Mr. Turtle

While freediving in Freeport, Grand Bahama, working on a new photo series in the early morning, I asked the captain to take us to a dive site that had a small opening of a blue hole nearby. It was supposedly the size of a dinner table, but in my experience, those small blue holes often attract stingrays or turtles—so I wanted to check it out.I jumped in the water but didn’t see anything at first. I told the captain I’d swim around and asked him to follow me slowly in the boat. The ocean was calm, about 50 feet deep, and the sunlight lit everything up perfectly. Then out of nowhere, I spotted movement below. A giant Loggerhead turtle—probably 4ft long with a head bigger than mine—was coming straight up from the bottom. It locked eyes with me and swam aggressively right toward my face. I kept my camera steady while still taking photos, but the turtle didn’t slow down. It got so close I had to turn my lens away and gently push it aside by the shell to avoid scratching or cracking my glass dome port. It circled me at the surface, watching me, taking a few breaths, then hovered. But it didn’t end there. Another Loggerhead swam in from the distance, and not long after, a third. At that point, I figured—this had to be mating season. The first two started biting at each other’s tails and circling one another, ten feet below me, while the third one hovered nearby like it was watching the show. I was alone in about 60 to 80 feet of water, just floating above three massive turtles going at it. Loggerheads can crush conch shells with their beaks, so I kept a respectful distance while they handled whatever turtle business I’d stumbled into. It was one of the most intense and unexpected wildlife encounters I’ve ever had—and easily one of the wildest moments I’ve had with sea turtles.