Oceanographic Magazine / Issue Twelve by Oceanographic Magazine

ISSUE

Conservation • Exploration • Adventure

CORAL GARDENERS BUYING PRECIOUS TIME FOR THE C O R A L R E E F S O F TA H I T I

E X P E R I E N C E T H E E X C E P T I O N A LÂ® P R I N C E S S YA C H T S . C O M

P r i n c e s s 7 5 M o to r Ya c h t

An experience without equal

â&#x20AC;&#x153;The diving at Wakatobi is out of this world. This is eco diving with as little impact as possible. Miles and miles of healthy corals with abundant and unique flora and fauna. And in our many years of diving, we met our best dive guide ever.â&#x20AC;? ~ Guido Bornemann

www.wakatobi.com

CREWCLOTHING.COM

WELCOME

Editorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Letter Yo u a n sw e re d t h e c a l l i n w a ve s , s e n d i n g p a rc e l s o f j o y a c ro s s the oceans and a ro u n d t h e w o r l d - thoughtfulness and escapism at a time when it was needed most.

Oceanographic Magazine has always been about community. We wanted to create a publication that broke free from hobbyist allegiances and offered something for all ocean-goers regardless of how they interacted with our planet's blue spaces - something, ultimately, for the entire ocean community. In the two years since our first magazine went to print, our community has grown significantly - readership, social following and the variety of partner organisations with which we collaborate. From shark scientists to big barrel surfers, via technical divers and weekend sailors, Oceanographic is read, shared and enjoyed by a diverse community. When you add in the geographical spread of those readers - from Chile to Norway, Azerbaijan to Mexico and everywhere in between and the age range - entire classes of school children to retirees - that sense of connectedness and commonality truly is a beautiful thing. In these strange and challenging times of isolation it is these shared passions, values and loves that we should all focus on, that we can all derive strength from. Oceanographic is just a magazine, sure, but the community of people and shared values around it - all of you - is so much bigger than that.

Will Harrison Editor @waj.harrison @og_editor

That sense of togetherness was displayed most powerfully during our 'share a little joy' campaign in the early days of disruption when readers were invited to send a free copy of the magazine to a loved one in isolation. You answered the call in waves, sending parcels of joy across the oceans and around the world, offering your fellow ocean lovers a slice of the big blue at a time when they could not access it - thoughtfulness and escapism at a time when it was needed most. Thank you all for that - that is what community is all about. To all of you out there, wherever it is you call home: Stay safe, stay well, and stay connected.

Oceanographicmag

Oceanographic Issue 12

Contents O N T H E C OV E R

FEATURE S

C O R A L G A RD E N E RS

Tehapai, a Coral Gardeners volunteer, holds out a coral of the species 'Pocillopora verrucosa'. Photograph by Ryan Borne.

What does it take to protect a coral reef? Patience, dedication, determination and knowhow. These are the tools that an NGO in Mo'orea uses to defend its reefs and capture the attention of the global ocean community.

Get in touch PAG E 2 0 ED I TO R Will Harrison A S S I S TA N T E D I TO R

Beth Finney

CR EATI V E D I R E C TO R

Amelia Costley

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 TOR

Chris Anson

YOUR OCEAN IMAGES

@oceanographic_mag @oceano_mag Oceanographicmag

I N S U P P O RT O F

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. ÂŠ 2020 CXD MEDIA. All rights reserved. Nothing in whole or in part may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher.

ISSN: 2516-5941

A collection of some of the most captivating ocean images shared on social media, both beautiful and arresting. Tag us or use #MYOCEAN for the opportunity to be featured. PAG E 1 2

CONTENTS

20%

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

ANSWERS IN SNOW

CH A SI NG D R AG O NS

S AV IN G S AW F IS H

To what extent can citizen science contribute to remote microplastics research? To find out, Airbnb Sabbatical sent five volunteers to collect and analyse snow samples on Earth’s most unforgiving continent.

Of all the extraordinary creatures that reside in the ocean, seadragons are some of the most mythical. But, like so many marine animals, they're at risk from heating waters and habitat loss. What can be done to protect them?

Only five living species of sawfishes remain, and all five are threatened with extinction. Researchers at the NOAA Southeast Fisheries Science Center are working tirelessly to figure out how to save them from that fate.

Millions of sharks are hauled out of the ocean each year for their fins and their absence from the global seas is having a huge impact. Project Hiu seeks to convert those same shark fishermen into shark conservationists.

Some of the most fulfilling adventures require us to slow down. This is certainly true of Anclote Keys Island of Pasco County, where nature abounds both on land and in the water, people are few, and time is immaterial.

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BEHIND TH E L E N S

C O LUMN S

ANDY MANN

THE SOCIAL ECOLOGIST

PR O J E C T HIU

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

S L OW A DV E N TU RE

P R O J E C T AWARE

Each issue, we chat with one of the world’s leading ocean photographers and showcase a selection of their work. In this edition, we meet awardwinning photographer and SeaLegacy creative director, Andy Mann.

Big wave surf champion, environmentalist and social change advocate Dr Easkey Britton discusses the impact creating inclusive surfwear can have on women around the world.

Freediver and founder of I AM WATER, Hanli Prinsloo, shares her thoughts on how years of freediving have prepared her for the experience of discomfort when life is turned upside down.

Dr Simon Pierce, Principal Scientist at the Marine Megafauna Foundation, discusses the devastating impact ocean plastics are having on the global seabird population.

The team at Project AWARE, Oceanographic’s primary charity partner, discuss how vital sharks are as apex predators and what we need to do to help protect them.

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Oceanographic Issue 12

Pascal Van de Vendel Bali, Indonesia A nudibranch moves across the black sand ocean floor off the coast of Bali. Measuring less than 1cm, the Costasiella kuroshimae nudibranch is often referred to as Shaun the Sheep. SPONSORED BY

#MYOCEAN

Evans Baudin Mexico Thousands of mobula rays gather in a large school off the coast of Cabo San Lucas, at the southern tip of Baja California. The rays are a commonly sighted from December to mid-January and then from May to July. SPONSORED BY

#MYOCEAN

Joe Leahy Hawaii

A turtle comes up for air off the coast of Oahu. Of the peaceful encounter, photographer Leahy says: “It seems like no matter what’s going on around them, sea turtles maintain the most care-free demeanour.” SPONSORED BY

#MYOCEAN

Martin Strmiska Raja Ampat A parrot fish patrols a reef in Misool, Raja Ampat. "Parrot fish are some of the most important fish species on the reef," says Strmiska. "They are the doctors, eating algae and dead coral, which keeps the reef healthy." SPONSORED BY

#MYOCEAN

Coral gardeners What does it take to protect a coral reef? Patience, dedication, determination and know-how. These are the tools that an NGO in Mo'orea uses to defend its reefs and capture the attention of the global ocean community. Wo rd s b y N a t a l i e H u n t e r- S m i t h P h o t o g ra p h s b y K e l s e y W i l l i a m s o n , R y a n B o rn e a n d B e n Th o u a rd

Oceanographic Issue 12

F E AT U R E

here are those who say that you can tell where in the world a photograph was taken based on the colour of the water. Truly, there is nowhere quite like French Polynesia to demonstrate this theory. The ocean there seems to have a unique blend – the deepest cerulean that melts into a dark powder blue, dappled with icy streaks from the sun. Almost all of the 118 islands have coral coastal marine ecosystems, with the exception of the Marquesas Islands. They boast nearly 200 species of corals, 1,200 species of fish and 1,000 species of crustaceans. However, after consecutive years of coastal development, the ongoing pressure of tourism, bleaching events and escalating climate change, the reef communities are declining. The coral rubble sweeps into the waves, distorting that instantly recognisable blue. However, on the small volcanic island of Tahiti, in the Mo’orea Island lagoon, a group of young ocean lovers has decided to do something to try and protect their paradise. The movement was founded nearly three years ago by Titouan Bernicot, who grew up on a pearl farm in Ahe, a small atoll at the North of the Tuamotu. “When I close my eyes at night, all I see is the ocean. It’s my everything,” he said. “From the mountains to the sea, everything here is connected. We are surfers, fishermen and freedivers. The coral reef gives us everything in our life. Endless joy and adventures, the food that we eat and the oxygen we breathe.” Since its launch, it has acquired ambassadors such as Diplo, Alexis Ren, Cristina Mittermeier, Jack Johnson, Paul Nicklen and (Shark Girl) Madison Stewart. Just like any other reef in the world, Mo’orea has been hit by rising ocean temperatures, escalating weather events and ocean acidification on the outer slope. Areas of the reef that are becoming wastelands of seaweed and dead coral rubble are on the rise. The lagoon itself faces the same threats with the added element of human impact. Pollution, divers treading on the reef, boats damaging it, chemical runoff from industry as well as huge freshwater inputs during the rainy season. It is estimated that around 75% of the world’s coral reefs are facing threats from pollution, overfishing and human activities or global heating, while coral reefs coverage has already declined by 30%-50% since the 1980s. Coral reefs cover less than 1% of the earth's surface and less than 2% of the ocean bottom but up to 25% of all marine life relies on them. We rely on them too, for the air we breathe, the food it provides and the livelihood it gives to millions of people. They are vital for protecting numerous island coastlines around the world from forceful ocean waves and some potentially devastating weather events. The larger and more intricate the reef is in terms of its structure, the more it can reduce wave energy. With so many different threats weakening these natural barriers, an increasing number of coastal residents are set to be at PREVIOUS PAGE: A restoration team member cementing coral fragments back onto the reef. THIS PAGE: Cleaning the ropes from algae to ensure the fragments' growth.

“When I close my eyes at night, all I see is the ocean. It's my everything. From the mountains to the sea, everything here is connected."

â&#x20AC;&#x153;The idea of restoration is not to regrow corals, but to revive an entire ecosystem, bringing benthos and fish back all along the food chain.â&#x20AC;?

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PREVIOUS PAGE: Moâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;orea, circled by coral reefs, enclosed by bright lagoons, covered by lush forests and soaring volcanic peaks. THIS PAGE: Corals are animals living in symbiosis with an algae called zooxanthellae.

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risk. Without immediate and intelligent action, all coral reefs are at risk of disappearing by 2050, with disastrous consequences for marine life. Thankfully, Mo’orea is one of the more resilient reefs and has, so far, managed to mostly recover from major bleaching events. But with rising ocean temperatures, the Coral Gardeners are trying to act quickly and think ahead by looking out for ‘super corals’. These are individuals of any coral species that, for one reason or another, won't bleach when others do. The reason for that is often a stronger genetic background, that allows them to endure warm temperatures or longer periods of stress. “The issue behind climate change and coral bleachings is not simply the death of the corals,” explained Mathilde Loubeyres, the Coral Gardeners’ in-house scientist. “The issue is that the reef never comes back the way it was before in terms of coral assemblages. We are witnessing a change in morphology that translates into a loss of functionality. Over the years we are losing branching, foliose, digitate corals to encrusting, submassive or massive species. We are losing the three-dimensional structure that provides shelter for fish, habitat for all benthic species, and a barrier against waves and erosion. Without this three-dimensional structure, the reef flattens and it's the whole assemblage that shifts. This is what we're trying to restore. We try to select super corals of three-dimensional species to encourage the recovery of the reef as an ecosystem, not just as a coral reef.” The restoration process could be likened to gardening on land. Currently, the Coral Gardeners have four sites and five nurseries. They are working with a cementing technique while implementing the new super corals project. For the cementing technique, broken fragments are collected in the ocean and placed on underwater nursery tables. After a few weeks, these fragments are secured using marine cement on damaged areas of reef across five key zones in Marine Protected Areas of the Northern lagoon of Mo’orea. Outplant substrates consist of dead reef structures known as ‘coral potatoes’. The chosen outplanting surface needs to be scrubbed of all algae or sediment prior to cementing in order to maximise the coral piece’s chance of self-attachment. This technique provides a hard surface for the corals to

“From the mountains to the sea, everything here is connected. We are surfers, fishermen and freedivers. The coral reef gives us everything in life."

