Jim's Last Dive

The day we lay Jim Watt to rest those closest to him with tears still streaming down their faces vowed to fulfill his last wish, to have his ashes scattered in the heart of his beloved humpback whale grounds along the Kona coast of Hawaii. On as fine a March morning as could be remembered, some seven months later, ten of us gathered at the Honokohau harbor and launched two boats. Jim would have been fired up at the prospects of finding whales this windless, and cloudless morning. We fairly skipped our way northwest for about forty minutes to the center of the whale grounds cryptically named “Moon Base”. Then, not sure of exactly where to begin, we stopped near two whales that were resting on the surface. It felt as good as any place, but there was no sign, no indication that this was the proper place. No one said anything but there was indecision in the air. We drifted around, one boat took off, and we followed, neither knowing where to stop. Two more whales appeared, these were a bit more lively, in a state of playfulness, possibly something Jim might have latched onto. Our movements felt fluid and there was a sense about us that a rightness had to occur, but what would that be? How would it manifest? There was no previous experience to lean on, nothing to direct us. We motored slowly with the whales for ten or fifteen minutes then suddenly we just stopped and silently agreed that this was the place.

We entered the cobalt water that was as clear as a child’s eye and formed a circle. Wthout words or ceremony we released his ashes into the water.

In that moment everything seemed to shift.

To witness Jim’s ashes mushrooming into the sea was to once again be in the water with him, knowing it was for the last time.

Time stopped for us all. The experience was utterly profound, and I began to cry inside my mask as I watched his ashes expand ever outward into the sea. It was as if all that was his form, was suddenly in the process of molecular disintegration. Something that eventually will occur to us all over time was happening right before our eyes. In those moments someone made a free dive into Jim’s midst and disappeared into his vaporized form. And then one by one we all made our dives, gliding through him and in a way he into us, and in those vivid and surreal moments we came together as he would wish it one last time. It was as powerful an experience as I’ve had in my lifetime, befitting the legacy of water knowledge that was Jim’s gift to all who were present.

As we returned to our respective boats amid hugs and tears a pod of spotted dolphins appeared and swam through the flowers that had been scattered to mark his time and place on the planet.

Carlos Eyles

Jim Watt Returns to the Ocean

Jim Watt returned to the ocean where he belonged. His close friends and family members took a boat ride and scattered his ashes into the ocean in the morning on Sunday, July 22nd, 2007. Many familiar faces were there to see him off. We tried to keep our smiley faces to celebrate his glorious life throughout the event, but we easily burst into tears when we started to pay tribute to his beautiful life while grabbing each others' hands in a circle. It was such an emotional ride for everybody, and all of us cried out loud when his ashes went into the ocean. We threw many flowers with prayers and tears as we circled him several times. I poured a bottle of rum as well as my tears into the ocean. Rum & Coke was his favorite drink of all time, and we spent much time over that brown cocktail talking about our next adventures.

I know that it will be very strange and even awkward not to see him physically off Kona Coast any longer as he was such a big part of this Hawaiian water, and whenever we both were out, we closely communicated with each other. Although the time may eventually resolve such awkwardness, everything will be alright as he lives forever in my heart and that of others whose lives were also touched by him. I can "feel" him everyday when I see the ocean, smell the sea breeze, and taste the salt water...fortunately for me those are daily events in Kona, Hawaii. I feel extremely lucky to get to know him that well. It was a great honor and such a privilege to have spent nine years of my life with the great man and inspiring photographer like Jim Watt in this paradise.

As we were about to return to the dock with our heads down after we were emotionally drained offshore, something magical happened. Hawaiian Spinner Dolphins suddenly showed up by our boat and escorted us to the Keauhou Harbor. We all felt that was Jim cheering us up and saying goodbye to us. Thanks for the great memories, Jim.

"Let's go out and have fun tomorrow, Jim. I'll meet you out there, buddy."

Masa Ushioda

In Memoriam - James D. Watt

I am sure most of you have already heard that marine life photographer James D. Watt (Jim Watt) passed away on Thursday morning July 19th here in Kona, Hawaii. Carlos & Margaret Eyles were at his side along with other friends and family. It is almost surreal that this happened. Jim was diagnosed with lung cancer (stage 3b) almost a year ago. He underwent rounds of chemo and strict orders from his doctor not to leave Hawaii.

