Oceanographic Magazine / Issue 27 by Oceanographic Magazine

ISSUE

Conservation • Exploration • Adventure

MISSION DEEP UNCOVERING THE SECRETS OF THE MALDIVES

C OLLE C T I O N

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Editor’s Letter "Without knowing what is down t h e re t o p ro t e c t , the arguments for conservation a re w e a ke r. "

Writes Henley Spiers in this issue’s cover story. He joins the Nekton Maldives Mission to find out more about the unexplored depths around the Maldives. The assignment: To conduct the first systematic study in the waters of the world’s lowest-lying ocean nation to inform national policy and environmental research. The cover story is also a fitting summary for this edition as a whole: The importance of work being done by conservationists, marine biologists, scientists, researchers, and individuals to help shed light on undiscovered terrain or unexplored issues to foster change and help build a more sustainable and fair future for all. Following on from Henley’s exciting tale of life deep within the ocean realms, we travel to the Gulf of Eilat/Aqaba. Here, despite sea temperatures rising faster than the global average rate, local coral reefs exhibit remarkable resistance to global warming. A team of researchers is currently trying to establish why these ‘super corals’ exist and what it could mean for other parts of the world. In the Bahamas, changing environmental conditions and human activity threaten the survival of Atlantic spotted dolphins. A curious migration event in 2013 sparked scientists to ask further questions.

Nane Steinhoff Editor

In Mexico, a group of local divers shows the importance of individual action as they explore the deep waters around Los Arcos, a small group of islets on Mexico’s Pacific coast. Finally, we visit the Republic of the Congo. The country recently announced the creation of the country’s first ever MPAs; another great reminder of important work being done around the world to push for change.

@nane_steinhoff @oceano_mag Oceanographicmag

Oceanographic Issue 27

Contents O N T H E C OV E R

FEATURE S

DEEP SEA MISSION

Learning more about the elusive deep sea could help to conserve it. Underwater photographer Henley Spiers joins the Nekton Maldives Mission to help uncover the secrets of the deep.

The Nekton Mission undertakes the first systematic exploration of deep waters around the Maldives. Photograph by Henley Spiers.

Get in touch ED I TO R I A L D I R E C TO R

Will Harrison

ED I TO R

Nane Steinhoff

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

Amelia Costley

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

Hugh Francis Anderson

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

Joanna Kilgour

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

Chris Anson

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YO U R O C E A N IMAGES

@oceanographic_mag @oceano_mag Oceanographicmag

A S S TO C K E D I N

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

ISSN: 2516-5941

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

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S UPE R COR A LS

B I M I NI D O LP H I NS

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.

LOS ARCOS

LONG JOURNEY

Despite sea temperatures rising faster in the Gulf of Eilat/Aqaba than the global average, its coral reefs exhibit remarkable resistance to global warming. Researchers are trying to find out why these ‘super corals’ exist.

In 2013, 52 of a 100-strong pod of Atlantic spotted dolphins left their home in the shallow waters of Little Bahama Bank off Grand Bahama Island and relocated to Bimini. Scientists are trying to establish why and whether this will happen again.

While Los Arcos on Mexico’s Pacific coast is one of the country’s most popular holiday destinations, the protection of this fascinating terrain has long been an afterthought. Local divers urge for long-term conservation efforts.

The Republic of the Congo recently announced the creation of the country’s first ever MPAs. Together, the three new MPAs will protect 4,799km2 of ocean. A shining example for other countries?

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BEHIND TH E L E N S

C O LUMN S

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THE A DVENT U R ER

T HE M A R IN E B IO L O G IS T

In a special edition of Behind the Lens, we take a look at a selection of some of the stunning finalist images from this year's Ocean Photographer of the Year awards, as chosen by our editor.

Cal Major, ocean advocate and founder of the charity Seaful, shares a personal anecdote about why she needs to make time for the sea.

Marine biologist, photographer and writer, Dr Lou Luddington, writes about the significance of whale songs in Guadeloupe near the Cousteau Marine Reserve.

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Jade Hoksbergen Saint Lucia “When I think back to the reefs of Saint Lucia, I remember gently cruising through a landscape generously dotted with multicoloured barrel sponges and tube sponges. Here, a yellowline arrowcrab proudly stands inside a pink barrel sponge." S U P P O RT E D B Y

#MYOCEAN

Théo Maynier Réunion Island “Visible all year around off Réunion Island, it’s always amazing to witness breeding scenes like this one.” S U P P O RT E D B Y

Byron McLoughlin Australia “I knew I would be crushed by this wave so I decided to make the best out of a tricky situation and pointed my camera at it. The water was so glassy that the wave reflected off it.” S U P P O RT E D B Y

#MYOCEAN

Dicky Kasim Indonesia “Diving off Bali, I was thrilled to find a perfectly camouflaged pygmy seahorse clinging onto a gorgonian coral.” S U P P O RT E D B Y

#MYOCEAN

Rapt by the Deep N E K TO N M A L D I V E S M I S S I O N

As the race to mine the deep sea increasingly becomes a cause for concern, learning more about this elusive space could help to conserve it. Underwater photographer Henley Spiers joins the Nekton Maldives Mission to help uncover the secrets of the deep.

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

Oceanographic Issue 27

F E AT U R E

“I

magine having a house but only light on the first step of the stairway…” At a restaurant in Malé, I quiz marine scientist Paris Stefanoudis on the need for deep sea exploration. His analogy strikes a chord. Rather than the vastness of the ocean, I relate more easily to a home, one in my possession and yet one in which I only truly understand the smallest of areas. In such a scenario, how would you realise your home’s full potential? Moreover, working in the dark, how could you make the right decisions to safeguard the blind zones? It’s commonly cited that 71% of the Earth’s surface is made up of ocean, but this only paints a twodimensional picture. With an average depth of 3.7km, it is even more impressive to appreciate that the ocean makes up 99% of our planet’s biosphere. Of this habitable, underwater space, we have only explored a tiny fraction of a percent. Aboard the RV Odyssey, the Nekton team, at the invitation of the Maldives government, delves into these unknowns, conducting the first systematic study in the waters of the world’s lowest-lying ocean nation. ‘Nekton’ means aquatic life which swims against the current, and the charity by the same name was founded by Oliver Steeds, present as mission director in the Maldives. As a successful investigative reporter, Steeds thrived on asking uncomfortable questions in dangerous places, and after an assignment brought him face to face with the destruction of the seabed by trawlers, the same probing line of questioning was turned internally. Kept awake by the challenges facing the ocean, the most important yet least protected part of our planet, Steeds resolved to dedicate the rest of his life to its preservation. It is this final step which marks him out as a tide-changer. For most of us, ecological anxiety is followed by a sense of helplessness, but Steeds’s unshakeable determination has led him to action – personally and in setting up some of the most ambitious ocean exploration and conservation missions operating around the world today. The current mission is no exception. Aboard the same vessel used to film Blue Planet 2, an international team of 25 scientists will spend 34 days at sea, forensically examining the Maldivian atolls. Even on a ship brimming with high-tech wizardry, sometimes simple is best, and at daybreak the ever-smiling team of South African researchers deploy landers into offshore waters. These baited remote underwater video systems are rudimentary in construction: red metal bars, cushioned by bright yellow foam blocks, with a small, circular bait box sticking out of the front end. A metal weight sinks the system down to between 300m and 900m, and many hours of solo diving later, an acoustic tag will release the landers rig back to the surface, ready for collection. Their cameras have the habit of returning with jawdropping footage from inaccessible depths, with visitor logs from the ‘landers cafe’ displaying for the first time the diversity of sharks in the Maldives’ deep sea, from enormous six-gilled sharks through to scalloped hammerheads and the very rare bramble shark. In sharp contrast to the low-maintenance landers, a pair of acrylic domed submersibles are the stars of the Nekton Mission. Each day centres on these incredible, yet demanding machines, with a devoted team providing round-the-clock care. It turns out that to follow a career as a professional aquanaut you must not only be a cool-headed pilot, but an industrious mechanic. Offering a front row seat to the depths of our planet, these are not just scientific tools but vessels of inspiration, with the power to shock and awe passengers, carried in comfort to our biggest ocean blind zones. On this mission, the first Maldivian aquanauts, including Environment Minister Shauna Aminath, will boldly go where no other Maldivian has gone, returning as national heroes.

“With an average depth of 3.7km, it is even more impressive to appreciate that the ocean makes up 99% of our planet's biosphere.” PREVIOUS: Once submerged, the Maldivian atolls appear as enormous, unexplored underwater mountains. OPPOSITE: Maldive anemonefish look on as the Nekton Mission team survey the reef.