colonise immediately, before merging with the substrate, which then facilitates their growth. Over the following months, these newly planted marine habitats are closely monitored. Currently, the species of focus include Acropora (A.) hyacinthus, A. pulchra, A. cytherea, Pocillopora (P.) eydouxi, P. meandrina, P. verrucosa, Pavona cactus and Napopora irregularis. Of course, the mitigation of anthropic stressors with the help of the local community also has to play a role if their success record is set to continue long-term. Tahiti benefits from both Marine Protected Areas and the Rahui – a traditional Polynesian method of managing natural resources or seasonally restricting usage – with fishing exclusions and quotas. The Rahuis are an ancestral practice and as such are very much respected. “I am part of the restoration team so everyday we go out in the water for a different mission,” said team member Maoritai Teiho. “At the moment, we collect opportunity fragments on the ground of the lagoon. These are live pieces of corals broken by the current or marine life or human activities. Then we cement those fragments to dead bommies so they have a new place to attach themselves to grow on. When I was a child, I thought corals were rocks! We need every kid to know what a coral is, to not be like me and think that they are just rocks. People need to realise how important reefs are for life on this Earth.” Mathilde designed the new nurseries, set up collaborations with national research entities and manages them while training the team, monitoring the programmes and analysing all the data collected. “We regularly collect data on coral cover, coral growth, coral fitness, fish count of our donor and outplant sites, benthos survey; basically the usual reef-check basics with a few extra parameters,” said Mathilde. “The data allows us to assess not only coral growth and cover but the impact on the whole ecosystem. The idea of restoration is not to regrow corals, but to revive an entire ecosystem, bringing benthos and fish back all along the food chain.” They also use transect lines as a monitoring tool, to track the reefs’ health and evolution. A measuring tape is laid out over a section of reef and data is recorded in relation to that line, such as fish abundance, size and species. By repeating these surveys through time, the team can monitor the reefs’ richness and diversity. Each restoration site has its own needs. Restoration might not even be what the reef needs in certain places. They conduct a baseline study prior to any work, to assess the needs of the reef. If restoration is required and possible, then the team adapts the methods based on the environmental conditions of each site. Essentially, the goal is to restore the ecological function of lagoon coral reefs wherever possible. In the early days of the NGO, much of the focus started out on restoration, but the Coral Gardeners are taking things a step further. They are working on creating three permanent coral ‘gene banks’ from the careful sampling of large heat-resilient colonies located in the lagoon. By

Oceanographic Issue 12

setting up coral tables in scrupulously selected areas, complete with strings of coral micro-fragments, they can focus on climate change adaptation and the discovery of new super corals. Once they’ve grown on the ropes into ‘mother corals’, they will be trimmed every 6-12 months and those offcuts will be planted elsewhere in the lagoon of Mo’orea North. The hope is that by selecting super corals and outplanting them in damaged areas, they can hopefully improve the general resistance of the reef. It’s a simple yet effective process. Thus far, the Coral Gardeners have seen a 90% success rate from their hard work. “At Coral Gardeners, we have two main pillars: reef restoration and awareness,” Maoritai explained. “Regarding reef restoration, yes we plant corals but we also constantly work on new techniques that will help us in the future, even if temperatures rise. Regarding awareness, we go to schools, to conferences, we have ecotours for tourists and we are present on social media. Indeed, we want to spread the word so people realise the impact of climate change and adapt their habits so we all try to slow down this temperature rise.” People anywhere in the world can support the project and adopt a coral that the Coral Gardeners will care for. Alternatively, if you are in Mo'orea, you can go out to the sites yourself on a guided snorkel ecotour. It’s this sort of carefully curated experience that heartily welcomes people to the world of coral gardening, inspiring numerous individuals to care about the reef rather than brandishing the somewhat overused ‘it’s too late’ storyline. “Community is key,” added Maoritai. “We cannot save the reef alone. Climate change is impacting our oceans and we need everyone to adapt their habits so we can reverse the current trend and save the oceans. Everyone has a role to play, by adopting a coral, talking about corals and climate change around them and sharing meaningful content on social media for example.” Their work relies on millions of people worldwide feeling connected to the ocean, feeling like they can play a role in protecting it. They share educational content with more than 500,000 followers on Instagram. By August 2019, they had organised four conferences, 18 events, told the story of the reef in 22 classes and guided more than 500 tourists on their ecotour. “Just like other conservationists, we fight against people’s lifestyle and unwillingness to grasp the urgency of climate change,” adds Mathilde. “Restoration is nothing but a bandage on a wound, it is by no means a solution. We can restore all we want, but as long as we do not all tackle climate change together, our efforts are doomed in the long run. Conservation is a depressing and frustrating field overall, so being able to distance yourself from your work/passion is, to me, a vital skill in order to not to become overwhelmed.” In 2019, the Coral Gardeners replanted more than 11,000 coral fragments, directly educated 2,519 individuals and expanded their team to include 20 passionate ocean defenders. Workshops with young people on the island play a huge part in their community-based efforts. The children they work with already know that there is a problem, and that that problem will become their responsibility in the future, so the Coral Gardeners team show them what role they can play directly in protecting the reef. “We need to tackle climate change and alter our lifestyles now. We’re running out of time,” said Mathilde. "The ocean has always been my confident, the silent companion sharing happy moments, listening to all the struggles and shaking me up when I needed it. Being in or on the water has a way of calming my mind, reminding me of my priorities, of who I am and why I’m doing this. The underwater world is my safe place, where no one can talk to you, you just have to feel, to rely on your instincts. Feel the pressure on your body, heartbeat slowing down, movements becoming more fluid as the time seems to stop. It’s not silent by any means but it’s quiet in its own way, it’s peaceful.” This is by no means a quick fix. But through determination and dedication, the Coral Gardeners are making a difference, both in French Polynesia and around the world. Their methods and hard graft are buying some time for this small part of the Pacific, but they need the rest of the world to work alongside them to try to turn back the clocks on climate change before it’s too late.

A thriving coral reef off Mo'orea.

â&#x20AC;&#x153;We cannot save the reef alone. Climate change is impacting our oceans and we need everyone to adapt their habits so we can reverse the current trend and save the oceans."

BEHIND THE LENS

Oceanographic Issue 12

BEHIND THE LENS

FINDING ANSWERS

in the snow To what extent can citizen science contribute to remote microplastics research? To find out, Airbnb Sabbatical sent five volunteers to collect and analyse snow samples on Earthâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s most unforgiving continent. Wo rd s b y K i r s t i e J o n e s - W i l l i a m s P h o t o g ra p h s b y Yu r i Ko z y rev

Oceanographic Issue 12

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â&#x20AC;&#x153;When we look at microplastics in this environment,we must first recognise that plastic must interact within a realm of multiple stressors.â&#x20AC;?

Oceanographic Issue 12

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hite, as far as the eye could see, dry, cold and an unrelenting wind bringing air straight from the Pole. The icy Antarctic Plateau’s immensity is disorienting and I look back to see my single track of footprints behind me and nothing but a thousand kilometres of snow ahead. Whilst it looks and feels like an untouched part of our planet, foreign in its vistas and remoteness, like it's entirely unconnected to back home, the opposite is in fact true. The Antarctic is inextricably linked to global climate cycles, sharing the same atmosphere and, as recent studies have shown, is undeniably impacted by the activity of human beings. To what extent, if any, the purely human-made pollutant, plastic had contaminated this continent was my reason for being here. Since my first hikes in the welsh mountains back home and seeing the development of the offshore windfarm from my school classroom, I have always been interested in our relationship with the natural environment. From the physical impact, both positive and negative, that we can have on its environment and resources, and the ways in which we try to explore it, manage it, protect it, govern it and connect with it. I was reading a magazine, much like this one, over a decade ago when my curiosity and admiration for Antarctica and our relationship with it was piqued. I still have the magazine and the pieces I highlighted; a special issue on climate change. There was an exposé on Antarctica and a summary of key discoveries since the signing of the Antarctic Treaty in 1959, which devoted the continent to peaceful scientific collaborations. Amongst them, the uncovering of the instability of the ozone layer, the so-called ozone hole due the chemical CFCs found in refrigerants, some of the most significant warming seen on the Antarctic Peninsula, and the effects of runaway warming on glacier retreat. It fascinated me. Here was this remote continent, connected to human beings only by the oceans and air, protected, at least for now, under a treaty, which regardless of its motivations was enabling peaceful, scientific exploration and preservation of its resources. It is for all these reasons, that Antarctica perfectly epitomises our complex relationship with the planet. I actively sought a line of research that would enable me to connect people with our natural environment and see the impacts we can have on it. Plastic pollution is without doubt one of the most tangible forms of

environmental crisis our planet faces and with this fact, there is an immense amount of responsibility to shine a light on the other ways in which we may negatively or positively impact our planet. I often think of it as the “gateway topic” to environmentalism. If you can get people to engage with plastic pollution, you start to see small changes in their behaviour, which are rooted in a changing perception of our responsibility to, and our reliance on the health of our natural world. But a connection with our oceans instils a deeper sense of connectivity with planet Earth and the impact that we can have on far flung lands, even back at home. Researching plastics in both the Arctic and Antarctic is bitter-sweet. The fact this field of research exists at all, and the complexity and number of ways in which we must try to decipher its potential impact, is often daunting, but the fact that, to some degree, an individual can be empowered by changing their behaviours and motivated to demand more responsible choices from their governments and providers is incredibly encouraging. I started a PhD back in October 2017, investigating microplastics and how they may behave as a contaminant in and around Antarctica. Microplastics are plastic pieces which are approximately less than 5mm, and at this size, capable of being ingested by animals that support the food chain, and interact with the environment in a multitude of complex ways. The ability to understand the relative risk of this contaminant around Antarctica relies upon the development of two separate lines of research. The first is to understand the most prevalent types of plastics that now exist in our natural environment, as mismanaged waste and how they may be distributed in our oceans and on land. Secondly, it is to determine how these contaminants interact both at a physical level, and a chemical level with organisms. This is particularly pertinent in the polar regions, where zooplankton are often keystone species. That is, that the smallest, insect-like animals of the ocean, such as Antarctic krill, support the rest of the marine food web by being a source of food for fish, seals, penguins and whales alike. Living in the coldest, ice-influenced waters, they have a reduced tolerance to environmental changes such as global heating and ocean acidification. When we look at microplastics in this environment, we must first recognise that plastic must interact within a realm of multiple stressors and so even small amounts of this pollutant may have a significant role to play. Over the last couple of years I have been able to carry out fieldwork in the waters around the Sub-Antarctic and along the Antarctic Peninsula, which may help me answer some of these questions. Studies show that thousands of microplastics are found per square kilometre in Antarctic waters, but this rarely includes synthetic fibres. This compared to a global average of 63,320 particles

LEFT: Collecting snow samples in stainless steel containers to minimise contamination. PREVIOUS PAGE: The Basler plane used to fly to the South Pole.

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per square km (Eriksen et al/, 2014) is small, however by no means insignificant. With plastic release to the environment estimated at 4-12 metric tonnes in 2010 alone (Jambeck et al., 2015), and an estimated increase by three orders of magnitude by 2050 (Geyer et al., 2017), we expect to see this increase reflected in the polar regions as well. I strongly believe that a key to understanding and monitoring plastic pollution and its possible threat, is to have key areas for monitoring. One of the data gaps we currently have is the concentration of plastic in the Antarctic interior. Whilst areas adjacent to local human footprint – such as logistic basecamps where we were on my recent expedition – allow us to investigate the spread of plastic pollution from these localised source points, even more interesting is getting data in the remotest regions, such as on the Antarctic Plateau and remote glaciers at altitude. Here we can test to what extent larger atmospheric circulation can carry microplastics. When Airbnb first approached me with the idea of the Antarctic Sabbatical – a way to promote purpose driven travel through an experience where travellers give back to the community they visit – I felt a mixture of confusion and excitement. What could “citizen science” mean on a continent that technically had no citizens? Would it be possible to fill in this knowledge gap of microplastics in Antarctica and what was the best way to utilise the incredible global platform that Airbnb has? When we sat down to meet, it appeared as though we were aligned in our philosophies and had the same questions. Citizen science in this sense, was to evoke an idea of global citizenship through experiential learning and through this, hopefully inspire and help five environmental ambassadors. We wanted to bring an NGO on board that focussed on promoting and educating on sustainable living alongside interaction with our oceans. The Ocean Conservancy was the obvious choice, and having them partner allowed us to really solidify this idea of connectivity with Antarctica through our oceans. With more than 140,000 applicants, my inbox was inundated with questions and advice on what the perfect candidate looked like. For me at least, there wasn’t a perfect candidate. There was a perfect team, as is always the case in polar research – it is the team which matters, not the individual, and so it could look any number of ways. At the core of it, I think we all hoped there would just be a self-sustaining positive energy that would carry us through long days in the field, and ensure the longevity of the project after the fieldwork. I think we were all conscious of wanting to make sure that our team consisted of people with different backgrounds and therefore connecting with different audiences and opportunities to engage. Without mentioning the long list of truly incredible people that are needed for the organisation of a project like this, our core team in the field were the five Long lab days spent melting and filtering snow samples.

BEHIND THE LENS

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Being a visitor to somewhere like Antarctica, but feeling like you belong there and are truly at the mercy of Mother Nature, is one of the most grounding experiences you can have.â&#x20AC;? 35

TOP: For safety reasons, the team had to be roped together when out in the field. MIDDLE: The newly assembled team depart from Punta Arenas, Chile, to Union Glacier, Antarctica, on the Ilyushin. BOTTOM: Expedition basecamp.

