Beneath the Gibraltar Straits, Andrew Pugsley is literally holding his breath. The water cloaks his quarry. He strains to see tell tale shadows on the fringes of visibility. And then, from out of the blue, emerges another breatholder. Curious and cautious, mirroring Andrew's own thoughts, the baby pilot whale edges towards him. But the encounter is all too brief. Seconds later an adult, much larger than the youngster, appears and escorts the calf into the depths where we cannot follow. For both human and whale, their first look at one another underwater is over. Andrew and I are on the Rock to evaluate business opportunities for Mavericks, our London based dive centre, and to develop ideas for The Underwater Channel, which Andrew presents. I learned to dive in Gibraltar more than twenty years ago. Recently I've started to think about Gib's potential as a draw for experienced divers seeking challenging experiences without the hassles of long haul travel. The Underwater Channel is an on line TV station for divers. It's the brainchild of Emmy award winning documentary filmmaker Nicholas Claxton. The show has been partly taped at Mavericks Diving. Andrew is looking for projects that will inform and entertain viewers while appealing to his own sense of high adventure. And so jointly we hit on the possibility of diving with the pilot whales of Gibraltar. Pilot whales are not actually small whales, but large dolphins. They can reach 6 metres in length and weigh in at over three tons. The pilots are named for their habit of following a single leading whale when travelling. They are among the most abundant of cetaceans, the family that dolphins and whales belong to. Pilot whales are sociable animals that live in small pods and seem to have a developed language, communicating with clicks and whistles. Pilot whales have highly advanced echo location systems which can outperform the best military SONAR. They use it to locate prey, like cuttlefish, in the abyss. They are highly intelligent. The US Navy has trained pilot whales to recover dummy torpedoes from depths of 500 metres. Mothers are known to mourn dead calves, carrying them in their mouths for days. Controversially, the Faeroese butcher pilot whales. The whales are driven into the shallows and killed in groups. The bays turn red with blood as arteries in the whales' neck are opened up with gaffs and knives. A project like ours is always time consuming and expensive. From past experience, we know success cannot be guaranteed. Often "success" is measured in just a few minutes in the water. For example it took Andrew and I two fortnight long trips to South Africa, a year apart, at a cost of £4000 each to finally realise our ambition to photograph white sharks without using cages. And I have barely a few seconds footage to show for it. Even then the camera ate the tape - the last thing anyone thought would get chewed on that shoot. We had to settle for the experience. You have to be willing to gamble and lose. That makes the personal satisfaction all the greater when the risk pays off and for a few moments you're privileged to observe nature firsthand in ways even most divers will only see on their home TV. To stack the odds in our favour as far as possible, we always try to work with local experts. It's their knowledge that can get you the prize. Nick Balban is one of Gibraltar's most respected fishermen. He is also an accomplished diver. Nick's exceptional understanding of both the marine life in his home waters and the unique needs of underwater photographers made him our first choice. We specifically timed our visit around Nicks' availability. The Balban family sport cruiser, Cri Cri, a 9 metre twin engined Draco became our base. From his vantage point high above the waves on the flying bridge of the Cri Cri, Nick spots the sickle dorsal fins of a new pod in the distance. Andrew and I remain at the stern, re-fitting our fins and checking our cameras. We won't be able to see the whales until they are much closer. Nick's tactic is to intercept the whale's path, stop the Draco's engines, and wait for the whales to come to us. On his command, we swiftly enter the water. As we bob on the surface, it becomes a waiting game. The ocean floor lies half a kilometre below us. The pilots need veer only slightly left or right or submerge to be lost from our view altogether. A pilot whale more than 15 metres away is simply invisible. Out here, the sea seems lifeless. We dip our heads underwater, then up again to look to Nick for his hand signals. Without references, it's easy to end up facing in completely the wrong direction. A pilot whale crosses our horizon. Then another and another. Andrew and I dive in unison. The pod closes ranks and swims almost as one, surfacing together, breathing out with a distinctive snort, inhaling in an instant, then sounding. We're trying to keep alongside, exhilaration overcoming the building urge to breathe we're both feeling after a minute or so underwater. In my viewfinder I see a whale has wrapped its pectoral fin around the back of a companion, much as we might embrace a friend we're truly at ease with. As they rise again, I breach with them, snatching a breath as they do. And then with powerful strokes of their tails, they make their exit. Moments later, Cri Cri is alongside and Nick is helping us back on board for the next dive. Thanks to "Flipper", people tend to think of dolphins, especially, as playful and good-natured, much like seagoing Labradors, only smarter. But they are wild animals and in the wild they can be extremely violent. Some dolphin species are known to kill others. The permanent smile is a biological feature. Much like a politicians fixed grin, it betrays nothing of the animal's emotions or intentions. Lisa Costello famously had a frightening run in with a pilot whale. She had been close enough to touch the animal, when it took her leg in its jaws and dived swiftly to 12 metres. Lisa believes it sensed her running out of breath and turned in its tracks and bolted for the surface, where it released her. As pilot whales can descend to depths where the pressure would flatten an oil drum, it was a fortunate and generous decision on the whale's part to let her go. Suddenly, the whales are upon us again. A large whale breaks off from the group and dives towards Andrew and I. In my ears I can hear the pilot whale continually clicking. Through my viewfinder I watch it barrel roll...and then it smacks the water hard twice with its flukes. The high tail kicks are aimed directly towards us. But the whale has deliberately missed actually hitting either of us. If it hadn't, we'd have been lucky to escape with nothing more serious than crushed ribs and broken limbs. It's our warning. The pilots have had enough of us. They disappear into the blue. I turn off my camera, slowly surface and head for the boat. The whales have just called time on the perfect day.

See also:

Destination: Gibraltar

Swimming with pilot whales off Gibraltar - a GBC news report.