Floor of Sand, Roof of Water

From the new book Shorebreak. Photo: Clark Little

From the new book Shorebreak.
Photo: Clark Little

When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time (every possible minute) on the beaches of California. And one of my favorite activities was to run after the receding waves as far as I dared,, right up to where they were beginning another forward surge, and then turn and sprint back to safety. Or not, sometimes.

Getting away with nothing more than wet ankles counted as winning. Getting drenched or knocked over didn’t. Sure, it was a dangerous game. That’s what made it exciting.

One view I always wanted to see but never did (because I never dared or lost badly enough) was the dry sand beneath the roof of an oncoming wave. And here it is, courtesy of photographer Clark Little in his new book of waves, Shorebreak. Someone who dared to wait for the roof of water, and took a picture for the rest of us.

I worked as a translator on a film a few years ago that looked at the dry land beneath the waves, but in that case, the waves were frozen in icy forms. The film, Unter Dem Eis (Under the Ice) was a German-made documentary about the Inuit of the Canadian eastern seaboard and their tradition of gathering a bounty of winter mussels from beneath the frozen sea.

Gathering mussels Under The Ice, hastening before the sea returns. Source: Context Film

Gathering mussels Under The Ice, hastening before the sea returns.
Source: Context Film

The harvest was only possible for a few hours a year, on days of extremely low tide when the sea beneath the ice retreated enough to allow for a quick expedition.

It looks like walking under water, and in a way, it is. Or was. As the Atlantic Ocean warms and there are fewer days when mussels can be gathered without the ice roof collapsing, the tradition is fading.

Still, it’s a vision out of a dream, walking, or sprinting, on the floor of the ocean, however briefly.

Watery Treasure

Draining swamps and wetlands has, over the course of human civilization, been seen as a way to grasp land from the greedy waters that cover most of the Earth’s surface.

Add to this that much of the drained, reclaimed land is then conveniently located on prime river or coastal property, and the terrestrial inclination to dry out wetlands makes even more sense. There’s gold in them there swamps.

A MODIS image from NASA's OceanColor Web shows floodwaters and sediment emptying into the Gulf. Source: PennNews/NASA

A MODIS image from NASA’s OceanColor Web shows floodwaters and sediment emptying into the Gulf.
Source: PennNews/NASA

Conservationists usually look at the loss of ecosystems, plant and animal life, habitat degradation and so on. But the real price of the gold rush mentality is slowly revealing itself.

The impact of river levees on flooding has become well known over the past couple of decades. Heavily developed rivers areas around the world experiencing regular and expensive inundations when water flow in flooded rivers is blocked from flowing into tributaries, marshes or swamps.

I found a report from 2005 that shows the impact of land drainage on Florida – not in terms of habitat loss, but in terms of local and regional climate change.

Human influence has transformed southern Florida. The transformation occurred not only on land converted to cropland or cities, but even in protected and undeveloped areas like the Everglades. Changes in water flows transformed deep-water sloughs into drier sawgrass marshes, and mangrove forests have shrunk dramatically. Source: NASA

Human influence has transformed southern Florida. The transformation occurred not only on land converted to cropland or cities, but even in protected and undeveloped areas like the Everglades. Changes in water flows transformed deep-water sloughs into drier sawgrass marshes, and mangrove forests have shrunk dramatically. Source: NASA

A multi-disciplinary team examined historical land cover and climate evidence from pre-development Florida (i.e. 19th-century), and found that in comparison to a drier, drained modern Florida, local climates were cooler and wetter in summer, and warmer in winter. The lack of local water cover changed local climate patterns.

This begins to get at the argument made by Sandra Postel, Director of the Global Water Policy Project, in a recent piece in National Geographic, namely, that wetlands in their watery form are worth more than the land we take from them.

She cites a new study in the journal Global Environmental Change, which shows that “the global area of freshwater wetlands and floodplains shrank by nearly two-thirds between 1997 and 2011, from an estimated 165 million hectares (408 million acres) to 60 million hectares (148 million acres).”

We’ve never been very good at weighing intangibles against objects of  immediate human value, like land. But Postel makes the argument for putting wetland and watershed services in a language we understand: Money.

Landsat images clearly show different types of landcover in southern Florida. Source: NASA/Robert Simmon

Landsat images clearly show different types of landcover in southern Florida.
Source: NASA/Robert Simmon

Citing the role of wetlands, like those that have been drained in Florida, as well as coral reefs, marshes and tropical forests, in mitigating flood and drought, the research team put together a list of water ‘services’ provided. These include recharging groundwater and filtering water in lakes and rivers, maintaining water levels that facilitate shipping, and several other long-term uses.

The total value of global ecosystem services to humans was evaluated at $120 trillion/year (for 2011). This is compared to a global GDP of  $75.2 trillion/year for the same year.

Now, the question is this:

If we look at everything through the lens of cost effectiveness, do we really believe humans can provide all the same services at a better price, even assuming we could develop the technology to do so?

Is a new condo development, mall, golf course or business center really the most cost efficient way to make use of the golden value of the world’s wetlands?