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volunteers who were from Norway, India, Hawaii, Arizona and Dubai, myself and our field guides from Antarctic Logistics and Expeditions (ALE), a logistics and tour operator company. Truly, the success of any fieldwork relies on the people. You need people with confidence, but a sense of humility. People with ideas and a curiosity, but who are also willing to accept a role and be relied upon to do it well, repeatedly, to be honest and communicate any problems. It’s a lot to ask from a person, but you’re not looking for a perfect embodiment of all of these things, you need a group of people who can bring out those qualities in one another. It was a big risk and so we were committed to making sure the team was built before we headed onto the ice. Just over two weeks was spent in Chile for this team building. This was strategic for two reasons. Firstly, it would allow us the time and facility for some lectures from myself, the Ocean Conservancy and partners in Chile from the University of GAIA, and INACH on plastic pollution and science in Antarctica. Secondly, it was to showcase one of the major countries that allows much of Antarctic research to be carried out. Punta Arenas in Chile is a hive of activity with expeditioners and scientists preparing for and returning from Antarctica. The volunteers had enough time to form bonds with the locals and work on a number of local citizen science projects. Airbnb had connected with Airbnb hosts across Punta Arenas to provide a platform for the most eco-conscious hosts and ensure our travels were single use plastic-free to the best of our abilities, and carbon offset. Our exact location in Antarctica was a place called Union Glacier, which is where ALE are based. Working with them not only put us in an ideal location to access remote areas inland, such as up on the Schanz glacier and the Antarctic Plateau, but it gave us access to an Antarctic family – evoking a sense of citizenship for those who lived there, albeit only temporarily. Being a visitor somewhere like Antarctica, but feeling like you belong there and are truly at the mercy of Mother Nature, is one of the most grounding experiences you can have to reconnect you with the natural world. It was an immense privilege to work there, with a team including other biologists, geologists, glaciologists, meteorologists and world class mountain guides and adventurers who wanted to learn more about the Sabbatical from the volunteers. We set up a laboratory on site and stayed for the next week or so, sometimes spending up to eight hours in the field. I wanted us to work as far away as we were logistically and safely able to do so, which meant heading out on ropes due to the risk of crevasses. Roles were assigned with the expectation of some nasty weather, with a sampler, scribe, and two meteorological observers, one who recorded wind speed and direction and another who photographed the sampled area – the patterns in the snow giving indication of the direction of recently drifted snow. Recording the surrounding environmental conditions are imperative when investigating for microplastics, and minimising our contamination in the field and the lab was also at the forefront of our minds. It is for this reason that we designed our sampling protocol in order to collect samples along the direction of prevailing wind, moving gradually upwind so as not to contaminate our sites. We had two teams carrying out the same task to have replicates, and investigate for bias that we might have between our sampling groups. The kit is all fairly basic and I was really keen to make sure we did one simple thing, so we dug small subsurface pits and collected snow in steel canisters, ecotankas, before taking them back to basecamp lab for filtering. These dry samples could then be observed under the microscope by the volunteers and now sit in my lab at Cambridge where I am analysing them using infrared analysis. Using the eye alone, you cannot determine for certain whether a particle or fiber is plastic, nor can you determine whether it was deposited there before you sampled or whether it came from one of the samplers. There is a long list of anti-contamination procedures that I’d written up and the volunteers were vigilant in carrying them out. By having a team of citizen scientists, in just a short space of time, we were able to collect and filter five times more samples than I had hoped for, and to be honest, ten times more than I had expected. To work in the polar regions is an immense privilege. What Airbnb wanted, and what I wanted and why ALE exists, is to afford this opportunity to others and to stir a sense of responsibility to travel with purpose. The uniqueness of this opportunity is surreal when I look back on it, and working in the laboratory back in the United Kingdom, I will be reminded of the truly international team that made this all possible and the spheres of influence this project can touch, by providing learning through experience. When you hear the messages that the citizen scientists have taken from it, and through meetings with the Ocean Conservancy on how they can make tangible differences, it is acutely apparent that the project brought together an Antarctic family. The Antarctic family is one that recognises its impermanence, its responsibilities as a visitor and is reminded daily of the vastness of our natural world, and the absolute necessity there is to understand it and respect it. And on a human level, it’s a bizarre realisation that sometimes it takes going the remotest of locations, to remind you of how vital people are and how much we need one another to make a positive impact.

Oceanographic Issue 12

Column

By Dr Easkey Britton

The social ecologist INTO THE SEA

can feel the flux – the whole planet and all of humanity in a state of flux. I waver between emotions of overwhelm or numbness, presence and surrender, a deep letting go, a slowing down and listening, a sinking and a stillness. Sometimes during the day I am struck by the raw beauty of the simplest, fleeting moment of sunlight on water, or observing the gradual unfurling of the buds on the trees day by day from my place of ‘self-isolation’. Other moments I feel the distance between me and my family and the longing for that physical contact like an ache inside. And I also feel and experience again and again a powerful sense of community and collaboration, empathy and understanding, a connection that transcends distance and language, and using what resources we have in new and innovative ways to overcome barriers. This is what is at the heart of the Seasuit Project, a creative journey that’s all about collaboration, between women, makers, designers, athletes, to take what we love to do – surfing – and make it easier for more women to do. In Ireland and the UK surfers are used to being fully clad in neoprene, especially in winter. But a decade ago in 2010, on an off-the-beaten-path surf trip to Iran, I found myself clad head-to-toe for very different reasons, where I became the first woman to surf in Baluchestan, a remote region to the south of Iran. Due to the country’s strict dress code imposed after the country’s 1979 Islamic Revolution women must cover up and wear a head covering, or hijab. In the surf I wore leggings, baggy boardshorts, longsleeved rashvest, a t-shirt and a hijab to ensure my head was covered. It was not ideal surf-wear – it felt extremely restrictive, heavy when wet and incredibly hot, making it difficult to wear in the surf. On my second visit there in 2013, I was joined by Iranian sports women (the trip is chronicled in the film “Into The Sea” by Marion Poizeau). Since then, surfing has been embraced by the local ethnic Baluch community, with efforts to explore its potential for bringing economic opportunity to an isolated region of Iran. In subsequent years when I returned to continue to support the development of surfing, I was joined by Shirin Gerami, Iran’s first female triathlete, who opened my eyes to a whole new way of understanding the experience of

our female bodies in water, overcoming challenges in sport to do what we love, and the particular challenges of appropriate, functional sportswear. The participation of Iranian women and girls continues to grow, and remains instrumental for the development of surfing. However, the issue of functional clothing to wear in the surf remains a barrier and a potentially dangerous challenge for women and girls to participate. The loose clothing and hijab fabric gets heavy when wet, is impossible to keep fixed to one’s head and can become a tangled mess when wiping out. If surfing was going to be accessible to the women in Iran – and other Muslim communities around the world – the issue of creating functional yet culturally conforming surfwear would have to be addressed. Some other performance hijabs already existed, but when we tested them they didn’t fully solve the particular challenges that come with surfing in them. When I shared my experiences and the idea of creating functional full-body surf-wear for women with my sponsor Finisterre, they embraced it as the ultimate design challenge. “Easkey came home telling us what an amazing experience she had in Iran and that there was a growing interest to do this activity, but that there was a barrier,” explains Finisterre’s Product Director, Debbie Luffman. “It was the perfect design problem. Not only was it a functional problem, but the clothing was actually stopping you from doing or enjoying the activity you wanted to do.” Finisterre took the challenge to students at the nearby Falmouth University and Plymouth College of Art. Whilst the design needed to conform to rules surrounding body modesty, a key part of the brief was also that the suit looked good and celebrated individuality, Debbie explained, “We told the students this was a function problem, and a sustainability challenge, but that they also had to consider aesthetics. Because when you are wearing sportswear, you have to feel strong and confident.” Throughout the project it has been supported by female designers, including Rachel Preston who created the first prototype from Synne Knutson’s original design. The final printed pattern was designed by Ayesha King inspired by the movement of water, creating a visual illusion that masks the contours of the body. Makers HQ, a female-owned social enterprise garment factory in Plymouth, made the first tester suits.

Oceanographic Issue 12

@easkeysurf

www.easkeybritton.com

Photograph by Abbi Hughes

The result is the Finisterre Seasuit – with an innovative cross-back strap system, making it easy for the wearer to step into and pull on over a wetsuit or leggings. It also features an adjustable elasticated hood that would stay put when duck diving or during a wipe-out, and is made from quick drying UPF 50+ ECONYL® recycled fabric. After years of design work on this collaborative passion project myself and Shirin got to test the very first Seasuit in the controlled surfscape of The Wave, in Bristol, which proved to be the perfect test site with its lab-like settings. Although the project was originally inspired by and born from the needs of women surfing in Iran, and created to encourage participation and growth of female surfing from different cultures, especially where societal norms surrounding how women should look and act controls their ability to access the surf – we quickly realised that the Seasuit could also help women who might prefer more modest surfwear for other reasons; from sensitive skin that

doesn’t like the sun, to individual body confidence for those who don’t want to wear a skin-tight wetsuit or bikini. It happens across sports in general, girls in their teenage years fall by the wayside in terms of participation. There are a whole load of reasons for that, but one is body image. The portrayal of what a female surfer should look like is pretty limited in the media. There should be lots of options of how to look in the water, and the Seasuit can facilitate that. "I am a huge believer that there is absolutely no barrier to sports participation. I think it's medicine in so many ways,” Shirin says. “The suit to me represents inclusion. I think it can have an absolutely huge impact and be a door opener to women, especially girls, to be able to gain the approval, blessing and the personal confidence to be able to go into the ocean and surf, have fun and be a part of this movement.” Doing this kind of work is what fuels me up in these strange times. EB

About Easkey Dr Easkey Britton, surfer and founder of Like Water, is a marine social scientist at the National University of Ireland Galway. 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 more information on the Seasuit visit: www.finisterre.com

BEHIND THE LENS

Oceanographic Issue 12

FIGHTING FOR

dragons Of all the extraordinary creatures that reside in the ocean, seadragons are some of the most mythical. But, like so many marine animals, they're at risk from heating waters and habitat loss. But what can be done to protect them?

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 12

F E AT U R E

Oceanographic Issue 12

F E AT U R E

ABOVE: Seadragons have a life span of approximately 6-7 years, longer than most seahorses. LEFT: The weedy seadragons of the east coast of Australia favour kelp and seaweed habitats over seagrass. PREVIOUS PAGE: Seadragon predators include moray eels and octopus.

here is an extraordinary creature that lives, camouflaged by nature, in the southern waters of Australia. It truly is an evolutionary chameleon of the ocean. I was exposed to the ocean at an early age and learnt to appreciate it as an intrinsic part of Australian life. But it wasn’t until I became a diver that I started to pay attention to the wonders that lie beneath the waves. While the sheer variety of creatures that reside in the marine environment is somewhat incomprehensible, there is one delicate and little known species that has become my obsession. Weedy seadragons (Phyllopteryx taeniolatus) have fascinated me ever since I first heard of their existence – I couldn’t believe these intricate creatures existed in my own backyard. Part of the seahorse family, Syngnathidae, they are only found along the southern coast of Australia, generally in cooler temperate waters. The first time I finally saw one while out diving, I followed it for as long as possible, almost neglecting my air consumption. I hadn’t realised just how big it would be, how detailed its patterns. I held my breath to listen to the snap of its proboscis as it fed on tiny mysid shrimp. I have now seen weedy seadragons in all parts of the southernmost regions off Australia and even the smallest differences in each individual fascinate me. The variations in their colours, their habitat and terrain, their physical size, their courting rituals – the list goes on. However, we are still unsure if these are variations in subspecies or simply examples of the same species adapting to their environment. I am driven to find out as much as I can

about these bizarre creatures and how I can play a part in protecting them. As syngnathids they are protected by some measures, but this doesn’t necessarily translate into tangible results. Protection generally relates to fishing and removal from their environment, but these are not the only threats to Australia’s seadragons. Species-level protection does help certain animals, but with declining habitat and poor genetic diversity, weedy seadragons may suffer from bigger issues. Weedy seadragons play an important role in maintaining the biodiversity of temperate reefs, as they feed on mysid shrimp and provide food for other species. The seadragon’s habitat can vary from seagrass to kelp forests and, in the east coast of Australia, we see the weedy populations mostly favouring the kelp and seaweed habitat, while further south in Victoria they will swim predominantly around seagrass beds and jetties. One notable observation is that we are seeing incremental changes in the way these seadragons look in different locations, which raises the question – are they a subspecies? Could they have genetic differences based on their location? Further research is being done to determine if these differences are enough to classify them as a separate subspecies. As with a lot of marine life, seadragons are under threat from habitat loss, the impact of climate change heating our oceans and increased pollutants from human excess. We have observed thinning of kelp in Sydney, which is an important source of shelter for the species. This loss

