Oceanographic Magazine / Issue 24 by Oceanographic Magazine

ISSUE

Conservation • Exploration • Adventure

RAINBOWS OF MUD C O U S T E AU ´ S C A L L

T H E S P E C TA C L E O F L I F E O N W E S T E R N A U S T R A L I A ' S M U D F L AT S

C OLLE C T I O N

Fifty Fathoms

©Photograph: Laurent Ballesta/Gombessa Project

The Fifty Fathoms collection embodies Blancpain’s passion for the underwater universe that was originally expressed in 1953 with the creation of the first modern diver’s watch. With its almost 70-year legacy of the Fifty Fathoms, the Brand has woven close ties with explorers, photographers, scientists, and environmentalists. With that affinity has come a determination to support important activities dedicated to ocean exploration and conservation. These initiatives are united under the label Blancpain Ocean Commitment.

RAISE AWARENESS, TRANSMIT OUR PASSION, HELP PROTECT THE OCEAN www.blancpain-ocean-commitment.com

BEIJING · DUBAI · GENEVA · KUALA LUMPUR · LAS VEGAS · LONDON · MACAU · MADRID MUNICH · NEW YORK · PARIS · SEOUL · SHANGHAI · SHENZHEN · SINGAPORE · TAIPEI · TOKYO · ZURICH

Join the moment and make yourself at home, wherever you go.

PHOTO BY DANI GUINDO

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WELCOME

Editor’s Letter “With their unique c h a ra c t e r i s t i c s , they could help determine the health of ocean ecosystems.”

We are a part of the ocean, not apart from it. All five features in this issue remind us of this in different ways. Some of them show us that we are intrinsically linked to the ocean, others reveal how our actions affect ocean ecosystems and some outline how nature can help us find solutions to the most pressing issues of our time. Our lead story focusses on the googly-eyed wonder that is the mudskipper. With their unique characteristics, they could help determine the health of ocean ecosystems. As they inhabit tidal mudflats where they often come in close contact with manmade pollutants, scientists believe that the species could be an important bioindicator in assessing coastal waters. In the Channel Islands of California, Violet Sage Walker, Chairwoman of the Northern Chumash Tribal Council, writes about the significance of the ocean for the Chumash People, while outlining the long path towards establishing the first Indigenous-led sanctuary in an effort to rekindle long lost ocean connections. The remote island of Queimada Grande off Brazil’s coast is home to more than 2,000 lance viper snakes and acts as a vivid example of how human activities affect ecosystems even in the world’s most remote corners. On the Saba Bank in the Dutch Caribbean, a team of scientists tags pregnant tiger sharks to collect data that can contribute to their conservation.

Nane Steinhoff Digital Editor @nane_steinhoff

Finally, we see how collaborative action can help reef management on the Great Barrier Reef where the effects of climate change are tangible already. Here, in the world’s largest coral reef system, the humble sea cucumber is playing a major role as a climate change aide, yet again showing us that minute critters should not be overlooked. Let’s listen to the ocean – it has a lot to teach us.

@oceano_mag Oceanographicmag

Oceanographic Issue 24

Contents O N T H E C OV E R

FEATURE S

LIFE IN THE MUD

The mudskipper is a walking, jumping, googlyeyed wonder that lives most of its life in mud. The species could also be an early warning system for coastal health.

Roebuck Bay in Broome, Western Australia. Photograph by Scott Portelli.

Get in touch ED I TO R

Will Harrison

CR EAT I V E D I R E C TO R

Amelia Costley

D I G I TA L E D I TO R

Nane Steinhoff

CO N T R I B U T I N G E D I TO R

Hugh Francis Anderson

D ES I G N A S S I S TA N T

Joanna Kilgour

PA RT N E R S H I P S D I R E C TO R

Chris Anson

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YO U R O C E A N IMAGES

@oceanographic_mag @oceano_mag Oceanographicmag

A S S TO C K E D I N

For all enquiries regarding stockists, submissions, or just to say hello, please email info@oceanographicmagazine.com or call (+44) 20 3637 8680. Published in the UK by CXD MEDIA Ltd. © 2022 CXD MEDIA Ltd. All rights reserved. Nothing in whole or in part may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher.

ISSN: 2516-5941

Celebrating the launch of Ocean Photographer of the Year 2022, we share a few of our favourite finalist photographs from last year's awards. If you're entering this year, you can save 20% by submitting your images in April. Code: EarlyBird20. PAG E 1 2

CONTENTS

20%

CH UM A SH HI STORY

SNA K E I SLA ND

PR O FIT-S HA R ING CO M MITM ENT TO O CEA N CO N SERVAT IO N . A PR O M IS E WE'R E PR O UD O F.

TAG AND CLICK

B A R R IE R R E E F

October 23rd marks the 50th anniversary of the U.S. National Marine Sanctuaries Act. Violet Sage Walker, Chairwoman of the Northern Chumash Tribal Council, explains the significance of the first Indigenous-led sanctuary.

The island of Queimada Grande off the coast of Brazil is home to more than 2,000 poisonous lance snakes – a nightmare for the fearful, a boon for science.

A conservation expedition photographer offers a personal perspective on what it's like to be behind the lens on an impactful ocean mission.

In Australia, some unlikely helpers might hold crucial insights on how to protect the Great Barrier Reef from the effects of climate change.

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BEHIND TH E L E N S

C O LUMN S

ANDRÉ MUSGROVE

THE SOCIAL ECOLOGIST

T HE MA R IN E B IO L O G IS T

T HE O C E A N AC T IV IS T

Each issue, we chat with one of the world’s leading ocean photographers and showcase a selection of their work. In this special edition, we met up with underwater photographer André Musgrove.

Big wave surf champion, environmentalist and social change advocate Dr Easkey Britton finds out more about women's surfing in Sri Lanka.

Marine biologist, photographer and writer, Dr Lou Luddington, meets up with scientists that are trying to find ways to protect Dominica's coral reefs from Stony Coral Tissue Loss Disease.

Environmentalist and Surfers Against Sewage CEO Hugo Tagholm looks at how, in a world of turmoil, our salvation ultimately lies in the big blue.

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Stefan Christmann Antarctica The emperor penguin egg is bred by the fathers and carried on their feet. This image was part of Stefan's winning collection of imagery in the Collective Portfolio Award. C AT E G O RY W I N N E R

#MYOCEAN

Matty Smith Australia The striate anglerfish is a master of disguise with a monstrous appetite. Matty placed second in the Collective Portfolio Award for a beautiful body of work that included this image. C AT E G O RY R U N N E R - U P

#MYOCEAN

Steve Kovacs United States A rare deepwater cusk eel larva. Steve was awarded second place in the Ocean Exploration Photographer of the Year 2021 for this incredible image.

C AT E G O RY R U N N E R - U P

Rodrigo Thome Galapagos A shiver of hammerhead sharks, photographed close to the iconic Darwin Island. Rodrigo was a finalist in the Ocean Adventure Photographer of the Year 2021 with this beautiful image.

C AT E G O RY F I N A L I S T

#MYOCEAN

LIFE

in the mud The mudskipper is a marvel. A walking, jumping, googly-eyed wonder that lives most of its life in mud. The species could also be an early warning system for coastal health.

Wo rd s a n d p h o t o g ra p h s b y S c o t t Po r t e l l i

Oceanographic Issue 24

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All mudskippers are bimodal breathers, which means they can breathe both by gulping air and by cutaneous respiration through their skin.

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F E AT U R E

he mudskipper is an extraordinary fish. It can live both in and out of the water, can withstand extreme temperatures - both hot and cold - and rapid and drastic changes in salinity. These amphibious fish, native to the tropical and subtropical regions of Australia, inhabit the vast intertidal mudflats and mangroves from Queensland to Western Australia. Dubbed mudskippers for their acrobatic displays on the exposed mudflats during low tide, these evolutionary wonders are more than just a fish out of water. Of the 43 mudskipper species found across the world, 13 are found in Australia. Six of these are endemic to Australia and New Guinea. Mudskippers are considered one of the dominant ecological components on tidal flats, and contribute to the maintenance, integrity, and health of these coastal ecosystems. Despite the severe environmental conditions, including large fluctuations in temperature, high turbidity, low oxygen, and high levels of pollution, they have adapted to thrive - a specialist in their environment. All mudskippers are bimodal breathers, which means they can breathe both by gulping air and by cutaneous respiration through their skin. Although they have multiple modes of breathing, they need to remain wet in order to absorb oxygen and expel carbon dioxide through diffusion – one of the reasons mudskipper populations are concentrated in humid and moist habitats, like those adopted by amphibians. Their eyes are well-adapted to vision in air, such that when they lay in wait for their prey only their eyes protrude from the muddy water - they rely on them to hunt. Beneath each eye is a water-filled cup formed from skin folds; to prevent their eyes becoming dehydrated when exposed to the air for long periods of time, mudskippers can retract their eyes into these cups to be moistened. On land mudskippers use their pectoral fins to walk. They can also climb. Using this quite unique skill set, some species seek out rocky crevasses for shelter. The ability to bask, splash, roll, walk and climb across mud, puddles and rocks allows the mudskipper to thermoregulate, keeping its body temperature regulated, even when the surrounding temperatures change. Mudflats are a challenging environment for any organism to inhabit. Survival requires the ability to adapt to daily cycles of submersion and emersion, large fluctuations in temperature and salinity, ultraviolet irradiation, and extreme oxygen shortages. Open mudflats extending offshore in estuaries or along the seaward edges of mangrove forests lack cover to protect embryos and egg-guarding parent fishes from extreme conditions, and terrestrial predators during low tide. Even though mudskippers tolerate exposure to air for several hours during low tide, they will dry up without frequent access to water.

PREVIOUS PAGE: Mudskippers fight over a patch of mud - it is where they spend most of their time, where they feed and breed. LEFT: Mudflats are an extremely challenging environment for any organism to inhabit.

ALL IMAGES: During breeding season, males display and advertise their suitability as potential mates by conducting acrobatic displays of prowess.

F E AT U R E

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ABOVE: A flock of shore birds in Roebuck Bay, Broome, Australia. LEFT: Black winged stilt stands tall at low tide .

