expedition

Tips from the Field for Wildlife Photographers Who Travel
By Eli Martinez

After years of leading wildlife expeditions all over the world, I’ve learned that the way you pack can shape your entire experience. You’re not heading out on vacation—you’re heading into the wild. And what you bring (and how you bring it) matters.

My 3-Bag Rule (and What’s In Them)

After years of traveling to remote places—from polar bear country to the Caribbean Islands—I’ve refined my personal system down to three bags:

1. One suitcase for clothing, winter layers (if needed), dive gear, and essentials

2. One second carry-on for my underwater camera housing and delicate gear

3. One backpack—my lifeline

Of course, this only applies to personal trips.
If I’m filming a TV show or documentary, that rule goes out the window. Then it’s cases, crates, backups of backups, and checked bags for days. But for normal expedition travel—this is the system that works very well for me, and I can carry it all by myself.

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1. The Suitcase – 50 Pounds of Strategy

Airlines limit checked bags to 50 lbs., so I make every item count. This bag holds my clothing and dive gear—or cold-weather clothing, depending on the trip.

For long expeditions, I only bring a week’s worth of clothing—and I always check if laundry service is available at the lodge. If they do not, then I will bring a few extra items.

For warm-weather or ocean expeditions, I pack light but cover all bases:

• 5–7 SDM t-shirts (including one nicer shirt for dinner out)

• 2 pairs of shorts

• Rash guard and board shorts

• 3-4 pairs of socks

• 10 pairs of underwear (because laundry access isn’t guaranteed)

• flip flops, or boat shoes (depends on the trip)

• I wear my only pair of pants—and if we’re hiking, my boots—on travel days

• Wetsuit (thickness depends on location)

• Mask, fins, and snorkel

• Travel BC and regulator (for our Tiger Beach trips).

• My diving Cap.

• Back up SDM cap

• Boat jacket

• Dry bag

• Extension cord

• Small external speaker

• GoPro pole cam and camera housing attachments

• Light weight tripod (for shooting northern lights, wildlife videos, or sunsets.)

• Portable tea maker ( I always bring one with me )

• toiletries

• tools for my underwater housing.

• Backup battery chargers for my cameras. (always bring a spare)

• Head lamp, and or a small flashlight

• Portable bag scale. I’m often packing right up to that 50-pound airline limit, so having a small scale makes it easy to redistribute weight or avoid surprises at the counter.

For cold-weather expeditions (like our polar bear trips), dive gear stays home. Unless I am going to Norway for orcas, or Churchill for belugas then snorkel gear comes with me.

I bring:

• Heavy winter coat

• Waterproof pants and insulated boots

• 4-5 pairs of long johns

• 10 pairs of underwear (because laundry access isn’t guaranteed)

• 4–5 thick socks

• 4–5 long-sleeve base layers or sweater-weight shirts

• Face masks (for wind and cold)

• Beanies are a must

• Mask, snorkel, and fins (unless I am renting fins, then they stay at home)

• Arctic wetsuit (unless I am renting)

• exposure jacket (for the boat.)

• ski goggles (for the boat in Norway, a must!)

*Important tip: I place an AirTag in every bag I travel with. It’s a simple but critical step to stay on top of your gear—especially when airlines lose things. I once tracked my lost checked bag as it took a vacation around the world before it finally made its way back to me. It is great for peace of mind.

*Also—wheels matter. All my bags have wheels except for my backpack. Even though I love the rugged look of those classic over-the-shoulder expedition bags, they’re just not practical for how I travel. For ease of movement through airports, small towns, and ferry docks, wheels win every time.

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2. The Backpack – My Lifeline

This never leaves my side. It’s my mobile office, camera bag, and backup plan all in one.

Inside you’ll find:

• Camera bodies, lenses, and extra batteries

• Camera Cards

• Hard drives and cables

• Laptop (laptop charger)

• ear phones (with a pair of back-up ear phones)

• back up pair of reading glasses (I need them, don’t judge!)

• Small drone (if allowed)

• Portable external charger This is a must. I was once caught in a hurricane without one, and I’ll never forget that feeling of desperation trying to stay connected with the outside world while my phone was dying. Since then, I never travel without one.

• Small hygiene kit: eye drops, toothbrush, contact case, lip balm

• Two phone charging cables

• Lens wipes and microfiber cloths

• International plug adapter

• Emergency clothing stash: an extra pair of undies, a rolled-up pair of lightweight pants, and one SDM T-shirt—because I’ve had airlines lose my luggage one too many times

• Lightweight jacket: planes are almost always cold, and I’ve used it as a pillow, a blanket, or even something to sit on when my back starts feeling it on long flights

This backpack is my anchor. If everything else goes missing, I can still shoot, move, and function.

