Nikon’s 40-Year-Old Underwater Film Camera Still Offers a Unique Experience

A hand holding a black and orange Nikonos-V underwater camera with a blurred blue water background.

On my recent trip to French Polynesia, I decided to do something new that I’ve been wanting to try for a long time: I brought along the Nikonos V, Nikon’s legendary amphibious 35mm camera from the 1980s. That meant no live preview, no autofocus, and no confirmation that anything I was shooting would actually turn out; just 36 frames of film, a light meter, and the quiet peace that comes with freediving and taking photos.

What is the Nikonos?

The Nikonos series was the evolution of the Calypso camera which was the brainchild of the legendary Jacques Cousteau.

“In May 1961, LA SPIROTECHNIQUE, a French offshore machinery development company, developed a new type of 135-format watertight camera, the Calypso (named for a nymph in Greek mythology), and contacted us through what was then Teikoku Sanso KK (presently Teisan Co.) about commercial production and marketing,” Nikon explains on its website. “We at Nikon considered this camera as an All-Weather Camera for its highly water-tight, pressure-resistant, and corrosion-resistant properties and other durable mechanisms not achieved by any other cameras, and decided to sell it under the brand name of Nikonos.”

A group of people in wetsuits stand and sit on a small blue boat named "APO APO II" on the ocean, with misty hills visible in the background under a cloudy sky.

Nikon formally announced the camera in 1963 at the Photokina show, where it was showcased hanging in an aquarium surrounded by live goldfish. The Nikonos was originally designed for divers, built to be fully waterproof without any external housing. It’s compact, rugged, and beautifully simple. For decades, it was the go-to camera for underwater photographers: anyone and everyone from scientists, explorers, and even National Geographic shooters.

Why the Nikonos V?

There’s a cult-like reverence for the Nikonos today, especially among film enthusiasts and ocean lovers who romanticize the tactile challenge of shooting without instant gratification. I’d seen the images others had made with it — dreamy, perfectly grainy, in B&W and color — and wanted to see if I could capture something similar.

A person wearing a wetsuit, snorkel, and mask swims underwater over a rocky seabed, raising both hands and looking toward the camera. The image is in black and white.

Black and white underwater photo showing several fish swimming near a coral reef, with rocks and coral structures visible in the background.

Film photography has always been a grounding experience for me. You slow down, think more, and accept that not every shot will work out. But doing that while holding your breath and battling all the elements that come with being underwater? That’s a whole new challenge I was excited to accept.

You obviously cannot buy a Nikonos camera new anymore since production of the entire line ceased in 2001. On the used market, it is easiest to find the more recent models, in my case, the Nikonos V (someday I’d like to try the Nikonos RS AF, too). KEH had a Nikonos V in excellent condition available, along with a 35mm f/2.5 lens. I pulled the trigger.

Freediving with Film

Shooting underwater is already quite demanding, even with modern equipment, so shooting film underwater with a second-hand camera from the 1980s while freediving is, I argue, borderline crazy. While it’s often referred to as a rangefinder-style camera, the Nikonos V is actually a scale-focus camera, which means you don’t get any focusing aid when looking through the viewfinder. You’re guessing, estimating your subject’s distance, setting your focus manually, and hoping for the best, all while underwater. How fun!

Three people in snorkel gear swim underwater near the ocean surface, with sunlight filtering through the water above them. The image is in black and white and viewed from below.

To make things more challenging, I was freediving (not on scuba), which meant every shot required a single breath. I’d float at the surface and visualize my shot, take a breath, dive down 20 or 30 feet, frame my subject, and click the shutter before gently resurfacing. Sometimes I’d manage two shots before I had to surface. Other times, I’d reconsider the frame and resurface without snapping anything.

A thin, long fish swims above a rocky, coral-covered ocean floor in hazy, sunlit water. The underwater scene is in black and white, giving it a calm and mysterious atmosphere.

My biggest fear once I actually arrived in French Polynesia was whether the camera would flood. Even though I was buying a kit that was in “Excellent” condition by KEH standards, the camera is nearly 40 years old, and there are very few technicians in the world who you can send Nikonos cameras for pressure testing and maintenance. Based on everything I’d seen on social media about the camera, I prepared myself emotionally to accept that the camera could very well flood on my first dive with it.

A man wearing sunglasses, a cap, and a hooded sweatshirt stands near the ocean, smiling as he faces the camera. The photo is in black and white, with cloudy skies and the sea in the background.

But much to my surprise (and joy), the camera didn’t flood!

The first few dives were pure trial and error. I wasn’t sure how the light would translate, how the colors would shift, or how my film would hold up. I also had no clue whether my focus distance estimates were correct.

A lone shark swims near a rocky coral formation on a sandy ocean floor, viewed from above in a monochrome underwater scene.

