Of course, being an island nation, we knew the importance of the sea; it provided the fish to go with our chips and for nine hundred years it had protected us from numerous invaders including the Spanish, the French and the Germans. Our national heroes were Walter Raleigh, Horatio Nelson, and although Johnny Foreigner lived overseas, we were proud that our island status afforded refugees asylum from régimes we didn't support.
The seas and oceans had also allowed us to build the empire which spawned the Industrial Revolution and, ultimately, the ecological mess we're all in now. At school we came to admire the explorers and missionaries who, for reasons I no longer support, opened our eyes to the blue yonder and led to my own curiosity and need to travel.
Twenty odd, very odd, years ago, I visited a friend in Fiji. It was halfway round the world from my then home in London, so I had sampled the waves of Goa and Ko Pha Nang en route and discovered that floating in warm water was actually quite pleasant, although lying around on beaches was still very boring. But a beach bar at sunset is idyllic.
When I arrived it was Easter and my friend had included me in her plans for the holidays - a diving trip to some outer islands. I had read the book and seen the movie Jaws but had never had the desire to breath under water, even in Jacques Cousteau's realm. Did you know that snorkelling and snoring are etymologically related?
However, it was important that I should not appear churlish, so I was taken to a local swimming pool in the capital, Suva, and the duck dive was demonstrated to me. Head down, bum up? Nope, this dope couldn't do that.
Eventually, and probably exasperated by this time, my friend drove us to a beach which gently dipped into the warm sea. I donned flippers and was told, yet again, how to wear a mask and breath through a snorkel tube. I dipped my head into the water and saw a few tiny brightly coloured fish mere centimeters away from my nose, which was fortunately protected by my mask.
With my hands grasping the crunched up coral I carefully crawled after these aquarium sized creatures. It was a comfortable thing to do. I was therefore surprised to find myself out of my depth, and, believe me, I'm tall. Yet when I realised that this beach was protected by a coral reef, that the waves were flat and the life below them was visually stunning, and that the sea was warm and nice to float in and ....wow, I was ready for the trip to some outer islands.
I watched as my friend and her buddies paired off, which is what divers should do. I was given a buddy, too, as well as a pair of arm floats. After they had carefully backflipped into the sea below our boat and disappeared, my buddy and I entered and headed for the reef we had anchored next to. The edge of the reef was a massive wall and I couldn't see its base way down in the darkness. I'm generally scared of heights, but with the comforting embrace of the warm sea I knew I could float above it without fear.
I observed how the top of the reef was little more than half a metre from the surface of the water. This was where my buddy headed for with some alacrity when he spotted a couple of sharks up ahead. Not me, no fear, no siree. I followed them as they cruised nonchalantly past the coral garden and the ever-changing clouds of psychedelically-hued fish.
Wow, I thought. I was hooked on nature's hallucinogen.
Later, on another day, I was strapped into the full gear of a half-empty tank and a beltload of weights. Having watched my new found buddies dive below with no apparent fear, I had to try it. Off the back I went and duck dived below the surface. This was easy, I thought, as I inspected my surroundings; if you don't let yourself panic, things are fine. Just don't panic, don't ... panic, .... panic ... which is, of course, what I did.
Ho hum, but never mind, I can still snorkel and duck dive and I have done this since in innumerable sites around Indonesia in the company of turtles, sea snakes and, yes, sharks.
Clown fish among sea anemones in IndonesiaI've also seen reefs destroyed with dynamite, poisoned with cyanide, bleached by global warming and wrecked by the anchors of sightseers and divers.
Mankind supposedly crawled out of this underwater world eons ago. Thanks to the ravages we have wreaked on the planet, it is increasingly likely that we will soon crawl back.
It was reported recently (again) that acidic seas may kill 98% of world's reefs by 2050 .
"Before the industrial revolution over 98% of warm water coral reefs were bathed with open ocean waters 3.5 times supersaturated with aragonite, meaning that corals could easily extract it to build reefs," said Long Cao, a co-author from the Carnegie Institution in Stanford. "If atmospheric carbon dioxide stabilises at 550ppm, and even that would take concerted international effort, no existing coral reef will remain in such an environment."
In the past changes in ocean acidity have caused mass extinction events. According to a study published in the September 2006 issue of Geology, dramatically warmer and more acidic oceans may have contributed to the worst mass extinction on record, the Permian extinction. During the extinction event, which occurred some 250 million years ago, about 95% of ocean's life forms became extinct. The same fate could befall modern day marine life.
The good news is that this eco-system will recover and thrive for a few million years more until the next supposedly intelligent species emerges. Meanwhile, our final moments as the 'superior species' can be postponed.
Rather than being mere sightseers, we can get involved with the communities we pass through.
For example, a new report, Nature’s Investment Bank published by the Nature Conservancy, "conclusively proves that marine protected areas (MPAs) can help alleviate poverty".
The findings, based on academic studies in Fiji and Indonesia among others, provide recommendations for how to protect unique marine life while improving the well-being of impoverished communities who depend on fishing for food and livelihoods.
They found that MPAs can lead to improved fish catches, new jobs, mostly in tourism, and stronger local governance with resulting benefits to health and for women.
Hopefully, these models can be in place before irrevocable damage is done.
Where damage has occurred, a technique, called Biorock™, was developed by the late architect Wolf Hilbertz in order to provide alternative construction materials. He and Tom Goreau of the Global Coral Reef Alliance later developed its use for reef restoration and shore protection.
Biorock Technology, or mineral accretion technology is a method that applies safe, low voltage electrical currents (from solar panels) through seawater, causing dissolved minerals to crystallize on structures, growing into a white limestone similar to that which naturally makes up coral reefs and tropical white sand beaches. This material has a strength similar to concrete. It can be used to make robust artificial reefs on which corals grow at very rapid rates.
Biorock methods speed up coral growth in damaged areas and restore authentic coral reef habitat and species. Biorock structures become rapidly colonized by a full range of coral reef organisms, including fish, crabs, clams, octopuses, lobsters, sea urchins.
So, the next time you explore a reef, give some thought to how it has developed, how fragile it is and ensure that you aren't making more work those who depend on its vitality, the fish, crabs, clams, octopus, lobster, sea urchins.
Oh, and we people.
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Further reading
Reef Relief
What you can do - essential read
Coral Reef Alliance
International Year of the Reef 2008
NB. This post has been written as a contribution to Pelf's Group Writing Project - 31 Ways to Save The Oceans.
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