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3. The Underwater Housing bag.

This one is all about keeping my underwater rig safe and ready:

• Underwater camera housing with camera inside

• Wide-angle lens

• Dome port

• Battery charger

• Extra batteries

• External lights (if I’m using them that trip)

Everything in this case is padded, protected, and crucial to what I do in the water.

*One more thing—for this case, small, light, and inconspicuous matters. The last thing I want is for my camera bag to draw attention from the wrong people or get flagged to be stowed under the plane. I try to keep it as under-the-radar as possible, choosing low-profile bags that don’t scream “thousands of dollars in gear inside.” It’s all about being smart.

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✈️ I Never Travel Without Doing These Things:

• Print a copy of my passport and save a digital version on my laptop and phone

• Tuck away an extra $100 in emergency cash and a backup credit card somewhere safe

• Carry a written list of emergency contacts and phone numbers, just in case I lose my phone

• Share my itinerary with a family member or close friend before I leave

It’s a simple checklist, but these things are so important.

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Want a printable packing list? Let me know and I will send you a PDF of my packing list.

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📦 Bonus: My Personal Packing Rule

If I haven’t used it on my last three trips, it doesn’t come with me.
But if I wished I had it even once—it earns a permanent spot in the bag.

This system lets me travel with confidence… knowing I have what I need, and nothing I don’t.

I hope this helps you show up prepared and ready to create something unforgettable.

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Called to the Wild: Documenting a World Without Fences

I’ve spent years chasing animals across continents, camera in hand, heart wide open—but I’ve never really stopped to write about why. Why I care so deeply. Why I do this work. Why I’ve devoted my life to telling stories of the wild.

So here it is. A little window into where it all began.

I was born in April 1971 and raised in San Juan, Texas—a small border town near the southern tip of the state. Back then, it was all dirt roads and open fields. We had two or three TV channels. There was no internet, and no cell phones.

That meant summer days were spent outside, in the Texas heat, under big skies, exploring my world.

I didn’t have neighbor kids to play with. My brother and I had different ideas of fun. So I was often alone… collecting lizards and bugs, watching animals, inventing games, playing in the dirt.

I had a freedom that’s hard to find now. No one worried about a kid roaming the outskirts of town alone back then.

And even at a young age, I was already showing signs of who I’d become. I had an addictive personality. A deep curiosity about animals. A fearlessness that sometimes made my mom nervous. She once told me she had to climb on top of the car to get me off the roof of our house. I was two years old.

From the beginning, animals were everything to me. I didn’t just like them—I needed them in my life.

I wanted to be a veterinarian, but not the kind who worked with dogs and cats. I wanted to work with lions. Elephants. Crocodiles. I wanted to be out in the wild, not in a clinic.

I read constantly. Poured over wildlife books. Studied animal behavior long before I had the language for what I was doing. And I always had pets—hamsters, chickens, cattle, horses, turtles, even show animals I raised through 4-H and FFA. Those programs taught me how to care for livestock, but they also taught me something else: I wasn’t built to raise animals for slaughter.

I’ve never liked killing. I’m not a hypocrite—I eat meat, and I understand the realities of life. But if there’s no need, I won’t do it. I’d rather just sit and watch animals.

As I got older, life pulled me in other directions. I worked construction, I fixed motor bikes, and I rode bulls.

I tried on the tougher life as a bull rider. It was a gritty, adrenaline-fueled world—raw and dangerous. Every ride was chaos. Eight seconds of violence and power. But even in those moments, surrounded by noise, dust, and cheering crowds, I wasn’t chasing trophies. Not really, I was chasing something else entirely.

For me, it was about learning to move with it— jump for jump. I wanted to dance with something wild and powerful. That feeling of riding an animal that couldn’t be tamed, and somehow matching its movements, was everything. I didn’t want to conquer it. I wanted to connect with it.

Eventually, I left that world behind, because I found something else that would change everything for me.

I encountered my first shark.

They weren’t what people said they were.

They were intelligent. Beautiful… and they had individual personalities.

I saw them clearly, and I wanted the world to see them that way too.

So I picked up a camera—not to collect images, but to tell stories. I wanted to speak up for the animals that had given me so much.

That camera became my compass.

In 2003, I launched Shark Diver Magazine, which opened doors I never expected. It connected me with people who felt the same way I did. And more importantly, it gave me a reason to chase these stories full-time.

Eventually, that mission evolved into SDM Adventures—a place where I could bring others along with me. Not just to show them wildlife, but to try and feel something as well. I wanted people to walk away changed.

That’s the heart of what I do now.

I take people into the wild not just to witness it, but to help them remember that they’re a part of it. I want them to feel what I felt when I first looked into the eye of a tiger shark. Or when I watched a mountain gorilla watching me. Or when a pilot whale hovered next to me like I belonged there.