Survival also requires the ability to protect one’s patch of mud – the space where mudskippers spend most of their time, where they often feed and breed. Territorial behaviours are often displays of defence, an attempt by an individual to keep rivals or intruders at bay. In most scenarios the larger, dominant fish initiates the encounter and body posturing. Erect dorsal fins and open mouth displays are usually the extent of the confrontation. Often just raising a dorsal fin is enough to scare off an intruder, though guards need to be kept up – even during mating, some males will attempt to interrupt a courting couple. Things can turn aggressive, quickly, particularly if the interrupter is a stranger rather than a neighbour. For the most part, territorial behaviour is ritualised between neighbours, and therefore relatively harmless. Local peace is further maintained with the construction of mud walls around individual territories. Despite these walls, mudskippers don’t live alone, but rather in mixed colonies with various species including crabs. The fish prefer to live in polygonal territories of about one metre and build burrows to avoid predators, seek refuge and protect developing eggs. The male typically excavates a space or takes advantage of an existing crevice, to create an area suitable for nesting. These borrows, shaped like a ‘J’ or ‘Y’, have a small chamber with an air pocket where the eggs are lined on the walls of the chamber above the water level. Pairs spend a few days in preparation for spawning by cleaning and smoothing out the walls of the burrow. Then eggs are laid by the female individually in a single layer, fertilised by the male, and guarded by both parents. During breeding season, males display and advertise their suitability as potential mates by conducting acrobatic displays of prowess. To capture a female’s attention, courtship displays include jumping, arching and body waving. Males also puff out their cheeks, mouth and gill chambers by filling them with air. These displays can last up to 20 minutes. As a potential mate draws near, the male continues his courtship display, slowly drawing her to his burrow, regularly pausing to ensure the female has not lost interest or fallen under the spell of a rival male. The suitor

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To capture a female’s attention, courtship displays include jumping, arching and body waving.

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With their unique characteristics they could be an early warning system to the health of our ocean ecosystems.

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Two mudskippers fight for territory.

Mudskippers graze off exposed mud surfaces, scraping the sediment with their broad mouth for microbial biofilms.

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Out of thousands of eggs, only a few larvae survive predation.

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Mudskippers' eyes are well adapted to vision in air. They rely on them to hunt, laying in wait for prey with their eyes protruding from the muddy water.

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Mudskippers are one of the dominant ecological components on tidal flats, contributing to ecosystem's maintenance and health.

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then dips into the burrow and quickly reappears, enticing the female to enter. If she hesitates, the male again pops in and out to encourage her to follow inside. Once she has accepted the invitation, the male returns to the burrow to seal the entrance with mud to deter any unwanted attention from visitors. Once the eggs are fertilised, the male guards the entrance of the burrow and takes mouthfuls of air into the spawning chamber repeatedly to displace water and allow the embryos to incubate surrounded by air. The developing embryos are fanned intermittently by both parents throughout their incubation period of 10 to 12 days. During hatching, both parents attend to the eggs and move over the clutch continuously. Once the air is removed from the chamber and the egg mass is immersed in water, this induces hatching and the young larvae emerge almost immediately. After hatching, the larvae swim off and float around with other types of plankton for 30 to 50 days of pelagic life. Once resettled in the intertidal zone, mudskipper fry remain in the soft mud until they reach maturity and build their own territory. Out of thousands of eggs, only a few larvae survive predation by crabs, birds and other fishes. Adults have a lifespan of five to seven years. Mudskippers graze off exposed mud surfaces, scraping the sediment with their broad mouth for microbial biofilms. They are opportunists. As such, food sources can be drastically different for the various types of mudskipper – egg larvae, worms, fish, crabs, copepods, and plant mass, for example. However, their diets are primarily made up of benthic invertebrates. Benthos are organisms associated with the seabed, or benthic habitats. Roebuck Bay in Broome, Western Australia, has the highest concentration of benthic invertebrates for any mudflat in the world. It is the density of these microbenthic animals that is important in understanding the ecological health of the ocean and coastal regions. Mudskippers are important for their biological and eco-toxicological studies and recognised as potential bioindicators in environmental assessments of coastal waters and tropical or subtropical soft bottom intertidal systems. With their unique characteristics they could be an early warning system to the health of our ocean ecosystems. Since tidal mudflats are efficient sediment traps, and sinks for nutrients and other chemical compounds, they are constantly in contact with several types of pollutants produced by industrial, agricultural, and domestic activities. Their robustness to environmental stressors and tolerance to many contaminants give them the capacity to be chronically exposed to toxicants without significant acute effects, while their relatively low trophic status makes them less prone to biomagnifying toxicants. These factors make them good models for sub-lethal ecotoxicological studies, prompting remediation before the effects of pollution spread to terrestrial top predators, such as shorebirds, or adjacent marine ecosystems. Mudskippers: a marvellous fish, as well as a pollution-detecting fish.

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Column

By Dr Easkey Britton

The social ecologist TOGETHER, WE RISE

benefits of the ocean such the importance of an allfemale environment, culturally appropriate surf apparel, and a playful approach with high safety standards. orldwide there is growing recognition of the SeaSisters have developed a playful, rather than wellbeing benefits of accessing and engaging performance-oriented, teaching methodology, with healthy blue spaces, especially seas, reconnecting the women and girls to the water step by coasts and beaches. However, vast gender inequalities step. When participants start building their swimming persist that impact the ability of women and girls to skills, they gradually feel more comfortable in the water. safely access these spaces for recreational and health After catching their first waves, participants often got benefits. Globally, the relationship between women hooked, not wanting to stop anymore. As one surfer, and the sea has long been underrepresented and poorly Sanu, shared: “I got the surfing bug. Now I want to surf understood. This is even more pronounced in the every day." Most participants reported that they were context of emerging surf cultures in regions such as afraid of waves before learning how to surf - and that Southeast Asia. through surfing, they overcame their fears. They even In Sri Lanka, a popular surfing destination for started to feel more confident back on land, as surfer tourists, surfing happens in an element that is often Dayani points out: “Before, I was so afraid. When I feared. Sri Lanka has one of the highest drowning rates started surfing, I learned things which made me so in the world and most people grow up disconnected afraid, like standing on a board or paddling. This makes from the ocean, perceiving it as a place of extraction me more confident. This makes me less afraid of things.” rather than of recreation. The beaches and the sea are Their relationship with the ocean deepened, a male’s domain, who often work as fishermen, surf transforming, from a fearful to a loving one. What is coaches, lifeguards or at the navy. The ocean is regarded remarkable is that this psychological transformation as a dangerous place; this internalised fear partly stems can even take place in people with trauma. For example, from the tsunami that hit Sri Lanka in December 2004 Mona from Arugam Bay lost her mother in the tsunami and killed more than 31,000 people in the country. in 2004, which left her deeply traumatised and she Surviving men outnumbered women by almost 3:1. had not gone close to the sea for years. Despite her All of this contributes to establishing the ocean as a nervousness at her first session with Girls Make Waves, dangerous, risky and unsafe space for women and girls. she didn’t give up and managed to ride her first waves, Despite these barriers, women’s surfing is on the rise. lying on her belly. After, she shared how, “There was Sri Lankan female surfing is being pioneered by the some kind of energy coming into my heart!” Following women behind some remarkable all-female surfing her first attempt, she kept surfing, wanting to stand up. programmes aimed at restoring the ocean as a safe and “Surfing makes me forget the tsunami. Now I want to playful space for women and girls to enjoy the benefits have fun. Before, I was sad about the ocean. Now, I want of the ocean. On the east coast of Arugam Bay, these more. I want to learn more. I want to surf more. Then include ‘Girls Make Waves’ and the ‘Arugam Bay Girls I also forget my other things [worries] a little bit. Now, Surf Club’, the first all-female surf club in the country. my energy is coming like, I want to learn. […] I want to On the south coast, ‘SeaSisters’ is a social enterprise catch my own wave.” integrating female-led swimming and surfing lessons Today, Mona goes surfing regularly and even with ocean stewardship and micro-enterprise. occasionally teaches her two daughters. Also at A newly published peer-reviewed study explores how SeaSisters, similar transformations and positive effects these initiatives transformed unsafe spaces of exclusion on wellbeing were observed. Sanu, for example, “found and fear into safe spaces of inclusion, healing and herself in the ocean”. And Kalpa, a staff member and empowerment for women and girls in Sri Lanka. Sri translator, shared how SeaSisters taught her how much Lankan females are confronted with barriers related to she missed the ocean even though she lives near it. gender norms and societal expectations and many grow She has started to go on beach walks together with her up disconnected - and sometimes even traumatised mother, something they have never done before. These - from the sea, not being able to swim. The study numerous stories are exemplary of the healing power identified key elements to support the creation of safe of the ocean, and in the power of women lifting up spaces for local women and girls to enjoy the wellbeing women, rising together. EB

Adapted from: “There was some kind of energy coming into my heart”: Creating Safe Spaces for Sri Lankan Women and Girls to Enjoy the Wellbeing Benefits of the Ocean. The full study, co-authored by Martina Burtscher and myself, is an open-access publication available in the Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health. To learn more visit: www.seasisterslk.com 36

Oceanographic Issue 24

@easkeysurf

www.easkeybritton.com

“Sri Lankan female surfing is being pioneered by the women behind some remarkable all-female surfing programmes aimed at restoring the ocean as a safe and playful space for women and girls.”

About Easkey

Photograph by Amanda Prifti

Dr Easkey Britton is a surfer and blue health researcher with the INCLUSEA project. Her work explores the relationship between people and the sea, using her passion for the ocean to create social change and connection across cultures. She currently resides in Donegal, Ireland. For information or to get involved visit: www.inclusea.eu

Oceanographic Issue 24

BEHIND THE LENS

Oceanographic Issue 24

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DEPTHS OF

sanctuary October 23rd marks the 50th anniversary of the U.S. National Marine Sanctuaries Act. Violet Sage Walker, Chairwoman of the Northern Chumash Tribal Council, explains what the designation of the first Indigenous-led sanctuary, the Chumash Heritage National Marine Sanctuary, would mean to conservation and the Chumash People.

