Oceanographic Magazine / Issue 23 by Oceanographic Magazine

ISSUE

Conservation • Exploration • Adventure

HIGH SEAS H I G H S TA K E S HIGH TIME

C O U S T E AU ´ S C A L L

C OLLE C T I O N

Fifty Fathoms

©Photograph: Laurent Ballesta/Gombessa Project

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Editor’s Letter Ocean history can be made. It's in delegates' h a n d s . . . H e re ' s hoping those who can, do.

You don't need to be an oceanographer to know that more than 70% of Earth's surface is ocean. What is less commonly known is that 64% of that big blue expanse lies outside any national jurisdiction (the first 200 miles of ocean from a country's coastline, known as the Exclusive Economic Zone). Beyond these national EEZ limits is international water, otherwise known as the High Seas. Framed another way, this 64% of ocean constitutes almost half the entire surface of this planet. Incredibly, this near-50% is almost completely unprotected and largely lawless – a quite frightening statistic given the beauty, bounty and climate change-busting benefits held within. Despite the desperate need for attention and protection, it is perhaps unsurprising the High Seas has had such little of it. There remains significant work still to be done within EEZs, where nation states can singularly impose protections rather than have to achieve international consensus. If backyards can't be properly managed, can we really expect the communal park to be managed any better? The good news: people are trying. The international community has been gathering, via the UN, over the last few years to discuss the implementation of a High Seas Treaty. With delegates convening this March to (hopefully) agree on a framework for protection, the time for meaningful management could be upon us. Could. Ocean history can be made, and it is in delegates' hands - as will copies of this magazine and its compelling cover story. Here's hoping those who can, do.

Will Harrison Editor

High Seas. High stakes. High time for protection.

@waj.harrison @oceano_mag Oceanographicmag

Oceanographic Issue 23

Contents O N T H E C OV E R

FEATURE S

THE HIGH SEAS

The international waters of the High Seas cover 46% of Earth's surface. But just 1.3% of the High Seas is protected. In March 2022, there is a once in a lifetime chance to change that.

Herring, Norway. Photograph by Cristina Mittermeier

Get in touch ED I TO R

Will Harrison

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

Amelia Costley

D I G I TA L E D I TO R

Nane Steinhoff

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

Hugh Francis Anderson

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

Joanna Kilgour

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

Chris Anson

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YO U R O C E A N IMAGES

@oceanographic_mag @oceano_mag Oceanographicmag

A S S TO C K E D I N

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

A collection of some of the most captivating ocean photography shared on social media, both beautiful and arresting. Tag us or use #MYOCEAN for the opportunity to be featured within these pages.

ISSN: 2516-5941

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CONTENTS

20%

GOLD RUSH

U NCENSO R ED

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

C O R A L HO PE

T IN Y MA RV E L S

In the wild setting of Southern Leyte in the Philippines, some natives still mine sub-aquatic gold for their day-to-day survival.

Kakadu National Park in Australia's Northern Territory is home to more than 10,000 crocodiles. Covering almost 20,000 km2, it is one of the last truly wild places on Earth.

In Papua New Guinea, women are at the forefront of protecting some of the world's healthiest coral reefs.

Plankton plays a critical role in balancing ocean health and the food web. Despite their significance, these miniscule creatures are rarely seen up-close until now.

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B E H IN D TH E L E N S

C O LUMN S

LAURENT BALLESTA

THE SOCIAL ECOLOGIST

T HE B IO L O G IS T

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

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

Big wave surf champion, environmentalist and social change advocate Dr Easkey Britton finds out how the ocean became the hero of the story instead of the victim throughout 2021.

Wildlife biologist and presenter Lizzie Daly discusses the wonder of the ocean community at home, in Wales, and the sense of connection and energy it provides her.

Environmentalist and Surfers Against Sewage CEO Hugo Tagholm discusses the importance of personal action and grassroots campaigning to affect meaningful change in the face of the many crises facing Planet Ocean.

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Jay Clue Mexico An annual aggregation of Munk's devil rays off the coast of Cabo San Lucas. “Mobula munkiana are one of the main reasons I have called Baja California home for the past five years,” says photographer Clue. S U B M I T T E D TO

#MYOCEAN

Dmitry Kokh South Africa “Cape fur seals are inquisitive and friendly animals when in the water,” says photographer Kokh. “They often accompany scuba divers, swimming around them for several minutes at a time.” S U B M I T T E D TO

#MYOCEAN

David Serradell Mexico “Being in the water with these precious creatures washes away the many myths that unjustly surround these animals,” says photographer Serradell. “This silky shark came right up to me at night while freediving in the waters of the eastern Pacific Ocean.” S U B M I T T E D TO

Emilie Ledwidge Australia A bronze whaler shark preys on a bait ball on the outer Ningaloo Reef, Western Australia. “Sharks are the regulators of the sea,” says photographer Ledwidge. “There is no such thing as a healthy ocean without sharks.” S U B M I T T E D TO

#MYOCEAN

HIGH SEAS H I G H S TA K E S HIGH TIME The High Seas are full of life. Yet, only 1.3% of them are protected. In March, world leaders will have a once in a lifetime chance to change that at the United Nations in New York. Wo rd s b y F i o n a C u r t i n P h o t o g ra p h s b y A n d y M a n n , C r i s t i n a M i t t e r m e i e r, J o s e A l e j a n d ro A l v a re z , R o d o l p h e H o l l e r a n d the Schmidt Ocean Institute

Oceanographic Issue 23

THIS PAGE: A leatherback turtle hatchling. PREVIOUS PAGE: An oceanic whitetip shark.

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F E AT U R E

How many people realise that nearly 50% of our planet is beyond the reach of any enforceable law or governance?

veryone knows that we live on a blue planet. But how many people realise that nearly half of our planet is beyond the reach of any enforceable law or governance? The international waters of the High Seas, that lie outside any country’s exclusive economic zone (EEZ), make up 64% of our global ocean and cover 46% of Earth’s surface. And the reality of these vast, deep ocean realms is far removed from the endless greyblue nothingness we gaze at from airplane windows. They contain a vibrant, awe-inspiring alternate world of hidden wonders. A supersized world where we find our planet’s highest mountains, deepest canyons, most important carbon sinks, and its biggest creatures that live the longest and travel the furthest. Yet one thing that is not supersized is the protection we afford them: just 1.3% of the High Seas is protected, compared to 17% of the land. The High Seas has the fewest rules and even fewer ways to enforce them. Unbelievably, after decades of environmental agreements and in the face of global climate and nature crises that cannot be resolved without a healthy ocean, we still have not reached an agreement on how to safeguard the precious habitats of our planet’s last great wilderness. In March 2022, there is a once in a lifetime chance to change that. Representatives of the world’s governments are scheduled to gather at the United Nations in New York to negotiate the final terms of a new High Seas Treaty on the conservation and sustainable use of marine biodiversity in areas beyond national jurisdiction (the notorious BBNJ). It’s a high stakes moment for the High Seas because this is far from a done deal, and a watereddown agreement could do more harm than good. “These treaty talks are the first time in 40 years that governments are negotiating a treaty for the ocean and the first time ever to protect marine biodiversity,” says Peggy Kalas of the High Seas Alliance. “We all need a healthy High Seas and we all need a robust, ambitious High Seas Treaty to safeguard the future of our planet.”

The High Seas connects us all. It’s the backdrop to humanity’s long history of seafaring, discovery, migration and mythology. It nurtures the iconic species that crisscross the globe. Creatures who visit our beaches and that we associate with the shores and the shallows – like sea turtles, corals, and even penguins – also venture hundreds of miles out to sea. And the hurricanes that lash islands and coasts first swell up far out in the open ocean. As our leaders struggle to find a pathway to limit global heating to 1.5C, it’s worth remembering that, without the ocean absorbing 90% of the extra heat and 33% of the carbon we produce, our planet would have turned into an unliveable hellscape years ago. Instead, the ocean is our greatest climate ally, and the ancient untouched ecosystems of the deep sea are a treasure trove for scientists studying changes in Earth’s climate and chemistry over the centuries. The High Seas makes our blue planet work. But we are not working for the High Seas. For a long time, the High Seas was immune to human impacts; too remote and too big for even us to spoil. But no longer. Fishing, shipping, drilling, plastic, and pollution are all taking their toll, while accelerating climate change is making the seas warmer, less oxygenated, and more acidic, all of which pose an existential threat to marine biodiversity. That’s why a strong High Seas Treaty is so essential. And that’s why the treaty must include the mechanism for establishing and enforcing Marine Protected Areas (MPAs) in international waters – something for which there is currently no legal framework, leaving the High Seas exposed to exploitation. Imagine a future where the ocean is protected, sea life is thriving, and humanity is able to share the bounty of marine resources. To show what we can gain if we protect the High Seas, the High Seas Alliance is uncovering the hidden natural wonders in global ocean hotspots that could be among the first MPAs created under a new High Seas Treaty, like these three revealed below.

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F E AT U R E

SALAS Y GÓMEZ AND NAZCA RIDGES – STEPPING STONES THROUGH HISTORY Deep in the waters of the southeast Pacific lies a mountain range of 110 volcanic peaks that stretches nearly 3,000km and teems with spectacular wildlife. The High Seas around the Salas y Gómez and Nazca ridges provide a critical habitat for more than 80 threatened or endangered species, at least 23 species of whales, 13 species of dolphins, and three species of eared seals. Many of the creatures that shelter here are found nowhere else on Earth, like the charismatic Juan Fernández fur seal that was hunted to the brink of extinction by the fur trade and only rediscovered in the 1960s. For millennia, these waters have also been a vital migration corridor for endangered sea turtles and countless other species – including humans. Separated from the South American mainland by the rich, cold waters of the Humboldt Current and the yawning abyss of the Atacama Trench, the submarine summits of Salas y Gómez and Nazca are a part of the ancient 'Pacific Octopus' route that connects people across this great ocean. Thousands of years ago, Polynesian Islanders and other seafarers used this hidden landscape to guide their epic voyages of migration and discovery, a maritime heritage that is uniquely preserved and celebrated by the Rapa Nui people on nearby Easter Island. Today, the chain of mountains remains culturally important, but they also play a key role in everybody’s future as the plankton-rich upwellings over the ridges, where sharks, turtles and seabirds gather to forage, act as a giant carbon sink helping to mitigate climate change. Most of the underwater mountains are yet to be explored, but with every expedition to these mysterious marine stepping stones scientists are discovering new life forms – as well as ancient shipwrecks and historic relics. Recent explorations documented one of our planet’s deepest light-dependent marine ecosystems, replete with lifeforms that are both unknown to science and endemic to this region. Far beneath the waves, secret gardens of slow-growing corals and gorgonians flourish in some of the clearest waters on Earth, providing a home for commercial species – from swordfish to jack mackerel – that help feed millions of people. But only if we protect it. For centuries, the isolation of the Salas y Gómez and Nazca ridges shielded them from harm, but today the tentacles of human destruction are encroaching. Industrial fishing and deep-sea mining are eyeing the riches of these reclusive ridges and, if we want to keep them ecologically intact, we need to act now. Deep-water trawling has already destroyed coral and seabed habitats that take thousands of years to grow, and iconic ocean life is being taken as bycatch. Animals that escape the nets can fall victim to the floating plastic trash drawn to the area by the South Pacific Gyre. But perhaps most dangerous of all is the risk that the cobalt, manganese, and other valuable mineral deposits found on the seafloor here could soon attract deep-sea mining – leading to

Oceanographic Issue 23

F E AT U R E

High Seas make up 64% of our global ocean and cover 46% of Earth´s surface. Just 1.3% of the High Seas is protected, compared to 17% of the land.