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My first date with the Omega Seamaster 2, the mission’s lead submersible, occurs outside the bubble on the fringing reef of Addu, the Maldives’ southernmost atoll. The rendezvous requires unusual protocols, with the sub blowing bubbles from depth to allow us to find its location from the surface. Following the sound of whirring engines and crackling radio, the submersible displays impressive agility as I swim to meet it down at 40m. As a dive destination, the Maldives is famous for its plunging walls and pulsating currents. The submersible must contend with these too, skilfully plotting its way along the seascape. Nitrogen courses through my body and the dive computer warns that the dive must soon draw to a close. Whilst my physiology pays a steep price for time at depth, the team inside the submersible suffer no such constraints. For the first time in a long time, I feel the allure of going deeper, yearning for just a few more minutes, a few more metres… Pushing aside these dangerous urges, the scuba diving team waves goodbye and we head for the surface. The previous day’s frustration has given way to anxiety as I slip feet first into the acrylic bubble. The safety video was comically reminiscent of an airline equivalent and, even if we will soon be subject to crushing pressure 51 times greater than at the surface, I recognise this anxiety is not driven by fear for my safety. Admittedly, there is some nervousness at an unfamiliar experience, and worry about biological needs striking during the five-hour submersion, but most of all I am overwhelmed at the opportunity to visit the otherwise inaccessible, the hidden parts of an environment around which my professional and personal life revolve. Today’s planned 500m dive is well within the sub’s 1,000m range, and whilst the 16.5cm-thick acrylic dome protects us from the pressure, the interior functions as a giant rebreather. Comfortably attired in shorts, t-shirt and socks, we are even permitted drinks and snacks on this deep-sea safari. Release valves open, bubbles escape, and the sub plunges beneath the waves. The world turns blue, colour draining from our faces and the sub’s red livery. Our field of view is impressive through the sphere, so great you barely know where to look, fearful of missing out on an exceptional sighting. As the sub drops beneath 100m, light diminishes noticeably, as if we have crossed an invisible border between the bright blue overhead, and the gloomy depths beneath our feet. At 200m we enter the twilight zone, it feels like complete darkness and from here on we are entering virgin territory. Once the seabed comes into view at 500m, we are almost certainly the first humans to ever set sight on this patch of ocean. The thrill of exploration is a pleasant side-effect to our primary mission: scientific exploration and sampling. On this expedition, Nekflix has replaced Netflix, with stereoscopic cameras filming the entire dive as we perform transects at 500m, 250m and 120m. The One of the 554 deep sea samples from the mission, a long limbed squat lobster looks out from its host octocoral.

“We are almost certainly the first humans to ever set sight on this patch of ocean.”

MAIN: Deploying the submersibles requires all hands on deck and a purpose-built mothership. TOP RIGHT: Final preparation for the landers before they are dropped offshore. MIDDLE RIGHT: A professional aquanaut must not only be a coolheaded pilot, but an industrious mechanic. BOTTOM RIGHT: Fine mesh nets offer a delicate way of sampling plankton from Maldives waters.

“Stereoscopic cameras film the entire dive as we perform transects at 500m, 250m and 120m. The resulting footage will be pored over by the scientific team, diligently noting each species on the screen.”

The Omega Seamaster 2 plunges beneath the waves.

“Even in the hands of a trained professional, utilising the claw comes with a dexterity reminiscent of a first-time chopstick user.”

Sampling underwater specimens using the mechanic arm offers a serious challenge.

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resulting footage will be pored over by the scientific team, diligently noting each species on screen. Aside from driving the transects, the sub team are allocated a shopping list of samples to collect. At each depth, a target number will be set, and a shortlist of acceptable organisms. Once found, the mechanical arm is deployed, complete with metal claw, and a delicate two-person operation commences. To collect the specimens, the pilot must precisely manoeuvre the eight tonne sub into position, and then the real challenge begins. Even in the hands of a trained professional, utilising the claw comes with a dexterity reminiscent of a first-time chopstick user. You feel like cheering every time a sample is successfully picked, except there remains one last tricky step: placing it successfully in the tray at the front of the sub, a practical problem compounded by the thick acrylic which makes things appear smaller than in reality. Somehow, most of the time, the operatives succeed and by the end of the mission an impressive 554 samples were collected. Certain denizens of the deep, like the dumbo octopus, gain such notoriety that they become poster-children for the ocean depths. Naively, I imagined that simply by travelling down to 500m we would be surrounded by these weird and wonderful creatures, but the ocean does not lay bare her secrets so easily. The density of life, compared to the shallow coral reefs of the Maldives, is far less apparent at 500m. Nevertheless, the conversation in our three-person sub is excitedly centred on marine life observations. A flesh-coloured shape on the seabed draws our attention, revealing itself upon closer investigation as a coffinfish. Drawn from the toadfish family, it is reminiscent of the well camouflaged frogfish found in the shallows, but with features drawn from a horror film. It gazes back at us with blank eyes, suture-like lines running over its body. A Darwin’s slimehead cruises over the sand, its red colouring designed to vanish into the darkness. Life moves slower down here – a relative from the slimehead fish family, the orange roughy, is known to take 20 years or more to reach sexual maturity, with a possible life expectancy of up to 250 years. These astonishing facts of life become problematic once deep sea fish are targeted for fishing, a fate which has infamously befallen the orange roughy. Aggregating in enormous numbers around seamounts to spawn, they are easily found with modern technology. They have provided a short-lived boon for deep sea fisheries. Blinded by the pursuit of

“Naively, I imagined that simply by travelling down to 500m we would be surrounded by these weird and wonderful creatures, but the ocean does not lay bare her secrets so easily.”

A coffinfish reveals itself.

The submersible skilfully plotting its way along the seascape.

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“The density of life, compared to the shallow coral reefs of the Maldives, is far less apparent at 500m.”

commercial gain, the fishery was exploited until it collapsed. At depth, time seems to vanish as fast as light and it comes as a brutal wake-up to know five hours have passed and we must return to the mothership. Upon ascent, my eyes struggle to adjust to the sun and, like a baby roused from the womb, I am not yet ready to process the outside world, yearning to return to the cocoon of the twilight zone. With the subs back on deck, the Odyssey hums with activity as samples are quickly delivered to the wet lab. Although it’s cramped and painfully chilly, queues form to witness this daily ritual as sea offerings are carefully unveiled. One sample is often multiplied by the species it hosts, exemplified by a long-limbed squat lobster, gazing back at us with icy blue eyes from an octocoral. Carefully chronicled, each sample then travels to the dry lab where it is preserved for posterity, available in perpetuity for scientific study by institutions around the globe. Even so, the sacrifice of life yields conflicting emotions from the team and Sheena Talma, a marine scientist from the Seychelles, cannot help but apologise to each sample as she seals them up. Diving back in on scuba, I follow a lengthy tether to find the remotely operated vehicle (ROV) as it buzzes around a shallow reef with the enthusiasm of a toy car at Christmas. The exploration of the deep ocean is traditionally performed by ROVs, manned by a team at the surface, often working in shifts as they undertake long hours underwater. These ROVs can also be equipped with an arm for sample collection, and I am sagely informed that the difference in success between a more or less skilled operator can be up to ten fold. They are valuable tools, but I find the viewpoint from an ROV feed fails to evoke the usual sense of ocean wonder. For Dr Alex Rogers, a pre-eminent deep sea scientist, time spent in the acrylic domed submersibles, observing the scale and connectivity of undersea ecosystems, would lead to a major breakthrough in the Maldives… As the Odyssey makes way, fine nets are deployed to study the plankton composition. Tenderly collected, the resulting soup of miniature creatures is turned into a riveting live show under the microscope. These finely crafted, natural wonders partake in the world’s largest migration, with hordes of plankton leaving the shelter of the deep sea by cover of nightfall to travel upwards. Operating on a vampire’s schedule, the plankton must return to the depths before sunrise or risk death. At times, having drifted far across the sea, the return passage is blocked by topographical features and the plankton is trapped by a seamount or the rising seabed. As day breaks, predators such as sharks, tuna, and the tastily-named spiky oreo, will be drawn in and an undersea buffet ensues. The Nekton Mission identified an unusually high propensity for these blockages in the Maldives, prompted by a formerly volcanic subsea landscape which plunges rapidly before shelving off into terraces. Having discovered the Rariphotic zone during the maiden Nekton mission to Bermuda, the evidence suggests they have now unearthed another, ‘The Trapping Zone’, an oasis of oceanic life observed at 500m. Exploration of the deep seas, as well as eliciting wonder, can also prompt anger from those who wish we would cease meddling with nature and leave these ocean zones in peace. Unfortunately, whether humans are physically present at depth or not, our impacts are already being felt through waste, fishing, mining, and climate change. As human consumption increases and our known resources are exhausted, there is an even greater drive to utilise the resources from ocean blindspots. Without knowing what is down there to protect, the arguments for conservation are weaker. The Nekton Maldives Mission returns to port with an armoury of information which can be weaponised in arguments to conserve the natural world. In adamant opposition to the colonialist principles of ‘parachute science’, all data and specimens from the mission will be left as the property of the Maldives government. Offering a baseline study from the surface to 1,000m, these findings can inform national policy and environmental research moving forward. Behind the picture-perfect vision of a paradisiacal ocean nation, the Maldives finds itself at the frontline of a planetary crisis, with climate change posing an existential threat. For Dr Hussain Rasheed Hassan, Minister of Fisheries, Marine Resources and Agriculture, “The evolutionary history of this beautiful coral atoll nation is written as a record on the bedrock, deposits, and the fauna of the deep. This Mission is shedding light on how we may use the science to survive as a nation.”