Wo rd s b y Vi o l e t S a g e Wa l ke r P h o t o g ra p h s b y A l e x K ro w i a k a n d K a t e Po w e l l

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he National Marine Sanctuary system is a network of protected waters encompassing more than 600,000 square miles of our ocean, coasts, and Great Lakes. It is home to millions of species, promotes access to ocean exploration for people from all walks of life, and is critical to developing the next generation of ocean conservationists. There are currently 16 sanctuaries in the National Marine Sanctuary system and my greatest hope is that there may soon be a 17th with a designation of the Chumash Heritage National Marine Sanctuary. I grew up on ancestral Chumash land on the Central Coast of California in an area bounded by the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary to the north, and the Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary to the south. These two sanctuaries provided education and outreach programmes that allowed me to become familiar with all that marine sanctuaries had to offer. It was here, where I learned scuba diving, kayaking, whale watching and habitat conservation. My first visit to the world-famous Monterey Bay Aquarium fascinated me. I spent most of the trip glued to the diving demonstration watching divers feeding fish and thinking: “That’s going to be my job one day.” Like so many, I became utterly enamoured with sea otters - both inside the aquarium and those floating in the bay - and learned about the aquarium’s conservation effort to protect this species alongside the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary. I began diving shortly after and was certain that I would become the next Jacque Cousteau. My main diving spot became the kelp forests off the Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary. I tried lobster diving, hunted for scallops and dove at night. I became obsessed. The ocean was everything to me. It was my sanctuary, and I knew I had to protect it. By the time I was 12 years old, a Chumash Elder, Pilulaw Khus, sought out my dad. She needed help protecting the coastline from development both on and offshore. Pilulaw chose my dad because he was self-taught in law and knew his way around computers and technology; he was a powerful force of nature. She needed someone who had experience in negotiating, and he was fearless on her behalf. Pilulaw taught us who we were and showed us that Chumash people have always been on the frontlines of conservation. The Chumash people have lived along the same stretch of California coastline for the last 15,000 to 20,000 years. They are maritime people. Before colonisation, you would have seen a thousand of our canoes, called tomols, along the coastline because our people lived and traded by the ocean. Our stories and our songs are based on the ocean. The ocean is in our blood. It has always been a sanctuary for us. Before I even knew what Native Americans or Chumash were, I had already been in love with the ocean. I grew up

PREVIOUS: Common dolphins ride the pressure wave created by a ship's bow off the California coast. THIS PAGE: Storm clouds roll over the coast of the Channel Islands.

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“The Chumash people have lived along the same stretch of California coastline for the last 15,000 to 20,000 years.”

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along Avila and Shell Beach, and have always found wonder in the waves along the shoreline. But it was the diving, the getting to explore offshore realms, that really filled my soul and made me want to become a protector of this beautiful place. Luckily, the education and outreach programmes the National Marine Sanctuaries provide are some of the most impactful STEM and conservation programmes among the Federal Government’s many natural resource agencies. These programmes help draw in children children like me - into the sciences and conservation. The early education programme in particular, produces some extraordinarily committed ocean conservationists - myself included. Yet, the National Marine Sanctuary system remains severely under-resourced compared to its terrestrial counterparts. The Office of National Marine Sanctuaries manages over 600,000 square miles. The National Park Service manages a little over 130,000 square miles. Last year, the Office of National Marine Sanctuaries received a budget of $60.5 million, while the National Park Service was given a budget of over $3 billion. That amounts to just $0.14/acre to support management, scientific research, and education in all 16 marine sanctuaries and two marine monuments, compared with an average of $29.76/acre for the National Park system. Despite this, the sanctuaries do an admirable job of making every dollar count. By investing their limited resources into STEM education and outreach to nature-deprived and marginalised communities, they are developing underrepresented people into ocean scientists, educators, and advocates. I believe it is critically important to have diverse racial and cultural communities represented in these disciplines because each has a different relationship and history with the ocean and can bring new perspectives and ideas to the policy table. Intersections across a diverse group of people can allow policy-makers to see new problems and discover new types of solutions. Adding our voice brings in ancestral stewardship knowledge unique to the area; we are the local experts. Integrating and engaging the traditional knowledge of Indigenous people in partnership with scientists is the necessary path forward in conservation. We consider the preservation of tribal spiritual, natural, and cultural resources to be our heritage and responsibility. Eight years ago, my dad, as the chairperson of the Northern Chumash Tribal Council, held a meeting of local grassroots activists in his home to discuss the best way to protect our cultural waters in this modern era. We came to the conclusion that the path forward was to push for National Marine Sanctuary status. Our advisors from

Sierra Club, Surfrider, and National Marine Sanctuary Foundation said the sanctuary system has always brought people together from every walk of life. And this is exactly what Chumash cultural waters have been doing for millennia; bringing people together and providing sanctuary for all. As the first Indigenous-led sanctuary nomination, Chumash Heritage would encompass 156 miles of coastline and bridge the physical gap of protections between the Monterey Bay and Channel Islands national marine sanctuaries. Within the proposed sanctuary boundaries is an area called Humqaq’ or Point Conception - we call it the ‘Western Gate’ - where we believe our souls leave this world and go into the next. Indigenous peoples have come together in ceremony for our ancestry and our loved ones passing on to Similaqsa, paradise, for millennia. Humqaq’ is a Chumash ceremonial sanctuary and it is essential to have heightened protection for this space. Marine sanctuary designation also made sense for the Chumash to maintain the integrity of our cultural fishing practices. National marine sanctuaries can allow for some types of fishing, with regulations varying by sanctuary, while also promoting sustainable usage. For traditional coastal communities like the Chumash, seafood is an important part of our diet and culture. National marine sanctuaries are also good for local economies, bringing in revenue from tourism and outdoor recreation interests to the surrounding communities. While each sanctuary has its own set of regulations, designation includes protection from offshore oil and gas exploration and protection from seabed disturbance. The offshore area of the proposed Chumash Heritage National Marine Sanctuary has deepwater upwelling that supports unique flora and fauna; an area with historical shipwrecks and thousands of ancient offshore Chumash cultural sites. A ban of these destructive resource extraction practices is imperative to preserving Chumash heritage. In 2015, on behalf of the Northern Chumash Tribal Council, my dad, Chief Fred Collins, officially nominated Chumash Heritage National Marine Sanctuary through the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s (NOAA) public nominations process. While it was a momentous occasion, it also turned out to be the beginning of a long and arduous process. NOAA’s National Marine Sanctuary public nomination process had just re-opened after a 20-year stall. While it is meant to encourage nominations from grassroots efforts by communities to protect the special places they live in, the main problem is that the process has no funding mechanism to support these bottom-up efforts. Most people don’t know how the nomination process or the

A necklace made from abalone shell fragments, manzanita berries, and acorns, each highlighting the Chumash p People's Indigenous ecological knowledge and reliance.

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Tides ebb along the coast, revealing diverse intertidal life that will benefit from sanctuary status.

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THIS PAGE: A hiker stands looking over the waters of the Channel Islands. The waters around the islands have been protected since the 1980s and will serve as a framework for the newly approved Sanctuary. RIGHT: Sunset illuminates the hills of the California coast.

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BEHIND THE LENS

“We were constantly learning, and putting in long hours - nearly a decade of our lives talking to everyone who would listen.”

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TOP: A California sea lion preys on a bait ball. Sanctuary status is likely to increase the abundance of biodiversity and food sources for larger predators. BOTTOM: A two-spot octopus demonstrates its ability to alter the colour and texture of its skin for camouflage in its immediate environment.

federal policy space works. We were fortunate to have PJ Webb as an advisor on our side. PJ has served on the Monterey Bay Sanctuary’s Advisory Council in different capacities for more than 15 years, and she was invaluable in walking us through the red tape and helping us get the nomination through NOAA’s front door. It quickly became apparent to me, my dad, and PJ that getting NOAA to accept a sanctuary nomination and put it in their inventory for possible designation requires plentiful financial and technical resources. A nomination, it turns out, is only as successful as the community support it can garner, so it was important for us to run outreach and public support campaigns, which we didn’t have the money or time to do. We initially had to rely on funds from our jobs and personal donations from the community to get us through. I was also working 50 to 60 hours a week - and going back to school full time. There simply weren’t enough hours in the day to also do fundraising and campaigning. That’s when our partners stepped in and provided the resources needed for research, reports, print materials, and meetings. We were constantly learning, and putting in long hours - nearly a decade of our lives talking to everyone who would listen. Everything we did in the beginning was literally by sheer force of will to make it work, but it paid off when the nomination was accepted in 2015. Then the Administration changed and the whole process came to a grinding halt. The Trump Administration proposed opening up 90% of the United States' territorial waters to oil and gas development. The threats were, as they say, a clear and present danger to the Central California coastline, which has undeveloped oil leases offshore in the nearby Morro Bay region. But thankfully, no local leasing or development moved forward during those tumultuous years. Sanctuary is defined as a place of safety, and we certainly did not feel particularly safe those four years. At the five-year mark we were still sitting in inventory, and NOAA asked if we wanted to renew our nomination application. That was the beginning of the pandemic. Everyone was stressed and the world was in turmoil. People were staying home, but they found solace and sanctuary in spending time hiking, or going to the beach and walking by the ocean. Even though this was an uncertain time, we asked our supporters to renew their commitment to the Chumash Heritage National Marine Sanctuary nomination, eventually obtaining 14,000 comments in favour of NOAA renewing our nomination, sending a powerful message to Congress and to the Administration that the community was committed to seeing this through - now more than ever.

We were overwhelmed with the outpouring of support - from local elected officials all the way to Congressman Carbajal, Congressman Panetta, Senator Feinstein, and then-Senator Harris. The 2020 election changed everything. Doors opened, and supporters doubled down on pushing for the first Tribal-led National Marine Sanctuary to be designated. On November 9, 2021, 40 days after the death of my father, NOAA announced that they were moving the Chumash National Marine Sanctuary out of the inventory and into the scoping phase, on a clearer path towards designation. It was a bittersweet moment. My dad said that the designation was for us to carry on. Some of his last words were how it was one of the most important things he had been a part of in his life - protecting Grandmother Ocean - and how proud he was of me. That’s where we are today. Ready and waiting to be the first major success for the new administration in incorporating Indigenous leadership into policies like America the Beautiful, which recommends supporting locally led and locally designed conservation efforts, honouring tribal sovereignty, and providing support for tribal nation priorities. Spanning more than a 40-year time period, over three generations of Chumash, and through lots of blood, sweat, and tears, we are finally nearing the finish line. When my dad nominated the Chumash Heritage National Marine Sanctuary seven years ago, it was from his heart. Colonisation left us with only pieces of connection to our ancestral land and waters. We are tasked and honoured to be the guardians of this space - this sanctuary for so many, human and non-human alike - but the ocean and land are dying in the absence of our stewardship. Elder Pilulaw would tell me that we cannot be a people without these places, that the water connects us all, so we are all tasked with protecting where we stand. I am more than just Chumash. My time as a child spent within the National Marine Sanctuary system amplified my desire to be the ocean protector that I have become. My journey in this process changed my life, creating powerful local alliances, international solidarity, and community. This year marks the 50th anniversary of the National Marine Sanctuaries Act. It is older than I am. I am an example of what happens when you invest in education and outreach around the ocean. If I've learned anything from this, it is that no amount of money, time, or energy is ever wasted protecting the ocean. A designation of the Chumash Heritage National Marine sanctuary would honour my father and all the great Chumash leaders who have passed into spirit.

