Reflection of the Sea.
Fishing Refuges Part 3 of 4.
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" When there are no more fish and coral left in the sea, only our reflection will remain. "
Alonso I. Rodríguez de la Parra, explorer and documentary filmmaker.
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Divers monitoring the seabed - Alonso I. Rodríguez de la Parra
Being on the boat with the Fishing Refuges team was one of the most enlightening experiences. On the one hand, I felt young and excited to participate in a mission like this scientific expedition. Although my goal has always been to offer my services as a photographer to contribute something positive to the oceans, I also felt a deep curiosity about how all that data about the oceans was obtained and what the scientific evidence was behind the nature documentaries I've enjoyed so much. Even though the general news remains very bad, the Fishing Refuges expedition opened up a huge perspective in my mind about how many things related to marine conservation work in Mexico, and witnessing a success story firsthand was inspiring.
Arriving in La Paz always brings me a feeling of tranquility; there must be a reason they named it that. Although a lot happens there...
I was in Xcalak, in the south of the Mexican Republic, when I received a call from someone who would later become a great friend.
“Hello, Alonso, I’m Irene and I’m calling because I came across your work and I’d like to invite you as a photographer to the 25th anniversary expedition of Fishing Refuges,” said Irene.
I'd never heard of this before; the truth is, I was completely ignorant about how my country worked, the government's actions, and many other things I still don't fully understand. Do I even know the ocean? The truth is, the more time I spend researching and learning, the more I feel lost amidst all the new questions it raises.
“Yes, of course, that sounds fantastic. I can fly to La Paz in a few days,” I said.
I went for it with my camera and a microphone...
Upon arriving in La Paz, I went to the offices of an NGO called Niparajá. Every year they conduct a scientific expedition, sailing aboard "Quino the Guardian"—in this case, a boat—or another available vessel. There I met Florian, a French student and colleague who was doing science using a hydrophone to listen to the fish, corals, and other inhabitants of the reef, and to identify different species by listening to the reef sounds. It would never have occurred to me to listen to the reef to study the life around it using the sound waves generated by a submerged hydrophone! There are many things you can do in many ways. And if you focus on your senses and turn them into conscious actions, the things you receive will lead you to ask the right questions. Listen, Observe, Feel, Smell, and Taste. It is through these five actions that we perceive and understand reality. And I explain this from that perspective because, despite the scientific evidence these basic senses have allowed us to obtain, and the actual data, it seems we often fail to understand reality. Many are merely hearing, seeing, existing, breathing, and swallowing, without truly appreciating the world with the beauty of intelligence and art, with the abilities we possess as humans. That feeling we have from childhood, which we dull with age, losing our taste for understanding our surroundings and the reason for our existence.
Abundance - Alonso I. Rodríguez de la Parra
To reach the vessel, we had to drive from La Paz to the coastal community of Agua Verde, a town where most people make their living from fishing and ranching. From there, we navigated for about two hours in a small panga until we reached the main boat.
When it was time to board, I was already fully immersed in my role as a documentary filmmaker. I began observing and filming the behavior of everyone on board. At first, I tried to interact as little as possible so my presence wouldn’t interfere with what was unfolding. Everyone seemed deeply focused on their responsibilities: some were checking their dive gear, others filling out data sheets and paperwork, others preparing equipment and tools, and a couple of people resting. Without a doubt, everyone there was committed to their role and to the work they were doing.
What surprised me most was that the majority of the people on board were local fishers from the very communities that benefit from the areas we were analyzing and studying. That’s when I understood that the only way to truly protect something is to care about what surrounds you in your daily life. These fishers live from and depend on these waters; they depend on this corridor that is now being studied and monitored. If anything happens to the ocean, they will be the first affected. And yet, I was overwhelmed by a deep sense of guilt. In reality, they are the ones most concerned about the health of the ecosystems around them, but they are not the ones responsible for the degradation and loss of these ecosystems. Most of the threats facing these places are external: maritime pollution, industrial fishing fleets coming from elsewhere, and the pace of life in large cities—reflected in the ocean as well.
