There are places in the ocean where you can feel the shift before you ever see it. Cuba is one of them. The moment I rolled off the boat and let the saltwater close over me, I could sense with my eyes and my ears that this reef was different—healthier, more confident, alive in a way I rarely encounter anymore. 

Sharks in Every Direction 

My first dive set the tone for the entire trip. Silhouetted against the bright surface, sharks moved with an ease that only comes from belonging. They weren’t passing visitors or rare sightings—they were the architecture of the reef itself. 

There’s a deep reassurance in that healthy reefs have sharks. Reefs with sharks are reefs still functioning as nature intended.  Healthy reefs are also noisy because the small fish are eating the algae off the coral. But, the small fish can get out of balance without a top predator.

The Pulse of the Reef: Schoolmasters, Wrasse &  Hogfish 

Drifting along the spur-and-groove formations, I found myself enveloped by a living tapestry of fish life.  Large schools of schoolmaster snappers pulsed around me, yellow tails flickering like a thousand small sparks. Above and between them,  blue chromis, pork fish and creole wrasse  hovered in shimmering blue clouds, catching the light in a way only small fish can. They are the heartbeat of a thriving reef, the quiet affirmation that the ecosystem beneath you is still in balance. 

As a US citizen, the trip to Cuba had to be for a qualifying purpose, ours was for humanitarian purposes. We were there to participate in a fish preservation effort which started with trying to observe and record fish counts by species.   The fish I chose to count was the hogfish.   Hogfish are important to the aquatic ecosystem as a predator that controls populations of invertebrates, and as a species that contributes to reef health by foraging for prey, and as both predator and prey in the food web. Juvenile hogfish also provide a vital service by acting as cleaners at “cleaner stations” where they remove parasites from larger fish.   Adult hogfish are bottom-feeding predators that feed on mollusks, crustaceans, and sea urchins. Their strong jaws help them crush hard-shelled prey, and they use their snout to root through sand to find food.  As a mid-level predator, hogfish also serve as a food source for larger predators in the reef ecosystem (i.e.) sharks and in particular, gray reef sharks.   Hogfish also form partnerships with other species, such as the bluehead wrasse. In this relationship, the wrasse stirs up prey, which the hogfish then eats, while the presence of the hogfish helps deter predators from both species.  Like many wrasses, hogfish are sequential hermaphrodites, meaning they change sex during different life stages; they are protogynous, “first female” hermaphrodite.  Thus,  juvenile hogfish start out as female and then mature to become male.   One of the biggest risks to hogfish is overfishing.  Our dives were on the reef known as Jardines de la Reina or the Garden of the Queen, and my observation was that I saw many hogfish on nearly every dive, many of whom were fully mature.   Even though I have seen many hogfish over the years, I don’t remember ever seeing one that was as pink as one of the fish I saw.

Groupers in Abundance 

What surprised me quite a bit was the number and diversity of groupers. Black groupers patrolled the coral heads with an almost statuesque presence. Nassau groupers—rare in healthy numbers across much of the region—moved confidently from ledge to ledge, and were common and often quite friendly and followed our group of divers almost like puppy dogs. 

At one cleaning station, I watched a large Nassau grouper settle in while tiny cleaning specialists tended to it with meticulous care. The moment had a sacred stillness to it, the kind of interaction that only unfolds when an ecosystem is intact enough to allow it. 

 

What Was Missing?  

I have been diving all over the Caribbean, but I was quite surprised that in a week, I saw only 5 lionfish, three of which I saw on a night dive.  Why was that surprising?  Lionfish are an invasive species with no natural predators. They reproduce a thousand times faster than rabbits.  Consider this: 30,000 eggs  or so are released every three or four days.   In many of the places I have been diving in the Caribbean in the last decade, the lionfish have cleaned off the vast majority of the native small fish that would otherwise be present.  Lionfish at this time do not appear to be cleaning the small fish off the reef in the Garden of the Queen.   In my mind that is a small miracle.

And, when we looked very closely even the small creatures were present such as lettuce leaf slugs.

The Human Landscape 

Between dives, I spent time talking with the local guides, captains, and staff who make their living along this coastline. Cuba is full of visible hardship—limited resources, constrained options—but the people I met carried themselves with a quiet dignity shaped by resilience rather than material comfort.  On our way to the dive boat we went through Havana.  There we had many opportunities to see the creativity and artistic skills of the people.  What was apparent to me was the ingenuity that I observed generally in Cuba. Ingenuity was strongly present in their art.  Consider this, an artist started using broken tiles to make mosaics.  Not long thereafter, his neighbors followed suit and their creativity was abundant. It struck me that they had taken what many would discard, yet they had turned it into treasure.    

And of course we saw the pre-1959 US manufactured cars which often serve as taxies in town.   Considering that the Cuban’s have to deal with salt air, it is remarkable how well they have maintained their cars, some of which were well over 70 years old.

Every kindness by the Cubans felt intentional. Every gesture was an offering. It was impossible not to feel grateful for their openness and generosity.  On the bus ride from Havana to the dive boat I met Omar Puentes who shares my interest in underwater photography some of whose images are shared herein.     

What Stays With You 

Cuba left me thinking about balance. About the contrast between flourishing reefs and a nation navigating difficult circumstances. About resilience—both human and ecological. And about the fragile miracle that occurs when an ecosystem is left intact long enough to remember how to thrive. 

I returned home with cards full of sharks, groupers, and shimmering schools of life. But the images are more than memories—they’re reminders that beauty still exists in places where we don’t always expect it. And that some wild spaces, if given the chance, can still surprise us with their abundance. 

For Collectors 

If one of these moments resonates with you, I invite you to explore the limited-edition prints from this trip on my fine art gallery http://Campbellphotography.com. Each piece is offered in small, carefully curated editions for collectors who value rarity and the deeper stories behind the work. If you’d like guidance choosing a piece that fits your space or collection, I’m always happy to confer with you and can be reached through my gallery. 

A few other sights that we saw and punctuated the images of the trip.