Oceanographic Issue 24

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Behind the lens I N A S S O C I AT I O N W I T H

ANDRÉ MUSGROVE Behind the Lens places a spotlight on the world’s foremost ocean conservation photographers. Each edition focusses on the work of an individual who continues to shape global public opinion through powerful imagery and compelling storytelling.

BEHIND THE LENS

Q&A ANDRÉ MUSGROVE André Musgrove is an underwater photographer, cinematographer, filmmaker, professional freediver and spearfisherman born and based in The Bahamas. Best known for his unique style of shooting creative concepts underwater, André Musgrove has worked on a variety of projects with international brands including National Geographic, Discovery Channel, GoPro, Rolex and the World Wildlife Fund.

OC EA NO G R A PH IC M AGAZ I N E (OM ): W H E N D I D YOU FIRST CONNECT WITH TH E OCEAN? André Musgrove (AM): For me, the ocean has been a constant throughout my life. I’ve always loved it. I started getting into the ocean when I was about eight years old when my dad started to teach me spearfishing. Here in the Bahamas, we can only do spearfishing legally when freediving so that’s why I decided to learn it. And this is how I developed my love for the ocean. I ended up picking up a camera because I wanted to share my memories and my adventures with my friends who weren’t there. OM : H OW D ID YOU S TART YOU R C ARE E R AS AN UNDERWATER P H OTOGRAP H ER? AM: When I was younger, I always had a camera in my hand. I didn’t really think much of it. I just really liked taking photos of cool things. When I was in high school, I would always take photos of my friends playing sports, getting those action moments. And after I left high school, I started working at dive shops where they had an underwater photography department. My job basically was to take underwater photos and videos of guests or film shoots or anyone that we had showing up there every day. That was kind of how I started learning and building up my experience. OM : YO U R PH OTOGRAP H Y S T Y L E I N C ORP ORATES TRADITIONAL MARINE LIFE, ARTISTIC E LEMENT S , F R EE D I V E RS AN D M ORE . H OW DO YOU CONSTANTLY INNOVATE YOUR IMAGES? HOW DO YO U G ET YOU R C RE AT I V E I D E AS ? AM: I didn’t really have much of a process for a long time. I would just go to a spot that I knew was cool and would then try to figure out an angle that looked great. Everything used to be very in the moment. Now that changed completely. I’ve been to many of the places here in the Bahamas, so I go there with a plan in mind of exactly what I want the person to do, I know the angle that I want, the time of day, the tide and that’s basically what I build my concepts around. For photo references, just to get some creative ideas about poses or the composition, I get those from Pinterest by searching for fantasy conceptual art. I don’t ever search for underwater photography or freediving or anything like that because all the photos tend to look the same. So, by searching somewhere outside the field, I get most of my ideas and then I start building a board about that particular image with the idea, the time of day, the tide, the person I want to shoot and even the colours.

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O M: H OW D O YOU F I N D YOU R S U BJ E C T S AND MODELS? AM: Most of the time I work with friends because I like to work with people that I trust and who trust me. It can be really difficult to take the kind of images I do, so I can’t just grab anyone to execute my ideas. I like to use the same people too because it’s better for the consistency. We then all know what we’re going for and they trust me and my crazy ideas. O M: YO U W ORK A L OT W I T H M OD E L S AND FREEDIVERS UNDERWATER – WH AT MAKES TH IS TASK SO DIFFICULT? AM: The person, of course, needs to be comfortable holding their breath underwater. They need to be a comfortable freediver. They need to be very experienced in the ocean and need to be able to perform underwater. That has a lot to do with getting a pose, making sure that your toes are pointing, ensuring that your head is facing upwards, that your shoulders are relaxed, that your hair is falling in the right way. There are a lot of factors that you have to keep in mind. And ultimately you have to enjoy it because we sometimes spend an hour or an hour and a half just to get one photo. You have to be disciplined, talented underwater and just have a good spirit. You need to push through the cold and discomfort but still have fun. O M: PR O B ABLY ON E OF YOU R M OS T V I R AL IMAGES SH OWS A WOMAN IN A YELLOW DRESS S IT T ING A T A P I AN O U N D E RW AT E R. W HAT WENT INTO GETTING TH IS SH OT? AM: It was probably one of the most difficult photos I have taken. We were at the location for an hour and a half. I had an idea in mind. It’s not a shot that wasn’t done before, it’s in a popular location, but I’ve never seen it done in the way that I wanted to execute it. We didn’t have much control over the time of day and the lighting and the tide so we ended up going there at a time with really, really strong underwater currents which made it difficult for us to stay in place underwater. I had my wetsuit and fins and camera and Steph only had a mask and the dress. She held on to me and I had to swim her up the current towards the front of the piano. She gave me the ‘okay’ when she was ready to go down and took off her mask. She dove down and the current kept pushing her back into the piano. She would dive down, grab onto the piano, get into position and lock her knees under the piano. That’s why her toes are up in the image – to hold herself down. Then she fixed her hair. All of this happened while I was swimming sideways, up the current to take the photo. And when she was done, she just floated back up to the surface. You use a lot of energy at the bottom. She was down for like a minute which may sound a bit short but when your heart is pumping and you have adrenaline flowing and you need to remember so many things like the position of your hair, your face, your toes and your hands, it can take a lot. I also had to make sure that I had the right settings and right angles, while not disturbing the bottom. In the end, we probably took three takes for the short video and six to seven takes for the photo alone. O M: W H AT W OU L D YOU ADV I S E P E OP L E WANTING TO FURTH ER TH EIR CAREER AS U ND ERWAT E R P H OTOGRAP H E RS ? AM: I learned most of my skills from practicing every day at the dive shop. YouTube also helped a great deal. I would advise getting really familiar with just being underwater whether through scuba diving or freediving before you pick up a camera. That will help a lot with understanding your subjects, whether that is people or animals or a combination of the two. Without a camera in your hand, it will help you a lot so when you do pick up a camera it will be like second nature and you will know where you should be and so on. O M: MA NY I M AGE S OF YOU RS W E N T V I RAL ON SOCIAL MEDIA. DO YOU GENERALLY SEE S O CIA L ME D I A AS A P OS I T I V E TOOL F OR YOUR CAREER? AM: I feel blessed that my experience has generally been positive. People reply to me saying that they get a good feeling from it, they enjoy seeing it and they learn a lot about what things are underwater and what people can do underwater. Some of them feel inspired to try new things so it has been a pretty positive experience.

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BEHIND THE LENS

Q&A Continued...

OM: T ELL US A B I T M ORE ABOU T T H E T E C H NICAL SIDE OF YOUR SH OOTS. AM: Everything I do is in ambient light, so I basically never use strobes or any artificial lighting because it is a lot harder to coordinate in the ocean while freediving due to the drag. I prefer to use natural sunlight direction, based on the time of day or location. As my subjects tend to be quite far away from me, I would need very strong strobes so I don’t find it necessary. Being in the Bahamas, we have good visibility and plenty of sunlight underwater so it helps me a lot to execute my concepts. Wide angle is what I usually go for. I’m either using a fisheye lens or a very big wide-angle lens. That helps me to convey the feeling of swimming in the ocean, in a big space, in my images.

OM: CO NS ERVAT I ON , ART, PAS S I ON F OR T H E OCEAN: WH AT DO YOU TRY TO ACH IEVE WITH YO U R I M AG E S ? AM: It’s a mix. Not every photo will encompass all of these things. Some will have a more deliberate conservation approach. With my style it is a bit difficult to tell that story sometimes but I always love to embrace that challenge because I know it’s something that people notice and that grabs their attention. For the video side of things, I’m going more for a conservation message and the artistic side comes secondary. That’s not compromising the artistic side but it’s just that I feel like you can tell more of a story through multiple moving images. And I hope that will make people fall in love with the ocean and help them care about it because they think it’s beautiful.

OM: A R E T H ER E A N Y M OM E N T S OR P ROJ E C TS TH ROUGH OUT YOUR CAREER TH AT FILL YOU WIT H A PA RT ICUL AR S E N S E OF P RI D E ? AM: That’s a tough one. I have just completed a series of photos from my ‘photo to do list’ that I created at the beginning of this year. I was able to execute a few of these in February which had to do shipwrecks. I live in Nassau in the Bahamas and we have a lot of shipwrecks here but I never photographed them. I would always try and go somewhere else. Then I made it my plan to target these shipwrecks to show off what we have here in the Bahamas and to speak about artificial coral reefs, dive sites and so on. One of these images, called ‘Edgey’, was particularly dangerous to create: My friend Ariadna Hafez and I were at 20m to capture one of these photos. Ariadna was very overweighted, didn’t wear a dive mask, it was cold and there was a downward pulling current. We shared one scuba tank and Ariadna breathed from the octopus hose as we descended. The drop-off descends to about 2,000m. Once in position, Ariadna began her breath up and signalled to me when she was about to take her last breath before I swam away and got in position to take the picture. As I swam away, I had to swim in the direction where my bubbles wouldn’t be trailing behind me which would risk ruining the shot. Meanwhile, Ariadna was holding her breath, kept a relaxed face while shivering, pointed her toes, maintained her body position and tried not to lose grip from the shipwreck. Once she was almost out of air, she signalled to me and I swam to her as quickly as I could to meet her at the shipwreck. Any scuba divers out there know that the risk of lung over expansion is real so Ariadna was not able to ascend from the depth that she took her last peak inhalation. I gave her the regulator to breathe, passed her dive mask to her, we reviewed the photos underwater to see what we needed to change and then did this all over again, about seven more times, until we got the shot… and videos. We ended the dive at around 20 PSI left in our tank and we still had to make time for a safety stop. Though we both would have been capable to do this concept while freediving, I didn’t see it as the most efficient way to make the best use of our limited time and instead reverted to scuba gear to bring this image to life.