Seeing these fishers not only worrying but taking action—studying species in depth, understanding how their ecosystems function, speaking in language far more elaborate and scientific than many of my biologist friends and students, training to become professional divers specialized in marine biodiversity monitoring, working as a team and responding to the needs of the entire group—not only for their own communities but for everyone’s—fills me with hope. While I see many biologist friends competing over who publishes the best scientific paper or secures more funding to supposedly “do conservation,” these people were simply committed to the cause: saving the biodiversity that surrounds their communities and collaborating to address the problem directly.
I spent about ten days on board that vessel, if I remember correctly, and had the opportunity to dive in many areas along this marine corridor. Each site had its own personality, its own unique topography—some full of life, others marked by scarcity. The areas we visited are generally divided into three categories: fishing refuge zones, use zones, and zones of interest.
Fishing refuge zones are dedicated strictly to conservation. These are places where fish reproduce, spawn, or are known to spend significant time. They are protected areas where fishing is not allowed and have been recognized and respected by the communities since the program began.
Use zones are areas where fishing is permitted, always following regulations regarding closed seasons and size limits. In these places, communities fish to feed their families and supply local markets and buyers.
Finally, there are zones of fishing interest—areas that were once highly productive and are believed to have the potential to recover if properly cared for and studied. From here comes the well-known phrase: “Stop fishing today so we can fish tomorrow.”
The biological corridor being studied during this expedition stretches from Agua Verde to Punta Coyote, and many other teams are studying additional locations as well. But rather than writing about something you could easily look up online, I want to share my personal experience aboard this vessel.
During each dive and in the quiet moments between them, I observed many things about myself. I saw my own reflections in the collective need that drives this work. Although we all have personal reasons—reasons that directly affect us and that should already be enough to make us care—this effort ultimately serves a common good. We are all affected as a community. The threats we face are shared, but they also reach us individually.
Brujita - Alonso I. Rodríguez de la Parra
The first harsh dose of reality that life dealt me was the realization that I had a completely wrong understanding of the problems a fisherman faces. In my mind, I imagined a fisherman had a peaceful life, floating on the ocean and fishing every day. And perhaps that was true in the past, without even considering the greatest fear anyone can have in this profession: the weather and nature. But witnessing daily how the nets get lighter, fewer fish are caught, and the hours spent in the panga are so much longer just to make the trip worthwhile, along with the financial investment involved, is a sad story to hear.
Many told me the same thing: fishing wasn't as easy as their grandparents had described it. Now they had to venture many miles out to sea, which presents a risk because the sea and weather can be very unpredictable. Sometimes they didn't have enough gas to make a day's fishing profitable, and for this reason, many of them became diving monitors. On the one hand, the pay can be better, but the honor and satisfaction it brings is greater. Knowing you're working for your community and protecting your children's future is the greatest gift you can give to those around you and to the planet. This inspired me and reminded me why I do what I do.
The second dose of reality was seeing how this team functioned, each member fulfilling their role to benefit the common cause. Being able to document this is eye-opening. Cooperation is essential for any project if you want it to become something bigger than yourself. And although my only job here was to take photographs for the NGO that invited me on this expedition, I believe that by writing and sharing this experience personally, I can inspire a few others to join this mission to understand the ocean in all its facets and from different perspectives.
The daily protocols and activities were very well organized. The first few days were mostly about understanding what they were doing there, and although they had explained it to me in the project introduction, it's true that you can't really understand something until you experience it firsthand. So, day after day, I prepared my diving gear, my underwater camera, and my camera for conducting interviews, and one of the most enriching adventures I've ever had at sea began. It was an experience that changed the way I understand the Sea of Cortez and its inhabitants, both human and marine.
The methodology for studying this area seems simple at first, but its analysis and understanding are a bit more complex, and I will try to describe them as accurately as possible within my own understanding.
To tell - Alonso I. Rodríguez de la Parra
"When there are no more fish and coral left in the sea, only our reflection will remain."
Alonso I. Rodríguez de la Parra