Column

By Cal Major

The adventurer MAKE TIME FOR THE SEA

feel very fortunate to have a deep connection to the sea. It has been a place of joy and solace for me for as long as I can remember. This connection has only grown stronger the more time I have spent there, the more I’ve learnt about its wonders, the more I’ve worked to protect it and connect more people to it. But this week I realised that I’ve been hugely deprioritising my own personal relationship with the very thing that gives my life such purpose and joy. This year, I have travelled a lot in the UK. There have been periods when I’ve been away from the ocean for weeks on end. I have been constantly attempting to convince myself that I haven’t needed to get in the sea to stay alive. But I’ve come to realise that I do need the ocean to feel alive. My relationship with the sea really deepened when I learnt to scuba dive on Australia’s Great Barrier Reef at the age of 18. An entire world opened up to me - colourful, awe-inspiring, breathtaking. Being able to breathe underwater, floating alongside turtles and fish larger than me, amongst this bustling yet calm, biodiverse metropolis, was the start of a deep appreciation into what is within our ocean and why it is worth fighting for. At the same time, I was surfing more, becoming more in tune with the ocean’s raw power, its playfulness, its ever-changing shapes, and rhythms. Surfing, standup paddleboarding, kitesurfing… these all became hugely important parts of my life in my first few years working as a vet; they kept me sane amongst long hours in a stressful job. They were my reasons to work hard so that I could play hard; enjoy the sea and all the fun, laughter, camaraderie, learning and excitement that came along with it. That, in turn, is what led me on a path to protecting our ocean. When I started leading standup paddleboard expeditions, my connection deepened even further. I started to feel like I was a part of nature, rather than apart from it. My days linked into the rhythm of the ocean, its tides, the wind - I was working with something so much bigger than myself. When it was just me and the sea, the noise of society quietened. It gave me the space to find authenticity and empowerment. Amidst planning an expedition in 2017, I lost one of my closest friends to suicide. Until then, the term ‘mental health’ hadn’t really been in my vocabulary.

But now it was front and centre as I came to terms with what my dear friend had endured and processed my own grief and ensuing depression. The spaciousness offered by days out at sea on my paddleboard gave me the space to be angry and devastated, but also to find calm and peace. My relationship with the sea has morphed through the different stages and times of my life. I have never had to force it, it has always held me and helped me with whatever I needed. But over the last couple of years, with events such as COP26 and COP27 taking a front seat in my work, amidst making films about ocean protection and the reality of the threats our ocean faces and a worsening climate and biodiversity crisis, finding time for fun in the sea has taken a back seat. Last week, I went home to my parents’ house in Devon for the first time in months. I was burnt out, depressed and a little lost. One day I went to the beach with a good friend to check the surf. It looked good. I grimaced at the thought of putting on a wet wetsuit, and we deliberated over the fact we had so much work to do. But I knew I needed to get in. I plunged into the cold water and completely lost track of time. Three hours disappeared while we rode waves and watched gulls dip their wingtips into the water as they gracefully flew by. We laughed so much, throwing all our cares into the strong offshore wind as we cheered each other into waves, whooped and laughed at every wipe out. I felt strong, connected, part of something bigger than me again. The expansiveness of the horizon put everything into perspective and sorted my thoughts. But most of all, I found flow, and I played. Life had become very serious, and I had dismissed play as something frivolous and unnecessary amidst all the tasks I had to complete That afternoon after we’d warmed up, we were more productive in our work than we’d been for weeks. My fog of overwhelm and burnout lifted and I’m still riding the high a week later. I realise how incredibly privileged I am to have the means and opportunity to experience the ocean like this. I have known this for a while; I set up the charity Seaful to help more people who otherwise might not have the chance to experience our ocean. But somewhere along the way, I had stopped making my own time there a priority. Despite trying to convince myself of the contrary, I need to play in the sea. I need it for my mental health, for my genuine happiness, for my authentic connection, and for my productivity. I feel like I’ve finally succumbed to the understanding that for me personally, to be the most effective and authentic advocate for our seas, I need to practice what I preach; my own meaningful connection and time in the place I love. For me, that is waves, surf, and play. To feel truly alive, I need to make time for the sea. CM

Oceanographic Issue 27

@cal_major

@CalMajor_

www.calmajor.com

“The expansiveness of the horizon put everything into perspective. But most of all, I found flow, and I played.”

About Cal Cal is a vet, ocean advocate and world-record stand up paddleboard adventurer who founded the UK charity Seaful to reconnect people to the ocean. For more information or to get involved visit: www.seaful.org.uk

Oceanographic Issue 27

Super Corals Despite sea temperatures rising faster in the Gulf of Eilat/ Aqaba than the global average rate, its coral reefs exhibit remarkable resistance to global warming. Researchers are trying to find out why these ‘super corals’ exist. Text by Dr Jessica Bellworthy & Lukasz Larsson Warzecha P h o t o g ra p h s b y U l r i k a L a r s s o n & L u k a s z L a r s s o n Wa r z e c h a (images courtesy of Getty Images)

F E AT U R E

ccording to recent research, 50% of the world's coral reefs have already been destroyed. Furthermore, the scientific community estimates that over 90% of coral reefs will die by 2050 due to climate change and direct human impact. Reef death carries dire consequences for wildlife and the homes, health, and livelihoods of hundreds of millions of people: those who fish, work in tourism and dwell on low-lying islands rely on the reef 's survival. Coral reefs protect coasts against storm surges, waves, and erosion. Reefs reduce wave energy by 97% while being one of the most biodiverse ecosystems, supporting a third of all marine life. In this bleak outlook, a group of scientists from the Interuniversity Institute for Marine Sciences in Eilat, Israel (I.U.I.), have discovered a rare ray of hope. Corals in the Gulf of Eilat/Aqaba and the northern Red Sea may survive and even thrive into the next century. In fact, this region might host one of the last remaining complete coral reef ecosystems by 2100. Human-produced carbon dioxide traps heat within Earth’s atmosphere and warms our planet, known as the ‘Greenhouse Effect’. Astonishingly, the ocean has absorbed approximately 90% of the excess heat generated by human-caused global warming, according to the 2019 Special Report on the Ocean and Cryosphere in a Changing Climate by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. But, even if greenhouse gas emissions are drastically reduced today, the ocean will continue to warm at an alarming rate for decades. Corals typically live in nutrient-poor, tropical waters. Here, symbiotic algae in the coral tissues may provide up to 100% of the coral’s energy requirements by transferring sugar produced during photosynthesis. Acute ocean warming stresses corals, leading to a breakdown in their relationship with the algae. Without the brown algae, corals appear a ghostly white as the limestone skeleton is seen through the coral’s transparent tissue. In this state, the coral animal is alive but essentially starving. The water temperature must return to normal for the coral-algae symbiosis to recover. If temperatures remain elevated, there is a high likelihood of coral death. As global warming intensifies, such ‘coral bleaching’ events become more frequent and severe. The current warming rate is so rapid that many long-lived animals, such as corals, fail to adapt to the changing environment. And yet, despite sea temperatures rising faster in the Gulf of Eilat/Aqaba than the global average, the coral reefs at this northernmost point of the Red Sea exhibit remarkable resistance to the effects of global warming. Corals in this region do not exhibit the expected bleaching response when exposed to high temperatures either in nature or in scientific experiments.

PREVIOUS: Turbinaria coral at Eilat Coral Beach Nature Reserve. LEFT: Dr Jessica Bellworthy during a short bounce dive to 40m depth.

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”

The scientific community estimates that over 90% of coral reefs will die by 2050. 41

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Scientists suggest that a significant natural selection event at the end of the last ice age is one of the reasons for the northern Red Sea coralsʼ response.

”

Scientists suggest that a significant natural selection event at the end of the last ice age is one of the reasons for the northern Red Sea corals’ response. Glaciers melted as the global temperature increased about 10,000 years ago, and sea levels rose. Water flowed into the Red Sea basin, which had been almost entirely cut off from the Indian Ocean. Coral larvae passed through the relatively narrow Bab el Mandeb strait to recolonise the southern part of the Red Sea. Until today, this southern passage is the only natural entrance for marine life into the Red Sea. Seawater temperature at the southern Red Sea can reach 36°C - which is considered extremely high for corals. This hot passage acted as a selective barrier; only corals capable of withstanding high temperatures could pass through and colonise the southern Red Sea. With time, corals continued migrating north into the Red Sea, where summer water temperatures were significantly lower. Today, these corals, evolutionarily selected for heat resistance, now live well below their thermal threshold relative to other corals worldwide. This history makes the Gulf of Eilat/Aqaba a refuge for corals in the face of climate change. Innovative scientific research, started in the early 2010s at the Interuniversity Institute of Marine Sciences in Eilat and led by Professor Maoz Fine, revealed for the first time the extraordinary resistance to ocean warming that the corals in the Gulf of Eilat/Aqaba possess. Fine ascribed the resistance to their unique evolutionary history in a scientific publication in 2013. His research findings showed that whilst different species may have differing levels of thermal resistance, many retain a healthy population of photosynthetic algae with an increase of 4-5°C above the current summer maximum. In extreme cases, this may be extended up to 7°C. Furthermore, one locally important species showed a 51% increase in primary productivity (photosynthesis) with a 1-2°C increase in water temperature sustained for six weeks. This indicates that these corals live below their optimum temperature and may do better in warmer waters. Coral reefs in other parts of the world do not have the same biological capacity to survive anomalously high water temperatures. A 1-2°C increase above the local maximum summer temperature would typically induce a mass coral bleaching event. At the current pace of global warming, we're on track to increase ocean 42