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“For me, the ocean has been a constant throughout my life.”

O M: W H AT H AS T H E OC E AN TAU GH T YOU ABOUT YOURSELF? AM: The ocean has taught me to be adaptable in life, to be willing and open and ready for change at any moment because there are things bigger than you that you can’t control. And basically to be patient because at sea, there are things that are beyond your control. The process of freediving, of taking photographs or of spearfishing, it takes time so you need to be patient. And I think you can just transfer that to real life too: Be patient and adaptable. O M: W H AT M AK E S T H E BAH AM AS T HE P ERFECT P H OTOGRAP H Y SP OT? AM: We generally have such great underwater visibility. You can see most of our dive sites from the surface – even at dusk or dawn. We also have a great variety of underwater highlights which include shipwrecks, underwater statues, blue holes, big sharks, coral reefs, wall dives and so on. Most of these things you can do in one day. To have a combination of all these things in one place, as an underwater photographer, is really a blessing. It’s kind of like a beautiful playground. O M: YO U R FAVOU RI T E U N D E RWAT E R ENCOUNTER AROUND TH E BAH AMAS? AM: My favourite one was a big school of spotted eagle rays at a spot that I found. I can’t say where it is and I haven’t shot the photo that I want to shoot there yet but the spotted eagle ray is one of my favourite animals in the ocean and it’s rare that we see large schools of them with around 40 individuals swimming together over such a beautiful spot with corals, rocks and sand. It’s a place that is really special to me because it is a place that I’ve been trying to find since I’ve got into the ocean. When I was a kid, I’ve always wanted to find a spot like that. O M: T H R OU GH OU T YOU R L I F E , H OW H AVE YOU SEEN TH E OCEAN AROUND TH E BAH AMAS CH A NG E ? AM: There definitely have been some changes. After some hurricanes we had here, some shipwrecks and coral reefs have been completely destroyed. Some spearfishing spots have a lot less fish and generally, there are not as many sharks. There are definitely many environmental changes due to climate change. In my opinion, it’s a combination of natural disasters. We have been getting more frequent, high-category hurricanes. We have more hurricanes, bigger hurricanes, longer hurricanes. We usually had one per year and now we have around three annually. It’s really a lot.

O M: W H AT I S T H E ON E P H OTO YOU R EALLY WANT TO TAKE TH AT YOU H AVEN’T YET? AM: Top of the list is that eagle ray shot I mentioned earlier. Apart from that, big cetaceans like sperm and humpback whales and giant manta rays are top of my list. These are all my dream photos to take with a model in the shot.

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Dean’s Blue Hole, The Bahamas ‘One Way’: Alice Modolo is the first French woman to freedive deeper than 100m/330ft. She achieved this milestone in 2021 performing the dive in a monofin at the prestigious freedive competition Vertical Blue. This photo was taken at the blue hole's sandy rim.

Nassau, The Bahamas ‘Edgey’: There are a few reasons why this photo was one of the most dangerous ones Ariadna Hafez and I worked on: We were at 20m/60ft to capture the photo, Ariadna was very overweighted, she didn’t wear a dive mask, it was cold and there was also a downward pulling current.

Exuma, The Bahamas ‘Middle Sea’: Underwater model Stephanie Schuldt plays an imaginary tune at the famous underwater piano, called ‘The Musician’.

Dean’s Blue Hole, The Bahamas ‘Don't Push Me’: With the push and pull of the tides, the sand around Jonathan Sunnex falls into the blue hole and continues to fall for about 202m/662ft until it reaches the bottom of the blue hole.

Nassau, The Bahamas ‘Sun Dancer’: For a while I’ve wanted to create a photo that shows the vastness of the underwater world using complimentary colours to make the image pop. Despite the simplicity of the photo, it took Ariadna Hafez and me about one hour to get the perfect shot.

Nassau, The Bahamas ‘Hot Rod’: Up is down and down is up. Seated upside-down on the mast of a sunken shipwreck, freediver and underwater model Arianda Hafez poses in the ocean current.

Norman’s Cay, Exuma, The Bahamas ‘Afroplane’: Freediver Alannah Vellacott sits poised on the old prop engine of Pablo Escobar’s famous airplane wreck.

BREEF Sir Nicholas Nuttall Coral Reef Sculpture Garden, Nassau, The Bahamas ‘Wiseman’: This photo was created to celebrate Black History Month. It provides a glimpse into the story and history of black people in a simple image. The image includes model Alannah Vellacott, dramatic natural light and a neutral coloured wardrobe - all elements that were strategically chosen for a simple, but effective photo.

Nassau, The Bahamas ‘Every Blue Moon’: As the sun sets, freediver Arianda Hafez sinks below the surface.

Nassau, The Bahamas ‘Trail We Blaze’: Freediver David Langlois enjoys a solo interaction with a spotted eagle ray.

Florida, USA ‘Like Fire & Ice’: Two divers, Jeff Panella and Stephanie Schuldt, enjoy the company of one another in the crystal-clear waters of a spring. The colour transition in the image is completely natural and is caused by the murky water of the Santa Fe River merging with the clear waters of the water springs.

Grand Bahama, The Bahamas ‘Dying Breed’: Freediver Alannah Vellacott is surrounded by dead staghorn coral fragments. The photo was taken to bring attention to the dying coral reef issue in The Bahamas due to both natural and human causes.

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Nassau, The Bahamas 'Check mate’: Perspective is everything. This shipwreck has been on its side after hitting a nearby reef and sinking. Freediver Tanis Chalopin stands on the bow of the shipwreck at 35ft to give us a unique perspective.

Tulum, Mexico ‘Hydro Forrest Fairy’: Stephanie Schuldt swims through a Mexican cenote that is filled with underwater lilies. The cenotes in Mexico are truly unique and each cenote has its very own personality.

Nassau, The Bahamas ‘Tunnel Vision’: The hallway of the sunken oil tanker creates a tunnel effect with light peeking in through the holes above. Underwater model and freediver Ariadna Hafez positions herself to hover mid-water in the light of one of the openings of the shipwreck.

Nassau, The Bahamas ‘Between The Lines’: Freediver Alannah Vellacott hovers above the spurs and grooves of a natural pattern the wave surge formed between the rocks.

Florida, USA ‘Pit Full of Colors’: Colours, visibility, lighting, shapes and a unique perspective is what I always try to incorporate when I’m thinking of how to create a photo. All of the colours here naturally formed around freediver Sabine Banet when light passed through the crystal clear waters of this fresh water spring.

Nassau, The Bahamas ‘Ole School’: Freediver Stephanie Schuldt ascends to the surface. A curious school of horse-eye jacks follows her.

Exuma, The Bahamas 'Among Us’: Freediver David Langlois in Thunderball Grotto, one of the most famous underwater caves in The Bahamas. Through the cave’s roof openings, sunlight can shine into the darkness below, creating very strong light beams.

Bimini, The Bahamas ‘Class In Session’: Freediver David Langlois sits on the sandy bottom with the resident nurse sharks of Bimini.

Nassau, The Bahamas ‘Ocean Oneness’: Freediver David Langlois meditates in an underwater cave, surrounded by countless silversides.

Nassau, The Bahamas ‘Swing Low’: So many things go into executing one of these photos. For this image, freediver Ariadna Hafez did around seven tries. She needed to hold her breath, go upside down without a nose clip, fix her hair, position her legs, keep a calm face and stay in the correct position.

Thunderbolt Grotto, Exuma, The Bahamas ‘Grotto Fairy’: The beautiful tropical fish of Thunderbolt Grotto circle around freediver Stephanie Schuldt as she ascends to the surface.

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Behind the lens I N A S S O C I AT I O N W I T H

Behind the lens ANDRÉ MUSGROVE With over 3,000 logged scuba dives and more than a decade of freediving experience, André has a distinctive edge for capturing a variety of underwater scenarios. The underwater photographer and cinematographer is best known for his unique style of shooting creative concepts underwater with freedivers and marine wildlife as the subjects, in unique underwater environments. He specialises in shooting while freediving, allowing closer, less invasive, and more intimate interactions with large megafauna.

“The ocean has taught me to be adaptable in life, to be willing and open and ready for change at any moment because there are things bigger than you that you can’t control.”

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Oceanographic Issue 24

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Poisonous secret

The island of Queimada Grande off the coast of Brazil is home to more than 2,000 poisonous lance snakes – a nightmare for the fearful, a boon for science.

Wo rd s b y Fa b i a n v o n Po s e r P h o t o g ra p h s b y J o ã o M a rc o s R o s a

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“With about 45 snakes per hectare, Queimada Grande has the second densest snake population in the world.”