As a kid, I was shaped by stories. Books and documentaries about people who lived with wildlife. People who gave their lives to understanding and protecting the natural world. Those stories didn't just entertain me. They gave me a map for living with purpose.

Now, I hope to do the same for others.

hanging out with a modern day dinosaur

Through photography. Through writing. Through expeditions. Through every conversation and every image shared, I’m hoping to spark something in someone else. A curiosity. A calling. A shift.

My life’s work is to document a world without fences. To capture what’s still wild and free—and to help people fall in love with it, just like I did.

Because when people fall in love with nature, they are more willing to protect it.

And that, in the end, is why I do what I do.
The wild called to me before I even had the words.

Now, I tell its story… and my hope is someone out there hears it too.

Playing with Extinction: Dire Wolves, Red Wolves, and the New Wild

It’s Colassal’s Dire Wolf on the cover of Time.

There’s something ancient and haunting about the idea of a dire wolf. Not just the Game of Thrones version, but the real thing—a massive predator that once roamed the Americas, now extinct for over 10,000 years.

And now, thanks to Colossal Biosciences, it might be coming back.

Or… something that looks like it.

This week, Colossal announced progress on creating a genetically engineered “dire wolf”—not a perfect resurrection, but a modern hybrid with dire wolf traits, bred from existing canid species.

Powerful. Bigger. Ancient in look, new in design.

It’s the kind of headline that makes you sit back and ask: What are we actually doing here?

Captive red wolf, North Carolina.

Are We Saving Species, or Rebuilding Them?

The most frequent criticism of Colossal’s work is a simple one:
Why are we trying to bring back animals that are already gone… when we can’t seem to protect the ones we still have?

And it's a fair question.

Take red wolves. Fewer than 20 survive in the wild. Their genetics are a mess—decimated by bottlenecks, inbreeding, and habitat loss. But Colossal is also working on cloning red wolves to help strengthen their gene pool and possibly reintroduce viable, healthier animals into the ecosystem.

Colassal has already created three cloned red wolves.

To some, that’s playing god. To others, it’s the only chance this species has left.

There is enough DNA from this 39,000 year old cave bear to help bring back this species… the question is, should we?

But here’s where it gets complicated:
If cloning works, and species can be brought back or “restored” in a lab… what happens to our sense of urgency to protect the wild in the first place?

What happens when politicians or the public say: “Let them die off—we can always bring it back later”?

That’s not science fiction anymore.

That’s happening now.

I’ll admit—a big part of me wants to see a mammoth walk the tundra. Or a dodo waddle through a misty jungle. Or hear a thylacine call echo through the trees.

My passion for wildlife wants to believe this is a good thing.

A hopeful thing.

But I know this isn't a rewind button on extinction. What’s being created is not truly what we lost. These are new animals—genetically influenced descendants, not perfect replicas. They may look like what once was, but they’re built from fragments, pieced together with modern tools.

It’s not resurrection. It’s reimagining.

And we have to ask ourselves—what’s the real reason behind all of this?
Are we doing it to fix what we’ve broken?
To scratch that scientific itch… because we can?
Or are we doing it just because it’ll make a dump truck full of money?

Lyuba the baby mammoth found in Siberia… displayed in Kalinigrad, Russia

Red wolves might survive now thanks to cloning—but are they still wild if their survival comes from a lab?

Some conservationists argue that these efforts create “GMO animals,” not true reflections of nature. Others see it as an evolution of conservation—using new tools to fix old damage.

The truth probably lies somewhere in between.

If a cloned red wolf mates with a wild one, and their pups thrive in the swamps of North Carolina, does it really matter how the lineage got a second chance?

If nature accepts them, maybe we should too.

Captive North Carolina Red Wolf.

Colossal isn’t just playing with DNA. They’re forcing a conversation we all need to have—about what it means to protect life, to restore it, and to possibly recreate it.

And I’ll be honest—I’m a torn soul in all of this.

Colossal claims the mammoth will return in 2028.

Because the moment a woolly mammoth walks again, or a thylacine is spotted moving through the forest, I’ll be the first in line to see it.

That’s the animal lover in me.

That’s ten years old me; cross-legged on the floor, flipping through dinosaur books, wishing I could reach through the pages and be there.

So yes, part of me wants this… Desperately.

And another part wonders what it really means if we do succeed in bring back extinct species.

I don’t have all the answers. I just know I want a future where wild animals don’t only exist because someone built them.

I want to stand on the edge of a forest or a beach or a frozen tundra, and see something real move through it… ancient, untamed, and still here.

If we use science to help that happen, not just in labs, but in the wild, then maybe we’re not playing god.

Maybe we’re just trying to make things right… Before it’s too late.