The ocean is wild and largely unprotected.

Oceanographic Issue 23

The flukes of a sperm whale.

Without the ocean absorbing 90% of the extra heat and 33% of the carbon we produce, our planet would have turned into an unliveable hellscape years ago.

A humpback whale in the cold waters of Antarctica.

Two humpback whales in the South Pacific Ocean.

73% of the seamounts are in international waters and there is currently no way to protect this mountain range and its matchless biodiversity.

wholesale ecosystem decimation. So far, no mining contracts have been issued, but none of the area is officially closed to mining either: it’s ripe for exploitation. The ridges are at a crossroads. Right now, we have a time-sensitive window of opportunity to protect these pristine waters before the chance is lost forever. But there’s a problem. Chile and Peru have extended some protection to areas in their EEZs, but 73% of the seamounts are in international waters and there is currently no way to protect this mountain range and its matchless biodiversity. By permanently closing the area to fishing and mining and establishing a High Seas MPA through a new UN High Seas Treaty, we can secure the Salas y Gómez and Nazca ridges for ourselves, for the species that live there, and for future generations. That’s why the Coral Reefs on the High Seas Coalition chose this area for the first of its scientific expeditions aimed at generating the evidence needed to advance international awareness and action for fragile High Seas ecosystems. Deep-sea biologist Dr Daniel Wagner, who in 2021 was part of a team of scientists who performed the first ever survey of deep-sea species on both ends of the ridges, warns that: “In an instant, trawling or mining can wipe out millennia-old corals and rob us of precious species before they are even discovered. But, also in an instant, we can decide to protect them before it is too late. If the people charged with negotiating the treaty could see what I have seen, I believe they would choose to defend the deep.” Thanks to the incredible pictures and film taken during recent expeditions, we can all now catch a glimpse of the vortex of life that thrives in the Salas y Gómez and Nazca ridges. And treaty negotiators cannot claim ignorance if they fail to protect them. EMPEROR SEAMOUNTS – WHERE WISDOM REIGNS Hawaii conjures up images of beautiful islands surrounded by vast, empty ocean, but in reality these islands are the unsubmerged parts of another vast deep-sea mountain range. Extending across more than 2,000km of seafloor from the northwestern-most tip of the Hawaiian Islands to the Kuril-Kamchatka Trench, the Emperor Seamounts are a chain of 80 underwater mountains whose nutrient-rich waters support vast biodiversity. Tunas and whales swim above their peaks, while in their deep-water habitats on the seafloor, an unparalleled variety of cold-water corals and sponges create breath-taking forests of fans, trees, and whips, and provide shelter for myriad species. Nine of the peaks of the Emperor Seamounts bear the names of Japanese rulers from the last two millennia, but for millions of years the region has been graced with another imperial majesty – the albatross. And, among the flocks of seabirds that fill the skies above the seamounts, one is something of an international celebrity: a Laysan

albatross named Wisdom, the world’s oldest known wild bird. Since she was tagged in 1956 by a scientist with the United States Geological Survey, Wisdom has flown well over 3 million miles – equivalent to 120 times the circumference of the Earth – and hatched dozens of chicks in the breeding grounds on Midway Atoll, most recently in February 2021, at the ripe old age of at least 70, and to the astonishment of scientists. Wisdom survived the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami, and has so far avoided the Pacific garbage patches and fishing lines that trap seabirds across the ocean, but like all the creatures who live in or above these waters, the future of the Laysan albatross – known as mōlī in Hawaii, where they hold a symbolic place in indigenous culture – depends on the health of the High Seas. If we take her bird’s eye view, over the seven decades of Wisdom’s life the Emperor Seamounts have paid a heavy price for the rich life they harbour. Between the 1960s and the 1970s they delivered the biggest catches of any seamount fisheries in the world, with more than 200,000 tonnes of fish and coral removed in peak years. Today, precious coral skeletons can sell for up to $880/kg for use in jewellery and other industries. Whether crushed by trawlers or taken deliberately for sale, the threats to coral are critical because of how long they take to grow – or recover when damaged, at a rate of just millimetres a year. Longevity below the waves is even more impressive than in the skies. Scientists have found some of the oldest animals on Earth on the Emperor Seamounts, where colonies of black coral date back an incredible 4,200 years – about the same age as the Pyramids! But their slow growth makes coral ecosystems extremely vulnerable. With their exceptional biodiversity, record-breaking fauna, and acute vulnerability, it’s not surprising that the World Congress on Protected Areas and other forums have called for the Emperor Seamounts to receive priority protection. The US has taken the lead by protecting the seamounts found in its EEZ in a vast marine reserve – and there are promising signs of coral recovery in previously trawled zones – but it’s the huge areas beyond national jurisdiction that are most at risk. By permanently closing the entire region to fishing and establishing a High Seas MPA, we can save the Emperor Seamounts, but because they are a global common this can only be achieved through a new UN High Seas Treaty. Every year that passes without an international agreement puts the irreplaceable life on the seamounts in ever greater peril. THE THERMAL DOME – AN OCEANIC OASIS The third stop in our High Seas journey is a truly unique phenomenon, a natural wonder created every year when strong seasonal winds blow warm waters out from the coast into the High Seas of the Tropical Eastern Pacific, where they collide with cooler water to form a huge

Bubblegum coral.

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A mother orca shields her calf.

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dome-shaped upwelling that forces cold, nutrient-rich waters up from the depths to the surface of the sea. Within the upwelling of the Thermal Dome, sunlight and cold water combine to create the ideal conditions for the world’s highest concentration of a particular type of microscopic blue green algae. And, when enormous volumes of tiny krill gather to feed on the algae, they kick off one of the richest marine food webs known to science, supporting masses of animals higher up the food chain, like the blue whale and – ultimately – us. Plus, as a nice side-benefit, the immense biomass of krill traps more carbon than is emitted by all vehicles in Central America. This maritime marvel also drives vital connectivity between land and sea. Many important species migrate via the Dome to and from the coastlines of Central America, where they sustain nature tourism – including sea turtle, whale and dolphin watching – and make major contributions to local economies. Most famously, critically endangered leatherback turtle hatchlings travel from Central America’s beaches through the Dome on their way to their mating and feeding grounds in the southeastern Pacific. Blue whales also feed, mate, and raise their calves in the Dome, and it’s an important migration corridor for dolphins, whale sharks, hammerheads, thresher sharks, rays, sailfish, marlins, and sea turtles as they navigate their way across the Pacific. But that’s just the beginning of the story. When researchers explored two of the Dome’s deep-water volcanoes recently, they found spectacular octocorals several metres long and metre-high glass sponges. No doubt there are many more wonders lurking in the depths of the Dome just waiting to be discovered. Protecting the known and unknown treasures of the Dome is a peculiarly complex challenge. While many organisations and experts agree that it should be one of the first High Seas MPAs to be prioritised, actually mapping it is a tricky proposition because the Dome itself is always changing and shifts its location across an area covering more than half a million square kilometres

of open ocean. But, as the region is under threat from overfishing, illegal fishing, and bycatch of vulnerable species, as well as the noise pollution and ship strikes on marine mammals that come with the fact that 6% of the world’s shipping traffic charges through the area on the way to the Panama Canal, the global community must rise to the challenge. This shape-shifting moveable feast is a part of our shared ocean heritage and we need an intelligent High Seas Treaty that enables us to protect it for the future. HIGH TIME FOR A HIGH SEAS TREATY After decades of negotiating and delay, it is high time to finalise a High Seas Treaty worthy of our great ocean. Because, with all we now know about the amazing life and essential functions of the High Seas, it is unthinkable that we don’t have a way to protect it. The message to the government delegates negotiating the treaty is clear: get it done, make it strong and fair, and include a clear mechanism for MPAs. But not just any MPAs, as one of the authors of the new MPA Guide, Dr Kristen Grorud-Colvert, reminds us: “MPAs that exist only on paper, or allow harmful activity to continue, or lack the means to be enforced and monitored, will not protect the High Seas. The Treaty needs to create the conditions for establishing fully or highly protected areas that can effectively safeguard ocean life for the future.” That’s the outcome we are looking for. Agreeing a new High Seas Treaty is a truly historic act. It’s something that will be remembered as a milestone in our long, imperfect journey towards saving biodiversity, combating climate change and extinctions, and living in harmony with the natural world. Humanity has been around for just a flicker in Earth’s long history, but we have already exerted a terrible toll and taken more than our fair share. Negotiating the High Seas Treaty is a moment to set things right, to speak up for the 2.2 million weird and wonderful species in the ocean who do not have a seat at the UN, and to seize the chance to chart a positive new course for our blue planet.