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ABOVE: Ilha da Queimada Grande as seen from the air. LEFT: A lance viper sits on a rocky outcrop, overlooking the ocean. PREVIOUS PAGE: A lance viper strikes.

razilian wildlife photographer João Marcos Rosa has what are called strong nerves. He has climbed 35-metre-high giant trees in the Amazon basin to photograph harpies. They are among the largest birds of prey on earth. He was in Colombia in FARC rebel territory to track the last Andean bears. And he has travelled to photograph mountain gorillas on the border between Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo. But even for Rosa, this was something different: “These were the most complicated expeditions I've ever done – a 1.5-kilometre-long island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, no source of fresh water, and thousands of poisonous snakes.” Rosa can nevertheless consider himself lucky. He is one of the few people who have ever set foot on Ilha da Queimada Grande. The island, 32 kilometres off the southern coast of Brazil, is a forbidden place, accessible only to the Brazilian military and a few selected biologists. No mammals, let alone humans, live on the 200-metre-high granite rock in the middle of the Atlantic. Even the lighthouse keepers, who once eked out a solitary existence here, left the island decades ago when the beacon was automated. The rock rises abruptly from the water. The rough sea and the complicated landing make for quasi-perpetual isolation. Rosa has taken part in four expeditions to Queimada Grande: “There were difficulties on three of them,” he says, “and on one we couldn't land at all

because of the bad weather.” Those who want to reach the island face two main problems: On the beach of the coastal town of Itanhaém, 100 kilometres south of São Paulo and barely two hours away by boat, a strong wind blows most of the year, making disembarkation difficult. And then there is the landing. “The sea has to be extremely calm because there are no beaches on Queimada Grande. You can only get to the island over rocks,” says the 43-year-old. That is dangerous, especially with so much equipment. But that is by no means all, because the island hides a secret, which is why the military visit less regularly, and biologists very regularly: Queimada Grande is home to a unique population of Bothrops insularis, a highly poisonous lance viper that can only be found here. In the Atlas of Superlatives, which lists the “biggest, fastest, longest, hottest, strongest, most gigantic and most dangerous record holders in the world”, it says about Ilha da Queimada Grande: “Whoever goes ashore risks his life”. And that is exactly why the island has attracted scientists for decades. “With about 45 snakes per hectare, Queimada Grande has the second densest snake population in the world,” says Marcus Augusto Buononato. “This is only surpassed by Shedao Island in northeast China.” Buononato should know, he worked for 13 years at the government-run Butantan Institute in São Paulo, which researches what substances from nature medicine can harness, and took part in numerous

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expeditions to the island. According to Buononato, about 2,000 snakes are said to live on the island, which covers only 43 hectares, or 0.43 square kilometres. According to other studies, there could be as many as 4,000. But how did the animals manage to get here without being able to swim? “The snakes arrived at Queimada Grande about 11,000 years ago during the last ice age, when the island was still connected to the mainland,” says herpetologist Breno Damasceno, who has been studying the animals for 28 years. “When the ice age ended, the sea rose and what was once a mountain became an island. Since then, the snakes have been separated from their relatives on the mainland.” Over the course of these 11,000 years, the island lance viper has adapted to the extreme living conditions on Queimada Grande. With its prehensile tail, it can climb trees, unlike its relatives from the mainland. There it often waits for days until a bird uses the island for resting or nesting. Oystercatchers, gulls, boobies, frigate birds all visit here. The snakes' venom has also changed over the millennia. Some researchers claim to have found that the venom of Bothrops insularis is hardly stronger than that of its mainland relatives. Other studies say that the venom is many times more deadly than that of its conspecifics. “In any case, it is highly effective in killing the prey animal immediately,” says Damasceno. In mice, the toxin takes less than two seconds to kill. A brilliant move by nature, because if it weren't so strong, a bird could still fly beyond the island’s edges before it died, says the 45-yearold, the snake losing its prey to the sea. “That's why their venom kills instantly.” The scientists' day starts early. At the camp in the lower part of the Atlantic island, they put bite protectors made of sturdy leather on their legs, which they call perneras, before each of their daily walks. If you are bitten, an adult has a maximum of six hours to inject an antidote. Then they march off in search of snakes. That usually doesn't take long. Once the scientists have found an animal, they first check with a reader whether it has already been fitted with a chip. Then they measure the animal, take venom and blood samples and remove ticks that could weaken the snake. Rosa spent more than two weeks on his travels with the researchers on the island. “There is always a risk. When you arrive on the first day, you are excited. On the second or third day, you relax,“ the photographer says. “And that's exactly the danger, because then you're no longer fully concentrated.“ But that's not the only danger. Poisonous spiders inhabit the island too. Colloquially known as banana spiders, the animals of the Phoneutria genus are among the most poisonous spiders on earth – one bite can kill a healthy adult human.

“Over the course of these 11,000 years, the island lance viper has adapted to the extreme living conditions on Queimada Grande.”

Only the military and selected biologists are permitted access to the island.

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LEFT: Lance vipers have adapted to climb trees on the small island. TOP: A biologist handles a viper. MIDDLE: A viper, being studied. BOTTOM: Leg protectors, called perneras, are worn during all island walks.

“Most of the time we were out all day,“ Rosa says. During this time the snakes tended to not show any aggressive defensive behaviour. “At night in the tent, on the other hand – after we have returned to camp and had dinner – you do worry.“ While the snakes cannot enter the tents, they can feel heat created by the campers, which is why individual animals regularly approach the campsite. “The tent walls are very thin. If you accidentally bump into the tent wall while sleeping, it's dangerous.” Nevertheless, Rosa is fascinated by the animals. “The theories of the British naturalist Charles Darwin have always fascinated me. These snakes have adapted to a new environment in order to survive.” Despite the enormous number of individual snakes on Queimada Grande, the ‘great burnt island’ as the name translates, Bothrops insularis is in danger. On the IUCN's Red List of Threatened Species, the species is considered to be in danger of extinction. “The island's ecosystem is complex and extremely vulnerable,” says biologist Buononato. There is never really enough food on Queimada Grande. “The lack of food such as frogs, toads, lizards and centipedes, especially during the dry season, leads to instances of cannibalism.” In addition, there is the low gene pool due to thousands of years of inbreeding, which makes many animals infertile hermaphrodites. Illegal trade is also an issue. On the black market, up to 25,000 euros are paid for a live island lance viper. This makes the animals highly sought after. The snakes also play a major role for science, because the venom is invaluable to pharmaceutical companies for the development of drugs against high blood pressure, heart disease and cancer. This is another reason why scientists do everything they can to keep the number of animals stable. In addition, in order to be able to establish new snakes on the island in the event of a population collapse, animals are currently being bred in several laboratories. But the signs are not good. Besides 11,000 years of inbreeding and human intrusiveness, the recurring fires during the dry season are a constant danger. Will there still be snakes on Queimada Grande in 100 years? Damasceno has no illusions. The species could fall victim to the very thing that created its evolutionary splinter. At best, its extinction can be delayed. “Isolation created the species,” says the herpetologist. “It is quite possible that the animals will soon disappear from our planet because of this very isolation.”

Oceanographic Issue 24

Column

By Dr Lou Luddington

The marine biologist SAVING DOMINICA’S CORALS “ These deep clear waters are rich with marine life and a draw for divers of all disciplines and the reason we chose Dominica as our first landfall after crossing the Atlantic.”

About Lou Dr Lou Luddington is a marine biologist, nature photographer and writer living aboard a sailboat, the Noctiluca, on the move and travelling from MPA to MPA. www.louluddington.com

Nature Island Dive has become the unofficial caretaker of the reserve, monitoring coral health.

Oceanographic Issue 24

@louluddington

t is seven in the morning and we’re waiting at the roadside in Roseau, Dominica poised to flag down a bus, Caribbean-style. Our sailing boat is moored in the bay, one of only two permitted anchorages on the whole island due to Covid restrictions. We've come ashore to head to Soufriere a few miles down the coast for another day of exciting diving. To get there we hop on a local bus for a few dollars, an unmarked minivan driven hard and fast and ushered along by loud reggae. The driver turns it up a notch when he hears the intro to a song he likes and we blast along the road, our view a blurry mix of buildings, people, trees and the ocean flashing past on our right. We stop to pick up passengers from outside their doors, deliver a parcel on a short detour and finally arrive at Nature Island Dive as the day is rousing in the tiny ocean-side village of Soufriere. Colourful buildings pop against a forested backdrop, overlooking the arc of the bay that encompasses the Soufriere-Scotts Head Marine Reserve. Steep, vegetated cliffs on the right lead to the sweep of the road along the water's edge to a causeway and Scotts Head at its furthest reach. The bay is one half of an ancient volcanic caldera creating spectacular underwater scenery of vertical walls and drop-offs that fade to the gloom, hundreds of metres deep. These deep clear waters are rich with marine life and a draw for divers of all disciplines and the reason we chose Dominica as our first landfall after crossing the Atlantic. The dive centre is a homely hub for divers, a few steps from the ocean and the gateway to a dazzling selection of dive sites and a world-class freediving platform run by Blue Element; it's a pretty idyllic setup. Today I‘ve arranged to dive with Simon Walsh, operations manager of Nature Island Dive for a tour of the corals they are monitoring. Whilst the human world has been battling Covid-19, the corals of Dominica have been set upon by a deadly sea borne virus. Stony Coral Tissue Loss Disease (SCTLD), is a lethal disease that afflicts more than 22 species, including some of the most iconic and important reef building corals of the tropical Atlantic. Following the brutal sweep of SCTLD across other parts of the Caribbean the first recorded case in Soufriere-Scotts Head Marine Reserve was picked up by Simon and his team in 2021. With advice from coral experts they began monitoring and successfully treating infected colonies with an ointment developed by a team of scientists at Ocean Alchemists in Florida. This CoralCure Ointment Base2B mixed with amoxicillin trihydrate has been used to treat SCTLD throughout Florida with an 85% success rate. Pasted on at the

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line of infection, the ointment adheres to the coral, slowly releasing the amoxicillin into the tissues over a period of three days. When Simon first consulted with scientists they warned him, “Pick your friends, your most cherished corals to treat as you won’t save them all.” Left untreated the infection usually kills the corals within weeks or months. Yet with swift and direct action Simon and his team have saved the lives of multiple coral colonies, “If you wait a week it’s gone, you have to act fast." Treating the corals intensively, colony by colony is succeeding. “We’ve saved multiple colonies without a doubt,” he says. When I ask him to put a number on it he tells me they have treated around 20 colonies. One colony they knew had the disease was lost as they were too busy with clients to save it. As much as it pains them to lose corals to disease, sometimes business has to take precedence; currently their coral monitoring work receives no funding, this is citizen science at its most dedicated and they are saving the reef one coral at a time. In September 2017, category 5 hurricane Maria ravaged the island, razing more than 90 percent of built structures, brutalising the forests and battering the coral reef. Testament to its ferocity, more than four years later the effects still scar the surrounding area and rouse emotion in those that lived through it; roofless houses, derelict buildings, piles of debris along roadsides are reminders that this is a country in remission. The devastation of Maria and impact of Covid-19 left the marine reserve without funds for management in recent years. With the blessing and support of the Dominican fisheries department Nature Island Divers have become unofficial caretakers of the reserve, monitoring overall coral health including bleaching, SCTLD and other diseases, removing litter, maintaining boat moorings and culling invasive lionfish throughout the reserve. As Simon guides me through gardens of sea fans, along cliff edges bristling with sponges and over ancient coral towers, pointing out tagged individuals and enthusing through hand gestures at the plethora of species, I am heartened to see for myself a healthy and thriving ecosystem. Simon and his team are the unsung heroes of Soufriere’s coral reefs and they are hoping to be a shining example of where treating SCTLD can be a resounding success. Lower levels of pollution, run-off and sedimentation, deeper water and cooler average water temperatures than other parts of the Caribbean mean less stress on the corals, boosting their ability to fight diseases. With Nature Island Dive as guardians and reserve staff about to be reinstated, this magical corner of the eastern Caribbean has every chance of staying that way. LL

Oceanographic Issue 24

BEHIND THE LENS

Oceanographic Issue 24

BEHIND THE LENS

Tag and click A conservation expedition photographer offers a personal perspective on what it's like to be behind the lens on an impactful ocean mission.