Oceanographic Issue 12

F E AT U R E

“If it wasn't for scuba divers giving many hours to collecting thousands of photos of weedies, we wouldn't have enough data to establish trends and make informed conclusions regarding the health of weedy populations. We are helping to monitor seadragon populations and track individuals using matching software...” impacts seadragons heavily, as their environment acts as a means of survival through camouflage. Their ability to blend into seaweed, kelp forests and seagrass beds and move with the surging ocean is why they have been successful as a species. But in many parts of Australia, the kelp forests are dying, and the seagrass is diminishing, which will have an impact on how these creatures will survive, or if they can adapt in any way at all. “They are a truly magical animal to watch in the wild thanks to their almost invisible fluttering fins and genuinely dragon-like appearance,” said John Turnbull, a marine ecologist and President of the Underwater Research Group of NSW. Turnbull runs a communitybased organisation that is dedicated to sharing information about the underwater world and ultimately helping to contribute to conservation efforts through citizen science. One of the key areas of focus is the weedy seadragon monitoring project, which supports The University of Technology, Sydney, Underwater Research Group and Sydney Institute of Marine Science (SIMS). “They need habitat, which is diminishing, and so may become increasingly open to predation. They are also found in temperate waters only so may be impacted by warming oceans. We are seeing declines in numbers in some populations, which will impair their resilience due to diminishing genetic diversity.” Their physiology is fascinating. They have a long snout that they use to catch their prey and have a close vision of focus that extends a little beyond this. It could be the reason they hunt their prey in such close proximity. They continually feed on mysids, small shrimp like crustaceans and from juvenile age to being fully-grown they increase by 10 times their weight. Researchers have tagged weedy seadragons and have determined that their life span is approximately six to seven years, which is longer than most seahorses of the Syngnathidae family. The males carry a brood of eggs along the underside of their tail until they are ready to hatch which can be between 8-12 weeks. The brood of eggs are brightly coloured, possibly to deter predators as often bright colouring can serve as a warning to other marine

RIGHT: Seadragons have a long snout, which they use to feed on mysids.

animals that they are in some way poisonous. However, generally their colours and features are designed to blend in with their environment and provide a natural camouflage. Once born, the hatchlings are on their own, blending in to survive from any predators until they are fully grown. Weedy seadragons tend to have fewer offspring than many other fish species, but this may be a strategy to produce strong and healthy babies that have better chances to survive. They do have some predators, including moray eels and octopus, however they seem to be a resilient creature despite their lack of defences. As a photographer I am always looking for a new way to present a species that is photographed regularly, so I set myself a goal. For one year, I would photograph a weedy seadragon every month, using a wide lens for six months of the year and a macro for the others to see if I could really discover more about these creatures and their lives. At one stage, I dived the same spot every week for eight weeks so I could follow a male carrying a brood of eggs. This allowed me to see the astonishing development of each individual egg from an iridescent pink pearl to a semi-developed set of limbs, with visible eyes and organs. Sometimes a tail or fin would be protruding from an almost hatched egg. I can’t explain how addictive watching this process was and how focused I was as a photographer to capture this. This was the turning point. I then wanted to see how I could use this type of photography to support the research and understanding of these creatures. Encouraging divers and underwater photographers who are diving the same places regularly and shooting the same subjects over several years, is how this type of program can be most effective. You expand the ability to collect multiple data samples and by educating the divers who are willing participants, how to shoot the photos in a way that is useful for comparing data, this information becomes invaluable and allows scientists to extend the reach of their research. There are a number of organisations collaborating on seadragon research, specifically along the New South Wales coastline, Victoria and parts of Tasmania where seadragons are more prominent. The weedy seadragon monitoring program is reliant on citizen scientists taking quality photographs during dives. Every new seadragon photograph is analysed through a software program and then compared in an image library database. This project builds upon ecological data collected since 2001 from the University of Technology Sydney (UTS) research group. “The IUCN had earlier rated the species as “Near Threatened” but then downgraded to “Least Concern”, which flies in the face of what we have seen,” said David Booth, Professor of Marine Ecology at the UTS. “We have contacted them and they are happy to receive our data for their next assessment. The best option is to protect the habitats, especially the kelps at the northern range edges, which are threatened by higher ocean temperatures and climate related storms, as well as minimise the direct pollution in places like Botany Bay, Sydney.”

Oceanographic Issue 12

BEHIND THE LENS

“Their physiology is fascinating. They have a long snout that they use to catch their prey and have a close vision of focus that extents a little beyond this.”. Oceanographic Issue 09

F E AT U R E

“As with a lot of our marine life, they are under threat from habitat loss, the impact of climate change heating our oceans and increased pollutants from human excess.” These IUCN classifications can be problematic when organisations are trying to protect a species or reduce habitat loss. It makes this research and the distribution of accurate information important to convince governments and local councils to support efforts to ensure the survival of the species. Booth spoke with me about the importance of these programs and providing accurate information to understand the species, behaviour and habitat to ensure the conservation of these marine animals. Research is being done to look at genetics and other environmental effects around the coastlines of southern Australia, but the fragility of the species and their retreating habitat is what concerns many scientists. With a suspected decline in the populations, now is the time to gather as much information as possible. This is where experts like Booth and Turnbull lead the way in encouraging citizen science on a larger scale, as key to extending the reach of this research. “If it wasn’t for scuba divers giving many hours to collecting thousands of photos of weedies, we wouldn’t have enough data to establish trends and make informed conclusions regarding the health of weedy populations,” added Turnbull. “We are helping to monitor seadragon populations and track individuals using matching software, and analysing genetic diversity to understand how populations differ from one location to another. Without recent, reliable information we can’t make good decisions that will translate into effective conservation. In the end, we have to judge our actions by a turnaround in weedy populations, and without good science we can’t achieve that.” Photography gives people a window into a subject or environment they may not necessarily have the chance to see, it allows us to educate and inspire others to dig deeper or dive further into the plight of a species or the understanding of a creature they may not even be aware exists. For me, telling a story that can raise awareness, help support science and inspire others to explore the ocean for themselves, is achieving what most photographers strive to do. My hope is that we find ways to protect the weedy seadragon's habitat. I hope we can learn more about these creatures and I hope more people can contribute to citizen science to increase the reach of what we can learn and for those committed to studying them, give them the relevant information to support initiatives, breeding programs, create sanctuaries and simply make sure these creatures are around for generations to experience.

The males carry a brood of eggs along the underside of their tail until they are ready to hatch.

Column

By Hanli Prinsloo

The ocean activist

DISCOMFORT AND FINDING PEACE WITHIN

“ Adaptability, resilience, mental strength, mindfulness and of course empathy are the superpowers we now need and this crisis is the ultimate teacher. We have that strength of water – to be soft and strong at the same time.”

Photograph by Peter Marshall

Oceanographic Issue 12

@hanliprinsloo

@hanliprinsloofreediver

About Hanli Hanli Prinsloo is a South African freediver and ocean advocate. She is the founder of I AM WATER, a Durban-based charity that seeks to reconnect South Africa's underserved urban youth with the ocean. www.iamwaterfoundation.org

oday I tried to count how many minutes of the last two decades I have spent holding my breath. Decade one of freediving competitively, I would train several five minute breath-holds a week with a maximum of just over six minutes every other day. Hundreds of dives down to 20m then 30m then 50m, then 60m and more ranging from 3-4 minutes at a time. Recent years inspired by relationship not time, depth or records. How long do you need to be down for an oceanic manta ray in Ecuador to accept your presence? How many turns and twirls before a dolphin wants to play at depth? Floating at the surface just above a singing humpback whale not daring to breathe. For two decades I have danced the dance of the living non-breathing. Teaching myself to be comfortable with the discomfort of being encased in a human body in the throes of relearning the way of water. Every breath-hold reaches a point of discomfort. Often a discomfort so great that every cell in your body shouts for escape. With my lung volume any breath-hold beyond four minutes is extremely uncomfortable. My body screams for oxygen as my diaphragm starts to contract trying to force me to breathe. Through training stillness, relaxation and mindfulness this state is now familiar. Not pleasant, but not frightening. I have become comfortable with discomfort. I know that though this is not comfortable, it is not dangerous. The last hundred years humanity seems to have been waging a war against discomfort in all forms. With mobile phones we don’t even need to commit to a coffee date anymore, if on the day it challenges my comfort to make it, I can just text and reschedule. All the way from UberEats to online travel bookings we have eliminated discomfort and disruption. We arrogantly believed that we were as in control as our technology promised us that we were. I am writing this from my couch in Cape Town in our first week of nationwide lockdown. In China they are slowly coming out of widespread lockdown, in Italy and Spain lockdown has progressed into grieving and in the US certain leaders are reluctantly accepting the seriousness of the situation. The world is reeling. It is highly uncomfortable. I have not been outside my boundary wall for days. Beaches and the ocean have been closed for use for more than ten days already. I am worried for our I AM WATER team and the majority of my countrymen and women based in communities without the privilege of a boundary or a garden. I watch as the developed world with all its wealth and resources come apart at the seams while other at-risk regions hold their breath to see if this beast will wreak the havoc on vulnerable communities. My body and mind have endured decades of deep discomfort training. I have voluntarily put myself in situations of risk physically and mentally. I have a strong grasp on what is far enough but not too far, I have a small army of highly trained risk assessors who live in my brain and responds when needed. For many of us around the world right now, there is great anxiety and a stripping of the freedom we’ve come to take for granted. We are starting to see very clearly the lies in this promise we have bought into and we are woefully unprepared. But we are not without options. Think of the times you’ve willingly embraced discomfort, risk or the unknown. The help we need at this time for our mental health and those we love is not out there anymore, our safety nets and the systems are not what we believed them to be. It has to be on the inside. We have to find that piece within that is comfortable with being deeply uncomfortable and invite her to stay. You don’t have to be a record-breaking freediver or extreme alpinist to embrace discomfort and still find peace. Now is as a good a time as any to learn. Adaptability, resilience, mental strength, mindfulness and of course empathy are the superpowers we now need and this crisis is the ultimate teacher. We have that strength of water - to be soft and strong at the same time. It’s in our very cells. HP

Oceanographic Issue 12

TR AVEL TO SEE THE WORLD, BUT EXPLORE TO DISCOVER IT.

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

ANDY MANN Behind the Lens places a spotlight on the worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;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 ANDY MANN Emmy nominated director, National Geographic photographer, marine conservationist, public speaker, lead storyteller and creative director at SeaLegacy, Andy Mann is an American photographer, expedition leader and storyteller who has helped protect a diverse range of ecosystems from the Arctic to the Caribbean. His work has been recognised on numerous occasions, including being honoured with the Crystal Compass Award from the Royal Geographical Society. He is one of seven world-renowned judges in 2020's inaugural Ocean Photography Awards.

OC EA NO G R A PH IC M AGAZ I N E (OM ): H OW D I D YOU FIRST CONNECT WITH TH E OCEAN?

ANDY MANN (AM): I grew up on the Chesapeake Bay, in Virginia. After he retired my grandfather became a fisherman, so I remember growing up fishing with him, and going with him to check crab pots. That led to a youth-long obsession with fishing. I was just a rural country boy from Virginia but I did love the water. I thought that was my path, marine science, so I went to college and I studied fisheries management and I ended up getting a job back in Virginia after college working for the Department of Game and Fisheries. It was conservation-based, but it was more like fisheries management. By the age of 23, it just didn’t seem like the kind of work I wanted to be doing at that time, so I moved out to Colorado, fell in love with rock climbing and became a successful rock climbing photographer and filmmaker. For the next ten years, that was all I did – I worked for the climbing magazines and I travelled around the world. Being known for that kind of adventure was how I got picked up for National Geographic in 2013. The first assignment they put me on was a really remote marine science expedition to a place called Franz Josef Land, in Russia – it was sort of like coming full circle, this adventure, science-based expedition. For me it’s all so interesting – marine science is just so fascinating, and it means I will follow these people into any situation. I actually wasn’t dive-certified at the time but I was still shooting in the water, just staying at the surface. It just felt like I was able to find some purpose with my camera.

OM : WA S T H AT H OW YOU S H I F T E D F ROM ROC K CLIMBING TO CONSERVATION P H OTOGRAP H Y?

AM: I got back from that trip and a National Geographic explorer named Jess Cramp called me up and wanted me to go on an expedition to Fiji to shoot and create a film for the Waitt Foundation. She said: “I’m leading this shark expedition to Fiji for three weeks. I know you’re not dive-certified but I’m not going to tell the Navy Seal dive safety officer that you’re not, you’re a good storyteller, so you have two weeks to get dive certified.” I got certified in a heated pool in Boulder, Colorado, and so my first open water dive was to 120ft with 50 bull sharks in Fiji. I sucked through my tank in about 15 minutes. The dive officer, Joe Lepore, brought me up to the surface, and said “you’re not a diver, are you?” I came clean, but I think he figured he was stuck with me for the next three weeks anyway so he became more of a mentor.

Oceanographic Issue 12

BEHIND THE LENS

O M: H OW C AN M E D I A I M PAC T T H E M ARINE SCIENCE WORLD?

AM: I did another eight Waitt Foundation expeditions over the following few years, as well as a couple of expeditions for National Geographic’s Pristine Seas, and I worked in-house for a lot of ocean foundations, just because I had the right skill set. I can go on a ten-day expedition and get off the boat with all the necessary media assets for those scientists that were leaving the boat, and they loved having those assets. I heard so much about how that was a tool that they didn’t really have, that they could really use. Having engaging photographs and video meant they could go back to their universities, give presentations and show funders what they were working on in the hope that they could raise more to go back – media was important for that.