We still have not reached an agreement on how to safeguard the precious life of our planet’s last great wilderness. In March 2022, there is a once in a lifetime chance to change that. Oceanographic Issue 23

Column

By Dr Easkey Britton

The social ecologist OCEAN LOVE

t has been a tough year for the ocean. The Earth has surpassed one degree Celsius of warming. The week before writing this the world learned that one of Antarctica’s most important ice shelves that holds back the so-called ‘Doomsday Glacier’ is fracturing. If it breaks apart, the melting glacier could increase sea level rise by as much as 25%, potentially within the next decade. As 2021 came to the end as one of the most challenging years of multiple, interconnected crises for humanity and the planet, I didn't want to focus on all that went wrong. I wanted to celebrate. Dr Nancy Knowlton, head of Marine Science at the Smithsonian, says it is time to ‘move beyond the obituaries in marine conservation’. Looking back over this last year, I’ve seen how a new narrative for the ocean is emerging, where the ocean has become the hero of the story. The following are some of the key successes and opportunities for the ocean that I want to celebrate. 1. A new narrative for the ocean. The ocean is finally being recognised as the hero of the story, with 2021 kicking off the The United Nations (UN) ‘Decade of Ocean Science for Sustainable Development’. The ocean took centre-stage as the life force of planet Earth during the COP26 climate talks. And this year saw an increase in coverage of ocean environmental issues in mainstream media. All of this is built on the momentum of global grassroots ocean activism, where the key message is the need to recognise our interdependence with the ocean, that we are the ocean. 2. 2021 was the year of ocean activism. Diverse groups coming together with a shared love for the ocean. There are too many hugely successful community-led campaigns to mention but here are just a few: #TeamSeas, a crowdfunding campaign with the goal to raise $30million to remove 30 million pounds of trash from rivers, beaches and oceans; Sea7, an ocean activist training camp initiated by B-Corp certified company Finisterre in Cornwall that culminated in a paddle-out protest to highlight the importance of ocean health during the G7 talks; Save the Waves' #1000Waves campaign to protect 1000 surf ecosystems by 2030; Surfers Against Sewage's #MillionMileClean saw ocean activists clean over a million miles of UK coastline and waterways, reconnecting communities with their blue spaces; We Are One Ocean, a campaign by the World Surfing League, the professional body of

surfing, delivering one million signatures to the UN Biodiversity Convention, calling on world leaders to protect 30% of our ocean by 2030; Expedia responded to public pressure and confirmed they will no longer sell holiday packages that include activities involving captive whales and dolphins; Under pressure from the success of the Fight for the Bight campaign, Equinor pulled out of the Great Australia Bight, abandoning plans to drill. 3. Polluters are losing. It was a bad year for big oil. Friends of the Earth Netherlands won a landmark court case against Shell, who were ordered to cut its carbon emissions by 45% by 2030, sending shock waves through the big oil industry. The environmental campaign group released a D.I.Y manual titled, How We Defeated Shell. Shell also withdrew from the Cambo North Sea oilfield near the Shetland Islands, and in Aotearoa New-Zealand the Supreme Court put a stop to deep seabed mining in the South Taranaki Bight. 4. The reuse revolution. Under mounting public pressure, governments are tackling the ocean pollution crisis and shifting towards circular systems based on reuse, refill and repair. Austria introduced binding and enforceable reuse targets in their Waste Management Act with many countries across Europe following suit with similar laws. The Global South is leading the way with Chile introducing a plastic regulation bill in 2021, and India, where traditional reuse systems such as the ‘Dabbawala’ system were hugely successful in plastic-free societies, is prohibiting single-use plastics from June 2022. We now need to ensure a legally binding Global Plastics Treaty that will set the framework to reduce plastic production and consumption. 5. We are one ocean. 2021 saw the unprecedented creation of a ‘mega’ marine protected area (MPA) in the Pacific with Panama, Ecuador, Colombia and Costa Rica agreeing to join and extend their marine reserves to form the Eastern Tropical Pacific Marine Corridor, covering an area of 500,000 square kilometres. This is the first time countries with connecting maritime borders joined up to create a public policy, hopefully encouraging other nations to follow their lead towards the global goal of protecting 30% of our ocean by 2030. 6. Global Blue New Deal. I first heard about the ‘Blue New Deal’ from Ayana Johnson, who has successfully advocated for greater inclusion of ocean climate policy and ocean justice in the USA’s

Oceanographic Issue 23

@easkeysurf

Green New Deal. The concept has gained global momentum and during the World Ocean Week last June, along with the Sustainable Ocean Alliance, the Youth Advisory Council shared the Global Blue New Deal emphasising the importance of intergenerational climate justice and the importance of the role of the ocean for a low carbon future. 7. Restoration and regeneration. Recognising the multiplicity of ecosystem benefits that come from restoring marine habitats and species. For example, the recovery of sea otters leads to the recovery of sea grasses, providing nursery grounds for marine species and ‘carbon sinks’. Slowing vessels to reduce ship strikes with whales reduces greenhouse gas emissions and underwater noise pollution. Replanting mangroves and restoring coastal wetland habitats helps create blue carbon ecosystems - sea grasses, mangroves, tidal marshes might only cover 0.2% of the ocean surface, but they store as much as 50% of all the carbon. 8. New collaborations across science, policy and practice. To date, the UN Ocean Decade lists over 360 endorsed ocean actions, inspiring examples of the importance of engaging in collective actions for innovative solutions. For example, Surfstainable Community and Citizens of Surf engage water sports communities for science-in-action; Save the Waves launched an app to crowdsource key data on the most pressing issues facing coastal communities; Blue Symbiosis is a project converting oil and gas infrastructure into multi-species restorative seaweed aquaculture sites; Animal-Borne Ocean Sensors is creating a vision for the ocean through new eyes, through the deployment of sensors on marine mammals that will contribute data to the Global Ocean Observing System in hard-to-reach parts of the ocean. Other ocean start-ups are innovating ocean solutions in impactful ways, such as Sway combatting plastic pollution by replacing single-use plastics with packaging made from seaweed. 9. Blue Health. Redefining humanity’s relationship with the ocean by rethinking and renewing our ocean connection. Since the start of the pandemic the number of people participating in ocean related watersports and activities has exploded. In a study by Surfers Against Sewage in the UK it’s estimated that this brings physical and mental health benefits of up to £20.2 billion annually. A pan-European research study, Blue Health, concluded that water environments are the most psychologically restorative of all environments. We need a thriving ocean to be well. 10. An ocean of love. What runs through all of these victories and opportunities is love. Now is the time to open our hearts. By celebrating these ocean solutions we remake the ocean as hero, we remember we are ocean and by learning from each other we can create a wave of change, together. EB

@easkeysurf

www.easkeybritton.com

“We need to flip the script from seeing the ocean as this victim of overfishing, pollution, and warming to seeing it also as the hero when it comes to climate solutions.”

Photograph by Alice Ward.

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

Oceanographic Issue 23

BEHIND THE LENS

Oceanographic Issue 23

BEHIND THE LENS

Gold rush In the wild setting of Southern Leyte in the Philippines, some natives still mine subaquatic gold for their day-to-day survival.

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

Oceanographic Issue 23

F E AT U R E

t has been centuries since the tiny village of Pinutan became something of a gold mining hotspot for explorers. Today, remarkably, there are still people who harvest the area’s gold-bearing quartz underwater, using coconut shells and high-pressure hoses which supply oxygen to their lungs. Many of the small-scale mining families have set up temporary homes and sluice boxes right on Pinut-an’s shoreline, base camps from which they can follow the gold vein extensions in search of the precious element. During the summer months when the sea is calm and the currents mellow, Pinut-an’s shoreline is crowded with gold miners diving in search of gold or processing their silicaquartz. With the first sunbeams dancing across the rocky beach, the early risers appear from their makeshift houses to set up sluice boxes and check their mining gear. The equipment usually consists of helmets, coconut halves for digging, a weight belt made of stones wrapped in rags and clipped to a rope around the hips, home-made teak goggles and, occasionally, footwear to withstand the currents. For health reasons, an underwater work shift shouldn’t exceed two hours, but many miners work until they’re tired or the currents get too strong. Young Danian puts on his favourite baseball cap and starts the diesel-powered compressor which will feed the lungs of five fellow gold divers. Nourished by a bowl of rice, 58-year-old veteran miner Severino Mujar who has nine years of gold diving experience checks the pressure of his hose. Whilst underwater, Severino will bite the end of the hose with one side of his mouth and move his jaw slightly to inhale some oxygen. Once the air has circulated, he will bubble it out through the other side of his mouth. Next to the Jesus tattoo on his forehead which he believes will protect him underwater, he’s imitating the Christian cross, indicating that he’s all set for the dive. As for abovewater mining, the glittering yellowish colour of the silicaquartz will indicate whether there is a possibility of gold under the surface. Since the visibility underwater can be poor, the miners smash out samples of the suspected silicaquartz first to check the sound of the material close to their ears. Quartz will make a different noise to ‘standard’ rock and tell the miners if they’re close to the ore. Today, Severino is hauling out the sand which he has collected over the previous days. The fine offshore sand around Pinut-an also bears a relatively high content of gold that has collected on the bedrock through centuries of erosion and the impact of the pounding waves. Severino is pulling himself along the rope, down to a depth of 15m. Near his collection of sandbags lies the entrance of Severino’s underwater tunnel in which he was working for years until he couldn’t find any more high-grade gold, seeing nothing but mustard yellow water all day long. To haul out

PREVIOUS: Veteran diver Severino pulls gold sand up to the surface. THIS PAGE: Severino on the beach with his oxygen hose.

Oceanographic Issue 23

F E AT U R E

“When the sea is calm and the currents mellow, Pinut-an's shoreline is crowded with gold miners.”

Oceanographic Issue 23

BEHIND THE LENS

Oceanographic Issue 23

F E AT U R E

the sand, Severino places his bags into a big bowl which he brought down to the bottom by using buoyant drums. He measures the weight of his load, inserts oxygen into the drums with a different pressure hose and tows the rickety construction back to shore. The following day he will run the sandy harvest through the sluice box to concentrate the gold before panning it. It took Severino four days to shovel the sand into the bags with his coconut shell, and one more day to bring the whole load to the beach. This work will likely bring him up to $170, so a total of $30 for a day’s work, just enough to feed his family of four and get the children to school. Like most of his colleagues, Severino sells his treasure to a financier in the village, or if it’s worth the trip, he brings it over to a gold buyer on the nearby island of Mindanao. The melted gold will then be sold off to get refined in major Philippine cities like Tagum or Davao from where it finally finds its private buyers in the form of jewellery or tiny gold bars. Despite the gold diving venture being dominated by men, their wives and children also participate in the mining process, mainly in the amalgamation process or panning and sluicing the quartz-bearing pebbles. Small-scale mining has become an important source of income for financially vulnerable families in an overpopulated country where a tenth of its citizens work overseas for better pay. While many families strive to provide a different future for their children through education, not everyone on Pinut-an’s shoreline is fortunate enough to have someone to look after them. Many young Filipinos who join the mining operations come from broken families or dropped out of school at an early stage. In nearby Mindanao, sluice mining was banned a few years ago by the provincial government due to its environmental destructiveness, including mercury contamination. In Pinut-an, however, small-scale gold diggers continue with their work – something of an anomaly in the region. The barrier to a ban? The fact that any prospective ban would come with the subsequent arrest of 300 miners across three Barangays (sub-villages) who have turned to mining to feed their families. That’s about 15% of the combined population. According to locals, the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) recently investigated the region, telling the villagers that their mining operations were environmentally distressing and affecting corals. The miners responded by suggesting the corals have been gone since the gold rush around 50 years ago. Ernie Gaylo, one of Pinut-an’s veterans, who has spent his entire life in the gold mining industry (as well as five years in submarine mining after graduating as a mechanical engineer), explains: "It looks like a desert down there.” For many locals, intervening in mining operations on environmental grounds comes half a century too late. If the prospect of intervention has come 50 years too late,

Two divers untangle their oxygen hoses after spending eight hours in the water looking for gold.

F E AT U R E

“Many believe that intervening in the mining operations due to environmental concerns comes half a century too late.”

