Small Wonders

June 29, 2026June 29, 2026 / Stella Maris & Flying Fish / 12 Comments

^{A yellow feather duster worm releases its tentacle crown to capture microplankton from the water column.} ^{© Jeffrey Cardenas 2026}

Spanish Wells, Eleuthra — I was asked recently, “So where’ve you been hiding lately, under a rock somewhere?”

Actually, yes.

These days, as I cruise around the Bahamas in Stella Maris, I spend as much time as possible underwater seeking areas where there is still life on the reef. I find it under the rocks.

I enjoy swimming under the deep overhangs along the Bahamian ironshore or into shallow blue holes. Sometimes I find ocean caves accessible only through underwater passages that lead to their internal air pockets. It’s nothing dramatic. I’m a senior citizen freediver. I know my limitations–usually.

I go into these cool, dark places to see small wonders that are becoming harder to find as climate change warms our oceans’ waters.

Cool, dark places underwater are often full of life. There are anenomes and dozens of varieties of sponges and invertebrates. There are fish, too, like the mildly venomous squirrel fish with their bright, bulging eyes, and vibrant glassy sweeper fish, which I see only in the darkest corners under rocks. There are also groupers. I hear them grunt before I see them. My curiosity overrules my appetite, so instead of a spear, I am armed only with cameras.

^{Encountering copper-colored glassy sweeper fish under the rocks is always a pleasant surprise. Juveniles are nearly transparent. © Jeffrey Cardenas 2026}

I don’t use a spotlight when I am freediving in these dark places. If my breath hold is strong enough, my pupils have time to adjust to the ambient light, and I watch this wondrous world slowly come into focus. I have also learned to keep my hands to myself. In a dark crevice, a green moray eel the diameter of my arm opens and closes its mouth, displaying a set of razor-sharp teeth. It’s the eel’s way of asking me politely to respect its house.

I won’t deny that diving into these dark places is also a form of escapism for me. Being underwater is as far away as I can get from the political fallout that rains down each day. As this bitter storm of political invective intensifies in Washington and elsewhere, critical environmental initiatives are threatened. Nature is the casualty.

Saltwater is a shield. The low light beneath rocks, ledges, and in shallow caves provides sea feathers, nudibranchs, and a multitude of other species–including me–shelter from the storm. In a world that seems hotter, literally and figuratively, small wonders still exist.

^{A cave at Rocky Dundas in the Exuma Cays Land and Sea Park. © Jeffrey Cardenas 2026}

As always, sailing is not just about the wind and the sea; the places, the flora, fauna, and people encountered along the way are equally important.

Please click “Follow” so you don’t miss any new updates, and consider sharing this post with others who might enjoy connecting here. I welcome your comments and will always respond when I have an Internet connection. I will never share your personal information.

An additional website, www.JeffreyCardenas.com, features hundreds of fine art images—underwater, maritime landscapes, boats, and mid-ocean sailing photography — from exotic locations worldwide.

Instagram: StellaMarisSailing / Facebook: Jeffrey Cardenas

Text, Photography, and Videos © Jeffrey Cardenas 2026

Let this be a time of grace and peace in our lives – Rev. John C. Baker

Welcome the Unexpected

May 12, 2025May 12, 2025 / Stella Maris & Flying Fish / 5 Comments

^{Glass minnows are shape shifters. It is possible to see through their translucent bodies.}

Shroud Cay, Exuma—I expected that scraping barnacles and grass from the underside of my sailboat would involve hours of necessary but nasty work. Once, after a particularly messy hull cleaning, I came to the surface covered in algae, and my scalp was crawling with biting sea lice.

Today, however, my sealife encounter was ethereal.

As I worked underwater, a sphere of translucent glass minnows surrounded me in a sanctuary they found under the boat. Glass minnows are shape shifters. En masse, they form a defensive cocoon; a cloud of life that changes its appearance like smoke. It’s a fish version of starlings moving together in an underwater murmuration.

I posed no threat, they showed no fear.

It reminded me of the writings of naturalist John Burroughs: The best place to observe nature, he said, is where you are.

As always, sailing is not just about the wind and the sea; the places, the flora, fauna, and people encountered along the way are equally important.

Please click “Follow” so you don’t miss a new update, and please consider sharing this post with others who might enjoy connecting here. I welcome your comments and will always respond when I have an Internet connection. I will never share your personal information.

An additional website, www.JeffreyCardenas.com, features hundreds of fine art images—underwater, maritime landscapes, boats, and mid-ocean sailing photography–from exotic locations worldwide.

