Exploration

Searching for aliens

On Vancouver Island, the Edges of Earth expedition explores the local cold-water environments in search of the elusive giant Pacific octopus.

Words by Andi Cross
Photographs by Adam Moore & Marla Tomorug

It had been two weeks of cold immersion scuba diving, gradually building up our stamina as we prepared to head to Alaska, Iceland, and Scotland next. With over 30 hours of temperate water diving in 7mm wetsuits, and now 10 hours of cold water diving in our drysuits, we were starting to feel somewhat prepared for the coldest diving yet ahead. And when I say “somewhat”, I use that word very lightly.

We had arrived in British Columbia at the peak of summer, a far cry from our usual off-peak explorations on the Edges of Earth expedition. But this time, the plan was to ease ourselves into the cold, letting the warmer topside temperatures offer some reprieve as we acclimated. Even by my somewhat extreme standards, a first go at cold water diving during Alaska’s winter would’ve been a bit too much. 

My goal in diving the sites of Campbell River on Vancouver Island was twofold: of course acclimating to the cold, but then ultimately gaining a deeper understanding of these cold-water environments. Over the years, some of my favourite dives had been in temperate conditions, particularly the kelp forests of coastal California. Monterey Bay and the Channel Islands were where I first became comfortable navigating dives without a guide, learning to trust my skills in the dense kelp and cooler waters. Those dives in a 7mm wetsuit were challenging yet exhilarating, laying the groundwork for the cold-water expedition chapters that would follow years later. 

During the pandemic, while much of the world was locked down, I was in Western Australia honing my dive training. We couldn’t leave the state due to strict lockdowns and I was granted one of the few government exemptions to fly back to the U.S. for both professional and personal circumstances. Three days after touching down in Hawaii in August 2021 for work, I learned that my exemption had been revoked, which prohibited me from returning to Australia, indefinitely. That winter, with only dive gear and summer clothes in my suitcase, I ended up on the California coast, diving in temperate waters and exploring new terrain. Those months of diving opened my eyes to a new world, one that would in turn shape my future as an obsessive cold-water diver.

When I finally returned to Western Australia that March of 2022 – nine months later – I knew immediately that it was time to start my drysuit training in the winter waters around Perth. The process was anything but easy. Learning to use a drysuit properly took time, patience, and a lot of trial and error. But I knew that mastering this new skill would unlock a new chapter in my diving journey, one that would lead to worlds both above and below water that are far off the most trodden paths. With this, and like anything else when it comes to scuba, there were no shortcuts. The only way out was to power through. 

Only a year later, the Edges of Earth expedition kicked off in South Australia. There, we were documenting marine life and experiencing temperate diving in wetsuits which continued to build my resilience to the cold. From the Giant Cuttlefish to Great White Sharks, these dives tested our limits and acted as nice prep steps for the colder waters that were coming ahead in the year that followed. After more dives back in California by February 2024, I felt ready to take on Canada’s cold. By the time August 2024 rolled around, we were primed for the next challenge: three weeks of full-throttle cold-water diving.

Of course, nothing goes according to plan. My brand-new crushed neoprene drysuit flooded at the neck in Halifax’s 8°C (46°F) water on the very first day out, requiring a full replacement. Then came the wrist seals, followed by random holes from the constant use in rough conditions. I found myself in dive shops more times than I can count, making adjustments and repairs before heading to that main event I mentioned before: Campbell River.

Campbell River, located on the east coast of Vancouver Island, is often overshadowed by its northern and southern neighbours, Port Hardy and Nanaimo for example. But for me, it was the destination of choice – offering the perfect training ground for cold-water diving and the chance to encounter some of the most incredible marine life. Campbell River’s diving is known for being downright hard, with powerful currents driven by the unique geography of the Discovery Passage. This narrow ocean channel funnels massive volumes of water between Vancouver Island and the mainland, creating some of the strongest tidal currents in the world. The underwater topography adds to the challenge, making diving here physically demanding and requiring deep respect for earth’s raw power.