LEFT: Severino on the beach. RIGHT: Amang, 30 years old, started diving for gold when the ferry he worked on stopped operating.

Oceanographic Issue 23

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Oceanographic Issue 23

BEHIND THE LENS

“He will run the sandy harvest through the sluice box to concentrate the gold before panning it.”

The sluicing box processes the collected sand.

Oceanographic Issue 23

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Oceanographic Issue 23

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Oceanographic Issue 23

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TOP: Tanillo during the amalgamation process. BOTTOM: A small gold nugget.

the question is: how did a small village in the Philippines become a gold mining hotspot in the first place? Spanish explorers, when surveying the area in the 18th century established an outpost very close to where Pinut-an would later rise up, called ‘Esperanza’ (‘Hope’ in English). A nod to the riches of the area? Perhaps. It was during this period when the search for precious metals in the region took off. At the mining site of Pinut-an – which, in the local Visayan language, refers to ‘a very narrow place’ – Filipinos assisted the gold-hungry Spaniards in their search, retrieving ore from mining tunnels in exchange for a daily wage. The collaboration did not last for long, the Spanish abandoning sites and machinery due to major landslides. On December 21, 1898, the US Government declared military rule in the Philippines. The Aldecoa Mining Company flagged interest in the promising ore veins on the shores of Southern Leyte and started operations in 1935. The Americans followed the same course as the Spanish, digging for gold mostly below an elevation of five metres, close to the Philippine Sea. However, during

“As most of the gold in the region has been harvested, the roughly 300 miners of Pinut-an are facing an uncertain future.” World War II, the mining stopped. Most of the Filipinos who had been in the employ of mining operators returned to farming and fishing. After the Philippines was formally granted independence in 1946, the Aldecoa Mining Company continued its work in Pinut-an with the support of locals, until the tides of a heavy typhoon in 1949 interfered with operations once again. In 1968, small-scale mining above and below the surface started for the first time when gold diggers from the nearby island of Mindanao discovered gold on Pinut-an’s beach. Observing these temporary settlers shovelling pebbles onto sluice boxes, their carpets catching tiny nuggets, the locals soon took to the practice themselves, and a smallscale, locally-driven gold mining boom was born. By the mid-70s, some 10,000 Filipinos from Luzon,

Mindanao and other parts of Visayas had flocked to Southern Leyte, armed with basic mining tools like gold pans, shovels and helmets. Although classic tunnel mining was the focus for most miners, a few started exploring underwater, diving from their wooden boats. In these early years these amateur sub-aquatic miners couldn’t afford compressors, so they would freedive for a few minutes at a time, wearing their antipara (handmade goggles made of wood and plastic), while jabbing metal bars into boulders to harvest small pieces of ore. Back then, the gold-bearing quartz was still covered by corals, which soon disappeared as a consequence of the assault. Today, with no more quartz-boulders left in shallow water, miners either harvest oceanic sand or dig close to the bedrock in tunnels measuring up to 30m in length that follow Pinut-an’s six gold vein extensions. After a few years of freediving, locals had earned enough money to finance diesel-powered compressors, capable of providing a constant air supply to six submerged miners. Submarine mining became, for the first time, a 9-5 job. The hospitality of the Visayans is of world fame, so even when the small-scale gold industry started flourishing, both underwater and topside, the locals happily shared a slice of their bounty. They even helped outsiders put up makeshift shelters near tunnels they had already dug. “We allowed them to build small houses in our backyard,” explains Ernie. The Mindanao region is rich in minerals, so there is plenty to go around (theoretically), and one man can only mine so much. "There's a value of some 2,000 to 3,000 Philippine Pesos hidden in this small wall of my tunnel,” Ernie once told a friend, who immediately began hammering into the ore. Ernie flashes a smile remembering the moment. Today, at the age of 67 and with six children, Ernie can’t hang up his gold pan. The social security system in the Philippines requires ten years of constant payments to be entitled to a pension – a pension that, in any case, isn’t enough to feed a large family and cover living expenses. And so, Ernie continues to search for gold – for himself and his family, but also for those around him. “I’ve ended up in this sector because of the monetary opportunities,” he says. “I also support our community and outsiders by providing them jobs.” As he speaks, he is heating a small piece of amalgamated gold over his kitchen stove, shielding his mouth and nose with an old T- shirt. “A lot of miners don’t use any protection while they’re getting rid of the mercury, quite careless because it gets solid fast again.” The experienced miner starts scaling the small lump of 75%, or 18 carat gold. It’s a ‘record’ for the region.

Oceanographic Issue 23

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

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

BEHIND THE LENS

Q&A LAURENT BALLESTA Award-winning underwater photographer, co-founder of Andromède Océanologie and leader of the Gombessa project. Laurent Ballesta is a marine scientist, explorer, award-winning underwater photographer and pioneering deep diver. He won the 2021 Wildlife Photographer of the Year award for his spawning grouper image and has captured stunning images of some of the rarest marine phenomena and neverbefore-seen underwater locations.

OC EA NO G R A PH IC (OM ): W H E N D I D YOU F I RS T CONNECT WITH TH E OCEAN? LAURENT BALLESTA (LB): There are so many images available on social media today. Everything looks ordinary. Everything looks normal. But in my youth, I only had Cousteau’s adventures. I was completely fascinated. My parents weren’t divers or sailors, but we lived close to the sea. In summer and spring, my brother and I spent all our time in the sea, playing with our snorkels. I was pretending to be Cousteau - the only link I had to exploration or underwater images at the time. The place we lived in, which is close to Montpellier, was definitely not a hot spot for diving or biodiversity, nor did it have clear water and it was full of people. Today, I think this was the perfect school to learn diving because it makes diving easier in other places. It also taught me how to capture wildlife because you really have to look for species. These experiences gave me that sense of adventure. My parents kept saying not to go too far, to look out for jellyfish and crabs. But we went anyway and I think this developed my pleasure of adventure, of taking some risks. Today, in my job, I always ask myself: Where is the adventure? I can’t understand how some colleagues, other photographers, can enjoy spending their time and energy in a place already known, with animals already photographed. When I use the word exploration, I really take time to use it. It’s important to me to dive somewhere for the first time, to respect the word exploration, the word innovation, the idea of first wildlife images; all of these things I have huge respect for. And I think this ultimately comes from my youth when my brother and I were playing alone in the sea. OM : W H Y DID YOU S TART TAK I N G U N D E RWAT ER IMAGES? LB: My first book is about the wildlife found around where I grew up. Everybody else thought there’s nothing to see so I started to take photos for people to believe me. I spent half my time exploring the ocean and the other half explaining to people what I saw. One day, something really special happened. I was maybe 16 years old and I was offshore on a boat with a friend of mine during the winter looking for a new dive spot. We already explored back then, constantly looking for new places, new sites. We looked at the sonar and met a huge school of giant basking sharks. That was unbelievable and a sight never described in my place. There were ten of them. Because I read so many books about wildlife, I knew what it was. I knew they were not dangerous so we went in the water. For the very first time I saw something bigger than a shrimp! That was so amazing. I spent three hours with them in the water. I had fever all night and many strange dreams for one week after that. I was into exploring and adventure way before this event, but it was key nevertheless. When I came home the day after, I told my parents that I was swimming with 7m long sharks but nobody believed me. That’s when I thought: I need to get a camera, So, the first reason I started taking photos underwater was to share, to show people what I’m seeing. And after that it was just to collect. The time you can spend underwater is so limited so taking images was basically my way to make the dive longer because you bring back the images. Today, I try to show more than what I saw, I want to show what I felt. Trying to capture an image of a feeling became a kind of obsession. When I was really young, I loved painting and drawing but when I started diving at the age of 12, I only focused on that. When I started taking photographs, it was a way to bring back my artistic passion to paint through my photography. Through diving, I have science, I have adventure and I have a way to make art.

Oceanographic Issue 23

BEHIND THE LENS

“When we are amazed of something, I think it's not because of its beauty, it's because of the mystery beyond the beauty.”

O M: YO U S TART E D S H OOT I N G ON F I L M . TODAY, EVERYTH ING IS DIGITAL. H OW DID TH E EVO LUT IO N F ROM F I L M TO D I GI TAL AF FECT YOU AS A P H OTOGRAP H ER? LB: It took me a long time to switch. I only changed to digital in 2008 when my friends already took digital images in the early 2000s (laughs). My aim is to show more of what I feel underwater, rather than what I see. When I changed to digital, I seemed to be able to share more of what I felt. As an example: In deep diving, I get that true sense of going somewhere where nobody else has been before. But when I was deep down 20 years ago, I wasn’t able to bring back an image of this deep landscape because there was not enough light. I tried to put a tripod down there to make a long exposure photo but when every minute counts, long exposure is a problem. Thanks to the abilities of digital cameras today, I can bring back this huge landscape with tiny divers. That was impossible to do 20 years ago. As an example, the photo of the iceberg that won the ‘Earth’s Environments’ category in the 2017 Wildlife Photographer of the Year competition, is a perfect example of what I’m trying to show. It’s a picture taken at around 12,000 ISO and it’s a panoramic image that consists of numerous pictures stitched together. That is the kind of scene I wasn’t able to capture on film. O M: W H AT D O YOU T RY TO AC H I E V E W I TH YOUR IMAGES? LB: I’m much more focussed on sharing the idea of another world. The feeling of being somewhere else. It’s not easy in our modern times to be somewhere else. We are everywhere. Google Maps can bring you to almost any place. You can see a satellite image of everywhere. Everywhere there are people. Everywhere there has been a photographer taking photos before you. The world is getting smaller and smaller and at the same time, biodiversity is decreasing so there is less and less to explore. If I have to sum up what I’m looking for with my images, I’d say that I’m trying to show somewhere else, another world. That’s why I think it’s a mistake when photographers say ‘I want to show the beauty of the world’. When we see special bird formations or the aurora borealis and we say ‘oh, it’s so beautiful’, we don’t use the right word. The world is not beautiful, it’s mysterious. When we are amazed of something, I think it’s not because of its beauty, it’s because of the mystery beyond the beauty. And maybe subconsciously or consciously that’s what I’ve been trying to find out with my pictures throughout the last few years. People have said for such a long time that showing the beauty of something can help foster respect for wildlife. But if this would work, we would know already. Maybe if we show the mystery instead, an image that brings people to ask questions, maybe this can bring more respect. Ultimately, when there is a big mystery in front of you, you really feel small. And to feel small could make you feel humble. I think that’s good. Fears, scary behaviours and all of these things can be part of the greatness of the ocean.

Continued on p. 80... Oceanographic Issue 23

BEHIND THE LENS

Q&A Continued...