Instagram: StellaMarisSailing / Facebook: Jeffrey Cardenas

Text, Photography, and Videos © Jeffrey Cardenas 2025

Let this be a time of grace and peace in our lives – Rev. John C. Baker

Barnacle Sex, Sailors, and Charles Darwin

September 5, 2024September 5, 2024 / Stella Maris & Flying Fish / 6 Comments

_{Giant ribbed volcano barnacles cluster on a boulder at Moonhole Reef in the Grenadines. Photograph: © Jeffrey Cardenas}

Welcome to the wonderful world of barnacles…

Wait–before you stop reading–did you know that:

Barnacles are related to lobsters
Barnacles nearly drove Charles Darwin crazy while he was researching The Origin of the Species
Barnacles have no heart
Barnacles have the largest relative penis size in the natural world

All true.

Sailors throughout history have despised the lowly barnacle. They grow quickly on the bottom of a boat, causing hydrodynamic drag that can bring even racing sailboats to a near standstill. Several singlehanded sailors in the most recent Golden Globe race around the world had to dive overboard in the chilly Southern Ocean to remove masses of gooseneck barnacles. Racer Jeremy Bagshaw’s boat, Olleanna, could barely move because of an infestation of barnacles. He said, “I didn’t have enough food to go around the world at three knots.” He could have eaten the gooseneck barnacles. They are considered a delicacy in many parts of the world and sell for as much as $100 a pound. One reviewer said they taste like “eating the sea.” Jeremy Bagshaw didn’t want to eat the sea. He just wanted to sail home.

Barnacles have existed for at least 325 million years, which has a lot to do with the fact that they are really good at making baby barnacles. Described as, among other things, the “genitalia of the sea,” barnacles have had to evolve creatively to survive. They are sessile, meaning they are permanently attached to one place and cannot leave their shells to mate. Some barnacles evolved as hermaphrodites. Another way they facilitate genetic transfer between isolated individuals is with extraordinarily long penises⁠. “Barnacles probably have the largest penis-to-body size ratio of the animal kingdom,” according to a report in New Scientist Magazine. “On exposed shores,” the report continues, “it’s better for barnacles to grow shorter, thicker penises” so that the sexual organ is not damaged in rough sea conditions. Regardless of diameter, the penis of a barnacle only lasts for one mating season, and it is then discarded. Fortunately, it will grow a new one the following year.

While the science of a barnacle’s sex life is strange, the medieval bestiary folklore about these creatures is downright bizarre. The 12th-century religious historian, Gerald of Wales, proclaimed that geese (yes, birds) hatched from barnacles attached to driftwood. He wrote: “They hang down by their beaks as if they were a seaweed attached to the timber. I have frequently seen, with my own eyes, more than a thousand of these small bodies of birds, hanging down on the sea-shore from one piece of timber, enclosed in their shells, and already formed.” For some reason, there is a statue honoring Gerald of Wales in Britain’s St Davids Cathedral.

In the 1600s, another disreputable English author and illustrator, John Gerard, perpetuated the myth by claiming to have seen geese emerging from the shells of barnacles. The legend persisted through the 1800s, when, even while the Industrial Revolution was occurring in Britain, some people apparently still believed that live birds emerged from the shells of marine invertebrates.

Famed naturalists Carl Linnaeus and Georges Cuvier were more rational in their observations, but they were convinced that barnacles were mollusks. In 1830, a lesser-known naturalist named William Thompson proved them wrong, and, in a radical reinterpretation of taxonomy, barnacles were reclassified as crustaceans.

Still another Englishman of letters—Charles Darwin, no less—became inspired by barnacles. Inspiration turned into obsession, and Darwin spent eight years trying to understand them. Darwin often worked through the night beneath an oil lamp, dissecting barnacles under the microscope in a room thick with the vapors of preserving spirits. He suffered migraines and intestinal distress, even nightmares. Doctors begged him to stop. Darwin refused. He had begun seeing variations in barnacles no one had ever noticed. His work resulted in a 4-volume monograph on barnacles, living and extinct, and it helped him refine his theory of evolution by natural selection.

Afterward, when asked by an old friend about his passion for barnacles, Darwin responded, “I hate a Barnacle as no man ever did before, not even a Sailor in a slow-sailing ship.”

_{Geese emerging from barnacles by Gervasio Gallardo}

As always, sailing is not just about the wind and the sea; the places, the flora, fauna, and people encountered along the way are equally important.

Please click “Follow” so you don’t miss a new update, and please consider sharing this post with others who might enjoy connecting with the voyage. I welcome your comments and will always respond when I have an Internet connection. I will never share your personal information.

An additional website, www.JeffreyCardenas.com, features hundreds of fine art images—underwater, maritime landscapes, boats, and mid-ocean sailing photography–from exotic locations worldwide.

Upcoming Exhibition: “On the Reef” will be exhibited in The Studios of Key West’s Zabar Project Gallery, on view from January 2–30, 2025.