Wo rd s a n d p h o t o g ra p h s b y D a n i e l N o r w o o d

Oceanographic Issue 24

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s an underwater photographer who has spent hundreds of hours underwater with sharks, no species has intrigued me and captivated me more than the tiger shark. Their impressive size combined with their calm and inquisitive nature make them one of the most amazing animals you can encounter underwater. There are a number of places around the world where it is possible to swim alongside these iconic creatures in a responsible and safe way. While ecotourism is an excellent way to change the public perception of sharks and contribute to their conservation, there is still a lot we don't know about tiger sharks. Although they have a wide ranging distribution and give birth to large litters of pups, they are considered near threatened on the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species, and global populations have been significantly depleted due to overfishing, habitat degradation and the well-documented demand for shark fin soup. In order to protect migratory species such as the tiger shark in the future, scientists record their movements using satellite tags and other tracking devices. I have always wanted to witness this work taking place in the field, so was thrilled last August when I was invited to join a team of researchers from the Dutch Caribbean on a seven day expedition to study shark populations on the Saba Bank. Tiger sharks are often seen in the area, and the expedition's objective was to catch sexually mature females, use the latest in ultrasound technology to assess if the animals were pregnant, before attaching satellite tags to further investigate their life cycle. The trip was organised by Tadzio Bervoets, director of the Dutch Caribbean Nature Alliance (DCNA), included members from Sint Maarten, Bonaire, Aruba, and St Eustatius, and was funded by the World Wildlife Fund for Nature in the Netherlands (WWF-NL). The data recorded during the trip, and from the tagged animals in the future, will hopefully help the team to answer some important questions such as why large female tiger sharks frequent the Saba Bank, and if they are pregnant where do they go to give birth? My job as the trip photographer entailed getting in the water once the sharks had been caught, and capture images of the tagging and ultrasound process from all angles. SABA BANK SHA RKS Our home for the week was the Caribbean Explorer II liveaboard, a boat that usually divides its time between the islands of Sint Maarten, St Kitts and Saba, an island well known for its spectacular pinnacles and drops offs. Caribbean reef sharks and nurse sharks are often seen during dives, but to find the tiger sharks we had to deviate from the captain's usual itinerary and go further offshore to the fish at the Saba Bank, the largest national park in the Kingdom of the Netherlands and the largest submarine atoll in the Atlantic Ocean. Every PREVIOUS: The clear waters of the Saba Bank, as seen from the air. RIGHT: A newly attached satellite tag.

“The expedition's objective was to catch sexually mature females, use the latest in ultrasound technology to assess if the animals were pregnant, before attaching satellite tags to further investigate their life cycle.”

Researchers simultaneously work on a shark so that release can be achieved as quickly as possible.

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TOP: The first confirmed pregnant female of the expedition. BOTTOM: A tiger shark swims into the blue, having been released by the research team, a tag attached to its dorsal fin.

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“The ultrasound equipment confirmed that at least one of the females was pregnant, making the trip a resounding success.” day we departed the mother ship at around 7.30am and spent the entire day fishing for sharks on board the Saba Conservation Foundation's two vessels, Lady Rebecca and Queen Beatrix. The team would select a location based on previous shark activity on the bank, and then drop baited drums attached to a buoy in lines called sets. Each set consists of approximately 8-10 separate baited hooks that are left to soak for at least 90 minutes, before hauling them out to see if anything has been caught. Baited Remote Underwater Cameras (BRUVS) were also deployed regularly to help assess activity underwater, and every single piece of information is recorded including drop time, bait used and depth. Although straightforward, the process is time consuming and hard work. Long days under the sun in rough seas is a tiring endeavour, and like any other kind of fishing, time passes slowly when the action is lacking, but things soon change when a shark is attached to the line. It was evident on day one that there were plenty of sharks in the area, as we caught a number of Caribbean reef sharks on the very first set. Although this species wasn’t the focus of the expedition, its basic measurements and sex were logged before being cut loose and moving to the next baited drum. It wasn’t long before we caught our first tiger shark - it was immediately obvious that a much bigger animal was on the end of the line just by the way the surface buoy was dragged under the water. Even a juvenile tiger shark is a very powerful fish, and they often fought to free themselves from the hook before the team was able to bring them to the surface and secure them safely using a tail rope. If at any point a shark looked too distressed or was having problems, they were released immediately, but if all went to plan they were tied to the side of the boat and up to five people got to work, simultaneously, in order to get the job done quickly and ensure a rapid release. Providing the shark copes well and doesn't show any extreme signs of stress, blood samples and measurements are taken as quickly and possible, before the sex and approximate age of the animal is determined to see if there is a chance it may be pregnant. If so, the ultrasound device is put to good use while other members of the team start the satellite tagging process. CAPTURING SCIENCE IN ACTION Any time a large shark was caught on the line, my job was to document the scientific work taking place by getting in the water and capturing the action. I was always

accompanied by a safety diver who was told to ignore the activity on the research vessel and keep an eye out for other sharks that might appear from below. It helped a lot to know I had someone watching my back at all times, and I never felt concerned for my safety at any point during the expedition. The expedition included some groundbreaking research and I wanted to make sure I captured the entire process, including scientists using the ultrasound equipment, measuring the animal, taking blood and tissue samples and the application of the satellite tags. Most of the time I shared the water with Sami Kattan, a videographer from the organisation Beneath The Waves, so we did our best to work together to make sure we both got the images we were looking for. Once the scientists finished their work, it was over to us to capture the release of the animal on film and to make sure it swam away without any permanent damage. From a photography perspective this was really the only chance I had to get any images of the sharks when they weren’t hooked and tied to the boat, so I made sure to get in position early and kept my fingers crossed it swam in my direction when cut loose. Luckily for me I guessed correctly more often than not and managed to get a few nice images of newly tagged tigers in blue water which rounded out the expedition portfolio nicely. Having had some special encounters with tiger sharks in the past, I must admit it was sometimes difficult to watch these magnificent creatures being fished, thrashing and struggling at the surface instead of swimming freely underwater, but the tagging team did everything possible to minimise impact on the animals, and I kept reminding myself that the resulting data would ultimately contribute to the shark conservation. SUCCESS Over the course of the six days at sea, the team captured and recorded a total of 56 animals, including 39 Caribbean reef sharks, one nurse shark and 16 tiger sharks. Five of the largest tiger sharks were fitted with satellite tags including one large male, and four females, and the ultrasound equipment confirmed that at least one of these females was pregnant, making the trip a resounding success. These success of these expeditions is built upon teamwork, and the entire team aboard the Explorer II did a fantastic job. Someone even managed to have pizzas delivered to us on the Saba Bank by dinghy, which must be a first for shark researchers in the field. On a personal level, I enjoyed being a part of this important research, and I hope that my images and reports will help to highlight the ongoing shark research taking place in the Dutch Caribbean. Once the tags start to transmit data, the results should reveal important facts about where the sharks go when they are pregnant. They might even show us where they give birth. This information can then be used to lobby for further protection for the species and their habitat in the future.

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Column

By Hugo Tagholm

e are living through troubled times, with a cascade of seismic global challenges reverberating across society. We’ve been thrown from one catastrophe to the next – the pandemic, the financial crisis, the climate emergency, regional wars and the grinding threat of World War Three and mutually assured destruction. We’ve been gripped by the awful events of the global pandemic for the last two years, the tragedy unfolding in real-time in all corners of our planet. A plague that instilled fear in the heart of global society, from which we may only just be emerging and recovering. The news of the scale and impacts of the global climate and biodiversity crisis is filling news channels with apocalyptic scenes from around the world. Wildfires, floods, displaced people and summer temperatures soaring in frozen parts of the world. The recent IPCC report laid it out more starkly than ever before that billions of people will suffer unless we act now. If COP26 was a wakeup call, COP27 must bring all hands onto deck to tackle the climate emergency with the pace, scale and vigour required.

The ocean emergency has also continued to grow, as it becomes increasingly apparent that it is the horrifying nexus of so many issues from global food security and climate regulation to plastic. The new buzz term, the Blue Economy, masquerading as a sustainable way of ‘harvesting our seas’ brings with it the spectre of exploitation, overfishing, deep-sea mining and the industrialisation of all monetisable corners of our global ocean. The ocean, and connected economy, perhaps represents a race to the bottom that no-one should be aiming to win. We now know that to protect the climate we must protect the ocean, and to protect the ocean we must protect the climate. Perhaps, above all, we have all been transfixed by the horrific events unfolding in Ukraine. A war and act of global terror that has created another wave of unimaginable suffering and displaced millions of people in Europe. The threat of mutually-assured destruction making an unwelcome and all-too real reintroduction to our daily conversations, maybe even more vividly than during the Cold War. These issues are however all interconnected to a global system that is failing. As countries compete

The ocean activist MUTUALLY ASSURED BLUE SALVATION

Restoring the ocean is a beacon of hope for all of humanity.

Photograph by Nick Pumphry

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@hugotagholm

for space and resources. As people and communities compete for more stuff that makes them less happy. As the ‘haves’ take even more from the ‘havenothings’. As some feast, others famine. Environmental action needs world peace. And world peace needs environmental action. Inequality, resource depletion, climate change, biodiversity loss and damage will only lead to more conflict. Our collective war on nature will only bring more conflict in society. However, our governments have shown us how they can mobilise record levels of funding, resources and cooperation in the face of some of these crises. They have shown us just how quickly they have been able to act when there is clear and present danger. We have seen how communities have come together to support each other through the pandemic. We have seen how global communities have come together to support the people of Ukraine. In the face of these dangers, we have acted and accepted new ways of being, almost overnight. We must learn from this and demand that governments go further, faster, now – for the health of our ocean.