OM : DIVING W IT H C OE L AC AN T H S , S W I M M I N G WITH 7 0 0 SH ARKS H UNTING AT NIGH T OR UND ERTA KING T H E D E E P E S T AN D L ON GE S T DIVE IN ANTARCTICA. YOU ALWAY S S T R IVE TO C AP T U RE T H E E XC E P T I ONAL AND RARE. H OW DO YOU P LAN YOUR E X PED IT IO NS ? H OW D O YOU F I N D T H E S E P L ACES? LB: I’ll try to keep my eyes and ears on the world. I read a lot. It’s easy to make a list but ultimately, it comes back to the mystery aspect. For all of my projects, my first question is: Is there a mystery here? The mystery of the coelacanths, the mystery of the deep ecosystem of Antarctica, the mystery of the sharks hunting together, the mystery of the grouper spawning that happens only once a year. For me, the first and most important thing is a mystery of the underwater world. Then we need to figure out whether we are able to solve or to bring some answers to this mystery through a scientific study, a diving challenge or taking images of a new species. When these three points - science, adventure and new images – come together, that for me is the beginning of a good Gombessa project. OM : T ELL US A B OU T YOU R E XP E RI E N C E TAK ING TH E FIRST IMAGE OF TH E ELUSIVE C OELACA NT H . LB: When you’re curious about marine wildlife and moreover, when you’re a marine biology student, you cannot avoid the coelacanth story. It was an unbelievable re-discovery. The fish was supposed to have gone extinct 65 million years ago but in the middle of the 20th century, one was caught by a trawler net in South Africa. That was completely unbelievable. This fish wasn’t just any type of fish. It’s a key fish at the frontier of marine vertebrates and land vertebrates because in its strange fins, there is already what is going to become arms and legs. That’s a huge discovery. At the same time, the fish was very difficult to reach. Every time one was caught on a hook, it died immediately when brought up to the surface. So, they were only able to study dead coelacanth. In 1985, one was filmed for the very first time through a submarine window. When I was a marine biology student I heard about this story. It was a mix of science, of adventure and of new images – exactly what I love. We knew it was still alive, but we didn’t know where to find it. Then in 2000, I heard about a South African diver called Peter Timm who saw a coelacanth during a deep dive in South Africa which led Nelson Mandela to create a huge marine area to protect the species. At that time, I was thinking that taking the first image of a coelacanth would be great. But it took me and my team another ten years to be confident enough to go because in 2000, immediately after Peter Timm discovered the coelacanth, two divers tried to reach the fish but died. The fish was found at depths of 120m. The location was offshore, it had powerful currents, a lot of swell and was full of sharks (laughs). When I saw the diving conditions, I thought it wasn’t possible and it took my team and I a lot of time to figure it out back then. In the end, the real difficulty was not to find the coelacanth, but to reach its universe. First day, first dive, first second at the bottom – the coelacanth was in front of me. I took a photo for National Geographic which was my first publication in a famous magazine. That image proofed that the coelacanth is here, only 100m from us. But at the same time, it is unreachable. It is like a parallel world. That’s what I tried to show with my first picture of the coelacanth – the meeting of man and coelacanth.

Oceanographic Issue 23

BEHIND THE LENS

“When you're curious about marine wildlife and moreover, when you're a marine biology student, you cannot avoid the coelacanth story. It was an unbelievable re-discovery.”

O M: A R E T H E RE AN Y OT H E R M OM E NTS TH ROUGH OUT YOUR CAREER TH AT FILL YOU WITH A PA RT I C U L AR S E N S E OF P RI D E ? LB: At the end of my marine biology studies, I was working in a French marine protected area. I had one of my first cameras with me and I took some photos of a very small fish that was around 3cm long. I thought that this fish might be something special, I felt that it was maybe something new. After doing a bit of research, we realised that it was the first time this fish was photographed and described in this place. It was my first discovery. I was still a student and I didn’t realise at the time just how important the discovery was for myself and my self-confidence. Thanks to this little fish, I think I felt that this passion of mine could turn into my job. If I’m able to find something new in a place so well-studied, maybe that means I can continue with it. That’s also why my company is called Andromède Océanologie today. It’s named after the fish, the Andromeda Goby. O M: W H AT ’ S N E XT F OR YOU ? ARE T HERE ANY OTH ER GOMBESSA EXP EDITIONS P LANNED? LB: Quite a big expedition started last summer. I thought it’s going to be one big expedition, but it will need at least another campaign this summer. It’s based on a discovery made ten years ago by the University of Corsica in Corte. During an oceanographic mapping mission without divers, they found these huge rings with 20m diameters at depths of 120m. There is no explanation for them yet. There are 1,200 of these rings and they can’t be found anywhere else in the world. It’s a great mystery so I thought we should see if science, adventure and art can help find out what it is. The rings are completely offshore and hard to reach. We did just do a single dive two years ago. And wow, when I saw this thing, it was like aliens were there before. It didn’t look natural. There were these massive circles drawn on the bottom. Most of the time they had a little stone in the middle with some sea fan on top. Very strange sea fans never seen before. And I thought to myself: That’s perfect. There’s a mystery, there is science to do, there are new images to be taken. We brought back what we call the deep station that enabled us to stay at the bottom of the Mediterranean for 28 days for Planète Méditerranée. We used the same station at this place and spent 20 days there last summer. But it is not enough. The problem is quite hard to solve so we want to go again next summer. And then, after a new mission, we should have the answer. That could make for a very nice documentary, because, once again it’s not about beauty, it’s really about mystery. It’s quite exciting! O M: IS T H E RE ON E I M AGE T H AT YOU WOULD LOVE TO TAKE? LB: There are over 200,000 species already described and I think less than 20% of these have been photographed. Moreover, scientists believe that there are at least 2 million species that still need to be described. I would love to take the first photo of a giant squid. The giant squid with a small diver next to it – that would be great. But where to do that? How to do that? The mystery here is big, but how would we do the scientific study? How would we do the diving challenge? It’s easy to have aims but it’s not easy to realise them all the time.

Oceanographic Issue 23

BEHIND THE LENS

Antarctica Weddell seals use cracks in the ice to slide into the water and navigate their way through Antarctica's frozen maze. Image photographed at 2m deep.

France Veined squid mating. Witnessing this event is a huge privilege as is only happens once in the squids' lives. Soon after the event, they will die. Image photographed at 68m deep.

France Narwal shrimps are social animals. They communicate by touching each other with their long antennas. The message can travel from one end of the group all the way to the other. Image photographed at 78m deep.

Antarctica The first photograph ever taken of the hidden face of an iceberg. This one was caught in the ice floe. Image photographed at 30m deep.

France This enigmatic fish, a stargazer, is found near shore. Be careful where you walk! Image photographed at 20m deep.

France While this image may look like a meadow of flowers, it is in fact a mass of Sabella worms feeding in a current. Image photographed at 72m deep.

French Polynesia A shark patrols amongst a school of fusiliers. The fusiliers arrive in numbers during the grouper mating season in Fakarava, awaiting the bounty of eggs for an easy meal.

France A cluster of shallowtail seapearch gather like a bouquet of roses. Image photographed at 78m deep.

French Polynesia Fakarava is the only known place in the world were sharks hunt in a pack. When prey is caught, however, the successful predator swims away from the pack in the hope of keeping it a meal for one. Image photographed at 30m deep.

France Ancient wrecks are full of mystery and magic, and filled with history and inhabitants. Image photographed at 104m deep.

French Polynesia The mating of surgeonfish happens right under the surface, every new and full moon. On this particular day the low sunlight and clear water made it look like fireworks. Image photographed at 30m deep.

South Africa Amphipods and the ultimate travelling companion – it takes them places and feeds them as the same time. Image photographed at 30m deep.

Behind the lens LAURENT BALLESTA French Polynesia A cloud of eggs forms a question mark as marble groupers mate – a fitting symbol as only one in a million will make it back to the reef and become an adult able to reproduce. This image won the Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2021. Image photographed at 30m deep.

Taking the first image of a coelacanth, diving with over 700 hunting sharks at night, or undertaking the longest and deepest dive in Antarctica: Laurent is an explorer through and through. As a marine scientist, award-winning underwater photographer and pioneering deep diver, he dares to go where nobody has been before, capturing stunning images as a naturalist and artist along the way. He co-founded Andromède Océanologie and leads the Gombessa project that seeks to study some of the rarest marine phenomena and creatures on the planet. In 2021, he won the Wildlife Photographer of the Year Adult Grand Title for his iconic grouper spawning image.

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UNCENSORED

closer to nature Kakadu National Park in Australia’s Northern Territory is home to more than 10,000 crocodiles. Covering almost 20,000 km2, it is one of the last truly wild places on Earth. Wo rd s a n d p h o t o g ra p h s b y L e w i s B u rn e t t

Oceanographic Issue 23

F E AT U R E

“With more than 10,000 crocodiles in Kakadu National Park, it doesn't take us very long to find our first.”

Oceanographic Issue 12

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ABOVE: The eye of a 'salty' sits just above the water line as the sun sets over Ngurrungurrudjba. LEFT: One of the dominant males guards his kill on the river bank, preventing us from coming any closer. PREVIOUS PAGE: A large male saltwater crocodile patrols his patch of the billabong as the sun sets and his day begins.

aking up well before sunrise, the cold, humid air hangs heavy around the tent. Quietly we get the boat ready for its sunrise mission in the Ngurrungurrudjba wetlands in the heart of Kakadu National Park in Australia’s Northern Territory. Trying our best to avoid standing still for too long in the hopes that it will make the slightest difference with the everpersistent army of mosquitoes attacking us, we pack the final things needed for a morning out photographing the wildlife that call these ancient wetlands home. The fragrance of damp melaleuca leaves drifts through the camp as we go over everything one last time. The short drive down to the boat ramp is spent peering over the steering wheel, trying to avoid the numerous frogs scattered across the road. Just as the first tendrils of light begin to break through the clouds in the distance, we begin the well-rehearsed ordeal of launching a four-metre boat in a waterway inhabited by five-metre crocodiles. There’s nothing quite like the level of paranoia felt when wading through muddy swamp water covered in thick reed beds, knowing that only yesterday a crocodile big enough to eat you was lying right where you’re currently standing. Courageously, my partner gets in the boat whilst it's still on dry land, claiming “it will be safer if I’m watching from up here”. I laugh nervously and ask her to use her head-torch to keep an eye out. After a couple of tense moments scanning the inky black water surface for a crocodile’s reflective eyes, I have a short burst of confidence and manage to launch our little boat Kapi into the water.