Science and media, when they mesh together like that, it can really work wonders. On that first Fiji expedition, it was my job to edit a film together in the time it took for our vessel to run back to port, which I would have to present to the Prime Minister with a short keynote. It had to inspire him enough to decide to protect this marine area. I took that so seriously at the time – I felt like if I didn’t make a sweet film the ocean would die! This was my shot. Of course, it wasn’t that serious, he came on board, I think he liked the film and it was fine, but I had that sense of purpose, I put that pressure on myself. I still do.

O M: H OW I M P ORTAN T WAS I T F OR YO U TO FIND P URP OSE IN YOUR WORK?

AM: It was everything. When we got back from Franz Josef Land on that first National Geographic assignment, our team won a Crystal Compass award from the Royal Geographical Society for the work we did, and a year later Russia created the largest Arctic National Park in the world, encompassing all of Franz Josef Land. At the time I was like ‘wow the work I’m doing is saving the world!’ Now I realise how much more there is behind big decisions like that. I was just a kid with a camera, but I was being trusted, I was finding purpose and returning to my roots in a way. So the purpose is what drove everything, for sure. And access, because that was only seven years ago. What really drove things for me really fast was the relationships that I had in the field. It was how I shot so many stories in climbing too – I was friends with all of the athletes, they were some of my best friends and whenever they were going somewhere they wanted me to come with them. You form those bonds in the field, those stories and misadventures that you’ll never forget. Then marine scientists became my red carpet to see the world. Literally that first trip, there were five different marine science groups and they all went off and did five more projects individually. I was raising my own money to go on some of these trips too, and just getting as much time on these boats as I could. It didn’t take long before I was getting more and more calls to go on marine science expeditions.

O M: WA S T H E RE A S P E C I F I C M OM E N T WH EN TH E P ENNY DROP P ED AND YOU KNEW YOU PER S O NAL LY WAN T E D TO P ROT E C T TH E OCEAN?

AM: Sharks did that for me, for sure. Being in the water with oceanic whitetip sharks, a species I’ve done a lot of work with for the past six years. I was spending all day in the water with one or two sharks, just so excited and fascinated, so blown away by their beauty, power and grace. On every dive I think about how amazing these animals are, and how lucky I am to be in the water with a live shark. Then to think about the hundreds of millions of sharks that are killed every year, it just makes you feel – it’s tough. Doing so much work with oceanic whitetips I definitely got a sense of their personalities. If you’re in tune to the natural world, it’s pretty clear that sharks have certain behaviours that are undeniably charismatic. It’s powerful when they look at you – I feel like there’s a rudimentary understanding. It’s amazing that you can get in the water with one of the most powerful apex predators on the planet, and it’s just swimming along and moving slowly, you can understand that you’re not on the menu. You don’t feel threatened, you feel excited. So there’s just something given off there that you’re relating to and connecting to. You’re reading something in that situation.

Continued on p.80... Oceanographic Issue 12

BEHIND THE LENS

Q&A Continued...

OM: YO U W ER E IN VOLV E D W I T H T H E BL U N T NOSE SIX-GILL SH ARK TAGGING P ROJECT – WAS TH AT YO UR F IR ST F ORAY I N TO D E E P S E A E X P EDITIONS?

AM: Yeah, it was my first time in a submersible. This was through OceanX and with one of the scientists I’d met on the Fiji expedition. He’d started trying to tag the bluntnose six-gill, which is an amazing shark, it’s the main apex predator from 500-3,000m, besides maybe the sperm whale and the giant squid. The bluntnose six-gill is the size of a great white and they’re top dog down there, but no one has really studied them because they live so deep. Around ten years ago they caught a couple to tag in the Bahamas using extremely long lines, but it didn’t seem like the sharks survived that experience. They’d never seen light, they’d never come up to the surface, they were brought up really quickly and they were handled and tagged. Even though they swam back down and visually, they looked ok, the satellite tag didn’t show any movement afterwards. The scientists realised that they couldn’t work on these sharks on the surface, they had to go down there. So that’s when they put a proposal into OceanX to use their submersibles. Some of it was so high-tech, but other bits were so rudimentary. For example, the subs had ultraviolet lasers and a sophisticated speargun system with a trigger on the inside, but at the same time, we just zip tied a load of tuna carcasses to the front of this thing. We went down 2,500 feet to the bottom and shut the lights off. We sat there, waiting. They’re tiny subs – so we just waited for the sub to start shaking. Then we put on red lights and the shark was right there, tearing up the tuna. We flipped on the lasers to help guide the little dart – the aim needed to be on the upper meat of their back. On the third dive of the third expedition (I wasn’t on the first two) they were able to put one in.

It was the most profound experience of my adult life. Going to the bottom of the ocean and spending that much time down there. The dives are around six hours each and most of the time you’re just sitting there, waiting. But it’s exactly what you’d think the deep sea was like. You’re in this big acrylic dome, so once you’re in the water it looks like there are no walls. It’s so quiet, and you realise you’re probably the only people at the bottom of the ocean at that time – it’s like being on Everest, so far away from all of the drama, and social media and everything else. It feels like it’s 200 million years ago, back to the beginning of life on Earth. And then, as you come up, the last 10 feet, there’s an element of sadness. As soon as we popped up I saw all these lights, giant cranes, lots of people diving to us and our phones were activated again. I remember thinking: “Oh my god this world is so crazy.” It’s like coming out of a long meditation.

OM: D O YO U F EEL L I K E YOU ’ RE S T I L L S E E K I NG TH AT ESCAP ISM ALONGSIDE YOUR CO NS ERVAT IO N E N D E AVOU RS ?

AM: Yes definitely. I guess I don’t give it the recognition, that that is partly why I love it so much. The further I am from the water the more I realise that I need to be in the water. It’s that shutting down of the nervous system that I crave.

OM: IN YO U R EX P E RI E N C E S W H AT ARE T H E MAIN CONCERNS TH AT BLOCK MPAS AND H OW DO YO U PER S O NA LLY GO ABOU T TAC K L I N G T H OSE?

AM: Right now, I feel like it’s politics, semantics and egos. I’m working a lot in Timor Leste, and so I now know the President and the Prime Minister very well. I visited them and convinced them to protect huge amounts of their waters, which hosts one of the most biodiverse coral reefs on the planet, and took them to Washington D.C. to get some help. We needed to come up with environmental law policies and learn what some of these parks should look like. I’m still from the school of 'We Are Running Out of Time' – I think we need to just protect it, draw a line around it and say, ‘no more’, now. And then come in with a strategy and a roadmap for protection. Then we can start to figure out how this can be turned into a blue economy, how this can benefit the people and how this can regenerate the fishery – all that stuff comes with it naturally. I know I’m not a policy guy, but I just see how these things can move so slowly. As soon as you involve everybody, the fisheries office, the environmental office, the tourism office and so on, suddenly there are too many considerations that have to be taken into account. They’re trying to make sure that the fishing industry is happy, that the hotel industry is happy and after all that, you don’t get anything particularly special besides a paper park and maybe a little designation. By the time it’s all said and done, I feel like we need to be a little more aggressive and more ambitious. But that’s a luxury too, to be able to have those conversations. The biggest thing that’s in the way of these parks is poverty. There are so many countries that don’t have a system set up that’s going

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to benefit their people. Island nations care, but they’re small and they rely on the ocean. They’ve been preached at by NGOs and foundations for the last decade – they get it. But you have to offset their fishing somehow, whether it’s somehow subsidising that livelihood for 10 years then allowing them to fish the spillover, or deciding on a rotating season throughout the park where they can just use artisanal methods. But it’s hard. No one is doing it perfectly. O M: W H AT D O YOU H OP E TO AC H I E V E IN TIMOR LESTE?

AM: The goal is to protect Atauro Island and that coral reef. We went on a SeaLegacy expedition there last year and shot for a few weeks. We went to the office of Xanana Gusmão – he’s the most powerful man in the country, he was their first President – and we asked him to protect it. We said: “If you do this, we will go with you to the UN Ocean Conference in Lisbon to make the announcement – your country and your legacy depends on this. We can turn this into an economy.” And he agreed to do it. We walked out of his office pretty bewildered. It was at that point that so many people started getting involved, so it got a little overwhelming. But it’s getting there. They’re going to make the announcement in June. It was media for sure that helped that lightbulb go off in their heads.

O M: W H AT ARE T H E K E Y T H RE AT S TO TIMOR LESTE’S REEFS? AM: There’s some illegal fishing, longlining, shark finning – it happens, but it’s not a lot. Maybe a couple of times a year. But you can turn places into wastelands in one trip if it’s a big enough boat. The problem would be outside countries coming in and fishing, because they as a country don’t have what I would call a commercial or industrial fishing fleet. It’s all about cordoning this area off to stop outside fleets coming in. What’s interesting about Timor Leste is that it was a conflict country from 1975 until 2005, so there was no tourism and it was just left alone. No hotels went up. There’s some spearfishing and fishing using hand dug out canoes out on the reef, but it doesn’t seem like that’s having a huge impact. So it was preserved, by conflict and crocodiles. They actually worship the crocodile. According to legend, Timor Leste is the back of a crocodile that came out of the sea and fostered their existence, so it’s illegal to kill them. They live in the mangroves, which is the nursery for all the reef fish, so it keeps all those nutrients flowing in and out of the reef and that ecosystem remains intact. The crocodile story is fascinating, because a lot of people are killed by crocodiles but they don’t report it, because the lore says that the crocodiles kill the bad souls. If a family member is killed by a crocodile, they don’t want to dishonour their life by reporting it, in case the community thinks they had a bad soul. O M: S O T H I S I S A RARE OP P ORT U N I TY TO SAVE SOMETH ING BEFORE WE DESTROY IT.

AM: Yeah. Every place I dive I think, ‘I wonder what this place looked like 100 years ago’, or ‘we should have been here 50 years ago’. This is an example of a place that we’re witnessing in its prime. It feels like going back in time. It’s the best coral reef diving I’ve ever done. There’s just life, upon life upon life. Towering coral stacks, vibrant colours and tonnes of reef fish – I didn’t see a lot of sharks. There’s a huge drop-off right off these reefs, so they could be hanging out down there, who knows. It’s so colourful, beautiful and pristine. I saw almost zero bleaching or damage. It benefits from a cooler current that whips around Australia, it’s perfect. I wonder how much of the world's coral reefs used to look like that. The first thing I thought while diving was: “We have to protect this.”

O M: W H Y D O YOU T H I N K I T ’ S I M P ORTANT TO SH ARE TH ESE STORIES VISUALLY? AM: Media was how we showed a parliament and the President of Timor Leste what it was that they were protecting, and that media would decorate his words at these global conferences. That’s huge for a country like Timor Leste – they want to do good for the world but they also want to show up, to be respected as a country in the United Nations, to be able to go to Lisbon, the capital of their former colonisers, and stand on the stage with their President and to have a voice. The films and photographs get people’s attention, and might even induce others to help them fund their ambition for a blue economy. People are captivated by coral reefs and by this vision of hope, that something like this even still exists and is still so pristine. It’s nice, to shine a light on a place that’s doing well in today’s time. It’s a rare thing.

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Bahamas, Caribbean My dream encounter. Shot during my seven years on Cat Island working with marine biologists to better understand what is one of the last healthy populations of oceanic whiteips left in the Western Atlantic.

Greenland A sunset shot of a polar bear in Greenland who curiously swam up to our zodiac boat while out on expedition.

Antarctic Peninsula Photographed on assignment for SeaLegacy and National Geographic as part of an overall survey of the Antarctic Peninsula and its threats. We turned a corner to find this beautiful scene of adelie penguins against the blue ice.

Antarctica A sleeping Weddell seal lifts its head at the right moment, providing just the foreground element I was searching for to capture this blazing Antarctica sunset.

Timor Leste In Timor Leste, off the little island of Atauro, is the world's most biodiverse coral reef. Here, a village elder takes a moment to spearfish his dinner on his way to taking his children to school in their dugout canoe.

Svalbard and Jan Mayen Nipping at it's mother's heels as they travel across the sea ice, this polar bear cub was all play and no work. I can relate.

Pacific Harbor, Fiji This is the second underwater photograph I ever took. This moment is also technically my first open water dive - 120 feet with 50 bull sharks in Pacific Harbor, Fiji. I was so excited I blew through my tank in 15 minutes.

Svalbard, Norway The cold air hit my face as I scanned the horizon for bears. Nothing. Moments later, I heard heavy breath at my feet. I looked down to see a mother bear, stood up on her hind feet, was peeking through the ship's gunnel hole.

Antarctica It was a great honour to share the Antarctic waters with Paul Nicklen during a leopard seal hunt. In this moment a seal has killed a penguin and is, I can only assume, attempting to share his kill with me. An unforgettable moment, for which I am eternally grateful.

The Everglades, Florida I've always been captivated by the American alligator and this moment fulfilled a lifelong dream of capturing one in the wild. After a day of snorkeling through the Everglades, I dipped under the surface and found this large alligator resting under a log.

Bahamas, Caribbean Photographer Caine Delacy getting a cool angle on an oceanic whitetip in the Bahamas. This pregnant female was the largest specimen of the 120 safely tagged and released over the seven-year study.