A month ago Jim stopped by our office and he was elated because they also gave him clearance to travel. He immediately made plans for a trip to the Bahamas followed closely by another trip to Bonaire. He was full of energy and life. He left on his last two trips and enjoyed them greatly.

In our office we were wondering what happened to Jim - usually he calls and stops by when he comes back from his trips. I called Jim and found out he had checked himself into the emergency room with extreme chest pain. They found he had water in the lungs. I made plans to visit him but before I could he was sent home early. Great - I thought, he's gonna be ok. The next thing I know he is back in the hospital. It just happened so quick from this point on. His wife Jody and friends Carlos & Margaret were by his side constantly. Doug, Masa & I all visited him but he tired very esily at this point.

I saw Jim on Monday afternoon in intensive care - I said my goodbye then; it was very emotional for you could clearly see that the tide had changed. I had to fly to Oahu the next day for an operation of my own, so that was the last time I saw Jim. Jim died peacefully on Thursday morning - Carlos said it was a powerful moment and Jim had finally accepted the next adventure ahead of him.

Sunday about 35 of his friends and family went out on a boat and slipped his ashes into the sea - the place Jim was most at home. The ocean was covered with flowers and the spinner dolphins stopped by to say goodbye I will always think of JIm whenever we go on the water for that is where his spirit lived the most.

Anyone who would like to donate please make a check out to the Kona Hospital Foundation. The money collected will be used to put Jim's photos on the very empty walls of the Kona Hospital. Jim really appreciated the kind effort of all the hospital staff. You are welcome to send the checks to our office - we will pass them on to the proper people.

As for Jim's company and Jim's photos - they will continue to live on. Jim has passed the running of OceanStock.com to me. Jim asked that I go through the 100,000 raw images he has on file, take over his photo requests and agents. I plan on processing his images and submitting them to all. The money collected is to go for his 14 year old daughter's (Jenny) education fund.

Jim was a great creative mind but organization was not his strong point. It will take a bit of time for Masa and I to go through his computer and files and get control of his website, emails, etc. Please have patience with us while we get it together over here. We will be uploading high res images of Jim's for whoever needs them. Please direct anyone needing Jim's images for any use to us - please put "OceanStock" in the subject line.

All of us here at SeaPics.com will greatly miss Jim. Jim would always stop by for a cup of coffee - then stay for few hours chatting with us. He would come back and enthrall us with stories of his latest adventures. He would bring his photos by and give us a step by step narration. He would update us on the latest gadget - I still can't believe that JIm won't be bouncing in with the Apple iPhone - I know he would have loved it. When we were out on the water, we would always call each other and pass information back and forth and then try to meet up for a chat, lunch or champagne. Yes, Jim will be greatly missed.

A Hui Hou

Susan Dabritz

Jim Watt Eulogy

It is difficult, if not impossible to measure the influence of a life on another. We all do what we do without any real idea as to its effect on each other or the world at large. Sometimes, as in the case of Jim, we know the worldly influence is great, but still lack, and will forever lack the depth of that influence. For each of us here today Jim’s presence in our lives was dramatic, yet different, characterized by our own perspectives and relationship to him. As a loving father and husband to wife Jody and children Ian and Jennifer his relationships were one thing, his love for his sister Sharon was yet another, all very personal and really known only to them. His love for the ocean was as vast as the seas he traveled on and those lifelong travels had a significant and powerful effect on the underwater community that for him was worldwide. Yet, within those varied realms of love there existed a common theme, one that we all experienced, though we each absorbed differently.

Jim’s positive nature affected us all from family to friends alike. It was contagious even in the midst of everything contrary to logic and reason. For him everything was possible, and he had little doubt that the next epic whale encounter lay just over the nearest swell, that the next dive would bring an image never before seen, or that a bleak diagnosis of cancer could be overcome. It was this unrelenting attitude that good things were always just around the corner that endeared him to us all. It was this same unbridled enthusiasm that drove him deep into the hunt, first as a young spearfisherman then later as a photographer. The hunt had him in its unyielding grasp, one he could not say no to, he never said no, only yes. Yes, let’s go there, yes, lets hang out with great white sharks and tigers, yes, lets film this volcano underwater, yes, lets go surfing. Yes, yes, yes. Yes to it all. Yes to life.