Instagram: StellaMarisSailing / Facebook: Jeffrey Cardenas

Text, Photography, and Videos © Jeffrey Cardenas 2024

Let this be a time of grace and peace in our lives – Rev. John C. Baker

The Eyes Have It!

August 30, 2024August 31, 2024 / Stella Maris & Flying Fish / 5 Comments

_{The Copperband butterflyfish confuses predators with its small camouflaged eye and a more prominent false eye on its posterior fin. Photograph © Jeffrey Cardenas 2024}

When we dive underwater, we observe a world inhabited by some of the most fascinating creatures on the planet. Imagine what these creatures experience when a terrestrial biped (us) suddenly appears in their environment. Then, it becomes the observer who is being observed. We are, after all, guests in their house.

There is much science regarding what fish and other sea life see underwater. Fish have spherical lenses in their eyes, which provide clarity, whereas human lenses are relatively flat. Our vision is blurred underwater (unless we wear a dive mask), but fish see everything. Fish also see a visible spectrum that is different from humans. Simply put, fish can see things underwater that humans cannot, even when we wear a mask. Marine reptiles are no exception; a sea turtle’s eye allows them to detect the glow of bioluminescent prey. Some fish, like bonefish, have a membrane over their eyes—like a diver’s mask—that allows them to forage in sand and silt to find food. Sharks may rely on scent and sensory input, but their eyesight is also remarkable. Marine biologists suggest that a shark’s vision may be 10 times better than that of humans in clear water.

That’s all fascinating stuff, but I don’t think about science when I put on a mask and snorkel to free dive on a coral reef. Instead, I am grateful for the privilege of sharing this undersea world, so I tread softly. I enter the water quietly, with minimal gear, and move slowly. I know that everything with eyes underwater watches me to perceive what threat I might pose. I de-escalate. When I minimize my presence, fish become as interested in me as I am with them.

The more opportunities I have to interact with the marine environment, the greater my respect is for a world I once took for granted. All it took was a little bit of eye contact.

_{Select an individual photo for a high-resolution image. Then, click on the information icon for camera data and additional information about the sea life. All images © Jeffrey Cardenas 2024}

As always, sailing is not just about the wind and the sea; the places, the flora, fauna, and people encountered along the way are equally important.

An additional website, www.JeffreyCardenas.com, features hundreds of fine art images—underwater, maritime landscapes, boats, and mid-ocean sailing photography–from exotic locations worldwide.

Upcoming Exhibition: “On the Reef” will exhibit in The Studios of Key West’s Zabar Project Gallery, on view from January 2–30, 2025.

Instagram: StellaMarisSailing / Facebook: Jeffrey Cardenas

Let this be a time of grace and peace in our lives – Rev. John C. Baker

A Volcano and Murder, Perseverance and Hope

August 24, 2024August 30, 2024 / Stella Maris & Flying Fish / 6 Comments

_{The crater of St. Vincent’s La Soufrière, which erupted in 2021}

This lovely coastline of Wallibou, in northwest St. Vincent, has suffered greatly in recent years from both man and nature.

Three years ago, the still-active volcano La Soufrière erupted with a devastating blast that displaced 16,000 residents. Smoke and ash covered the island and closed airspace as far away as Barbados.

Then, only several months ago, the sailing catamaran Simplicity was discovered abandoned here with “copious amounts of blood” covering the interior. Police said the American-owned sailboat was hijacked in nearby Grenada by three West Indian assailants and brought to Wallibou. The bodies of Kathy Brandel, 71, and Ralph Hendry, 66, were never found.

Life continues despite the tragedies here. When I arrived in the Chateaubeliar village yesterday, a fisherman in a rowboat dropped off three avocados as a welcoming gift. Ashore, boys fished with handlines for jack mackerel from the rebuilt village pier. And at midnight, I was awakened by the local church’s gospel singing.

_{The fishing village of Chateaubeliar. Soft coral thrives on a volcanic reef. This is Deacon; he provides yacht security. Photographs © Jeffrey Cardenas}

I could have avoided this small fishing village along Wallibou’s coastline. Guidebooks recommend caution, and not many sailboats anchor here anymore. Instead, my visit to Chateaubeliar gave me a lesson in the power of perseverance and hope.

As always, sailing is not just about the wind and the sea; the places, the flora, fauna, and people encountered along the way are equally important.

An additional website, www.JeffreyCardenas.com, features hundreds of fine art images—underwater, maritime landscapes, boats, and mid-ocean sailing photography–from exotic locations worldwide.

Instagram: StellaMarisSailing / Facebook: Jeffrey Cardenas

Let this be a time of grace and peace in our lives – Rev. John C. Baker

Stella Maris Sail

New Horizons

Conservation

Small Wonders

Welcome the Unexpected

Barnacle Sex, Sailors, and Charles Darwin

The Eyes Have It!

A Volcano and Murder, Perseverance and Hope