This image was captured above a shallow reef along the South African coast, on a slab of rock jutting abruptly from the ocean floor. Covered in oysters, mussels, and riddled with small caves, this reef is as dangerous as it is photogenic. Getting caught in one of its chambers during a relentless set can leave you holding your breath for far longer than is comfortable. But what it offers-if you're willing to take the risk-is a window into rare underwater clarity. Unlike sandy bottoms, reef breaks deliver cleaner water, allowing the camera to capture crisp, intricate details like these spiraling vortexes. They don't appear often. The wave must break in precisely the right way, and you must be in exactly the right place-directly in front of the oncoming force, facing up toward where it will detonate on the surface. To achieve this shot, you must swim below the surface *before* the wave breaks, relying entirely on instinct and experience to read its path. Then, you hold your ground-right in the zone of impact-and absorb the full release of its energy. You time the shot not just to the break, but to the microsecond when water, light, and form align. It's a high-stakes process. You might take hit after hit-50 waves or more-and walk away with nothing. But every now and then, one frame emerges. One image where the chaos converges into perfect symmetry. This is that image. This exact reef has taken its toll. While capturing images like this, I've cracked ribs and shattered teeth-including losing a wisdom tooth that split in my lower jaw from the force of a wave. It's a place of beauty and brutality, where the ocean gives back only to those willing to meet it head-on.