Reaching New Shores

Circular plot of migration flows of at least 170,000 people between and within world regions during 2005 to 2010. Tick marks show the number of migrants (inflows and outflows) in millions.  Click to enlarge.  Image courtesy of Abel et al., Science/AAAS via Co.Exist

Circular plot of migration flows of at least 170,000 people between and within world regions during 2005 to 2010. Tick marks show the number of migrants (inflows and outflows) in millions.
Image: Abel et al., Science/AAAS via Co.Exist

The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) recently released a report on the development of climate change and its effects on humans.

The 2600-page report is the result of three years work and the collaboration of 300 scientists.

It makes for mostly grim reading, with an emphasis on climate impact on food security (not positive), on extreme weather events (increasing), and on poverty (again, not positive).

The global migration patterns in the interactive graphic above illustrate twenty years of migration statistics from 196 countries. Created by the Wittgenstein Centre for Demography and Human Capital in Vienna, the graphic uses software lifted from the field of genetic research.

It’s interesting to note that the number of people who actually leave their country of birth for good has remained at more or less the same level across decades – a mere 0.6% of the population. As a long-term expat among many long-term expats, it often seems like the number must be much higher, but such is the power of subjective perception. What we think we see up close isn’t always what’s happening if seen at a distance.

Quoted in Co.Exist, the authors say, “These long-distance flows are effective at redistributing population to countries with higher income levels, whereas return flows are negligible.” So, migration has been for mainly economic reasons, or for reasons of security offered in higher-income countries.

Given the IPCC report and its sobering conclusions regarding food security and extreme weather events, I wonder how these migration patterns and numbers will develop over the next few decades – which areas will see more migration inflow. The higher ground countries as well as those with higher-income?

Will we as humans follow many animals, flee an ever-warmer planetary midsection, and migrate north?

And what about that migration number of people who permanently leave their home country, 0.6%, that’s been steady for so long? Should climate change redraw the coastlines of continents and the boundaries of nations, what will count as ‘migration’ and what will count as keeping one’s head above water?

The World - Rising Sea Level, first map of its kind on such a scale and level of complexity, depicts our planet as it would look without its polar ice caps, with sea levels 260 ft higher as they are today. Click map for a larger version. Artist: Jay Simons

The World – Rising Sea Level, first map of its kind on such a scale and level of complexity, depicts our planet as it would look without its polar ice caps, with sea levels 260 ft higher as they are today. This detailed map can be viewed in all its glorious cartographic futurism by clicking on the map or following the link of the artist, Jay Simons.
Click map for a larger version.
Artist: Jay Simons

 

 

 

Mud Pie

Map of Australia & World Source: Flourish.org

Map of Australia & World
Source: Flourish.org

There was an encouraging study released in early January that describes how denuded reefs off the coast of Sydney Australia have been partially restored through seaweed transplants. Crayweed (Phyllospora comosa) is an ecosystem cornerstone in some reef system, providing a habitat for fish and crustaceans.

In 2008, researchers found it had disappeared from a 70 km (43 mile) stretch of coastline, likely due to the direct dumping of Sydney’s sewage into the water over the course of decades. Although the sewage lines were moved into deeper waters in the 1990s, the damage had been done. (On a side note, Sydney’s water treatment seems not only to have a troubled past regarding pollution, but a troubled present as well. A story for another day.)

Crayweed transplants Photo: UNSW

Crayweed transplants
Photo: UNSW

Once the seaweed-free reefs had been identified, scientists undertook a project of transplanting crayweed to two barren areas in the hope of re-establishing the seaweed itself as well as the damaged marine environment. The good news is, it seems to be working, the seaweed is taking hold, and with time, other marine life might be back as well.

Enjoy the glow of this feel-good story for a moment before reading on to something happening up the coast from Sydney in Queensland.

I could try and be balanced about the following news, and to present it in an objective light, looking at the history of the area and the arguments for and against. But in this particular case, I just can’t.

The Great Barrier Reef is the longest coral reef on the planet, and is the largest single structure made by living creatures. Source: New7Wonders

The Great Barrier Reef is the longest coral reef on the planet, and is the largest single structure made by living creatures.
Source: WorldNew7Wonders

The new Australian government under Tony Abbott has approved a dredging and dumping project that would allow 3.5 million cubic meters of sludge to be deposited on underwater areas within the Great Barrier Reef protected zone.  The dredging is to facilitate expansion of coal export operations into one of the largest coal ports in the world, shipping Australian coal to China and India.

I guess it’s been determined that waiting around for the Great Barrier Reef to just give up and die due to the effects of greenhouse gases, climate change, industrial and agricultural pollution and shipping would take too long.

Having the fossil-fuel extraction industry just make direct attacks on the World Heritage site will get the job done quicker.