One of the most captivating aspects of this area, like much of Vancouver Island, is the giant Pacific octopus, which made headlines in 2022 about a close encounter with one of these creatures in these very parts. These octopus are found all along this coast and thrive in nutrient-rich habitats like kelp forests, rocky reefs, and deep coastal waters, where it can blend effortlessly into its surroundings. This species is the largest of all octopuses, with an average size of 15 feet in arm span and 100 pounds in weight, though some exceptional individuals have been recorded at over 30 feet across and weighing up to 600 pounds!

Unlike most octopus species, which typically live for only about a year, the Giant Pacific can live for three to five years, allowing it more time to learn and adapt. Despite this longer lifespan, these creatures lead a mostly solitary life. They come together only to mate, and this process marks the beginning of the end for both sexes. After mating, males often die a few weeks later, while females lay thousands of eggs (up to 100,000) and guard them diligently, refraining from eating until the eggs hatch, which ultimately leads to her death as well. 

But their remarkable intelligence and adaptability is what sets these creatures apart, renowned particularly for their impressive problem-solving abilities. In fact, octopi are considered the most intelligent invertebrates, rivalling that of even dogs or crows. They are said to be capable of opening jars, navigating mazes, and even recognizing individual humans – skills that demonstrate their advanced cognitive functions. Their intelligence, combined with their physical abilities, makes them one of the ocean’s most extraordinary and elusive inhabitants. 

The octopus defends itself with one of the most advanced camouflage systems in nature. Beneath its skin are millions of specialised cells called chromatophores, which allow it to change colour and texture rapidly, blending seamlessly into its environment. This extraordinary ability makes these giants one of the more challenging to spot on a dive. Patience, keen observation, and a bit of luck are essential for anyone hoping to encounter this elusive animal. You need to look closely and move slowly, as they can easily hide in plain sight.

After back-to-back dives in harsh conditions, hitting some of the most notable sites in the region, we geared up for our final dive in Canada on expedition. My dive buddy, Andrea Humphreys, a seasoned local diver, and our captain, Earl Lowe of Abyssal Diving Charters, who had been diving these waters for 30 years, knew the best spots and the perfect timing for marine encounters. Andrea was in fact the woman who had the close encounter with the octopus only a few years back and was therefore deemed “the octopus whisperer”. Although we hadn’t seen an octopus yet, we still felt cautiously optimistic. 

Dropping down to 18 meters (59 feet), the cold was biting after hours of diving throughout the day. The current was light, a peaceful change from the raging waters earlier where we clung to bull kelp to avoid being swept into the channel. Moving slowly along the seafloor, we admired the vibrant anemones until we finally spotted one, right out in the open. Not fully camouflaged, the octopus was actually in plain sight. Andrea and I exchanged glances, wondering if we were about to relive her famous moment after all. The octopus reached out one of its tentacles, touching my hand and lifting it up, almost as if it was introducing itself – a handshake from one peaceful friend to the next. 

For the next 30 minutes, the octopus willingly interacted with us, changing colours and textures, climbing on us, and even showing us its den. We hardly moved, and let the octopus show us the way. It was a surreal experience, one that reminded me of why I love diving so much – the chance to connect with the ocean in a way that few people ever do. As the current began to shift, the octopus retreated to its hideout, signalling that our time was up. We were close to deco and low on air – all signs were pointing to our surface. And on that dive, we completely forgot about being cold, even as the temperature dropped. 

This octopus encounter was one of those reminders of why the long hours of training and the relentless challenges of cold-water diving are worth it. The journey to mastering new skills can be gruelling, with times where we want to give up so badly. But it’s precisely this perseverance that leads to experiences beyond your wildest imagination. Diving isn’t just a sport, it’s a gateway to discovering parts of the world and yourself that you never knew existed. The struggle, the preparation, and the patience all culminate in moments of genuine connection with nature, much like this encounter in Campbell River. For those who stick with the process, the rewards are nothing short of extraordinary.

 

Photographs by Adam Moore & Marla Tomorug

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