@hugoSAS

The ocean offers us an opportunity to deliver mutually assured salvation. It is one of our last great wildernesses that must be kept intact. Alongside the great forests of the world, we cannot afford to dismantle the global, natural systems that it provides to sustain and entertain us. Global leaders must act as if our lives depend on it, and they really do. The threat inaction poses may not be as immediate as world leaders pressing the detonate button, but the consequences are equally disastrous. The ocean can save us, if we give it the chance. It’s our job to make that a reality. HT

About Hugo Hugo leads the national marine conservation and campaigning charity Surfers Against Sewage. He is part of the Edinburgh University Ocean Leaders programme and was awarded an Honorary Doctorate of Science by Exeter University for his services to the marine environment.

“ Our governments have shown us how they can mobilise record levels of funding, resources and cooperation when there is clear and present danger.”

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BEHIND THE LENS

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Oceanographic Issue 24

BEHIND THE LENS

T H E G R E AT B A R R I E R R E E F :

Collaborative conservation and cucumbers The detrimental effects of climate change can already be seen on most coral reefs around the globe. In Australia, the famous Great Barrier Reef has experienced several severe bleaching events in the past, all caused by rising sea temperatures. Some unlikely helpers, however, might hold crucial insights on how to protect this vital reef for future generations.

Wo rd s b y N a n e S t e i n h o ff P h o t o g ra p h s b y H a r r i e t S p a r k / G ru m p y Tu r t l e C re a t i ve

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longated, alien-like bodies lined with tube feet. Long tentacles cover their mouth. While sea cucumbers might not have the looks, charm or charisma of a spinner dolphin or a great white shark, they are slowly emerging as a key species in the fight against climate change. Last year’s Reef Women expedition, which was part of the Great Reef Census of 2021, a widespread citizen science effort to survey the Great Barrier Reef and capture large-scale reconnaissance data to help support research and management efforts, tried to collect further data on the importance of sea cucumbers. Over a six-day period, a team of 15 women established what role they play in the ocean ecosystem of the Great Barrier Reef, while also assessing the distribution of seagrass, amongst other things. As part of the Reef Women expedition, a small team of women, comprising of female scientists, indigenous rangers, local tourism industry divers, master reef guides and conservationists trialled new and innovative methods to survey the world’s largest natural wonder and monitor its health for the Great Reef Census, a project by the Citizens of the Great Barrier Reef conservation organisation. “With Reef Women I really wanted to bring together a diverse group of women who work on the reef in different capacities, but all passionate about protecting it for future generations. But there are of course larger issues at play. A recent report found that women and minorities are still vastly underrepresented in coral science globally. So, part of why this trip was conceived was to help highlight some of the important and growing contributions of women working in this field – and hopefully inspire some young girls and women considering a career in reef science and conservation as a result,” explains Kate O’Callaghan, former director of communications at Citizens of the Great Barrier Reef at the time of last year’s Reef Women expedition. By reaching and surveying 46 priority reefs and 120 sites around the remote Ribbon Reef, the team was able to capture more than 11,000 reef survey images for the Great Reef Census; an important step towards supporting reef research and management in the face of accelerating climate change. This collaborative citizen science approach can also help fill some of the knowledge gaps identified by scientists and reef managers. “Despite being on a boat far from shore, we were able to upload images with GPS to the project platform using edge devices - a key piece of tech that we co-developed with Dell to enable data upload from remote locations,” explains O’Callaghan. “While the primary aim was surveying priority reefs for the Census, ultimately our goal as an organisation is to build a collaborative, scalable conservation model that can be shared with other reef communities both in Australia and globally. With this in mind, we trialled some additional research projects on board to see if our Census infrastructure could also support data collection at scale for things like seagrass and sea cucumbers.” She adds: “The Census methodology is designed so that any competent snorkeller with a GoPro can do it - its simplicity is key. A survey is made up of 20 photos from a reef site taken at regular intervals on a snorkel, from a distance of at least 3m. This should be repeated on all four sides of a reef — fore reef, back reef, and the transitional zones — to count as a reef surveyed. While simple, it has been developed with some of the reef ’s leading scientists and was tested and verified during last year’s Census, so we can be confident the data captured is valuable.” Throughout the survey, the team took a closer look at sea cucumbers, a keystone species on the Great Barrier Reef. Just like starfish or sea urchins, they are marine invertebrates. Characterised by their leathery skin and long bodies, they can be found on seafloors all over the globe. The sea cucumber's feeding mechanism is the secret to its role as a vital climate change aide. “Sea cucumbers might look unassuming, but they play an important role in the marine ecosystem. By eating sand and discharging sand, they clean the sediment and create a more favourable environment for other animals to live in,” explains Dr Abbi Scott, from James Cook University, who led the seagrass research on the latest Reef Women expedition. After feeding on algae, waste particles or tiny marine critters,

PREVIOUS: Researcher Dr Abbi Scott conducts a coral survey. THIS PAGE: By eating and discharging sand, sea cucumbers clean the sediment.

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“The sea cucumber's feeding mechanism is the secret to its role as a vital climate change aide.”

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“Only around 5 to 10% of the Great Barrier Reef is regularly surveyed.”

TOP: Swimming with a pyrosome that consists of pelagic colonial tunicates. MIDDLE: A sea cucumber up close. BOTTOM: One of the team members measures the length of a sea cucumber.

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sea cucumbers break down their food into even smaller pieces inside their stomachs which then get recycled back into the ocean and become food for bacteria. Basically, the species has a similar function to earthworms on land. They can reduce the impacts of ocean acidification in areas where they are present, according to Scott: “As more carbon dioxide is being released into the atmosphere and is absorbed by the ocean, it slowly makes the ocean more acidic. Sea cucumbers can help to combat this by dissolving calcium carbonate as they eat the sediment. As calcium carbonate levels in the water increase it becomes less acidic, therefore locally buffering the impacts of ocean acidification.” To learn more about the extent to which sea cucumbers help combat ocean acidification, the species first needs to be effectively monitored. That, according to Scott, is a difficult thing to do: “Sea cucumbers are important to the Great Barrier Reef, but on the reef scale we don’t know much about their distributions. By trialling and using methods that can be applied on a larger scale, we can start to understand more about sea cucumbers to help inform management and conservation of the species.” The Reef Women expedition team trialled new methods and different techniques to assess and monitor sea cucumber populations to fill this knowledge gap. “We used aerial drones at low tide to map shallow reef top areas and spot sea cucumbers,” Scott says. “We then compared the footage with both snorkel surveys and in-water photo surveys. All these surveys were carried out along the same transect so they could be compared, and we can understand which methods would be most effective to scale up on the Great Barrier Reef.” In total, more than 5,700 drone mapping images were captured across 20 missions. Scott adds: “The findings collected through this survey approach will be used to help inform a larger scale monitoring project looking at sea cucumber populations on the Great Barrier Reef more broadly.” This is important as no system currently exists to monitor the species despite there being a commercial fishery in its range. Spanning 2,300km in length and comprising more than 3,000 individual reefs with incredible biodiversity that support more than 64,000 jobs, only around 5 to 10% of the Great Barrier Reef is regularly surveyed. Due to the reef ’s enormous size, the impacts of coral bleaching or weather events can affect some reefs more than others. With increasing climate change impacts changing reefs, broader monitoring and the collection of up-to-date, widespread information on the state of these sites would be an important step to better understanding the Great Barrier Reef as a whole and assessing which conservation steps work and which might not be effective. “During the Reef Women expedition, we witnessed the impacts of recent disturbance events including mass bleaching events and major cyclones, with some reefs very badly impacted,” says O’Callaghan.

“Despite these impacts, we also saw some beautiful reefs with incredible marine life, as well as reefs in a state of recovery and that’s important — the story of the reef is not black and white; with more than 3,000 reefs it’s more of a patchwork ecosystem. The Great Reef Census is all about finding out why individual reefs are changing yearon-year and why some are being impacted more than others.” Another ecosystem the Reef Women expedition was particularly interested to study was seagrass habitats – there is more seagrass than coral on the Great Barrier Reef. Seagrass not only provides a habitat for threatened species like dugong and sea turtles, it also acts as a critical blue carbon store. “Seagrass meadows are important to combat climate change because they absorb carbon efficiently and keep it stored for millennia,” explains Scott. “Our knowledge of seagrass distribution in the Great Barrier Reef is based on some intensive surveys, such as in port areas, however much of this information comes from historic surveys or modelling which predicts the presence of seagrasses. As the Great Barrier Reef is so large it is difficult to survey the whole area. On our Great Reef Census trip we were aiming to visit some of the areas that had not been surveyed recently to see whether any seagrass was present, and identify the seagrass species.” To map previously unmapped seagrass patches, more than 20 underwater camera tows were deployed. “We used a camera which was deployed off the back of a boat. It had a live feed up to a computer on the boat so we could see in real time what was on the sea floor and the footage was also recorded so we could review it back in the office. The camera was towed for 100m at each site to look for the presence of seagrass. Some of the areas we were looking in had never been surveyed before, and some only had seagrass data from more than ten years ago,” says Scott. “We found seagrass meadows at 48m depth. While seagrass meadows have been found at this depth before on the Great Barrier Reef, it’s amazing to see a plant able to survive at that depth.” The team of scientists hopes that these new techniques will be used by citizen scientists and other reef-based industries in the future to support data collection at scale. O’Callaghan explains: “For me, Reef Women is an important opportunity for collaboration and knowledgesharing amongst people who may work on the same ecosystem, but don’t often have the reason or opportunity to interact. “We had tourism crews learning how to conduct seagrass tows, Indigenous rangers flying drones, and seagrass scientists doing coral surveys with a GoPro. If we’re going to scale-up conservation this decade, which needs to happen in parallel with dramatic emissions reductions, these types of partnerships between tourism, science, conservation and the broader community will become increasingly important.”

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Shaped by passion for the ocean, driven by innovation, in pursuit of a sustainable future

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Photo by Byron Conroy

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