surface temperatures by 2-3°C or more by the end of the century, putting most of the world's reefs at immediate risk. Over the last decade, the team of scientists from the I.U.I. have continued to delve deeper into the question of what makes northern Red Sea corals more resistant to temperature stress, targeting the topic from multiple angles, including genetics, reproduction, algae symbiosis, and energy consumption. “Initial research showed adult corals to be resistant to temperature stress, but the reproductive and juvenile life phases, critical to survival, are typically thought to be more sensitive to environmental changes,” says Dr Jessica Bellworthy. “My PhD research focused upon these often overlooked life stages. I used the Red Sea Simulator system, developed by Professor Fine, to conduct experiments investigating cross-generational effects of climate change - if and how environmental stress is carried from parent to offspring”. The good news is that juvenile corals of the tested species from this region also appear extraordinarily resistant to temperature stress. Dr Bellworthy, now a postdoctoral researcher in the lab of Professor Tali Mass at the University of Haifa and the I.U.I., continues to investigate the capacity for coral adaptation during the first few months of life. For one of her experiments, net traps are placed over adult corals on the reef just before sunset, both in the shallows and the mesophotic zone. Coral larvae are then released into the traps at night, and divers return at sunrise to collect them. Experiments have once again shown that the photosynthetic algae are key to the coral’s adaptation and survival in a changing environment, even at this very early life stage. The shallow reefs could be best compared to the tip of an iceberg, with most scientific research being conducted at depths of less than 30m. This recreational scuba diving limit and past technological limitations have made deeper reefs more logistically complex for scientists to access. The understudied mesophotic coral ecosystem (MCE), from the Latin word ‘meso’ - meaning middle, and ‘photic’ - meaning light, extends from 30 to 150m.

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A PhD student at I.U.I. collects coral samples from the coral nursery at 6m depth, to be processed later in the lab.

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The reproductive and juvenile life phases, critical to survival, are typically thought to be more sensitive to environmental changes.

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Divers walk down the beach wearing closed circuit rebreathers ahead of a deep decompression dive as part of a week of research diving.

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ABOVE: A PhD student sets coral larvae net traps at 6m depth. RIGHT TOP: The research team receives larvae traps collected by divers. RIGHT MIDDLE: Dr Jessica Bellworthy takes a first look at collected coral samples. RIGHT BOTTOM: A coral dissection under a microscope to measure the size of coral eggs and hormone levels to better understand a coral's reproduction cycle.

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There is evidence to suggest that the Red Sea corals’ thermal tolerance is linked to the abnormally high salinity of this region.

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Acropora coral at 5m depth in the Red Sea in Eilat, Israel.

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It is thought to be less exposed to both global warming and human impact than the shallow reef but has a unique biodiversity and ecological importance. In June 2022, a team of experienced scientific divers led by Professor Tali Mass from the Leon H Charney School of Marine Sciences, University of Haifa and Dr Gretchen Goodbody-Gringley, the Director of Research at the Central Caribbean Marine Institute, used closedcircuit rebreather (CCR) technology to conduct their research up to 60m depth, probing into the lesser studied MCE of the Red Sea in Eilat, Israel. Seven experienced CCR divers made several decompression dives during a week-long expedition, taking over 400 measurements between 5m and 45m to understand how corals adapt to the changing environmental conditions between the shallow reef flat and deeper waters. A FIRe (Fluorescence Induction and Relaxation) instrument, the latest in bio-optical technology, was used to measure the photosynthetic efficiency of different coral species. There are only three such underwater instruments in the world. The results will be compared with a parallel study undertaken in the Cayman Islands, a region where corals do not exhibit high thermal tolerance. Some might ask: Why not transplant these Red Sea super corals to restore degraded sites like those on the Great Barrier Reef? “Aside from the logistical, economic, and ethical concerns of this idea, there is evidence to suggest that the Red Sea corals’ thermal tolerance is linked to the abnormally high salinity of this region. Moving corals out of the Red Sea may render them more vulnerable to bleaching," says Bellworthy. Whilst scientists at the I.U.I. are not advocating transplantation, selective breeding projects in other regions could apply the knowledge gained from research on the northern Red Sea corals. Although the coral reef in Eilat is perhaps capable of withstanding the next 100 years of global warming, it is also under threat from many other anthropogenic factors, such as large-scale coastal development, unsustainable tourism, waste runoff into the sea, and light pollution. Research has shown that when corals from the Gulf of Eilat/Aqaba are exposed to these ‘local’ stressors, they risk losing their ability to survive periods of high temperature. Even though climate change and rising ocean temperatures are global issues, our actions can ensure the protection of our local marine ecosystems. In 2018, Hawaii, for example, banned the use of chemical sunscreens thought to endanger coral health. Likewise, people everywhere can reduce their use of single-use plastics, which degrade into micro-particles that can be consumed by corals and other marine animals. Supporting policies that advocate for the protection of our coral reefs is also vital. At a time when coral reefs worldwide are experiencing increasing mortality, we must do all we can to protect them.

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

20 22 EDITOR´S CUT 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.

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BEHIND THE LENS

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BEHIND THE LENS

Ocean Fine Art Photographer of the Year 2nd place D R NI C K M O R E M A N A D O, I N D O N E S I A A porcelain crab feeding. "They wave their fan like setae, to catch food in the current," says the photographer.

Conservation (Hope) Photographer of the Year 2nd place ANDRE AS SC HMID MAL DIV E S Schooling bannerfishes and pink whiprays.

Ocean Adventure Photographer of the Year 3rd place M A RTIN B R O EN M EXICO An abandoned cenote, where the decomposed organic matter generated a Hydrogen Sulphide cloud.

Ocean Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2nd place MA RTIN B R O EN MEXICO A seemingly giant blue crab “fishing” in the cave current looks like a menacing samurai with its dark armour, framed by the cave.

Young Ocean Photographer of the Year 2nd place N I CO LA S H A H N M EXI CO "These magnificent animals cruised past me at a relaxed pace. Playfully, the calf turned upside down and showed its white belly."

The Human Connection Award 2nd place SIMON L ORE NZ SRI L ANKA An Olive Ridley sea turtle trapped in a ghostnet. It took a machete and more than 30 minutes of hard work to get her disentangled.

Conservation (Impact) Photographer of the Year 3rd place DM ITRY KO KH R US S IA Polar bears make a 'home' of an abandoned station on Kolyuchin Island, in the Russian high Artic.

Ocean Wildlife Photographer of the Year 3rdplace JUA N MIZ A EL PA LO MEQUE GONZALEZ MEXICO Beautiful manta symmetry.

The Human Connection Award 3rd place RADIM KLIMES AUSTRALIA "For me, this image was all about capturing the aesthetic power that the ocean allows humans to embody."

Ocean Portfolio Award 3rd place (part of series) J AKE WILTON AUSTRALIA A blue spotted lagoon ray feeds in the shallows of Coral Bay during sunset.

Ocean Adventure Photographer of the Year Finalist FABRICE GUERIN M EXICO A freediver in a freshwater sinkhole. A sulfur cloud below reflects the sun rays.

Ocean Fine Art Photographer of the Year Finalist G A B R IEL B A R ATHIEU MAYOTTE "I came face-to-face with this squid and spent 30 minutes having fun with long exposures and flashes in stroboscope mode," remembers Barathieu.

Conservation (Hope) Photographer of the Year, Finalist LU CI E P O L L E T EG Y P T A large pod of spinner dolphins in the Sataya reef lagoon.

Ocean Wildlife Photographer of the Year Finalist SIMONE C APRODOSSI ME XIC O A brown pelican makes the most of fishing boat scraps.

Conservation (Hope) Photographer of the Year Finalist S TEVEN WA LS H AUSTRALIA "Weedy seadragons are usually solitary. Schooling behaviour like this is largely unheard of."