Kakadu is a magical place, full of surprises and a diversity of experiences. It’s hard to not walk away feeling like the park has changed you in some way. Perhaps it's the ancient landscapes, the vast open wetlands and savannah woodlands, edged by stone country and its towering cliffs to the east. Perhaps it's because the Kakadu region is home to the oldest living culture on our planet, the Bininj and Mungguy. Their vibrant cultural practices are still shared with visitors from all over the world. The minutes before sunrise on Ngurrungurrudjba (Yellow Water billabong) are spectacular. Thousands of birds begin their beautiful dawn chorus as the mist begins to lift, revealing a vast expanse of greens and blues as far as the eye can see. Flocks of magpie geese race overhead, returning to their feeding grounds from the safety of their night's perch in the paperbark forests that spill onto the wetlands. The surface of the billabong ripples as hundreds of fish jostle for a morning snack and the mangrove trees that line the banks begin to rustle. The skies shift through a range of dreamy pastels as the first rays of morning sunlight bring the wetlands to life. The day has just begun for us but it's already coming to an end for our main target out here, the Indo-Pacific estuarine crocodile. As a nocturnal species, they are only active in the first and last hours of daylight and spend the rest of the day basking in the sun, soaking up as much warmth as they can. With more than 10,000 crocodiles in Kakadu National Park, it doesn't take us very long to find our first, a three-metre juvenile patrolling its small patch of turf on the South Alligator River. The golden light shimmers off

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its ridged scutes as it slowly sinks into the water leaving barely a ripple. It has always fascinated me how these big animals can cause almost no disturbance to the water surface. Crocodiles have been around since the time of the dinosaurs – millions of years to evolve into a super predator, millions of years for every aspect of its prehistoric design to be refined and perfected. It’s often said that, with a brain the size of a walnut, the crocodile relies more on instinct than on intelligence. This can be seen in their elaborate hunting strategy that they have perfected with every sense for an existence at the top of the food chain. They are ambush predators that lay and wait for hours on end, hoping that an animal will come down to the water to drink in the exact spot where they are waiting, submerged amongst the reeds. There's an old saying here in Australia, “never fish in the same spot twice”, and with these super predators potentially lurking only feet below the water's surface, it's easy to see why. There's something visceral about being so close to these living relics. I’ve always thought that the majority of things you hear about the world's apex predators are often exaggerated and that they aren't the man-eating monsters they are so often made out to be. In Australia, our most famous villain is the shark. For some reason, sharks are the Australian’s biggest enemy – a feeling that is deeply ingrained in the Australian psyche. As an underwater photographer, I know this not to be true. A large part of my career has been spent helping to change the public perception about apex predators. That said, the more time I spend with the infamous ‘salty’ of our northern waters, the more I realise that pretty much everything you hear about them is in fact true. These animals have had so long to evolve that they truly have become the ultimate predator of our waterways. They most likely would eat us if we fell in. With that thought in my mind, we set about our mission of exploring the waterways. After an hour of winding our way through the river system, my partner catches sight of some splashing in the water up ahead. We press on excitedly and soon see a number of large crocodiles near the riverbank. They seem to be feeding on something in the water. We bring our small boat closer, and I take up position on the bow to start photographing the event. It doesn’t take long to figure out that we’ve hit the jackpot - three huge males jostling for prime position and their meal in perfect morning light. The largest male in the group soon dominates the smaller ones and begins to pull out the intestines of the buffalo carcass they were scrapping over. Unlike us, crocodiles don’t have hands to position their food with. They are also unable to swallow underwater for fear of drowning. This usually leads to them dragging a kill out onto the riverbank or, in our case, tossing the food up in the air in an attempt to reposition and swallow the remains. After some tense moments of aggression Ngurrungurrudjba from the air, an endless horizon of billabongs, rivers and floodplains.

“Kakadu is a magical place, full of surprises and a diversity of experiences. It’s hard to not walk away feeling like the park has changed you in some way."

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“What my camera couldn't capture, however, was the sickening noise as the giant, intestine-filled jaws snapped shut.”

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LEFT: One of the resident crocodiles devouring the intestines of a feral buffalo. TOP: A mating pair of 'marrawuddi' or white-bellied sea eagles take off from their morning perch overlooking the wetlands. BOTTOM: A female black-necked stork posing in the early morning light.

between the other crocodiles, we watched the almost fivemetre dinosaur rear out of the water, lifting its giant jaws up to crush the innards of the buffalo and swallow them whole. Truly one of the most gruesome sights of nature I’ve ever seen, I was happy to have captured it through my camera. What my camera couldn't capture, however, was the sickening noise as the giant, intestine-filled jaws snapped shut and the sobering stench of death that hung low and heavy over the billabong. Watching these dinosaurs fight for food highlighted how important it is for us humans to experience raw and uncensored natural events. We live in such a filtered world that experiencing natural events like this one is rare – too shocking for public consumption. But the reality is that witnessing the food chain in action helps ground us and better connect us to the natural world. Engrossed in this spectacle of nature, we had both failed to keep an eye on our surroundings. After more than an hour of feeling like we were in a David Attenborough documentary, we failed to notice another large male crocodile that had surfaced right next to our boat. My partner alerted me to the presence that was lurking within striking distance, and it didn’t take long for me to place the camera down and shift to the other side of the boat. How could an animal this large surface less than a metre from us without us knowing? Its beady eyes stared at us as it arched its back and hissed from its snout, giving us a clear indication it wasn’t enjoying our presence. We kicked our rickety little aluminium boat into reverse and backed off. Still pumped full of adrenaline we continued to watch as these mighty animals devoured the remaining parts of the buffalo and dragged themselves out onto the bank to rest in the sun for the remainder of the day. Ngurrungurrudjba isn’t all blood, guts, teeth and scales. There is a phenomenal amount of bird life to observe too. With almost 300 species of birds found seasonally, it's a hot spot for twitchers and photographers hoping to catch some of the Top End’s wetland species in action. From the giant black-necked stork (jabiru) to the tiny azure kingfisher or the brightly coloured rainbow bee-eaters, there’s plenty of feathered life to find on the river system. The mighty ‘marrawuddi’ or white-bellied sea eagle is by far the most spectacular. With a wingspan of more than two metres, they are an impressive bird to watch hunt, diving from their perch to snatch an unsuspecting mullet or catfish from the muddy brown waters below. What is it about wild places that allows us to feel such a deep connection to nature? For the past five years I have had the privilege of working as a wildlife tour guide in some of Australia's most spectacular destinations. Sharing these wild events with people from all over the world is rewarding but it always surprises me how much the average person has grown apart from nature. I believe that it's the disconnect with the natural world that is at the root of the many problems we are facing. We should all seek a life closer to nature, guts and all.

Oceanographic Issue 23

Column

By Lizzie Daly

The biologist HOME SPIRIT

fell in love with the sea on my first summer visit to Pembrokeshire, Wales. The fuzzy feeling of the bubbling tide as it wrapped itself around my numb feet. The glow of the sun as I bobbed around in the murky waves. It felt so invigorating. That feeling has never gone away. Wales is home to 870 miles of jaw dropping coastline: sand dunes, vast estuaries, towering cliffs and ancient bedrock. During low tide at Marros Beach in Carmarthenshire, the sea retreats to reveal an ancient, submerged forest that dates back to before the last ice age more than 13,000 years ago – a time when the Bristol Channel would have been a great plain linking the British Isles to the European mainland. Every summer, Skomer Island welcomes back half a million Manx shearwaters that have just made the 7,000-mile migratory journey to South America and back to breed. I feel lucky to call Wales my home. Despite all of the natural beauty, the thing that makes the Welsh sea so spectacular, to me, is the people. One Welsh tale speaks of Dylan, an envious sea god, who sent a huge wave to steal an old man’s three daughters. He regretted his evil deed and turned the girls into gulls, belonging both to the sea and the land. Ocean folklore is perhaps the finest reminder of our ancient connection with the sea. As a scientist and wildlife filmmaker, I’ve had the privilege of meeting people from all over Wales, learning their stories. Last summer I spent time out in the Celtic Deep with a fisherman called Fen. He has worked on Wales’ waters for more than 30 years, moving from trawlerman to shark snorkeller. He is a man with a big heart, a quick wit and a curious spirit – a surprising and satisfying contrast to the harsh environment he spends his days in. On another occasion, I was called about a washed-up, critically endangered Kemp's ridley turtle. As I arrived to the local beach, the air fresh after a storm, I was met by a local jewellery maker who lived at the water’s edge. Open- and ocean-spirited, she welcomed me into her home and studio. She shared her story, how the sea serves as a constant source of inspiration in both life and work. In November 2021, I sat at the heart of COP26. It was Ocean Day. I was nervous. As I sat opposite Vice President Al Gore, surrounded by his security team, he asked me if I knew the “lovely journalist Kathy from Wales who lives on the south coast”. You may think asking if I know one particular Welsh person is a little odd, but actually his request spoke to me, resonating with the communityfocussed and grounded connectedness of the Welsh people, especially those of us filled with the spirit of the sea. Now, it’s winter. Standing on Southerndown Beach, everything is calm and grey (obviously). All I can hear is the wind and a distant pair of choughs. As I look out, I wonder how we are going to achieve real change for our sea. I realise that my hope for change does not rely on political discussions and climate agreements, a stream of video calls or written policies. It relies on people. People who have determined and positive spirits, who want to make change, from journalists to jewellery makers and everyone in between. As I breathe in the salty air around me, I feel buoyed by the community I have around me, big-hearted and connected. I feel energised. I feel hope. LD

About Lizzie Lizzie is a wildlife presenter, filmmaker and Animal Movements PhD Scientist. She has worked on productions for COP26, the BBC, National Geographic, Animal Planet and more. She has always had a passion for the ocean and continues to celebrate Welsh wildlife.

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@lizziedalywild

@LizzieDalyWild

“I feel buoyed by the community I have around me, big-hearted and connected. I feel energised. I feel hope.”

Southerndown beach, Wales.

Oceanographic Issue 23

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Oceanographic Issue 23

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COMMUNITY

coral conservation In the mainly patriarchal society of Papua New Guinea, women are at the forefront of protecting some of the world’s healthiest coral reefs, thereby challenging the status quo – above and below the surface.