Personally, Jimmy was the best person I have ever known in that regard. I was more of a maybe guy. I only said yes if prodded enough, and he, god bless him, prodded. He didn’t want me to miss anything almost as much as he didn’t want to miss anything himself. In a world with far too many no’s Jimmy was an anomaly, I don’t believe I ever heard that word from him. He never turned down a dangerous assignment. Once in a while I would hear him say maybe, like when we were in French Frigate Shoals and there were close to a hundred sharks, all pretty worked up darting around our skiff, and the director of the project who hired us asked if it was dangerous to get in the water with so many sharks around, and Jimmy said maybe just before he jumped in.

Margaret and I are here in Hawaii because we said yes, to Jimmy and Jody when they invited us to their home over twenty years ago. I said yes when I followed him out to the White Sand Ridge in the Bahamas with my first housed SLR, you know the one you sold me Jimmy that stopped working after that trip. And I said yes to you after months of maybe’s when you would call to go surfing. Your mark is on me Jimmy, as it is on all of us who have spent time with you in the water. It is the mark of yes! Yes to life in all its adventures, in all its sorrows and now to all of its grief.

You leave with many incredible legacies, uncountable really, but clearly it is the legacy of Yes that has so defined you and the code you lived by. Everytime I pull off something extraordinary in the water your mark is on me. Like everyone here today I am so grateful for your presence in my life. So whenever we are homebound and struck with fear or laziness, and we ask ourselves would Jimmy say yes, we already know the answer

My last words to him were “I love you, Jimmy.” And he smiled and looked up to me and said “I love you too” Then I kissed the top of his sweet bald head and said goodbye.

Carlos Eyles.

A Tribute to James D. Watt

For those who didn't know about his condition, he had been battling with lung cancer for about a year. He passed away peacefully at around 9:00 am in the morning of July 19th, 2007, surrounded by his family and friends. I was able to kiss his forehead and say goodbye to him last week just before he went into the ICU.

Normally I am not so good at expressing myself...but the sad news in the morning of July 19th, 2007, suddenly threw me into the harsh reality that he's gone, and urged me to write this tribute. It was very hard to imagine how my world would be like without him until it really happened. If you have ever lost anyone close to you, you know what I am talking about. I knew the day would come someday when he told me about his illness about a year ago, but I think I avoided facing straight-up to this sad truth until that morning. When the day really happened, it just shocked me hard. He was different, though. He stood up and fought hard his losing battle with dignity and good spirit until the end.

I've known Jim ever since I got here in Kona, Hawaii in the summer of 1998. Jim and I were connected immediately through our common interests: diving, fishing, photography, boating, marine life and the love of the ocean. For these nine years in Hawaii, I don't know how many times Jim and I went out on the ocean together. For those who knows me very well perhaps heard me saying I did this and that with Jim or Jim said this and that...again and again...

Sometimes we went out on my boat, but most of the time I went on his boat as his deck hand and bait handler since he likes to be the captain. I hope I was a good boat buddy to Jim. I handled all the stinky baits (he calls it) for him when we go fishing or shark diving. When the water is too chilly for him in the winter, Jim made me jump in the water first to see if creatures are friendly enough to photograph or not (although most of the time I was able to get better shots by doing that, ha ha). One time we fished so many tunas until we broke our rods in half. We had never had a bad time together on the ocean. We only had a good time whenever we got together. That's probably because of his great personality. He is always positive, cheerful, funny, and seems to have no downtime with him. Even when nothing happens out on the ocean, we talked for hours about our next big adventures, next big gadgets, next good food & drinks...you know all those guy things... I learned a lot from Jim. Without a doubt I wouldn't be who I am today if I hadn't met him. He took me under his wing and showed me how to get sharks closer to the boat, how to fish around Kona, how to photograph marine mammals, how to drive a boat in a rough sea, where to dive...I seem to have an endless list of things I learned from him...I will miss him, my friend, mentor, the greatest inspiration of my photography.

On February 26, 2007 at Puako, Big Island, Jim was able to attend my wedding despite his worsening condition. My wife and I, as well as many guests who knew his condition, were so glad to see him make it to our wedding and to see him having a good time there. He ate a lot that day, and he even took some great wedding shots for us. We really had a great time together on that day. Thanks for the great memories, Jim. I love you, buddy, and I know you will be with me forever out in the ocean. Aloha, Jim.

Masa Ushioda