39 Underwater Photos That Prove There’s A Whole World We Never See

Once several weeks old and weaned from their mothers milk, elephant seal pups are abandoned by their parents on shore, left to navigate life alone. On Sealion Island in the Falklands, I watched dozens of them clamber over one another in shallow rockpools, awkwardly learning to swim, and quite engaging to my presence. I’d come here for this moment, to witness and photograph their first solo lessons in life. On the very first evening of my arrival, the sky ignited with colour. I donned my dry suit and rushed into the water, capturing a handful of frames before the light vanished. It turned out to be the defining moment of the trip, and I’m glad I didn’t hesitate.

Every year off the coast of Florida, from late July to early October, Kali colubrina, a fish belonging to the family Chiasmodontidae and commonly known as snaketooth fishes or swallowers, makes an appearance during blackwater dives. Fish in this family are renowned for their ability to consume prey larger than themselves, with mouths and stomachs capable of expanding to accommodate prey up to twice their length and ten times their weight.

Once encountered, they are notoriously difficult to photograph, as they have the annoying habit of hanging upside down in the water column, looking straight down. I was very lucky one night to come across this beautiful individual, fully displaying its elegant fins. Being fairly cooperative, it allowed me to take a few portrait shots. While setting up one of these shots, it suddenly decided to yawn, and fortunately I was able to react quickly enough to capture this image.

A female California newt holds onto vegetation and a previously laid clutch from another newt to anchor herself in place as she begins to lay her eggs. Her holding onto the eggs this way is a lucky coincidence, but made for a exciting photo opportunity.

Corals are animals, and this is how they reproduce. Revealing the hidden world of coral reproduction exposes one of the ocean’s most extraordinary spectacles. Like clockwork, thousands of corals across hundreds of kilometers synchronize to release egg-and-sperm bundles into the open sea. Capturing this fleeting event is exceptionally challenging: it occurs only once a year, on a specific night of a particular month, within a narrow window of just minutes. Using a slow shutter speed as waves break and sweep the buoyant bundles upward transforms the scene into a colorful underwater meteor shower. This image is part of an ongoing scientific-documentary journey exploring the vibrant nocturnal life and reproductive rituals of corals in the northern Red Sea, a project shaped by more than 300 nights spent underwater during spawning season.

The Red Sea scorpionfish is a master of camouflage, perfectly adapted to the vibrant reefs of Ras Mohammed National Park. Here, on Shark Reef, it blends effortlessly with the soft corals, relying on its textured skin and mottled colours to remain invisible to both predators and prey. Common throughout the Red Sea, this ambush hunter waits motionless for small fish or crustaceans to pass within striking distance. Despite its beauty, it carries highly venomous spines along its dorsal fin, an effective defence that makes it one of the region’s most formidable reef inhabitants.
By allowing me to approach closely, the scorpionfish became the centerpiece, its colours and textures brought to life by the flash amid the glowing soft corals. In a place where every creature depends on the health of the reef, encounters like this are a reminder of how vital it is to protect these fragile ecosystems for future generations.

Floating on a board with my head and arms submerged, I experienced something truly unforgettable. The belugas came and went freely, approaching me on their own terms, meeting my gaze, vocalizing, and observing with unmistakable curiosity. Laughing with emotion, I responded with a high-pitched voice, which made them even more curious.
At times, they gently touched the dome of my camera, as if investigating me in return.

I traveled to Churchill specifically to photograph belugas, but I never anticipated such close, voluntary interactions. My intention was simply to be present, to enjoy the moment, and to create the best image possible while always allowing the animals to set the pace. Photographing from the surface, half submerged on the board, made the encounter feel genuine and unforced. There is nothing more powerful than a real connection with wild animals, one built purely on mutual curiosity. In those moments, I couldn’t help but wonder who was truly observing whom.

A rare and unexpected behavioural observation. A group of sperm whales (Physeter macrocephalus) were engaged in social behaviour at a depth of approximately 20 m. While descending and attempting to align the camera housing viewfinder with my mask to frame the scene, a sudden movement in my right peripheral vision drew my attention. Within seconds, an oceanic whitetip shark (Carcharhinus longimanus) appeared in front of me, briefly approached and visually assessed me, then abruptly turned and retreated.

Approximately 30 seconds later, the shark returned, swimming directly toward me at a closer distance. At that moment, the group of sperm whales adopted a compact, head-forward formation resembling a battering ram and rapidly ascended from depth, orienting toward both my camera and the shark. The shark immediately fled the area, followed by a pursuit by the sperm whales that lasted several minutes.

As a tour leader and photographer in Dominica, I was fortunate to experience a truly magical encounter with a curious juvenile sperm whale. We entered the water at a respectful distance alongside the mother and her calf, watching as the mother prepared to dive in search of food, leaving her youngster at the surface. Almost immediately, the calf spun around and approached us, coming remarkably close, mouth wide open to reveal his emerging teeth, rolling playfully upside down. It seemed he was eager to interact. We could clearly see a chunk of squid held in his jaw and the many scars already etched into his skin. Over the years, I’ve photographed sperm whales countless times for documentaries and a feature film, but this unforgettable moment will always hold a special place in my heart. Looking back at the encounter, it’s tempting to believe he was smiling—and perhaps even about to give us a cheeky wink!

2025 was undoubtedly the Year of the Octopus. Being such an imposing creature underwater, these intelligent and charismatic animals had brought delight not just to me but to many fellow UK divers. Throughout 2025, I’ve been treated to an array of natural behaviours, ranging from hunting prey to mating, but in this case, I wanted to capture a female's final act of selflessness, as after she lays her eggs, she diligently guards, cleans, and wafts oxygen-rich water over them to keep them healthy. During this time, which can last for several months, she doesn’t leave their side, not even to feed herself, and once the eggs hatch, she will sadly die.