Behind the lens This issue's Behind the lens showcases 15 images from this year's Ocean Photographer of the Year. If you would like to see all finalist images, visit www.oceanographicmagazine.com/opy

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Friends OR

FOES With sprawling seagrass meadows, meandering mangroves that hug the shoreline, and clear water, the Bahamas is home to dozens of iconic species, including the curious and playful Atlantic spotted dolphins. Yet, changing environmental conditions and human activity threaten their survival. Wo rd s a n d p h o t o g ra p h s b y B e t h a n y Au g l i e re

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n 2013, 52 of approximately 100 Atlantic spotted dolphins left their home in the shallow waters of Little Bahama Bank (LBB) off Grand Bahama Island, travelled 100 miles south and relocated to a new island, Bimini. For at least 30 years, the spotted dolphins lived on LBB. No one could have ever guessed that one day they would just be gone. But that’s exactly what happened. And Bimini was already home to an existing resident population of both spotted and bottlenose dolphins. We wondered: What will happen next, and will it happen again? I, and other biologists who work with the Wild Dolphin Project (WDP), led by founder and research director Denise Herzing, PhD, suspect that the dolphins left to find new food sources due to a crash in the food web on LBB. Leading up to the exodus, we found that chlorophyll levels dropped in the region. Chlorophyll is a pigment produced by microscopic marine algae, called phytoplankton. Scientists can monitor chlorophyll levels to determine the health of an ecosystem since phytoplankton is at the base of the food web, providing sustenance for shrimp, snails, and jellyfish. If phytoplankton levels drop, everything else will drop too, including the numbers of flying fish and squid that spotted dolphins rely on. After the initial migration event in 2013, we spent the next several field seasons monitoring both locations and learning about the resident dolphins who already lived off the island of Bimini on Grand Bahama Bank (GBB). I remember the first time entering the water with the Bimini dolphins. They were seemingly so familiar in appearance, but there was no question that these individuals were total strangers. We didn’t know them, and they didn’t know us, unlike the dolphins off Grand Bahama who would come leaping excitedly to the bow of our research vessel to catch a ride. The Bimini dolphins sounded different, too. I heard them make barking sounds that I had never heard the spotted dolphins from LBB make. “It’s likely that the dolphins do have different dialects. This has been found in many other areas,” Herzing said. We wanted to find out what would happen when the two groups encountered each other. Would they fight over food or befriend each other for increased mating opportunities? “I had no idea what they would do,” said Herzing. “I was primarily concerned that they would be competing for food resources.” To determine how the move impacted social structure, researchers from the WDP analysed the dolphin relationships after the move, led by Cindy Elliser, PhD, a research associate with WDP and researcher director and founder of Pacific Mammal Foundation. From 2013 to 2020, WDP recorded a total of 206 dolphin encounters off Bimini and collected data that included individuals present and

PREVIOUS: A group of juvenile dolphins. RIGHT: Collecting data on individuals and behaviours.

“If phytoplankton levels drop, everything else will drop too, including the numbers of flying fish and squid that spotted dolphins rely on.”

TOP: Oreo playing at the surface. MIDDLE & BOTTOM: Courtship behaviour captured on camera.

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“Younger females gain valuable practice by babysitting their nieces, nephews, and younger siblings.”

behaviours such as fighting, playing, mating, feeding and travelling. Sometimes, groups were made up of only the resident Bimini individuals, while other times, the groups included solely the immigrants from Grand Bahama. Interestingly, sometimes, the groups were also mixed. “SOCPROG is a wonderful programme that allows you to look quantitatively, with numbers, at the relationships you see. It provides a numerical ratio about how much time two individuals spend together,” Elliser said. “This gives us a way to see which relationships are stronger and we can then relate that to sex, age, and residency status. It enables us to really dive into how the relationships we see shape the social structure of a population or community that is critical for its survival.” Results from the recently published study in the journal Marine Mammal Science reveal that for the first three years after the move, the two groups remained separate. Then things started to change, and the two groups began to interact more frequently. Yet, while the two communities were integrating, there were still strong bonds within the original communities While none of the researchers knew what to expect, the results weren’t too surprising. “I thought they would eventually mingle, but certainly not right away,” Elliser said. “They have a complex social structure, and while they do create new relationships, much of that structure is based on their past relationships. Generally, you hang out with those you already know, so breaking out of that in a new place could be hard. But it is also inevitable – if you live together and share resources, you will have to interact eventually.” What was surprising, however, was an alliance that formed among three males; two individuals, called Lord and Drogo, from GBB, and one from LBB, named Lhasa. Elliser pointed out that while male dolphins have one or two friends for life, their social networks are typically smaller than those of females. Male relationships also generally form much earlier in life when they’re juveniles, even if these relationships aren’t solidified until adulthood. “This relationship may indicate that males had an important role in the connection between the two groups, perhaps more than females,” Elliser added. “This is truly a unique study showing the full integration of a displaced spotted dolphin community in the northern Bahamas with a local one in Bimini. After watching their gradual integration, this paper describes their full integration over seven years, males and females, young and old. Only long-term field work and a dedicated research crew of the WDP can illuminate such complex

behaviour,” said Herzing. “It shows us the importance of long-term research, especially now that climate change is impacting ocean habitats.” For Herzing, what was most shocking after the 2013 immigration event was the splitting up of families. “Mothers and their offspring usually stay in the same area. It would be normal to see a grandmother with a mother and her offspring,” said Herzing. These relationships are important for learning. For instance, younger females gain valuable practice by babysitting their nieces, nephews, and younger siblings. “Think about it in terms of humans. It is not just about our ability to physically survive, but our ability to survive as a community. They survive together, as we do, working together,” said Elliser. “How the individuals work together and what they can contribute to the society are critical for how successful they are. Dolphin societies rely on social connections and when those are impacted, they can have significant effects on the population and ultimately their ability to survive.” In addition to analysing the social relationships, WDP graduate student Brittini Arlene studied how the two groups of dolphins behaved with each other and used the bank. In mixed groups, she found more courtship, more aggression and less foraging compared to resident-only groups. “It will be interesting to see if after an initial time of transition, aggression declines,” she said. Arlene also found that while there was some overlap of ranges, the immigrants maintained larger ranges in lower quality habitat on the bank’s northern end. The Bimini residents had access to more desirable daytime habitat. “While the northern part of the sandbank is likely less protected, it may give them exclusive access to the deep-water edge for nocturnal foraging.” After all, spotted dolphins were observed feeding off the sandbank in deep water for squid and flying fish at night. “There are costs and benefits for both the immigrants and residents when the migration event occurred,” Arlene said. “The immigrants are now able to meet their energetic needs, but it comes at the cost of maintaining a larger and lower quality range, while dealing with aggressive encounters with residents. However, they both have the benefit of increased courtship and mating opportunities.” For the most part, both dolphin groups seem to have found their way to get along at times and have been observed to socialise. “It’s a large area and it looks like, at least so far, there is enough space and food resource for all the dolphins. But that could change with climate

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change,” Herzing said. Scientists predict that climate change will lead to more frequent and intense hurricanes, which can impact the social structures of dolphin groups when individuals die or move away from the storm. In 2004, Hurricanes Jeanne and Frances hit the Bahamas. Just like Hurricane Dorian of 2019, Frances hovered over the Bahamas for days before heading toward Florida. Additionally, both Frances and Jeanne hit within a few weeks of each other. When WDP returned the following summer for their normal field season, about 30% of both the spotted and bottlenose dolphin communities were gone. They most likely died, because those dolphins were never seen again in the region despite attempts to find matches among catalogues of different research groups around neighbouring islands. As mammals, dolphins need to surface every few minutes to breathe. The researchers suspect that the hurricanes that lead to large, continuous waves, heavy rain and wind, might have made swimming and breathing difficult for these animals. In particular, Elliser suspects, new calves might have struggled to survive as they are often born in autumn, and need to learn to swim, breathe and nurse shortly after. In addition to the losses, the animals’ behaviour changed. The groups spent far less time socialising and spent more time travelling. Another possibility is that the storms change food availability or some aspect of the food web. Hurricanes are known to kick up dirt and sand in shallow water which can kill fish that suffocate when their gills get clogged and the water is devoid of oxygen. Coral reefs and seagrasses die when sunlight gets blocked by the stirred-up water. And storms can destroy habitat directly too. According to Bonefish and Tarpon Trust (BTT), a Florida-based organisation, its initial surveys suggested 73% of mangrove forests in Grand Bahama and 40% in Abaco were damaged or destroyed due to Hurricane Dorian in 2019. “It’s difficult to imagine how these shallow water environments will continue to sustain many top predators in the future – not with many more storms at that intensity,” said Diane Claridge, PhD, executive director of Bahamas Marine Mammal Organization (BMMO). In a recent study in Mammalian Biology, Claridge and other marine mammal scientists with BMMO explored whether hurricanes may have influenced the survival rates of calves, juveniles or adults in the South Abaco bottlenose dolphin population. They found evidence that survival was indeed linked to hurricane activity, and that it led to increased deaths or emigration. Estimated survival declined by 9% in adults, 5% in juveniles and 36% in calves. It’s likely that the location and resilience of a population and ecosystem, as well as the severity of a

particular storm will impact how dolphins fare after catastrophic events like hurricanes. “While they have a lot of behavioural flexibility which is key to their survival, as they are able to adapt by moving, changing behaviour and relationships, there is a limit,” Elliser said. “At some point the changes may be too much, too close together, too fast or remove too many in the population for them to be able to adapt effectively.” Another factor is threatening the survival of Bimini’s dolphins: another drop in chlorophyll levels, this time off Bimini. “I am worried. I don’t know where they would go,” Herzing said. “They might expand their search area, which could be energetically expensive. It may be that another food crash would reduce the community size and that some would be displaced completely. The dolphins are lucky in the sense that they are opportunistic feeders, so they have a varied diet. But there may be better fish to eat if you are a nursing mother for example, or a pregnant female. It’s complicated.” And, as seen in most parts of the world, humans are leaving a wake of natural destruction behind us as a consequence of our perpetual pursuit of development. While fighting global climate change might seem overwhelming, fighting habitat loss because of human activity is an immediate action that can save species, said Mathew Smukall, PhD, president of the Bimini Biological Field Station Foundation (BBFSF). While the North Bimini Reserve Area, home to vast seagrass beds used by dolphins to forage and more than 408 species, including the critically endangered smalltooth sawfish, was announced in December of 2008, there has never been a formal or official imposition of the Reserve, said Smukall. “Every day here in Bimini, I see more and more mangroves ripped out.” Not to mention, these mangrove trees act as carbon sinks – protecting them protects against climate change. “For coastal dolphins in the Bahamas, the only thing that can be done is to try to reduce other stressors such as noise, boat strikes, overfishing, and to increase awareness and habitat protection. We are currently writing a recovery plan for the Sea of Abaco dolphins to submit to the Bahamian government to address these issues in hopes that these efforts will slow the decline,” Claridge said. To protect the Bahamas and its local dolphins, a balanced, healthy ecosystem is necessary. But it’s more than that. “The dolphins are all individuals. It’s not just a matter of having a community of 100 dolphins,” said Herzing. “For a healthy society you might need a certain mix of males and females, of bold dolphins to explore new areas. A good mix of personalities might also be important. It’s not always about saving a species, it’s about saving a culture.”