But slowly, the rhythm of shooting the Nikonos V underwater started to make sense. The camera is surprisingly ergonomic underwater, even though it feels like a metal brick above water. Its big metal dials are easy to grip, and the 35mm lens gives just enough width for environmental shots while keeping subjects close and intimate.

The Joy of Film

Once I got over the fear of the camera flooding, I focused on actually taking photos. The camera has aperture priority mode and a built-in light meter to show you what shutter speed the camera has chosen for you, making underwater operation pretty simple. All you have to do is set the aperture, estimate your focus distance, and the rest is taken care of.

One of the best and worst parts about shooting film, as we know, is that you have no idea what you’ve captured until days or, in my case, weeks later. Since I was in French Polynesia for three weeks, I wouldn’t be able to see any of my photos until well after I flew home.

When I finally got the film developed, I was stunned, in the best way! The results weren’t always technically perfect, but that’s exactly what I love about them. The grain, the haze, even the occasional motion blur just hit right.

A person wearing a wetsuit, snorkel, mask, and fins swims underwater near the ocean floor, surrounded by rocks and sand in a calm, clear environment.

I ended up shooting three rolls of Kodak Tri-X 400 and one and a half rolls of Portra 400. Surprisingly, I prefer the B&W photos over the color ones, but I suspect this was an issue with my film shop during scanning, and I haven’t gotten a chance to get them re-scanned. The color rolls came out extremely tungsten blue, which I initially thought was probably because I took a mix of underwater and land shots, so the same color correction setting may have been used when scanning the entire roll, as opposed to being applied selectively for each shot.

Clear blue underwater scene showing a sunlit coral reef with sparse coral growth on the ocean floor, viewed through water, giving a tranquil and slightly hazy effect.
An example of the Portra 400 scan that came out extremely blue.
A single light-colored coral sits on a sandy ocean floor surrounded by rocks and scattered coral pieces, all beneath clear blue water.
The water’s natural tones at this depth may just have been to blue for the film to handle.

After chatting with a few friends who also shoot film underwater, I found that my issue with the color film looking strange was because I was likely shooting too deep or without enough light, which is why everything came out excessively blue. So in the future, I’ll keep color film for shallower water, and most likely I’ll stick to black and white for deeper diving. I’d also like to experiment with higher ISO films in deeper depths to see how that comes out.

Film vs. Digital for Underwater Photography

The other challenge I came across with the Nikonos V was when to bring the Nikonos on a dive as opposed to my digital setup (Sony a7RV in a Marelux housing). There’s a precision to digital underwater photography that’s hard to argue with. You can balance colors, control white balance, and shoot endlessly without worrying about film costs. Not to mention, you likely won’t miss the shot on a digital camera, but once you run out of frames in a roll of film, you’re basically done for the day. Reloading a new roll of film on a boat usually isn’t possible due to the risk of getting salt spray into the camera.

A humpback whale swims gracefully underwater in a deep blue ocean, with another whale faintly visible in the background below.
Sony a7R V with Sony 16-35mm f/2.8 GM II
A large humpback whale swims upward toward the ocean surface, accompanied by two smaller whales, with rays of sunlight filtering through the deep blue water.
Sony a7R V with Sony 16-35mm f/2.8 GM II
A scuba diver swims near a large humpback whale in deep blue ocean water, with sunlight filtering down from the surface above.
Sony a7R V with Sony 16-35mm f/2.8 GM II

But on the other hand, film forces you to surrender a lot of that control. You become hyper-aware of your surroundings, like the direction of the light, the way a fish moves, the shape of a coral amidst a bustling reef. You stop chasing “perfect” shots and start appreciating fleeting ones. Every frame feels earned and meaningful.

A single humpback whale swims gracefully underwater in a blue ocean, surrounded by soft light and gentle ripples.

The Nikonos reminded me that photography isn’t always about precision. It’s about presence.

Final Thoughts

Taking the Nikonos V freediving in French Polynesia wasn’t about nostalgia or chasing a retro aesthetic. It was about slowing down and remembering what it feels like to make photos for the sake of wonder, not for perfection or performance.

In a world where everything is instant — from autofocus to social media feedback — there is something extremely rewarding about swimming into the unknown with nothing but a metal camera, a roll of film, and a deep breath.

Sunlight streams down through the water, illuminating a rocky, coral-covered ocean floor with a few small fish swimming near the bottom. The scene is calm and slightly hazy, creating a muted, tranquil underwater atmosphere.

Would I do it again? Absolutely. I might even reach for the Nikonos more than my digital camera next time.


Image credits: All photos by Sarah Teng

Full disclosure: KEH is a supporter of the PetaPixel YouTube channel and assisted in the process of acquiring the Nikonos V, but had no input on the direction of this story, was not consulted on the content, and never has any input on PetaPixel’s editorial direction.

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