Wo rd s b y N a n e S t e i n h o ff P h o t o g ra p h s b y A n d y L e w i s & L i n d a B e r r y

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school of powder blue tang swims back and forth in excited unison on its quest to find the next meal. Yellow butterfly fish dart in and out of colourful coral unimpressed by the human presence swimming above them. In the distance, a large group of big-eyed barracuda hangs out on the reef edge. A turtle flaps its fins to dart off into the deep blue distance and thousands of small, multi-coloured fish dance above the vibrant brain, staghorn and soft corals. Upon taking a closer look at the varied underwater landscape, spinecheek anemonefish hide within the swaying arms of translucent bulb-tentacle sea anemones. The coral density and its health in this special place is one of the world’s most astonishing. Equipped with a short wetsuit, a snorkel, pair of fins and a camera, Naomi Longa swims over the coral reef with her colleague, surveying the reef using a variation of the common 50m x 5m visual transect survey method. While Longa swims at the front, she counts the many fishes that are relevant to the area. Her colleague follows closely behind, carefully taking a set of geotagged images every five metres. “The Sea Women of Melanesia programme was started in 2016 by Dr Andy Lewis,” explains Longa, the team leader of the Sea Women of Melanesia programme and adds: “We empower these women by training them with basic reef survey techniques so that they are able to find an ideal area for a marine reserve in their community. We usually start with snorkelling training, and then once I see that the women are confident in the water, we do the survey technique. After I train them, I can see a very big difference. They can all swim confidently in the water, they can I.D. the fish and they can identify the corals. Once they finish the training, they’re going to go back to their own community and they’re going to do the survey in their own reefs, while talking to the village elders about what they learn.” The Coral Sea Foundation, an Australian not-for-profit organisation is working with Melanesian women like Longa to better assess and protect the local reefs through the Sea Women of Melanesia programme which is aimed at training local women to help the indigenous people of Melanesia to better look after their marine resources. Papua New Guinea lies in the southwestern Pacific. The country is made up of New Guinea’s eastern half and numerous small offshore islands. With rich cultural heritage, traditional tribal villages, different spoken languages and a rich biological diversity, dense rainforests, and active volcanoes, it is a country of exceptional beauty and contrast. Pristine beaches and some of the world’s healthiest coral reefs dot the country that lies within the famous Coral Triangle. Low human population and geographic isolation of most of the islands have preserved healthy ocean ecosystems in the region that sport over three-quarters of the world’s hard corals, around 2,000 reef fish species as well as at least 131 kinds of rays and sharks. Papua New Guinea’s reefs are generally healthy, according to Dr Andy Lewis, founder and executive director of the Coral Sea Foundation: “If the reefs are near large centres of population, they’re overfished. However, they haven’t suffered as many bleaching events as other places in the last five to ten years. It’s a huge archipelago. If you’re away from people, the health of the reefs is generally pretty good. Sharks and the bigger elements of the fish populations have been overfished and there are very few functioning marine protected areas in the country but in terms of their biodiversity, these reefs are still some of the world’s most stunning, and they probably will be for some time to come.” With coastline more than 10,000 miles long and approximately 1,205,000 square miles of marine waters, coastal communities in Papua New Guinea have relied on the ocean for food and cultural purposes for millennia. With growing modernisation and globalisation, however, traditional fishing techniques increasingly give way to industrial fishing activities. “Reefs near where people live are chronically overfished. On some, only small damselfish are left and anything edible has been taken off,” explains Dr Lewis. “Where there’s industry and oil palm plantations, where the region’s heavy rainfall washes sediments into the ocean, we’re seeing coastal degradation.” Additional threats to marine environments come from coral bleaching events, crown of thorn starfish outbreaks as well as the widespread chewing of betel nuts which utilises lime from coral reefs. These threats, combined with the fact that not much research has been conducted about the vast and diverse marine habitats of the country that include shallow mangroves, estuaries and reefs, abyssal plains, sea mounts as well as hydrothermal vents, is a major cause of concern. But the Sea Women of Melanesia not-for-profit association is banking on a community-centred approach to turn the tide and protect vast expanses of Papua New Guinea’s marine life. The general idea: to train indigenous women who can proactively map reefs and turn these into marine reserves. Dr Lewis explains: “When I was working in Papua New Guinea, many young women in the communities requested to learn more about marine biology. I realised that around 70% of students in biology and environmental sciences courses at universities in Papua New Guinea were women so there was this huge resource of young, environmentally aware women who were passionate conservationists but didn’t know how to get into it

PREVIOUS: A yellow gorgonian coral from the Swinger Passage, Papua New Guinea. THIS PAGE: A clownfish in a magnificent sea anemone in the Nua Marine Reserve Network, Ferguson Island, Papua New Guinea.

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and what to do. That was the main impetus for the start of the project.” As the first woman to be trained by the programme, Lorie Pipiga remembers: “I was born in a village near Sebutuia Bay, surrounded by rainforest and coral reefs. These ecosystems have provided food and resources for my people for thousands of years. One day, a logging company came to Sebutuia Bay and began producing roads through the rainforest, cutting timber, and disturbing the environment. They silenced opposition from our community with money and bribes. I saw my own people losing the benefits provided by the land and saw the waste and soil from the logging spoiling the coral reefs in the bay.” After joining the Sea Women of Melanesia project, she flew out to Australia to learn scuba diving and marine biology with the Coral Sea Foundation. Today, she is using her skills to set up the first marine park in her area and teaches her community to protect their own resources sustainably. The aim of Sea Women of Melanesia is to have the women lead the process of marine reserve creation at a grassroots level in their communities. “In other words, they’re the facilitators that let the community know what the benefits of a marine reserve are, how they are set up and how they get registered with the government,” says Dr Lewis. “At a community level, the women already do most of the work in terms of getting food, managing food, looking after gardens, looking after kids and the household. So, in that sense, they’re already thinking along a sustainable and conservation sort of framework,” explains Dr Lewis. And because Papua New Guinea is so culturally diverse the approach simply makes sense. “If we go into an area and try to convince local people to put in a marine reserve, the first thing we have to understand is the culture of that particular area. There are more than 800 different language groups in Papua New Guinea so you can never hope to know all the cultural aspects of the country. The best way to understand this information is through Papua New Guinean women in our team that go into these villages and talk to other women from those areas. Through that dialogue, they are able to gather important information on who owns the reef, where and when the fishing takes place and whether there are any disputes over who owns what reef, the internal politics of the area. Getting that information is crucial to be able to do good marine conservation work,” says Dr Lewis. And the female approach works – despite Papua New Guinea still being a patriarchal society. Women in the region are still not considered equal to men, and they are scarcely represented in government and industry settings. Furthermore, according to The Guardian, 15,444 cases of domestic violence were reported in 2020 in Papua New Guinea, while only 250 people were prosecuted and only

TOP: Deba Point, Ferguson Island, Milne Bay Province. MIDDLE: A leatherback turtle feeding on jellyfish. BOTTOM: Reef survey training.

“Low human population and geographic isolation of most of the islands have preserved healthy ocean ecosystems in the region.”

100 were convicted. In some parts of the country, women aren’t allowed to dive. “Of course, there was potential for men in position of power to get their noses out of joint,” says Dr Lewis. “But that didn’t really happen. It has been well-received. Local people can see that their marine resources are getting depleted, so we haven’t had to sell the idea of marine reserves. In fact, we had far more people asking us to help them set up marine reserves than we have the resources for. To see that we’re getting towards that point now where regional officers and team leaders begin to train other women is fantastic.” The efforts have recently been awarded by the United Nations' Champions of the Earth awards – a prize that seeks to recognise outstanding environmental leaders from all walks of life. Dr Lewis says: “Let’s face it, it might look idyllic with its blue water, coconut palms and lovely jungle islands but it is Papua New Guinea. Every possible disease you can imagine is there and without a little bit of medical aid, life in those villages can be very difficult. Supplies are hard to get and the security situation didn’t get any better throughout the pandemic. The women are doing all this conservation work constantly thinking about their security, sea piracy and land piracy. To have that recognised at an international level, and to see the validity of the project recognised through that award, means a lot.” Scaling up, in a sustainable way, is the organisation’s current main objective. “With three regional offices and only a small core team of women that are driving the programme, we are still small,” explains Dr Lewis. After expanding the programme in Papua New Guinea, eyes are set for expansion into the Solomon Islands “because between Papua New Guinea and the Solomons, those two places currently have the greatest, most important and most biodiverse reefs”. Of course, expanding requires funding, more management expertise as well as more people on the ground. “If we can continue to build a good team of people and continue to attract the support of good people, the sky is the limit. Within five to ten years, I would love to see a network of Sea Women programmes all around the South Pacific, supported by vessels and government agencies that are really getting on with the job of turning 30% of this area into reserves. The quicker we do it the better. There’s no time to waste.”

Oceanographic Issue 23

Column

By Hugo Tagholm

NEW WAVE PROTEST

PEOPLE MUST RISE FASTER THAN THE TIDE

here’s little doubt that activism and protest must play a bigger part in standing up for Planet Ocean in this most important of environmental decades. Communities around the world are not only witnessing the impacts of a global system wreaking havoc on the natural world, but increasingly feeling the direct effects on the air, water and biodiversity that we all rely on. Since the industrial revolution, developed nations and industries have largely been able to hide these impacts from the electorate, holding them back behind a wall of secrecy and spin, ensuring that only a clean, safe and thriving planet was ever presented to maintain the status quo. The disenfranchised were ignored and left to deal with the worst effects of the economy that has created an unmanageable debt to nature and devastating toll on people. This façade is now crumbling, as the stories and statistics of pollution, poverty, inequality, climate chaos and biodiversity loss unfold faster than melting glaciers.

There’s little that can now hold back the rising tide of evidence that shows us all that change is required on an unprecedented scale and pace. As ocean lovers, we can be some of the first to witness these environmental issues. The activities and sports that we have the privilege to enjoy along the littoral zone - cutting across oceans and diving in the deep blue depths - are where many of these problems first manifest. The haemorrhaging of the global plastics industry revealed itself on remote islands and in the stomachs of whales; seabirds slick with oil desperately trying to break free; indigenous fishing communities unable to make ends meet as industrial factory ships siphon up sea life for pet food; rivers filled with chemicals and sewage; king tides extending their kingdoms to where people could once prosper, clawing back the land. Be under no illusion, the ocean is being systematically decimated by the nefarious forces of big business, poor regulation and weak legislation. Industrial fishing fleets, oil exploration, deep sea mining, sewage and agricultural run-off, and runaway plastic production, alongside the impacts of climate change are killing some of the richest, wildest remaining ecosystems on the planet. I believe it’s our duty to use our experiences to drive action. To help those without a platform to

The ocean activist

Activists at COP26.

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tell their stories. To give a voice to the voiceless. To collect evidence and document environmental vandalism. To seek out the corporate abuse of people or planet. To protest on our beaches and streets. This surely has to be part of the deal for the experiences we are so lucky to have in the global ocean? There is thankfully a new rising tide of organisations propagating this type of purposeful adventure, connecting the outdoors experiences with building a movement for positive, sustainable change. From surf activists stopping Big Oil in Australia with the Fight for the Bight campaign, investigative journalists driving global public behaviour change via the award-winning Seaspiracy documentary, Greenpeace dropping boulders in the North Sea to stop industrial factory fishing boats, the Break Free from Plastic movement challenging plastics manufacturers in the Global South, and the rise of the youth climate movement connecting environmental, social and ocean justice, I’m excited to see the growing global movement for a bluer and better world. A true ocean rebellion unfolding around the world. This is a fast-evolving and agile movement, a RIB that is manoeuvring around an establishment more akin to an oil tanker. An establishment that doesn’t necessarily want to change as fast as it might

@hugoSAS

proclaim. Throughout last year, we heard lofty claims from global governments about climate and ocean commitments, however we still need to see this turn into action. They must turn the ship faster, as we must bring more RIBs to the water to force this change. Together, we must continue to demand action from global governments. We must call for climate and biodiversity targets to be met. We must call for more ambition on both the scale and pace of ocean conservation and restoration. We must call relentlessly for the transition to business that is good for Planet Ocean. We must put environmental villains out of business. And we must protect the most vulnerable and marginalised. I believe that by empowering communities, we can change these systems and structures that are destroying marine habitats worldwide. I believe that through building, educating, empowering, supporting and connecting diverse communities we can drive faster impact. I believe that people coming together through grassroots campaigns can help create an unstoppable movement to revive the ocean and allow all those who depend on it to thrive. I believe we must protest to deliver the world we want to see. We can all be ocean activists. Turn your experiences into action. HT

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

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unseen world As a crucial source of food to many aquatic organisms, plankton plays an important role in balancing ocean health and the food web. Despite their significance, these miniscule critters are rarely seen up-close.