“At some point the changes may be too much, too close together, too fast or remove too many in the population for them to be able to adapt effectively.”

Shimmer, a juvenile female.

Column

By Lou Luddington

The marine biologist HUMPBACK SERENADE

“Males compose and perform the longest and most complex songs in the animal kingdom.”

Diving in the Cousteau Marine Reserve, surrounded by whale song.

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@lou_luddington

rush up the dive ladder, pulling off my mask and snorkel, eager to share with Tom: “I think I just heard a humpback singing! Dive down a few metres and listen!” It's late February and we’re anchored off the west coast of Guadeloupe near the Cousteau Marine Reserve. We’d been drawn here by the promise of good snorkelling and freediving but I hadn’t heard that humpback whales plied these waters. In the days following that first swim, our freedives are accompanied by a soundtrack of whale song, sometimes faint, barely perceptible but unmistakably there. On other days we are surrounded, and bathed in their melodies, the vibrations soaking into my very being, stirring my heart. The squeaks, groans and howls of these unseen ocean giants permeate from the deep. Their unfathomable sentiment moves me so deeply that when I leave the water my mind does not. Back on the boat my thoughts drift among the whales, preoccupied with their life and culture. Compelled to explore this rich acoustic glimpse of whalehood, I’m not surprised to learn that humpback whale vocalisation has been captivating scientists for decades. During the 1960s bioacoustic scientists Roger and Katy Payne and colleagues realised that humpback whales off Bermuda were making sounds in rhythmic patterns of repeated notes. Just like the melodic vocalisations of male songbirds, they were creating songs. This discovery moved Roger Payne profoundly and he knew that if he shared his recordings with the world, others would be captivated too. At that time commercial whaling was at its peak and decimating whale populations worldwide. If he could create empathy for these sentient, culturally rich underwater songsters, maybe his work would have the environmental impact he longed for. He produced an album of whale songs which became a global sensation selling hundreds of thousands of copies. So, what were the whales I heard doing in Guadeloupe waters? Although female humpback whales make other vocalisation sounds, like female songbirds, they do not sing. The males on the other hand compose and perform the longest and most complex songs in the animal kingdom. Their songs are repeated over and over and can last for hours featuring various themes sung in a sequence that is common to all males in the same breeding area. During the winter mating season, the songs gradually change as each male adds their own improvisations. The result is an ever-evolving medley and a new song each year. Although there are various theories as to why they sing, it is widely thought to be associated with breeding. These south-eastern Caribbean whales are part of the North Atlantic population that undergo seasonal migrations between summer feeding and winter breeding grounds. From tagging, sightings

@louluddington

@louluddingtonphotography

and records of fluke patterns, scientists have recently surmised that these whales head to the eastern North Atlantic. Whales wintering in Guadeloupe migrate more than 4,000 nautical miles to reach the waters of Norway and Iceland where they spend the northern hemisphere summer gorging and replenishing fat reserves. Come autumn, they set off again for the return journey to spend the months of February to May breeding and calving in the shallow warm waters of the Lesser Antilles. It's quite a routine to maintain, clocking up tens of thousands of miles in their long lifetimes; in fact, humpbacks undergo the longest recorded migration of any mammal. It's sobering to think that historically this chain of islands, from Guadeloupe to the north coast of Venezuela, formed the heart of humpback whaling. Roger Payne is widely credited with sparking the global campaign to save the whales that ultimately led to the International Whaling Commission (IWC) placing a ban on commercial whaling in 1982. Although humpback numbers are now low in the area and most spend winter in the western Caribbean, it's reassuring to know that they are now safe from the harpoons of whalers. That's what I thought anyway. Seven months later, we are sailing in St Vincent and the Grenadines (SVGs), a small archipelago nation just 200 nautical miles to the south of Guadeloupe. I discover whale bay on the north coast of St Vincent. A quick Google search reveals a story I was not expecting. As well as being a hotspot for whale watching, the SVGs are among four countries that currently have permission from the IWC to practise artisanal or aboriginal subsistence whaling (the others are Denmark, Russia, and the USA). It turns out there are two operations in the SVGs, one focusing on small cetaceans based at Barrouille St Vincent, the other targets migratory humpback whales and is based on the island of Bequia to the south of St Vincent. The IWC currently allows a maximum of four humpback whales per year to be taken by Bequia-based whalers, in small sail-powered craft and harpooned by hand. It's a perilous pursuit surrounded by contention over its sustainability and legitimacy as an aboriginal activity. Prior to European colonisations and American commercial whaling, the Caribbean islanders did not hunt whales. Even from a purely financial viewpoint, surely a humpback whale is worth much more alive, enthralling visitors on whale tour boats? My faith lies with the next generation of Bequians to finally put an end to whaling in the Grenadines. LL About Lou Dr Lou Luddington is a marine biologist, nature photographer and writer living aboard a sailboat, the Noctiluca, on the move and travelling the ocean in search of stories and adventure.

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BEHIND THE LENS

Reason for hope While Los Arcos, a small group of islets on Mexico’s Pacific coast, is one of the country’s most popular holiday destinations that attracts divers from all over the world, the protection of this fascinating terrain has long been an afterthought. Local divers urge for long-term conservation efforts.

Wo rd s a n d p h o t o g ra p h s b y Pe t r M y s k a

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BEHIND THE LENS

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FB E AH TI UN RD E T H E L E N S

“On our first dive, we discovered a thick coral forest at depths of 200 feet, below what otherwise seemed to be a dead zone.”

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reen water abruptly turns black below me. The land mass of the islet is 100 feet to my left, the water surface 70 feet above me. The deep drop to my right is the abyss of the Devil's Jaw, an impressive underwater wall at Los Arcos, one of the most popular diving destinations in Mexico’s Puerto Vallarta. While Los Arcos is a well-known hotspot for marine life that is characterised by arched rock formations on the topside, its depths have not been extensively studied. Yesterday, I lost the side panel of my Trident ROV when I steered it along Los Arcos’ drop to find out more about the marine life living in its depths. Today, I am back with my friend Cesar to search for it. Chances are it plummeted into irretrievable depths, but we think it is worth a try. The Trident, granted to me by the S.E.E. via the National Geographic Open Explorer Project, has given us the opportunity to shed light on sites beyond conventional scuba limits. On our first dive, we discovered a thick coral forest at depths of 200 feet, below what otherwise seemed to be a dead zone of the wall. Later, I learned to pay for the excitement of such explorations with moments of cold sweat and a thumping heartbeat getting the ROV's umbilical cord stuck on invisible hazards in the inky void below. Yesterday, I paid with a piece of the ROV itself. As I scan left and right with my flashlight, willing its beam to bounce off a piece of white plastic, a few notes of humpback song fill the expanse. I hear whales underwater quite frequently; we are in the heart of their wintering grounds. The impact of it never wears off. I stop, hold my bubbles, and close my eyes to enjoy the moment. More sounds drift in and further sweeten the bliss of my weightlessness. On impulse, I pull myself down to the rocky shelf and find a bare spot to sit down. As I keep listening to the singer below with my finned feet dangling over the edge, I think about the blackness in front of me. We know almost nothing about what lurks down there. Until recently, we weren't even sure how deep the wall drops. The sources of information available to us offer conflicting information which confused rather than clarified the issue. After analysing multiple options of inquiry, most well outside my budget, I decided on the medieval approach. Using a braided fishing line, I dropped a six-pound diving weight down into the unknown. It hit bottom at 1,345 feet. The Eiffel Tower could therefore hide under my fins, with plenty of room to spare. Considering the islet and a nearby beach are directly behind me, discovering such depths so close to shore is unexpected, yet another exciting feature that make Los Arcos so unique. The small group of five islets in the southern part of Banderas Bay on Mexico's Pacific coast has always drawn attention. So much so that the nearby famous beach resort of Puerto Vallarta used to be called Las Peñas (The Crags) in their honour. Los Arcos has become a local