Western Sahara, Africa An inexplicable wave, cresting in the form of a mountain peak, 100 miles offshore of Western Sahara. Shot on assignment for National Geographic Pristine Seas as part of a survey of the Savage Islands.

Behind the lens ANDY MANN Azores The current slowly pulled us into the middle of a sperm whale aggregation and we quickly found ourselves eye to eye with our planet's largest carnivore. There were calves in the pod, but the gentle giants gave no bother.

PERSONAL

@andy_mann

SEALEGACY

@sealegacy

Andy became a founding member of the SeaLegacy Collective in 2016 and is the lead storyteller and creative director at SeaLegacy. Andy is also the co-founder and director of documentary film studio 3 Strings Productions. He is a twice Telly award winner, an Emmy-nominated director, a National Geographic photographer and marine conservationist. His work alongside Pristine Seas was awarded the Crystal Compass Award from the Royal Geographic Society for the storytelling that led to the designation of the world's largest Arctic National Park in Franz Josef Land. He has also worked tirelessly since 2014 in the Bahamas tagging pregnant Oceanic whitetips. www.andymann.com @SeaLegacy

@sealegacy

www.sealegacy.org

Oceanographic Issue 12

LUMINOSIT Y THAT GUIDES THE JOURNEY AND CONQUERS THE DESTINATION.

ENGINEER HYDROCARBON AEROGMT II COSC-certified caliber Curved rotating bezel Revolutionary micro gas lights Crown protection system

Worn by Erwan Le Lann on Maewan Visit shop.ballwatch.ch

BEHIND THE LENS

Oceanographic Issue 12

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S A F E H AV E N F O R

sawfishes Only five living species of sawfishes remain, and all five are threatened with extinction. Researchers at the NOAA Southeast Fisheries Science Center are working tirelessly to figure out how to save them from that fate.

Wo rd s b y A n d re a K ro e t z & J o h n C a r l s o n P h o t o g ra p h s b y M i c h a e l S c h o l l

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ll creatures on Earth require specific conditions in which they can thrive. Finding out what these conditions are provides one challenge for researchers, and protecting areas where such conditions occur – critical habitat – is another. Sawfishes, a small group of large batoids that occur in tropical and subtropical coastal waters, are members of the family Pristidae and are unique in that they are the only living batoids that possess a toothed rostrum. Only five living species of sawfishes occur in the world, and all five are threatened with extinction. The largetooth and smalltooth sawfishes are endemic to the Atlantic Ocean, but only the smalltooth is currently found in US waters. At the turn of the last century the species was common along the Atlantic coast. However, through a combination of habitat loss and mortality associated with both direct and incidental capture by fishing, the population has been reduced by as much as 95% over the past century. In 1999, the NOAA Fisheries Service received a petition from the Ocean Conservancy requesting that the North American population of smalltooth sawfish be listed as endangered under the US Endangered Species Act (ESA), which would mean that it is considered to be in danger of extinction throughout a significant portion of its range. Consequently, the Fisheries Service conducted a review and determined that the US Distinct Population Segment (DPS) of smalltooth sawfish was endangered. A listing as threatened or endangered triggers an analysis under the ESA to determine whether there are any ‘critical habitats’ for that species. As defined by the ESA, critical habitat describes a specific area that contains features essential to the conservation of the species in question and that may require special management or protection. Critical habitat may also include areas that are not currently occupied by the species but contain elements that are essential for its recovery. Under the ESA, the NOAA Fisheries Service is responsible for determining whether certain species within their jurisdiction are threatened or endangered; if they are, the Fisheries Service is also responsible for designating critical habitat for them. Once critical habitat has been designated, measures can be put in place to help manage, protect and conserve it. When the smalltooth sawfish was listed under the ESA in 2003, we knew very little about the specific types of habitat it was utilising as nurseries, where the nurseries were located, or what habitat was needed for larger juveniles and adults. As there was an immediate need to determine critical habitat, we had to rely on the use of non-traditional approaches. Fortunately, colleagues at Mote Marine Laboratory and the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission had been building a database of sawfish encounters as part of a citizen science

PREVIOUS: Researchers inspect a sawfish's toothed rostrum. RIGHT: Citizen scientists have played a crucial role in collecting useful data of smalltooth sawfishes.

â&#x20AC;&#x153;The largetooth and smalltooth sawfishes are endemic to the Atlantic Ocean but only the smalltooth is currently found in US waters.â&#x20AC;?

F E AT U R E

project, which gave us an idea of where sawfishes were located and the habitats they were occupying. To define critical habitat and its associated features, we first determined where the greatest density of juvenile sawfish encounters was identified by the public throughout south Florida and then mapped those encounters by year to establish where repeat usage occurred. Years of encounter data suggested an abundance of juvenile smalltooth sawfishes in the shallow coastal waters of Florida, whereas larger sawfishes appeared to be seen in far more diverse habitats. From this information we were able to identify the habitats that were most essential to adult sawfishes and focused our critical habitat designations for conserving the nursery areas for juveniles. Next, the NOAA Fisheries Service assessed which physical and biological features correlated with juvenile sawfish encounters. The results indicated that juvenile sawfishes were most abundant in water no deeper than 0.9 metres and where there was a shoreline, or buffer, of red mangroves plus a wide salinity range with an inflow of fresh water. As a result, two units of critical habitat for the smalltooth sawfish were designated: Charlotte Harbor Estuary, covering approximately 221,459 acres of coastal habitat; and Ten Thousand Islands/Everglades, which comprises approximately 619,013 acres of coastal habitat. Shallow habitats with red mangroves and a wide salinity range were identified as essential to the conservation of smalltooth sawfish because they function as a nursery area for juveniles. We believe that the main reason for juveniles occupying shallow water is likely to avoid predators such as lemon and bull sharks and potentially American alligators and crocodiles. Very small juveniles of 89cm total length have been observed moving among the prop roots of red mangroves at high tide; the roots too are likely to exclude large predators and thus provide a refuge. From the encounter data and subsequent independent monitoring surveys, we have developed a general idea of how small juvenile smalltooth sawfishes use suitable habitat in southern and southwestern Florida. Yet questions remain about features at a smaller scale within these environments that determine why some areas are used and not others. We know that the juveniles associate with some very specific mangrove islands while seeming to ignore others. What makes one mangrove island more suitable than the next? To gain a better understanding of what kind of environment sawfishes use, we measure a myriad of abiotic parameters at sampling locations throughout the Ten Thousand Islands/Everglades unit of critical habitat, including temperature, salinity, dissolved oxygen, depth and water clarity. Given the high correlation of juvenile sawfishes and mangroves, we have been quantifying mangrove properties, such as the density of red mangrove prop roots, the density of black mangrove pneumatophores and the amount of canopy overhang that extends out over water within a 1.5mÂ˛ quadrat, to see if they influence juvenile sawfish habitat use.

These parameters are currently being used in a species distribution model we are developing using boosted regression trees, which will help us identify which environmental features influence juvenile sawfish distribution. Species distribution models and spatial predictive modelling can forecast the suitability of an environment for threatened and endangered species in space and time, which makes them a powerful tool. By using survey data in these models, we are able to examine relationships between the distribution of juvenile sawfishes and the environmental and mangrove variables that influence this distribution. We can, moreover, predict the probability of capture at locations outside our survey where we may be able to find sawfish based on environmental influences. For example, areas with the highest mangrove prop root and pneumatophore density coupled with warm, shallow waters tend to be where the most juvenile sawfishes are captured. With this information, the model can point to locations throughout Florida, and eventually to any other area of interest, where the probability of capture is the highest based on these parameters. Since the original designations of critical habitat for smalltooth sawfish in 2009, we have been conducting fishery-independent research to assess the relative abundance and distribution of juvenile smalltooth sawfishes and researching specific habitats and environmental features important for the species so that we may better refine the juvenilesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; habitat use. Our research has focused on the Ten Thousand Islands/ Everglades unit of critical habitat, given that this area is one of the primary strongholds for the smalltooth sawfish in the western Atlantic. When a sawfish is captured, we quickly and carefully remove it from the gill net. Morphometric and meristic data are recorded, the animalâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s gender is determined, and photographs are taken of the rostrum and other anatomical features for identification purposes. In every sawfish we capture, we insert a Passive Integrated Transponder (PIT) tag (similar to a microchip tag used in pets) so that if it is recaptured, we can easily identify it as one for which we already have data. In addition, all sawfishes are tagged with an external mark-recapture tag for easy identification upon recapture. Since the inception of our survey, more than 450 juvenile smalltooth sawfishes have been captured, tagged and released. The majority of these animals were individuals captured for the first time and not yet recorded in our survey, which supports our hypothesis that pupping is occurring in this region and that it serves as a nursery area for the species. From tag recapture data, we know that juvenile smalltooth sawfishes grow incredibly fast during their first year, doubling in length from 0.7m to 1.5m. With this rapid growth, it is likely that the juveniles will expand their habitat use beyond the nursery where they were pupped. Researchers studying highly mobile marine species use electronic (acoustic and satellite) tags to collect data

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â&#x20AC;&#x153;To gain a better understanding of what kind of environment sawfishes use, we measure a myriad of abiotic parameters at sampling locations throughout the Ten Thousands Islands/Everglades unit of critical habitat."

TOP: Data collection of a smalltooth sawfish in Florida. BOTTOM: The Ten Thousand Islands/Everglades unit of critical habitat.

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Experts carefully remove a smalltooth sawfish from a gill net.

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Since the inception of our survey, more than 450 juvenile smalltooth sawfishes have been captured, tagged and released.â&#x20AC;?

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on their subjectsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; movement and behavioural ecology over the course of several years. Passive acoustic receiver arrays have been deployed in various habitat types around the world and the receivers identify the electronic tags when they come within range. Thus, the researchers can participate in international collaborative telemetry networks, sharing data among colleagues. One of the high-priority goals of our research is to investigate the habitat use and movement ecology of the smalltooth sawfish in order to designate critical habitats for all its life stages, and acoustic telemetry will help us to accomplish this. Our own acoustic array in combination with arrays maintained by collaborators, greatly enhances our ability to track sawfishes as they mature. In 2016, we began using acoustic transmitters that can transmit data for as long as five and 10 years. Their longevity is particularly important to our investigations into shifts in habitat use and migration patterns as the sawfishes grow. To date, our team has implanted these long-term transmitters in more than 45 sawfishes in south Florida. Twenty-two tagged juveniles have been providing us with data about their habitat use and movements as they mature. Juveniles less than 150cm total length tend to stay within a relatively small area (approximately 4.9kmÂ˛). Those larger than 150cm begin to move further away as they explore new habitats, covering distances ranging from 120 to 240km. We have seen this change in movement pattern in several individuals that were tagged as small juveniles; now in their second/third years of life, they travel the long distance from Ten Thousand Islands down to the Florida Keys. Acoustic technology is providing a wealth of information about the habitat use and movements of juvenile sawfishes and how they change as the individuals develop. These gains in our understanding will continue for the five- to 10-year lifespan of the tags. In the years ahead we will certainly learn more from these sawfishes and be better able to provide information about their habitat needs at different life stages. Habitat destruction is one of the key factors affecting the recovery of the smalltooth sawfish. The essential features of juvenile critical habitat are susceptible to impacts from activities that include dredging, coastal construction, land development and changes in the discharge of fresh water into coastal habitats. These impacts combined with natural factors such as hurricanes and harmful algal blooms could significantly affect the quality and quantity of the essential features and their ability to provide nursery functions. Unfortunately, coastal development and the negative impacts on the essential features are occurring and will continue to do so. The functional elimination of nurseries through habitat destruction could push smalltooth sawfish populations to a tipping point. We therefore continue to study and monitor the population within the known critical habitat units to ensure that it remains healthy and, hopefully, is moving towards recovery.

