This was one of the most challenging images I have ever captured.

Marlin are pelagic animals, meaning they inhabit the upper layers of the open ocean far from shore. Most of the year they are dispersed so finding and capturing an image of them is like trying to photograph a needle in a haystack. The best opportunity is when they gather in large numbers during one of nature’s great events, the Mexican sardine run. This occurs when the small pelagic sardines, traveling within the California current along the western cost of Baja, settle to feed and spawn in a few ‘peak’ locations along the coast. As they mature, they attract large predators becoming a key species in the food web. These predators include dolphins, whales, sealions and, of course huge numbers of Marlins.

The locations and timing of these events are well known amongst the commercial and sport fishing communities. Monstrous three-story fishing boats loaded down with radar, sonar and various other fish finding technologies plough through heavy seas on their hunt for sardine aggregations. A dozen rich tourists aboard, beers in hand and all looking to reel in a marlin they can mount on their wall. They certainly starkly contrast the smaller Panga fiberglass fishing boats which brave rough seas carrying only two or three occupants. These Panga boats have a single spotter who sits on the front looking for frigate birds that mark the location of the baitfish. Their occupants are doing what they need to do to scratch out a living and amongst them, me, on a Panga only hopping to see one of nature’s incredible spectacles. I hold some solace in the fact that the Panga I rented was not being used that day to capture and kill this beautiful species.

The sardines gather in large numbers and feed in the nutrient rich waters. They form up into a tight ball when predators approach. This results in a large swirling mass of silver bodies which helps to confuse predators and prevents them from singling out a target. Safety in numbers is an effective tactic in the deep against a few predators. The marlins herd the bait balls to the surface in order to box them in on one side limiting their movements. Other predators often join the hunt including dolphins, sealions and skipjack tuna. The threat to the sardines isn’t limited to the sea. Frigate birds circle above waiting to launch an aerial assault. The height of the birds is said to match the depth of the bait balls and when they start to hit the water, you know there is action below.

The bait balls are rarely static and move around at an extremely fast pace. You sit on the side of the boat waiting for the captain to position you in its unpredictable path. When he yells you jump and hope. Most times the bait ball will change path but one time in ten it will pass by followed by numerous marlins lit up ready to strike. Flying by at an incredible speed in pursuit of their prey. Although this is incredible to witness, its not great for photography. You may jag a nice portrait but getting a shot of the bait ball and marlin in the same frame is next to impossible. Instead, as soon as you hit the water, you start swimming as fast as you possibly can in the same direction as the bait ball. Then you hope if it passes you will be able to capture a frame that encompasses the great hunt.

In the extremely fast paced action, you often find yourself competing for a bait ball with various obstacles eg. other humans, entanglement in fishing line or collision with a hook. Fighting between competing captains only exacerbate the situation in the unregulated environment. The humans around me are by far the biggest danger to me. Vigilance is the only way to combat the insanity which taxes my already overstretched concentration. These are far from ideal conditions for a photoshoot.

On the rarest of days, you may find a static bait ball which stays in place for a minute or two. This opens up the opportunities of composition and allows you to truly witness the spectacle. You must be quick as the predators will make sort work of a static bait ball or the prey will realise their tactics are not working and flee.

On an eventful day you may jump fifty times. If you were lucky, you might see Marlin in five of those and get to spend 5-10 seconds with them. On an uneventful day you may not see a single Marlin. Each day starts before the sun had risen and ends as the last colours leave the sky. Swells combined with winds, driven by the mid-day sun, in the unpredictable Pacific Ocean often made the long ride back to shore difficult, dangerous and extremely uncomfortable. Most days I would return having only seen a few glimpses of passing Marlin or without seeing any at all. But this day I returned to port with an image I knew was a keeper. It made all of the time and effort worthwhile.

I hope you like ‘strike’