icon during the past decades, with tourism booming in the area. In the high season, the area sees thousands of tourists daily. They arrive in small panga boats or on board one of the larger vessels heading for the popular beaches in the south. For the majority of people, this will be a short stop-over. They will admire the rocky formations, see brown pelicans, blue-footed boobies, and magnificent frigatebirds roosting on cliffs. On days when the sea is calm, those who feel more adventurous may dare a swim through one of the vaulted tunnels that gave the site its name, ‘The Arches’. Impressive scenery and backdrops are certain here. Yet, the true beauty and wonder of Los Arcos cannot be appreciated while standing on a boat's deck. The fascinating world of varied seascapes and creatures that inhabit them can only be found under the surface. I read about the local sea life for the first time while studying for my biology Master's exams in Prague 20 years ago. I still remember the reason this small patch of the sea was mentioned: several species of rare ribbon worms live here. Little did I know then that this would one day be my own backyard. Many years later, I had the good fortune to move to Puerto Vallarta and eventually meet Cesar Ortega, a conservationist by heart and the owner of Banderas Scuba Republic by trade. He took me under his wing and showed me the varied corners of the underwater world around Los Arcos. From the rocky shore strewn with round granite boulders that are covered with scampering crabs, the seafloor slopes down gently onto a wide sandy bottom. The ideal home for stingrays. During the winter, when the water temperature drops, we can find big longtail stingrays here in large numbers. Their position is usually only revealed by a dish-shaped dip in the sand and their vigilant eyes sticking out. Should you get too close, they will be gone in an instant leaving behind a cloud of stirred-up sand settling slowly over their former resting place. Other animals like skittish garden eels, burrowing jawfish, cruising electric rays, and camouflaged speckled flounders take advantage of the soft and uniform ocean floor, too. Moving on, the sand runs into scattered pancake-like solitary reefs we call Las Lajas (the slabs). Their crevices and overhangs are ideal shelters for numerous species of moray eels. The smaller ones hide so effectively that only their inquisitive heads stick out between the rocks. If you’re lucky you might also spot an Argus moray eel. I have come across a few as thick as firehoses and at least four feet long. Many sea turtle species call Las Lajas their home too. According to local scientists who have been collecting data on turtles for decades, the most abundant species in the area is the olive ridley turtle, making up around 90% of all turtles hatchlings on local beaches. As we press westward and leave the sand and Las Lajas behind, we encounter ever larger rock formations. Close

OPPOSITE: A trio of Cortez angelfish. PREVIOUS PAGE: A sea anemone huddles inside a carpet of tiny red coral polyps.

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The mesmerisingly colourful body of the pincushion sea urchin,

A jewel moray eel.

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TOP: A tiny brittle star on a cushion star. MIDDLE: A pair of Panamic soldierfish. BOTTOM: A threebanded butterflyfish in front of a Muricea coral.

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TOP: A school of yellowtail surgeonfish. MIDDLE: A Pacific seahorse. BOTTOM: Portrait of a blue spiny lobster.

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“Many such poachers took advantage of the situation and shamelessly pillaged Los Arcos in daylight hours.”

to here, we find El Bajo del Cristo, my favourite dive spot in the bay. The largest rock formation here is about 50 feet tall and almost breaks the water surface. We see small fans of Pacifigeorgia and Leptogeorgia and carpet-like patches of red Terrazoanthus clinging to the rock. They are micro-worlds crawling with tiny brittle sea stars. Several large colonies of Pavona coral spill around the base of the towers, sheltering juvenile angelfish, moray eels, and tiny red-headed blennies. My favourite is a large golden cup coral colony at the very base of the tallest pinnacle. I am sure it is the most photographed coral in my image archives. I have delved into the intricacies of individual polyps with my macro lens, shot portraits of the soldierfish that love to hide here, and attempted many times to capture the ever-changing landscape of this polyp city. Its size and lushness can vary considerably. At times, it is sprawling and thick like a fluffy yellow sofa, full of activity, with all polyps busily plucking food particles out of the current. Then, a few weeks later, it is sparse, quiet, almost silent looking. Of course, larger animals live at El Bajo, too. We see numerous angelfish, yellowtail surgeonfish, spottail grunts, yellow snappers, stonefish, octopus, several species of starfish, parrotfish, triggerfish, tube worms, hydroids, and nudibranchs. Last winter, a single whitetip reef shark resided in El Bajo for a few weeks. In the deeper realms, we encounter giant manta rays and large Myriopathes coral fans. These thrive hanging off the vertical wall that plunges down the southern face of the islet to a sloping sandy bottom 120 feet below. I get up from my perch and join up with Cesar who I see swimming in, having completed the search of his sector. He didn't find the lost ROV panel either. Today we will return home empty-handed. But not emptyhearted. I carry a memory of the humpback song rising from the mysterious blackness. An unforgettable piece of my past to cherish forever. I cannot say what Cesar is thinking as we pause for our safety stop. But I can guess. He is clutching a piece of gill net he had retrieved from the reef below us. A part of the outside world that shouldn't be here. Unfortunately, we often see sea turtles, manta rays or birds entangled in ghost nets in the area as charter boats bring their fishing gear inside the protected area. During the pandemic these transgressions became more frequent. While those who break the rules don't have to be too concerned with getting caught in the act by the notoriously absent authorities, the presence of tour operators usually dissuades them from such offenses during daylight hours. With most boat traffic stalled by Covid, many such poachers took advantage of the situation and shamelessly pillaged Los Arcos in daylight hours. Fishing is prohibited in the area thanks to a regulation dating back to 1975, but no regulation works without someone enforcing it on the ground. A higher level of formal protection would certainly help but will never be enough to discourage all nefarious activities. Our best bet is to capitalise on the power of local tourism cooperatives who have the necessary leverage to bring at least some order to the area. Most of their members were born here, they know the area intimately and their livelihood depends on their daily visits to Los Arcos with tourists on board. They are also very likely aware of who the bad actors are. Our message to them is simple: Protect the area you have been privileged to inherit and it will keep on providing for you in the future. Allow its destruction and forever lose the source of your income. In other words: If not for the love, do it for the money. To this end we have elaborated a list of ten rules that sum up the best practices to follow inside the area of Los Arcos. We hope the local cooperative will adopt them. So far there seems to be reason for hope. In recent months, Cesar has managed to lead a group of devoted volunteers named Guardianes de la Bahia to their first palpable victory in the struggle to bring effective and lasting protection to this area. They gathered more than 3,000 local citizen signatures to promote the protection of Los Arcos and collected more than 43,000 signatures in an online petition directed at the governor of the state of Jalisco. They convinced 28 of the 29 candidates in the municipal and national chamber of deputies’ elections to commit to the protection of Los Arcos in writing. They met with local communities, government agencies, and academic institutions personally. And with the help of progressive municipal officials, they managed to officially institute 28th July as ‘Los Arcos de Mismaloya Day’. We hope an annual celebration of this ocean wonder will raise awareness about the beauty, the importance, and the need to guarantee the region’s future. There is more to be done, but we trust we are on the right path.

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BEHIND THE LENS

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Long journey The Republic of the Congo recently announced the creation of the country’s first ever MPAs: Loango MPA, Mvassa MPA, and a marine extension of Conkouati-Douli National Park, already a protected area. Together, the three new MPAs will protect 4,799km2 of ocean. A shining example for other countries? Text by Graeme Green P h o t o g ra p h s b y C l é m e n t Ko l o p p

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“I

t’s been a long process,” says Richard Malonga. “This is the first experience of Marine Protected Areas (MPAs) for the government in Congo. It wasn’t easy to create them. But we’re very happy.” Created with the support of the Wildlife Conservation Society (WCS), local NGO Renatura and other partners, the government’s Congo Marine initiative has targeted areas with high biodiversity and marine vegetation, including globally important feeding and nesting grounds for sea turtles. Congo’s ocean is also home to the world’s largest fish, the endangered whale shark, and many other species of sharks and rays, many of them facing threats to their existence, including the shortfin mako shark, the Atlantic humpback dolphin, and the African wedgefish. It’s also a critical migrating and breeding habitat for large marine mammals, including the Atlantic humpback whale. The three offshore MPAs are just the start. Another eight sites have been identified, taking the total number of MPAs in Congo’s EEZ to 11. The Republic of the Congo, also known as Congo-Brazzaville or just Congo (not to be mistaken with the Democratic Republic of the Congo, or DRC) is on the west coast of Central Africa, bordering Gabon, DRC, Cameroon and the Central African Republic. A large, sparsely populated country (342,000km2), about the same size as Germany or Japan, Congo only has a small, 169-kilometre strip of coast, looking out onto the South Atlantic ocean, which comes under heavy pressure from commercial interests. “There is human activity everywhere in Congo’s EEZ (a band of 200 nautical miles extending from a country’s shore, which each country owns the rights to),” says Malonga, WCS Country Director in Congo, who has helped drive the MPA process. “We have oil companies exploring to find oil. We have big fishing companies fishing in the area. We have transportation and large cargo boats using these waters. Everybody is using this small area. We had to work hard to find the areas with high biodiversity to say ‘This is a good area to make a protected area’.” “We now have more than 12% of Congo’s EEZ protected with MPAs,” he adds. “It’s a big decision. With the other eight sites we identified, which is now down to the government, that would protect almost 17% of the EEZ. If you combine it with the protected forest and savanna areas on land, Congo will meet its goal to protect more than 30% of the country.” Congo’s MPA process has taken five years so far. The first meetings were held in 2017 with the Ministry of Forest Economy, which is in charge of Congo’s protected areas. It approved the creation of a national Marine Spatial Plan (MSP) in 2019. It’s a positive step by the Congolese government, particularly given the need to utilise the ocean to support its population. According

PREVIOUS: 49% of small-scale fishermen had suffered losses or damage to their equipment due to illegal industrial fishing. OPPOSITE: Local communities will be the sole authorised users of the MPA as fishing grounds.