Oceanographic Issue 12

Column

By Dr Simon Pierce

The marine biologist FISHING FOR SOLUTIONS

lastic in the ocean is a problem. That will be news to precisely none of you. Oceanographic has been highlighting the issue of plastic pollution since its very first edition. It’s still worth talking about though, even now. Plastic is an obvious part of all of our lives and, despite the global scale of the concern, it’s one of the most immediately actionable marine conservation issues. People are stepping up to meet that challenge. We’re taking it personally. We’re choosing not to use disposable plastics. We’re cleaning local beaches. We’re putting pressure on big businesses too, with Waitrose supermarkets reporting an 800% increase in customer questions on their use of plastic. At least some of this surge in public attention is thanks to, and a belated apology for, the horrific impact of plastic impacts on seabirds. A recent scientific review found that of the 258 bird species known to be affected by human litter, 206 were seabirds. Around the UK, 95% of northern fulmars have plastics in their stomachs, and a global analysis of 51 seabird species identified a 20% chance of death from a single ingested piece of debris. Blue Planet II featured footage from a UK Overseas Territory, South Georgia Island in the subantarctic, where albatross parents were inadvertently feeding plastics to their chicks. Of the people that watched the program, 88% said it changed their own behaviour afterward. As a marine conservation biologist myself, ocean plastic is increasingly, and unavoidably, becoming a part of my own work. Inadvertently, the work sometimes continues during my time off. Case in point – last year I went on a Norway cruise with my mum. (I know right. How cool am I.) Anyway, I did take a short break from the buffet to visit Runde Island, off Ålesund. The island is a seasonal home to more than half a million seabirds, including the nesting northern gannets that I was hoping to photograph. Runde has been designated as a globally “Important Bird Area” by BirdLife International. While I was bouncing around in a small boat, trying not to freeze while watching the gannets fly to and from their nesting sites high on the nearby cliffs, I noticed that there was some colour up amongst their nests. I’m not a bird expert, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t normal. I bumped up my shutter speed, fired off a few shots, and hoped to figure it out later. When I did download the photos, I just gasped. The gannets’ nests were overflowing with fishing debris, as you can see on the image here. Gannets normally build their nests from seaweed

and grass floating on the ocean’s surface. Increasingly, the seabirds are using discarded netting, ropes, and packaging straps from fisheries instead. This fishing waste seems to be becoming more common than the natural materials they instinctively gather. A recent survey at Runde Island found that 97% of their nests contained man-made debris. Newborn chicks, and even adult gannets, are routinely entangled and killed in these tough and non-biodegradable materials. The United Nations estimates that at least 640,000 tonnes of fishing gear is lost every year around the world. Reducing the fishing pressure close to nesting seabird

Oceanographic Issue 12

“Millions of people around the world, inspired by the people or organisations they respect, made their voices heard. A steady and constant stream of support for mako sharks unfolded online, around the world.”

@simonjpierce

@simonpierce

www.simonjpierce.com

About Simon Dr Simon J Pierce is a marine conservation biologist and underwater photographer from New Zealand. He is a co-founder and Principal Scientist at the Marine Megafauna Foundation, where he leads the global whale shark research programme, and a regional Co-Chair for the IUCN Shark Specialist Group.

colonies has been shown to lead to fast and measurable declines in the number of affected birds. That suggests a range of practical solutions: reduce the pollution from the fishing boats themselves, minimise net fisheries in the local region, or create protected areas that allow the ecosystem to recover. It’s clear that the fishing industry, responsible for a lot of the debris seen off Norway, needs to help fix this. So how do we, as consumers, make this happen? For those of us who do eat fish, we can support certified sustainable fisheries. The world’s largest certification agency, the Marine Stewardship Council (MSC), allows its “blue fish

label” to be used on seafood products from fisheries that meet its standards. We can also help to influence and evolve the definition of what a sustainable fishery actually looks like in 2020. The MSC isn’t explicitly including plastic discards from fishing into their certification process at this stage, but they’re at least working with fisheries to monitor gear losses and to implement ongoing improvements. It’s a start. We’ve always relied on birds as sentinels of change, whether it be canaries in coal mines, swallows at the start of summer, and now seabirds as a barometer of pressure on our oceans. It’s time for us to start giving back. SP

Gannet nests overflowing with fishing debris.

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to protector Millions of sharks are hauled out of the ocean each year for their fins and their absence from the global seas is having a negative impact. Project Hiu, founded by Madison Stewart, seeks to convert those same shark fishermen into shark conservationists.

Wo rd s b y M a d i s o n C h u rc h i l l P h o t o g ra p h s b y Ta n n e r M a n s e l l a n d M a d i s o n S t e w a r t

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was diving though the crystal-clear waters of Lombok, Indonesia, when Mogli, my guide, grabbed my arm underwater. He pointed ahead of me as we hovered above the vibrant reef. Squinting to make out the shapes up ahead, a small blacktip reef shark pup came into focus. He started pointing in all different directions, showing me the baby sharks that began to circle around us. He could spot them long before my untrained eyes. Mogli’s livelihood once depended on this skill, because he grew up as a shark fisherman. But that day, instead of fishing, he was there to show me the sharks he now works to protect. I was in Lombok to experience the realities of shark fin trade first-hand, and my week was peppered with both joy at seeing vibrant reef systems and heartbreak on witnessing the scale of devastation caused by the ever-increasing global demand for shark fins. I walked through an open-air market on the island that served as a hotspot for fin exporting. Mogli’s former colleagues had dragged nearly one hundred sharks to the market that day. Lifeless and missing their fins, they rested in neat rows across the floor while men whisked around making quick work of processing them. I saw piles of fins, including many from endangered and supposedly protected species, reduced to unidentifiable cartilage, ready for export. This was his reality, and used to be his day-to-day life. Now, his livelihood depends on saving them. Project Hiu, which means shark in Indonesian, is a non-profit organisation founded by Australian filmmaker and shark conservationist Madison Stewart, known on social media as ‘Shark Girl Madison.’ Madison has spent her life advocating for the protection of sharks through education and film. A few years before I set foot here, she had stumbled across this same shark market while filming a documentary. She set out on a mission to expose the world to the barbaric practice of shark finning, but the project has since evolved into so much more. “Sharks are everything to me, my entire life has evolved around them,” Madison told me. “I wanted to swim with them. My life changed when I began to see them disappear from the oceans. So, my mission then became to save them.” Lombok, Indonesia, while being lush and ecologically diverse, is one of the biggest shark fin exporters in the world. Many communities within the island have been fishing sharks for generations, embedding the practice deeply within their culture and livelihood. So, instead of demonising or challenging the men Madison saw in the fish markets, she set out to befriend them. Every year, approximately 100 million sharks are killed for their fins. Shark fin soup is considered a delicacy in a number of different countries around the world. To meet the growing demand for this soup, an estimated 11,000 sharks are killed every hour. Many fishers practice finning while at sea, which essentially means the fins are cut off and saved while the animal is still alive, before being thrown overboard to reduce the weight they are transporting. Not only is this an incredibly inhumane practice, but it creates opportunity for many legally protected or endangered species to be killed. Once the bodies are reduced to a pile of fins, it is very difficult to tell which species they came from. The majority of the meat typically isn’t saved, as it contains too high a level of mercury for safe human consumption. However, it can often go under the radar and is sold in grocery stores or to surrounding communities under other names such as ‘flake’ or ‘white fish’. This is a huge threat to already disadvantaged communities without the healthcare necessary to treat the effects of mercury poisoning and is especially dangerous for children and pregnant women. The levels of mercury found in shark meat are often high enough to cause brain damage in children, infertility in both males and females, and in some cases high enough to cause miscarriage in pregnant women. Yet the meat is commonly served in the community as a cheap source of protein. To provide alternative to this dangerous operation, Project Hiu employs these shark fishermen to take part in Lombok’s growing eco-tourism industry. Instead of contributing to the global shark fin trade, they take divers and shark enthusiasts out on their fishing boats to the best diving and snorkeling spots, most of which are unknown to commercial tour boats. The money they make from hosting guests on their boats is enough to supplement their income to the point they no longer need to fish. But it runs so much deeper than money. These men have expressed a need to leave this physically and emotionally taxing industry. When they go out fishing, they are away from their families for weeks at a time often in dangerous conditions. Captain Odi, a local who has been fishing for much of his life, told us that his brother once fell overboard during a storm and was lost for many hours at sea, thought to be dead. Every time they go out to sea, they risk their lives. Odi spoke of how he was the main provider to his wife and two young girls, his elderly mother, and many of his brothers, some of whom worked on the ships with him. He used to be a teacher until he could no longer support everyone who needed him, so he turned to shark

PREVIOUS: Exploring beautiful reefs from repurposed fishing vessels. THIS PAGE: A very small portion of a fishing boat's catch.

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â&#x20AC;&#x153;Sharks are everything to me, my entire life has evolved around them. I wanted to swim with them. My life changed when I began to see them disappear from the oceans. so, my mission then became to save them.â&#x20AC;?

â&#x20AC;&#x153;The majority of the meat typically isn't saved, as it contains too high a level of mercury for safe human consumption. However, it can often go under the radar and is sold in grocery stores or to surrounding communities under other names such as 'flake' or 'white fish'.â&#x20AC;?

Crystal clear waters under the hulls of repurposed fishing boats in Indonesia.

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â&#x20AC;&#x153;The shark fin trade is terrifying, it's daunting. However, we have found a way to stand between the fishermen and those who exploit them, and it's a good place to stand.â&#x20AC;?

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TOP & BOTTOM: As a consequence of giving up lengthy shark fishing trips, Odi and his exfishermen crew can now spend more time with their partners, mothers, sisters and children, positively impacting community life.

fishing. Every time he goes out to sea, he worries he won’t return and there will be nobody to take care of his family. “When I met the man I currently employ, he was unloading sharks from two of his boats,” Madison said of Odi. “Now I consider him family.” On an average fishing trip, Odi estimates his wage at about $100 USD to split with his crew for two weeks at sea. During each trip, they might bring back between 50 and 100 sharks. The fins from each shark are then sold to the next buyer for about $120 USD each. The markup takes a giant leap between middle men, who sell them in Hong Kong for upwards of $700 USD per fin, to be made into soup. “The shark fin trade is terrifying, it’s daunting,” Madison said. “However, we have found a way to stand between the fishermen and those who exploit them, and it’s a good place to stand.” Now, Odi and his crew make a living by using their specialised knowledge to bring divers and conservationists to the best reefs on the island. Once the crew has been paid, the rest of the money goes into community improvements on their small fishing island off Lombok, predominately to the island’s only school. This year, all the children were given English books, ecofriendly bamboo toothbrushes, and reusable filtration water bottles to create easy access for safe drinking water. Previously, single-use trash was all going onto the beach and into the ocean, until donations to Project Hiu allowed Madison and the fishermen to create a waste management plan on the island. Large, durable rice bags were installed all around the island, including at the school, for public trash collection. Then, the fishermen are employed for extra days of work, using their large boats to take the trash to proper disposal sites once all the bags are full. The children were beyond thrilled to have somewhere for proper disposal. Once the bags were placed, hordes of excited children began buzzing around picking up trash all around their school, and putting it in the bags. One child was so excited, he even tried to throw his homework in the trash. After a day of swimming with juvenile sharks with the fishermen, I faced a difficult reality. In my hands, I held the dried fin of a baby shark, species unknown. Juvenile shark fin soup is becoming a more popular delicacy across Asia, as adult sharks are becoming more and more obsolete. This creates a dangerous cycle, where a species is being killed off faster than it can reproduce, with many being killed before ever reaching maturity. Studies have shown that shark species are being killed off roughly 30% faster than they can reproduce. The pale-yellow sun-dried fin was small enough to cup

in the palm of my hand. I held it end-to-end between my index finger and thumb. It was so small and fragile, barely longer than my pinky. The animal it came from wouldn’t have been longer than my forearm. Sharks have existed for over 400 million years, surviving five major extinctions. Since before dinosaurs roamed the Earth, they have remained largely unchanged. They represent evolutionary perfection, shaping the entire ocean ecosystem. Now we are at a tipping point, where in just a few hundred years, we will have fished them to near extinction. Some estimates say shark populations have depleted as much as 90%. As a guest on their fishing boat for the week, I can honestly say that my experience with shark fishers changed my life. Befriending and learning from these men shifted my views on conservation and accountability. They are just working to support a vicious demand. The killing can only stop when the buying stops. Working together to create mutually beneficial solutions will ensure a future with sharks, without further exploiting the communities who fish them. Some of the men employed by Project Hiu didn’t have to fish at all in 2019, sparing thousands of sharks. Joining Madison on her journey let me see the underbelly of the shark finning industry in the flesh, putting a lot of things into perspective. Statistics come to life when you witness the issue firsthand. There is a long journey between the removal of the fin and its final destination. This billion-dollar industry is built on exploitation, greed, and illegal activity. All for the sake of soup and toxic meat. “The best thing people can do is watch what they consume, and ensure they aren’t contributing to any trades that kill sharks,” Madison said. This group of fishermen have separated themselves from the shark finning trade and have created a new future for themselves and the sharks. Using the same fishing boats that have witnessed thousands of dead sharks, they took me to visit vibrant and healthy reefs where I spent time freediving and exploring dynamic underwater ecosystems. I swam through electric green corals, alongside jewel-bright shoals of fish, and saw carpet anemones that housed dozens of minute clownfish. I saw huge coral fans with intricate webbed patterning, broader than my arm span. This ecosystem is resilient, but its overall health depends on the balance between keystone species. Sharks are the apex predators in this food web, and their survival is necessary to regulate every other species. Indonesia has such biodiverse oceans, which draw attention from divers like me across the globe. We need sharks in the water to maintain this biodiversity. They are worth so much more alive than they are dead. “I don’t fit in a lot of places, but that hardly matters because I fit in here,” Madison said, while we discussed swimming with sharks. “They don’t lie or manipulate, they only exist. We have so much to learn from them.”

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BEHIND THE LENS

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in the wild Some of the most fulfilling adventures require us to slow down. This is certainly true of Anclote Keys Island of Pasco County, where nature abounds both on land and in the water, people are few and time is immaterial.