In this bittersweet and quite poignant time I spent with her, I wanted to try and capture the narrative of her final few weeks by shooting her face on, and encircling her offspring in the background.

After years of waiting, I dived into a cold Alpine lake near my home in northeastern Italy. Its clear, deep-blue waters rise from a spring, making it a gem among the mountains. Low nutrients favour green algae growth, the constant low temperature (around 9–11 °C) contributes to the water’s clarity and unique colour. Life is sparse, but I spotted a freshwater crayfish (Austropotamobius pallipes) among the aquatic plants. Impetuous, it swam toward me until it was touching my wet lens. With the housing too low to use the LCD, I had to shoot blind, holding the camera in one hand and one strobe in the other. I turned off my second strobe, positioning the remaining light above the dome for natural top-down illumination. The composition I'd planned for years is built on the transition from green vegetation to deep blue water, with mountain peaks framed in Snell's Window.

This image was taken in the lagoon of South Fakarava, French Polynesia, close to the southern pass, within a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve. While the pass is world-famous for its spectacular shark dives, it was the lagoon that drew me back again and again. Whenever conditions were calm, I entered the water to explore these shallow reefs, remarkable for their clarity. I returned to this spot several times, spending long hours in the water waiting for the right light and surface conditions to create this split shot. From the surface, I wanted to bring together environments that are often seen separately: sky, land and ocean. Beneath the surface, coral reefs form an essential natural barrier, protecting the islands and their inhabitants. Although this place remains remarkably well preserved, it is also deeply vulnerable to the impacts of climate change.

In Bohol, Philippines, lizardfish are common and easily overlooked reef inhabitants, typically encountered resting motionless on sand or rubble. With this image, I wanted to move beyond the predictable image of a sedentary ambush predator, and reveal an unexpected view of the species.

Lizardfish are surprisingly skittish at close range, requiring a slow and deliberate approach. Working alone, I carefully positioned a snooted strobe on an extra-long arm behind the subject, backlighting the head to completely isolate it from the environment and fundamentally alter its appearance. Combined with a very low shooting angle, this approach allowed the impressive jawline to emerge, complemented by the subtle textures of the skin and the reflective quality of the eyes, transforming a lizardfish into something almost sculptural.
The result is an image that invited the viewer to pause and reconsider a fish they may have seen countless times.

While shooting on the sandy seabed at 15 meters in the Lembeh Strait, Indonesia, I found this well-camouflaged frogfish patiently lying in wait for prey. I waited for at least 15 minutes. To get a clean shot against the messy background, I aimed a macro light at its head to capture the split second it opened its huge mouth. Luckily, I got the perfect moment.

For years, the leopard seal topped my Antarctic wish list, a predator I dreamed of encountering face to face. I have to say, this dive was everything I could have hoped for: clear water, good lighting, and a playful seal. Leopard seals wield an astonishing array of dominance displays, and this one put them all to use, darting around me with effortless power. Watching that massive mouth lined with sharp teeth charge straight toward me is a thrill I'll never forget.

This half and half image of a shark patrolling a vibrant coral reef at sunset was shot in Fakarava, a coral atoll in French Polynesia's Tuamotu Archipelago renowned for its pristine ocean environment. Designated a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve in 1977, sharks thrive here in their natural habitat due to strong protections. Sharks signify a balanced reef ecosystem so it is my hope that this image can help serve as a model for successful conservation and sustainability. This image was captured using a wide angle rectilinear lens, a small aperture, a large dome port, and dual flash guns. This is a single in-camera image.

While diving in Tulamben with my guide, Jaye, I encountered a commensal shrimp living within a naturally spiralling whip coral. Something I had long hoped to see. The coral’s deep, rich green formed a striking nest for the brightly coloured shrimp resting inside. By introducing red and blue light against the green coral, I wanted to create a sense of intense beauty combined with visual turbulence, while expressing the shrimp’s stillness at the centre.

Everything about this dive was a first for me, the location, the guide, and working with continuous light, but meeting a subject I had dreamed of photographing and capturing it in a satisfying way made the experience especially memorable.

In the depths of the East Sea at the height of winter, a male greenling transforms into a brilliant golden sentinel. This vivid coloration, triggered by his spawning hormones, serves both to attract mates and deter rivals. Photographed among the red soft corals of Jumunjin’s artificial reef, the male stands watch over his eggs, guarding them tirelessly until they hatch. The image reflects a moving moment of paternal devotion, an enduring act of protection shaped by instinct and sacrifice.

What started out with 2 large sharks feeding at the surface turned into 3, then 4, then 5 over the course of the day. At some point most of the sharks had gone, and after watching the last tail fade away, I turned around and was greeted with the image here. These sharks had stopped feeding and formed a tight shoal, before breaking off and swimming in slow rhythmic circles, eventually spiralling off into the deep. This behaviour is known as a Torus and is thought to be a courtship behaviour and the precursor to mating - although that remains a mystery. Over the course of the summer we observed multiple toruses from the boat, with close to 20 sharks slowly circling for hours at a time. It felt like an ancient ritual that happens out of sight from the world and was an incredible moment to witness and capture.

2025 has truly been the Year of the Octopus in southern England, as these eight-armed wonders have taken over coastal reefs in significant numbers. Porthkerris in Cornwall has been a particular hotspot for divers to see them. As dusk fell and darkness started to descend, I followed a large, confident individual, patrolling and making fascinating poses as it moved. Turning a corner, it chanced upon another large octopus, and suddenly the two sprang together into this mysterious scene. My chosen slow shutter speed emphasises the dramatic movement. My guess is that it was at least in part a mating overture, as within moments the two cephalopods had enveloped each other in a tight embrace and I watched intrigued as they moved off together into the kelp forest.