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to the World Bank, more than half (53.9%) of Congo’s population of 5.7 million people live in extreme poverty. Oil accounts for more than half of the country’s GDP. Industrial fishing is another big earner. “It was difficult to convince the government because they rely on activities such as fishing and oil to have some money for the country,” explains Malonga. “It was hard to explain, because they don’t have any experience of MPAs, but in the end the government understood that it’s very important to protect some of these areas.” As with many other protected areas around the world, on land as well as at sea, the aim is not just to protect wildlife or habitats, but a pragmatic decision to look after natural resources that people depend on for survival. Congo has highly productive coastal and offshore fishing areas, but local fishermen have been losing out to large international companies. In 2016, a WCS survey found that 49% of small-scale fishermen had suffered losses or damage to their equipment due to illegal industrial fishing vessels. Local fishermen also reported being afraid to go out fishing in case they encountered large boats, especially at night. Nearly 87% of 250 industrial fishing vessels inspected between 2017 and 2019 were in contravention of fishing regulations; several shark and ray species found in nets were globally threatened, including ten critically endangered species. Illegal, Unreported, and Unregulated Fishing (IUU) is a threat to Congo’s ocean biodiversity, but also to the livelihoods of thousands of small-scale fishermen. “The MPA idea is very popular with local people because they see that it’s the easiest way to protect their resources along the coast,” explains Malonga.“They don’t fish very far off the coast. Local communities were upset about big companies, because they don’t have the opportunity to do sustainable local fishing. We saw Chinese and European companies fishing with new technology, compared to local communities who use traditional nets. They were taking many fish, destined for European and Asian markets. It puts very high pressure on fish populations. We have a zone now where local communities can go and fish, whereas before we did the MPAs there was no possibility for them to compete with the big companies.” Establishing the new MPAs was slow due to the lack of data about Congo’s ocean, including what species and habitats existed there, or in what numbers. That’s why a team of researchers from the University of Exeter in England were brought in to conduct scientific research. “We employed a range of cutting-edge technologies and novel methods,” says Dr Kristian Metcalfe, senior lecturer in Marine Conservation Science at the University of Exeter, who led the team. “This included analysis of long-term sea turtle nesting data, satellite-tracking of sea turtles and species distribution modelling. These studies revealed that Congo hosts globally important nesting populations of olive ridley and leatherback sea turtles, as well as important foraging grounds for juvenile green and hawksbill sea turtles.” But other rare and endangered species live alongside the turtles too. “The Republic of

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“The aim is not just to protect wildlife or habitats, but a pragmatic decision to look after natural resources that people depend on for survival.”

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“Congo has a relatively small but highly productive marine area. More effective marine management has the potential to yield great coastal dividends.”

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the Congo sits in the highly dynamic transition zone between the Guinea and Benguela Current Large Marine Ecosystems, some of the most productive coastal and offshore waters in the world,” explains Metcalfe. “A study by the University of Exeter and Wildlife Conservation Society identified 21 shark species and 17 ray species with 21 (55%) currently classified as threatened, including the critically endangered blackchin guitarfish and African wedgefish. Wedgefish and giant guitarfishes are the most imperilled marine fish families globally.” The Exeter team combined marine science with social studies and sustainable economic development priorities to create their proposal for a network of Marine Protected Areas in the country. “We employed a range of methods to fill gaps in ocean observation data and map the social and economic interests of different user groups, such as small-scale and industrial fisheries and shipping, which are often poorly represented in decision-making processes,” Metcalfe explains. “These studies showed that ocean user-groups are highly dependent on access to shallow coastal and nearshore waters. Congo has a relatively small but highly productive marine area. More effective marine management has the potential to yield great coastal dividends.” Loango MPA, one of the three MPAs, is a 500km2 area with crucial feeding and nesting sites for green, hawksbill, olive ridley and leatherback turtles. “We feel really thrilled as the MPA represents a crucial step towards the protection of the bay of Loango, home to 31 globally threatened species, including critically endangered species like hawksbill turtles and scalloped hammerhead sharks,” says Nathalie Mianseko, director of local NGO Renatura Congo, who worked with the government to create the MPA. Renatura has been calling for the protection of Loango since 2010, not least to protect the resident turtles. “Turtles are victims of bycatch from industrial fishing nets, which has a big impact on populations,” Mianseko explains. “They’re also killed and their eggs are collected for food. They face pollution, and lose feeding and nesting habitats to urbanisation.” Loango is also an important fishing area, used by local communities and industrial vessels. The new MPA will help protect fish populations. “Illegal industrial fishing is the most severe threat Loango faces today, especially industrial trawlers that fish outside their authorised fishing grounds,” argues Mianseko. “The abundance of marine species and fish stocks has plummeted over the last few years which is harmful for biodiversity but also

OPPOSITE PAGE TOP: The Republic of the Congo has some of the most productive coastal and offshore waters in the world. MIDDLE: Determining what is caught where helps build an argument for MPAs. BOTTOM: The Loango MPA is home to 31 globally threatened species, including many sharks.

for local communities whose livelihoods rely on artisanal fishing. Local communities will be the sole authorised users of the MPA as fishing grounds. Some rules will likely be applied to them, such as seasonal permits or reserved zones. The goals of the MPA are to restore biodiversity, enhance fishing communities’ livelihoods by protecting their resources, and create other development opportunities within the MPA, like ecotourism.” Local communities appear to be convinced by the creation and objectives of the new Loango MPA. “I think the Loango MPA is a good initiative,” says Severin Liobakana, president of Tchilassi village in Loango. “We’ve suffered for several years from a decline in fishing. We hope the MPA will help us, the residents. We want to sustainably manage the ocean resources and we’re ready to change our habits, provided that we’re helped, through alternative activities, for example. We also hope there’s dialogue with the industrial fishing boat owners and for the law to be enforced.” Renatura’s sea turtle monitoring data also contributed to the creation of Mvassa MPA, a tiny (24km2) area, south of the port city and oil hub of Pointe-Noire. It’s another rich ecosystem, important for sea turtles, whales and other species. It’s hoped that local, sustainable fishing will be possible, alongside new ecotourism opportunities. The third new MPA, Conkouati-Douli National Park, sees a 2,906km2 extension of the pre-existing national park, which mainly covered forest and savannah, tripling the area of protected ocean from 1,369 km2 to 4,275 km2. Adding a large, protected area of ocean to ConkouatiDouli National Park, in the north-west of Congo, offers an opportunity for cross-border collaboration. It’s early days for Congo’s marine programme. The eight additional MPAs all still need to be established and announced. Furthermore, the exact laws governing Congo’s MPAs are still to be written by the government. Malonga urges: “It all depends on the government, but we would advise the government to avoid big international boats crossing into MPAs and to avoid any industrial fishing offshore in the MPAs.” Success will be measured by increases in the numbers of fish, turtles, whales and other species, the health of Congo’s ocean, and the positive impacts felt by local communities. “There have been repeated illegal incursions of industrial fleet vessels and motorised fishing fleets into fishing areas used by local communities,” says Malonga. “But with these MPAs, the community zones will be well-controlled. This is very important for the next generation because communities rely only on fisheries for their incomes.” As in many other parts of the world, these local and national issues are also part of a wider picture, the conservation of the world’s ocean vital to the future of all people, wildlife and the planet. “If we can’t regulate the use of our ocean, biodiversity will collapse and the incredible creatures that live in the ocean won’t be there for future generations," says Malonga.

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

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Photo by Bastien Soleil

#WHEREVERYOUGO #WHEREVERYOUGO #WHEREVERYOUGO #WHEREVERYOUGO THE CAVE XL / 4-SEASON THE THE CAVE CAVE XL XL // 4-SEASON 4-SEASON THE CAVE XL / 4-SEASON

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Less metal. Same mettle.

When asked for feedback on the C60 Trident, our Forum said “…make one that still gets noticed, without feeling its presence as much on your wrist.” This new C60 Trident Pro 300 is the result. Same widths. Same lug-to-lugs. Yet an average 1.75mm lower profile across the range. By using a sapphire case back, it’s an average 14.67g lighter. too. This means its depth rating is now only as good as a Submariner. To compensate: we’ve added extra lume, a new bezel and an optional screwed-link bracelet. Plus actual compensation of £94 average saving. Less. And more, then? Do your research.

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D I S C OV E R N E W D E P T H S Our world record dive to the deepest place on Earth, led to a groundbreaking OMEGA dive watch. Every 45.5 mm timepiece in the Seamaster Planet Ocean Ultra Deep collection is a Co-Axial Master Chronometer, water resistant to 6,000 metres. Including this model, made in our own O-MEGASTEEL, with a lacquered gradient dial, which transitions from grey to black, and a polished orange ceramic bezel.