Wo rd s b y B e t h F i n n e y P h o t o g ra p h s b y J o e D a n i e l s a n d C h r i s J o y

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"The philosophy is that a lot of small and controlled fires are much better than one large one that could decimate the whole island.'We burn it on our terms,' Tod explains."

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he sand on Anclote Keys is peppered with broken shells. Strolling along the water’s edge feels like walking on freshly fallen snow and I relish the cacophony of crunches that sing out from every step. After a couple of days exploring the marine life on the artificial reefs off the coast of Pasco and the Werner Boyce Salt Springs, a small group of us head out to the Anclote Key Reserve State Park, an (almost) uninhabited island off the coast of Pasco County. The Eastern edge of the island is thick with dense mangrove forests that can only be explored by kayak, paddleboard or canoe. A crescent moon of white sand runs the length of the western side of the island and is around a five-mile walk from end to end. The only person who lives on the island full-time is Park Ranger Tod Cornell. He returns to the mainland once a week to buy parts, drop off and pick up mail, and shop for groceries. His cabin is run on solar electricity, with a back-up generator just in case, and he makes his own freshwater using a reverse-osmosis desalination unit. “I grew up on a farm in Ohio and my nearest neighbour was three miles away, so I’m used to being alone with lots of space. Even now when I go to the grocery store, I wonder how people cope with how busy it all is. People ask me if I get lonely or bored, but I look at the life over there [on the mainland] and I think that’s craziness. I don’t think I want to be a part of that,” he tells me. “If I ever have to move off this island, that will be tough. It gets into your soul. I plan on being here for a good long time.” His house is situated on the southern end of the island in the shadow of a 101-foot tall lighthouse. The Anclote Keys Lighthouse was built in 1887. A keeper lived on site at all times up until 1952, when the lighthouse was automated. However, after the keepers were removed, the lighthouse was vandalised and fell into disrepair. It was deactivated in 1985. Nearly 20 years later it was given a new lease of life by being listed on the National Register of Historic Places and by 2003, it had been fully restored. As we look out over the wild reaches of Anclote from the top of the lighthouse, Tod points out his favourite spots, the nests he likes to keep an eye on and the areas that have been artfully burned. Fires are a naturally occurring event in Florida, so the park rangers try to mimic this. The philosophy is that a lot of small and controlled fires are much better than one large one that runs out of control – that could decimate the whole island. “We burn it on our terms,” Tod explains. “All through the year organic debris inevitably stacks up, then when summer rolls around we might get a lightning strike and it would just go up.” The native plants thrive on the fallout from fires in the area. For example, pinecones from the resident pines will open up and release their seeds as a result of fire or intense summertime heat. The sole goal of every park ranger I meet during my time exploring the wild areas of Pasco is to help maintain the native wildlife in a natural balance, without being PREVIOUS: Sunset on Anclote Keys. THIS PAGE: A pelican flies low, searching for supper.

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TOP: The Anclote Keys lighthouse stands at 101 feet and is one of the only manmade structures on the island. BOTTOM: Royal terns picking for food in the sand near the shoreline.

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plagued by any invasive species, or ‘exotics’. “The main prerogative here is to maintain natural balance,” says Tod. “It’s a constant battle out here with the exotic plants. If we don’t control them, they will just take over and before we know it all the native plants will be gone.” We set up camp on the northern end of the island, so that we are surrounded by the water on the best part of three sides. The patch of ocean in front of our campsite provides boundless entertainment. Goofy seagulls pick their way along the shoreline, calling to each other softly. Every now and again a slightly larger wave will take one by surprise, knocking it off its feet and sending it scooting up the beach looking bewildered. After the ride, they stand up and waddle sheepishly back to the water’s edge, as if this had been their intention all along. For the most part they are ignored by the herons and terns, which sit idly while the sandpipers and Wilson’s plovers hop and scurry about. A pair of American oystercatchers even make a rare appearance, plucking at the sand. Bottlenose dolphins herd their prey right up into the shallows before gambling over to the North Sandbar around 100 metres away, no doubt to pull the same trick on another unsuspecting school of pinfish, mullet or redfish. Once or twice a shark fin crests along the surface of the waves. We have one neighbour, a man who has apparently already been camping on the beach for four days and plans on staying for another ten. I watch him get out of his tent and head to the water’s edge with a fishing rod in the mornings, and he disappears off for most of the day on a tiny red sailboat. His fire flickers in the evenings. It is the perfect place to sit with the kind of solitude that is sought out, rather than inflicted. On the first night, I fall into a restless sleep, trying not to listen out for the hooting of the great horned owls nesting nearby. The nest had been built by ospreys the previous year, and even though a pair of bald eagles had apparently gone in for a viewing, the owls had won the spot. They work smart, not hard, by letting smaller birds build the foundations, then they’ll commandeer it and remodel it to suit their tastes. We wake to find that we have had visitors to our campsite in the night. Raccoon prints are littered across the site, but unfortunately for them, we’d locked everything of interest away from prying paws before turning in. I find one solitary, sandy and desperate print on the side of our cool box, but never actually see any of the critters with my own eyes. Time slows down and any mental to do lists melt away. Suddenly a mosey around a lagoon or a casual beach walk can take up the best part of an afternoon. There are birds to watch, nests to peer at, shells to examine, horseshoe crabs to send scuttling back into the water and fallen tree trunks to clamber over. Following the bird tracks that meander in and out of the waves and trail around patches of seagrass turns out to be an endlessly rewarding activity.

While exploring along the sandy edge of the island I bump into Tod on a small quadbike. He’s been out to log a small turtle that’s washed up on shore, unfortunately dead. In the winter, younger turtles will sometimes get cold-stunned by the chilly waters and wash up on the shore. If they’re still alive, Tod will call someone from the aquarium in Tarpon Springs to get them warmed up and released. There are a few loggerhead turtle nesting sites on the island that are closely logged and monitored. On the rare occasion, he’ll spot a Kemp’s Ridley – there are only around three Kemp’s nests in the state of Florida, and one of them is on this island. While the season usually starts in April, he doesn’t start to see nesting activity on the island until the beginning of June. At this time, he goes out early to try and find them before the raccoons do, so he can carefully dig a trench around the nest and sink a metal cage over it to protect them from predators. Inevitably, the vivacious birdlife is closely monitored too. “We have a shorebird survey eight times a year – the park biologist from Honeymoon Island will come up here with a group of volunteers and they’ll walk the beach with binoculars and clipboards counting the numbers of different species,” he tells me. “They’ve got a long list of birds they try to monitor, and it has to all be done in one day because well, they’re birds, they’re pretty mobile.” The highlight of each day is the sunset, which shifts from pastel pinks to moody blood orange before plummeting into inky blues. There’s something special about watching the moon rise and the sun set at the same time while swaddled in ocean on nearly all sides. In the morning, I drink my coffee and watch the sun peek back up over the horizon exactly where I expect it to, while the moon disappears into blue skies. The island is noisy, but apart from the odd plane gliding overhead, the symphony consists purely of birdsong, insects, gusts of wind and tumbling waves. It feels somehow important to understand that I’m a guest in this particular patch of wilderness, to be polite around the nature here – it holds all the cards. There are Eastern diamondback rattlesnakes lurking in the grasses, so every step off the beach needs to be a careful one. While the island is popular for a day on the beach in the summer, it’s the winter months when it shines. The insects are feasting in warmer climes and the powerful sun gets broken up by cloud. It’s peaceful and provides plenty of space and time for reflection. It means stepping away from the hubbub of day-to-day life, even if only for a few days of slow adventure. I indulge in a thoroughly restorative combination of pottering and exploring. Whether moseying down the beach or heading off into the mangroves on a kayak, my curiosity is ignited. It’s a welcome reminder that not all adventures need adrenaline, and sometimes the most important work is maintaining a natural balance, both in the wilderness and inside our own heads.

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CHARITY PARTNERSHIP

Project AWARE ® is a global movement for ocean protection powered by a community of adventurers. Project AWARE is an international non-profit organization working to create positive change for the ocean.

www.project aware.org

Feature

W H Y S H A R K S A N D R AY S N E E D O U R P R OT E C T I O N MEGAN WHITE, COMMUNICATIONS SPECIALIST, PROJECT AWARE

There are more than a thousand species of sharks and rays in the ocean, and that’s just the ones we know about. These enchanting fish rule the waters, maintaining the balance and allowing diversity. Simply put, a healthy ocean needs healthy shark populations. The apex predators of the shark family play a vital part in the ocean ecosystems. As an example, if you took sharks out of the coral reef ecosystem, the larger fish that would have been preyed upon by the sharks would increase in abundance and feast on the herbivores. With fewer herbivores to eat the algae, the algae would dominate the coral and the whole reef system would shift. A similar effect would be seen in seagrass beds if you remove the sharks. For too long humans have been disrupting the balance of these incredible yet fragile ecosystems. We’ve been emptying our oceans of sharks and rays at a rate that they can’t compete with and now nearly a quarter of all known species are classified as Threatened with Extinction. Overfishing is one of the main threats to a healthy ocean and sharks and rays are incredibly vulnerable as they grow slowly and produce few young. Devil and manta rays are estimated to produce a single pup every one to three years. Overfishing is the problem, so let’s break it down: Firstly there’s targeted fishing. Tens of millions of sharks are killed each year for their meat, fins, liver, and other products, and many fisheries are unregulated and catches are significantly under-reported. Devil and Manta Rays are fished for their meat and gill plates. These graceful and magnificent creatures are unfortunately easy targets being slow-moving and often predictable. As with sharks, it’s expected that reported landings only account for a small fraction of the actual number fished. Then there’s bycatch – the catching of sharks incidentally while fishing for other commercial species. To make things more complicated, the financial incentive for shark and ray products and the lack of enforcement

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for any regulations blurs the line between whether catches have been targeted or accidental. And then, of course, there's finning - the removal of the shark’s fins and discarding of the body at sea. Finning is often associated with overfishing, as keeping only the fins aboard the boat allows fishermen to kill many more sharks than if they were required to bring back the entire animal. More often than not, fins have a higher monetary value than meat. For our ocean to recover, we need fishing and trade to be at sustainable levels, with fishing limits put in place. We need a complete ban on the removal of shark fins at sea and we need all these regulations to be enforced and managed, without exceptions, at national and international levels, including on the high seas. Project AWARE works at several conventions to advocate for the much-needed restrictions in limits and trade. At CITES (Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora) we work to put in measures to protect shark and rays from unregulated, international trade. CMS (Convention on Migratory Species of Wild Animals) puts in international protections for migratory sharks and rays. Migratory sharks and rays travel great distances, often crossing national boundaries, so international cooperation is vital to ensuring their survival. As well as ensuring fishing is brought to a sustainable level, Project AWARE works to build on alternative income to fishing communities. One of which is sustainable tourism. Living sharks can be worth far more than dead ones and help fuel local economies. In Palau, it is estimated that sharks bring in $18 million per year through dive tourism. This sort of tourism works just as well for rays, as mantas particularly are on many ocean lovers' must-see list. Operations that offer manta diving and swimming programs are seeing significant economic benefits to their coastal communities. So, how can you protect sharks and rays? As ocean

Oceanographic Issue 12

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S H A R E Y O U R S TO RY O F C H A N G E JOIN MY OCEAN

CHALLENGE YOURSELF FUNDRAISE FOR THE OCEAN

P R OT E C T W H AT Y O U L OV E W I T H P R O J E C T AWA R E ’ S C L OT H I N G

J O I N T H E M OV E M E N T A R E Y O U A PA S S I O N AT E O C E A N A DV E N T U R E R W I T H A P U R P O S E F O R M A R I N E C O N S E R VAT I O N ? C O M B I N E T H E T WO W I T H P R O J E C T AWA R E A N D M A K E A N I M PA C T F O R O U R O C E A N P L A N E T. www.projectaware.org

advocates, you are some of sharks and rays’ closest and most influential allies. Together, with Project AWARE’s global community and conservation partners, we can create a powerful voice to influence change. Here are a few ways you can help: Start now: • Bust the myths – know your shark facts and talk to your friends about them. Let’s change the sharks' story, from villain to unsung hero. • Don’t buy shark or ray products – there are many products that could contain sharks from makeup to garden fertiliser – make sure you read the small print.

Project AWARE creates positive change for a return to a clean, healthy ocean through community action WHAT YOUR SUPPORT HELPS ACHI EVE

• Are you a diver? – Take or teach the AWARE Shark Conservation Diver Specialty Course. • Snorkel or dive with sharks and rays to support a valuable alternative to fishing. When you do, choose responsible, locally owned operators who employ local staff. • Know what’s sustainable – Our Responsible Shark and Ray Tourism: A Guide to Best Practice gives you the info you need to ensure your operator is putting the sharks and rays first. • Sign up to the Project AWARE monthly ocean news and we’ll keep you posted with all the latest actions you can take to protect these beautiful big fish.

instagram.com/projectaware twitter.com/projectaware facebook.com/ProjectAWAREFoundation

10,924

217k

ENTANGLED ANIMALS REPORTED

CONSERVATION ACTIONS

553 1,640,925

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DEBRIS ITEMS REMOVED

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