Sydney submerged
I HAVE A SUNRISE DATE WITH A SEAHORSE. It’s at Manly Cove, so I’m up early, driving across Sydney Harbour Bridge, racing the rising sun. The traffic is already a headache; Google Maps shows a further delay in my predicted arrival time; and I still need to find a car park, get my dive gear together, check my camera and locate my muse – potentially tricky considering its tiny size and cryptic appearance and behaviour.
As an underwater photographer, I work mostly away from major urban centres. But here I am, turning onto the notoriously hectic Military Road and driving with barely enough elbow room towards Sydney’s populous Northern Beaches. I arrive as the pastel pink and blue hues of first light colour the sky and quickly enter the water. Finning along the sandy bottom towards the net of Manly Cove’s swimming enclosure, the water is surprisingly clear as blue swimmer crabs and harvest cuttlefish hustle for my attention.
Minutes later I find my quarry – a charismatic creature, just 15cm long, covered in hard body armour and grasping the net with its prehensile tail. The stress of the morning rush hour melts away with the rising sun as I capture a portrait within the last shafts of dawn light.
Sydney’s sun-spangled waters are central to the city’s national and international reputation. But I’ve often wondered how much life lies submerged, hidden away from the above-water pressures of Australia’s biggest city and its ever-sprawling human population. So now I’ve seen proof of the city’s growing reputation as a seahorse haven. But what else is veiled from view beneath the opaque surface of the waters near some of our most iconic landmarks, beaches and headlands?
GEOLOGICALLY, SYDNEY HARBOUR is a river valley that was drowned as the sea level rose about 11,000 years ago at the onset of the present interglacial period. But from a marine ecology perspective it’s one of the world’s most modified estuarine systems. Along with Port Hacking, Botany
