Making the ‘Jaws of Helford’ video
Addiction is something we all share when the subject, Helford River, is mentioned; my quest to spend as much time as possible underneath that river was strengthened in the winter months of 1978. The 'jaws' or mouth of that river quickly took hold of me once more.
Diving mainly from the shore at Grebe Beach, the word 'swimming' must often be prefixed by 'olympic' to describe how far one must travel to see the true beauty of the river's life. Please don't attempt that unless you have full knowledge of the tides and are capable of accurately reading an underwater compass.
Three years ago I decided to capture that underwater life on video, a DV (digital video) camera. Initially I had no script, no funding, I went to the Lloyds bank and told them how my bursting energy to explore a new project deserved their attention.
I began to shoot my first 'roll of film' during the winter months of 2000 (mini DV tapes at first), often pointing the camera to subjects surrounded by blackened leaves from the coppice oak trees. Through the eye-piece of that camera, hermit crabs, old crab pots, anything that I saw became even more interesting. Back home on the editing screen - all new to me after three decades of still photography - I re-lived that dive, seeing things I hadn't actually seen underwater. The camera had trawled-up a fascinating 50 minutes of moving image. Forty minutes into that shoot I had captured a thornback ray, a flat shark positioned far in the distance. Searching my own memory, I never truly saw that ray and was shocked that the camera was more piercing than my eyes. I never thought I would 'miss' anything after 30 years of diving. How wrong I was. That's when I decided to chase the Helford 'shark' and find out more about a creature I have always overlooked (or fished for).
At times I found them elusive, yet at other times extremely idle and openly lying there with no intent to move.
As I was used to marching up and down the hill at Grebe Beach, diving to view the eel grass beds I did not use a boat. Swimming further south, much further and quickly 'switched-on' my inner 'sonar' eventually getting used to finding and approaching the ray I later found that at times, those flat animals are spread over a very wide area and react almost immediately to weather variations.
From the eel grass beds close inshore, out over the sandy/muddy ground, across a strip of coarser sand to reach what I call - "the broken shell ground" - I hit a true run of thornback ray. The fish were everywhere. Broken shell ground is nearer the centre of the river, where invertebrate life also abounds. (I have seen whelks laying eggs there, mounds of white capsules, clumps of eggs being twice the size of the poor whelk positioned precariously on top.)
At first clear seas were kind to me, providing ample opportunity to master a whole new technology of DV camera work. No underwater film lights were necessary, since new DV cameras thrive on low light conditions. Often there was too much light; I used neutral density filters to compensate. One orange filter was supplied with the camera housing, a CCF - colour correction filter - one that must be clipped over the wide-angle lens and converts blue/green underwater light, back to daylight. The colours then become outstanding to the human eye.
By late spring I had shot many rolls of tape (34 hours in all) and the ray were so obliging, I had named several of those fish. Many ignored me, one in particular was always very 'friendly' and found near the first mooring block on the western end of Grebe Beach near Durgan. I regularly fed him, but every time I presented him with mackerel (fresh of course) and moved the camera into 'shot' he chose to ignore it.
I tried to imagine myself as a flat predator, simply behaved as they would, finding 'food' wherever I could. I uncovered reams of subjects, 'boring' animals that in the past I had simply swam over, but close-up they were fascinating. I now look upon the Helford River in a different way.
Just prior to Christmas I returned from a late afternoon dive from Grebe Beach. I swam on the surface, passing over eel grass until I submerged heading south, passing over the open sandy/muddy patch - nothing much present - to the coarser sand, where there were many hermit crabs scuttling about, fighting with each other for the sake of it!
Crystal clear conditions after a run of bad weather, a rarity I must add, I reached the broken shell ground and saw two dogfish; several dogfish eggs nearby (mermaid's purse) were attached to broken weed fronds. Slow moving, small humps of sand were in truth, sizeable whelks, moving along under the substrate rather than above it! Nearby there were other groups of whelks, a lot of small fish (less than 5cm in length), many small spider crabs seated firmly in sand depressions and small female edible crabs in a similar mode. I saw a big oyster and thought, "that's quite rare, it must have come from the Port Navas hatchery a few years ago. "
Broken shell ground appeared after I swam over a mid-river batch of eel grass patches, small clumps of eel grass, the fronds of which are short. I saw many more oysters and my (diving cylinder) contents gauge was almost at 120 bars (half full). Finally I had found my favourite place. Astounding is the appropriate word.
On land it was ten degrees centigrade at the start of winter, yet down there it was 15 degrees centigrade, animals scuttling around like people in an outdoor street market. Where have all those oysters come from? Small spat oysters were there too. No wonder I found a small ray nearby looking well fed. The "broken shells" from small clams (no commercial value!) remain firmly locked within a bed of living calcified seaweed, maerl, acting like cement to crazy-paving. Decorator crabs were few in number but whelks were plentiful, I just didn't want to go home. The biology text-book in my head was flicking through page after page, testing my 50 year old brain to the full; what's this and what's that? North was soon calling (80 bars left). I set my compass and later surfaced just off Durgan moorings. Head up I finned back to Grebe beach.
It was raining, how absurd, I couldn't get any wetter. Those rain droplets formed a magical pattern upon a flat, glassy surface around me. Three cormorants swam closer to inspect me. A noisy group of oyster-catchers flew overhead, I began to swim harder for the beach thinking work was also calling, had I stayed too long away from the office. I immediately stopped. "You are always rushing," I thought. I looked around, there was no-one in sight, just birds singing and a beautiful aroma of decaying old coppice oak leaves.
The air was so still, perfect silence blended by rippling waves I heard caressing that beach 50 yards behind me. Once more I had been a guest inside the finest natural aquarium I have ever seen. I stayed on the surface for ten whole minutes, 'drinking' that precious air that covers the Helford River. Truly I was the luckiest man alive. Addiction? I guess you can call it that.
Jaws of Helford can be obtained @ £18.95p direct from By-Water Productions (01326) 374957.
Phil Lockley