Wo rd s a n d p h o t o g ra p h s b y Ja n v a n I j ke n

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ince plankton caught my attention a few years ago, I have been fascinated by these minute creatures. Their variation in bizarre shapes, vibrant colours and delicate structures is endless. Because they are often transparent, you can see their inner organelles and body parts in function. The types of plankton are extremely numerous; in certain blooms, they are even visible from space. Yet only a few people are aware of their immense beauty because the creatures are invisible to the naked eye. Only through a microscope can they be observed. For me, the exquisite beauty and importance of these little-known creatures was reason enough to start a photo and film project uncovering this unseen microcosm. It would take me more than three years to finish the project that is now called Planktonium, but the basic idea behind the film and photo series was to show the plankton as living organisms in all their splendid beauty, colours and fine details. To collect the plankton, I went out into nature equipped with a basic plankton net with a mesh width of 30mu (1 mu/micron is equivalent to 0.001mm). An attached rope allowed me to throw it out in the water. I decided to take samples in different types of water in The Netherlands, including small freshwater ponds in the dunes, forest lakes, the marine environment of the North Sea as well as the brackish Grevelingenmeer, a large saltwater lake. Surprisingly often, I found unexpected and interesting species in the most obscure and overlooked small ponds. Every water seemed to have its own biotope in which the organisms have adapted perfectly to their environment. Sometimes animals like the rotifer, also called wheel animalcule, adopt the colour of their surroundings. These microscopic aquatic invertebrates would, for example, turn brown in a forest pond setting. My organism catches were diverse, and I was constantly surprised by my findings. I caught plenty of wonderful diatoms (types of phytoplankton), eggs and larvae of sea creatures floating in the plankton in the North Sea. One of the most intriguing species of diatoms I found were the Bacillaria paxillifer, also called carpenter’s rule diatom. These colonial, motile diatoms form the most wonderful and bizarre shapes while being attached to their neighbours. In the brackish waters of the Dutch province of Zeeland, I found the most beautiful colonial diatoms (Licomphora flabellata) as well as tube-dwelling diatoms. I also travelled to many remote freshwater ponds, puddles and lakes where I found very different species of water fleas, rotifers and copepods. The latter sometimes had peritriches or diatoms attached. Further species I found included ostracods, testate amoebae, desmids as well as water mites. One of my main observations during the sample collection: the colours and body structures of the species varied significantly between different waters. Some plankton species are capable of incredible PREVIOUS: Licmophora flabellata (colonial diatoms) primarily grow on seaweed and form fan-like structures. RIGHT: The transparent larva of a midge, also called Chaoborus or glassworm, can be found in lakes all over the world.

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BECAUSE THEY ARE OFTEN TRANSPARENT, YOU CAN SEE THEIR INNER ORGANELLES AND BODY PARTS IN FUNCTION.

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MAIN IMAGE: Tube-dwelling diatoms produce mucilage which is consolidated into a tubular structure around the cells. Interestingly, within the tube individual cells move and divide. TOP: This water flea (Diaphanosoma) has a compound eye in the middle of its head. Here, it carries two eggs. MIDDLE: Ostracods, or ostracodes, are also known as seed shrimp. Some 70,000 species have been identified. BOTTOM: This desmid (Euastrum humerosum) can mostly, but not exclusively, be found in freshwater.

TOP: Radiolaria have been around for around 500 million years. These living fossils have a skeleton made of silica and they catch food with their long cell membrane bulges. MIDDLE: The protrusions at the ends of the Ditylum brightwellii diatom help it float. BOTTOM: An obelia in its polyp stage. In their life cycle, obelias go through polyp and medusa stages.

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CERTAIN WATER FLEAS CAN GIVE BIRTH BY PARTHENOGENESIS. SOME SPECIES OF ROTIFERS CAN SHRINK THEMSELVES TO FORM A VERY TINY CYST IN WHICH THEY CAN SURVIVE DOZENS OF YEARS OF DROUGHT.

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things. As an example, certain water fleas can give virgin birth by parthenogenesis. Some species of rotifers can shrink themselves to form a very tiny cyst in which they can survive dozens of years of drought before they revive again when conditions are favourable. My film Planktonium depicts a scene of the water flea Polyphemus pediculus giving birth to live offspring. It still astonishes me that a creature this small – it is invisible to the naked eye, so I enlarged it 100 to 200 times – can be pregnant with multiple developing embryos and is able to give birth to live offspring. But plankton is not only interesting and beautiful to watch, it also does even bigger and more impressive things: Some organisms have been around for millions of years and are often referred to as the source of all life. Furthermore, ancient organisms such as cyanobacteria can still be found in unchanged form in our waters today. While the term ‘plankton’ is derived from the Greek word of ‘planktos’, meaning wandering or drifting, any living creature floating in the ocean or in bodies of freshwater is classified as plankton. Plankton can vary in size, it can come in the form of small bacteria or take the shape of very long siphonophores, it can describe free floating eggs as well as embryos and larvae of various marine animals such as molluscs and fish. Phytoplankton (plant-like single-celled bacteria and microalgae) are the primary producers of the oceans and produce half of all oxygen on Earth. To do so, they use the process of photosynthesis, just like plants and trees on land do. These small herbivores are then eaten by larger predatory zooplankton like copepods and crab larvae. And by eating the phytoplankton, zooplankton such as single-celled ciliates are the primary consumers in the sea. Plankton forms the basis of the aquatic food web and without it there would be no fish at all. Plankton also plays a very important role in the global carbon cycle and affects the Earth’s climate. Without the myriad creatures, the oceans would be empty of life, and we would have no oil or gas reserves. However, plankton is threatened by global climate change, rising sea temperatures, changing ocean currents and acidification of the oceans. These changes bring consequences for the abundance, the distribution and seasonality of plankton. It may have a big impact on the marine food web, the distribution and migration routes of species and the ecology of our planet and on ourselves. Through my film Planktonium, I take the viewer on a journey to a hidden universe, full of strange and alienlike creatures. I decided to not include commentary or voice-over in the film so that the viewers can fully immerse themselves in this unknown world. It is a beautiful medium to combine art and science, consisting of a combination of time-lapse and video scenes.

While the time-lapses visualise the movement in the phytoplankton such as diatoms, desmids and testate amoebae, the recorded video shows the fluid movement of other organisms such as the diatom Bacillaria. After collecting the plankton samples, I started investigating my catch with a stereomicroscope. Then I would make selections of organisms, take them out of the water with a pipette and start preparing a sample on an object glass, covering it with a cover slip. This is a delicate process because most organisms are sensitive to heat. And I had to be careful as the cover glass’s pressure can kill the organisms easily. It was a process of trial and error, discovery and invention. I filmed the plankton with my Sony A7S and A7SII cameras. For photography purposes, I also had a Sony A7RIII with more pixels in my kit to be able to enlarge prints at a later stage. I only chose system cameras with full-frame and very light-sensitive sensors. This enabled me to work in low light situations without having noise in my footage. In the laboratory, I worked with a Leica DM trinocular light microscope with darkfield illumination – a technique that helped to create a dark background. In my opinion, this gives the best possible contrast and creates unity in the footage. I did not use additional techniques such as polarisation or fluorescence because I wanted to reproduce all colours as naturally as possible. For the photo series I often used a technique called focus stacking: by combining multiple photos with different focal points, one sharp image can be obtained. On December 31 of 2020 I set myself a deadline to stop the sampling, filming and photographing process. The plankton is infinitely interesting and I could have gone on for years. But there was a movie to produce, so I started editing. This was no easy job because of the large amount and enormous diversity of the visual material. It meant an endless process of selection; kill your darlings, and then kill the others. Planktonium is 15 minutes long. I see my film more as an art film than as an educational or science film, although it can be used that way. As for the sound, I knew from the beginning that I didn't want to use music in the film. I used underwater sounds instead. Jana Winderen, a renowned Norwegian sound artist, has specialised in making underwater sound recordings with hydrophones for more than 20 years. Her practice pays particular attention to audio environments and to creatures which are hard for humans to access, both physically and aurally – deep under water, under thick ice blankets or in frequency ranges inaudible to the human ear. She saw my footage and was immediately prepared to make a sound composition for my film. A fantastic collaboration, picture and sound matched perfectly, an homage to the sheer beauty and diversity of plankton.

A water flea (Daphnia pulex) carrying embryos and peritrichs. These organisms reproduce both sexually and asexually in a process called parthenogenesis. They can be found in almost any permanent body of freshwater. Daphnia pulex reproduces both sexually and asexually in a process called parthenogenesis, where male gametes are unnecessary.

Oceanographic Issue 23

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WINDOW TO ADVENTURE

With 32 different combinations available you can build your perfect mask at:

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Photo by Bastien Soleil

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Spelunkers: Incomparable. Indomitable. Unpronounceable Let’s hear it for the ‘spelunkers’. The subterranean explorers of the 1970s who did for caving what Jacques Cousteau did for scuba-diving. And the inspiration behind ‘GMT-explorer’ watches, which provided 24-hour timekeeping for light-starved cavers. Now we’ve rewsurrected the genre with the new C63 Sealander GMT. Not only does it boast a twin timezone movement, a hi-vis 24-hour hand and a dial that’s as legible as it is beautiful, but, happily, you don’t have to be a spelunker to wear one.

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SEAMASTER 300 BRONZE GOLD Launched in 1957, the Seamaster 300 represents OMEGA’s first-ever professional divers’ watch. Today’s Co-Axial Master Chronometer update has been crafted in OMEGA’s exclusive Bronze Gold, an ingenious alloy that produces a soft pink hue, as well as incomparable corrosion resistance. With the warm aesthetic of bronze and the luxurious inclusion of gold, this beautiful and unique material is complemented by the watch’s open-Arabic numerals on an aged bronze dial, and a brown ceramic bezel ring with its diving scale in vintage Super-LumiNova.