The flooding and flow of sediment into the Coral Sea at Gladstone, Australia, blamed by many on dredging. Dredging at Gladstone Harbour is under investigation for causing mass marine life death. Image: Cmd. Chris Hadfield  via Twitter

The flooding and flow of sediment into the Coral Sea at Gladstone, Australia, blamed by many on dredging. Dredging at Gladstone Harbour is under investigation for causing mass marine life death.
Image: Cmd. Chris Hadfield via Twitter

The Great Barrier Reef Marine Park Authority (GBRMPA) has final approval rights. Their decision is due by 31 January 2014. You can add comment on the GBRMPA website, or if so inclined, sign an online petition against this project to turn parts of the reef into mud pie here, or e-mail the Australian Environment Minister’s office here. Or, perhaps more effective, give the GBRMPA a call.

Study: Towards Restoration of Missing Underwater Forests (PLOS ONE Jan. 2014) – AH Campbell, EM Marzinelli, A. Vergés, MA Coleman, PD Steinberg

Time Pressed

Seaweed collection circa 1850 Source: Collector's Weekly

Seaweed collection circa 1850
Source: Collector’s Weekly

The Victorians liked collections of all kinds, but those of objects of nature were among the most popular. The bit of the glamour and glory of the great era of exploration could be had in gathering one’s own seashells, or taxidermied animals, or skeletons, or in a version previously unknown to me, seaweed.

Seaweed collections apparently became popular with Victorian ladies around the same time as scrapbooking.

Three pressed seaweed specimens were likely collected near Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts, by Mary A. Robinson, circa 1885 Source: Collector's Weekly

Three pressed seaweed specimens were likely collected near Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts, by Mary A. Robinson, circa 1885
Source: Collector’s Weekly

In Fukishima today, work begins on the extraction of over 1500 nuclear fuel rods from the destroyed nuclear power plant there, two-and-a-half years after the earthquake and tsunami that devastated the area. The rods have been sitting in storage pools of water – they’ll be removed by crane and robot, and transferred to a more reliable storage facility.

And while the Wikipedia page on ‘Radiation effects from the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster‘ cheerfully explains that health and environmental risks from leaked radiation really aren’t all that dire (the page is flagged at the top with a note questioning the neutrality of its content), reports of spills and ongoing leaks don’t inspire much confidence.

And so, 150 years after the samples shown here were collected and pressed for posterity, gathering seaweed along the rim the Pacific Ocean takes on a less picturesque significance, namely that of testing for radiation exposure.

Two identification diagrams from David Landsborough’s “A Popular History of British Seaweeds,” which was first published in 1849. Source: Collector's Weekly

Two identification diagrams from David Landsborough’s “A Popular History of British Seaweeds,” which was first published in 1849.
Source: Collector’s Weekly

Amassed Lights

This NASA satellite image shows large clusters of moving lights far away from any human settlement, and far away from any land. Out in the middle of the ocean, where one might assume there shouldn’t be large gatherings of human-generated light. Most of the articles I found were playful: What could possibly be out there – submarine gatherings, aliens, Atlantis, military testing?

In 2012, a global composite map of Earth’s night lights revealed human activity well offshore from South America.  Caption/Credit: NASA Earth Observatory/NOAA National Geophysical Data Center

In 2012, a global composite map of Earth’s night lights revealed human activity well offshore from South America.
Caption/Credit: NASA Earth Observatory/NOAA National Geophysical Data Center

The answer, provided by NASA, is easy. Fishing fleets, of course. Fishing fleets out harvesting Illex argentinus, a species of short-finned squid. I’ve written about them here.

But how massive must these fleets be to form entire metropolises of light? How many fish could they possibly be harvesting?

And for that, I refer to another article out this month, the one about Newcastle yachtsman Ivan Macfadyen. An experienced sailor, he recently sailed from Melbourne to Osaka, a trip he had taken ten years earlier.

The differences between the two trips were stark. Where his boat had been followed by flocks of birds the first time, the second time there were none. On the first trip he’d only had to dip a line into the water to catch a fish for dinner, the second time he was only able to catch two fish in 3000 miles (4800 km). On the second trip he had to navigate his boat through a silent sea of large debris and garbage patches.

Image: NOAA

And then he met up with a large fishing trawler.

The friendly fishermen offered him bags and bags of by-catch fish, the stuff that got caught in their nets but wasn’t the tuna they were harvesting. They said they simply throw away anything not on their shopping list – in this case, massive numbers of any and all creatures in their fishing zone.

So, back to the NASA images. One look at the comment section of one article shows that a large number of readers don’t believe the fishing fleet story. They would rather believe that the lights are evidence of underwater volcanoes, or alien forces amassing offshore with destructive intentions – because how could there be so many fishing boats?

And I guess from the point of view of the marine animals, an alien invasion would seem a pretty plausible explanation.Image credit: anterovium / 123RF Banque d'images

The problem with both perspectives – that of the silent sea, and that of preferring the explanation of aliens or Atlantis over massive fishing fleets – is that they can have the potential to paralyze us into fear and inaction.

And as an antidote to that, I propose this excellent article by Carlos Duarte, Director of the Oceans Institute at the University of Western Australia. He suggests that it isn’t the oceans which are dead (not yet, anyway), but that consumer behavior is broken and must be altered on a fundamental level.

And if these images and the story of Ivan Macfadyan’s sobering voyage have any effect, then I hope it is to inspire action rather than resignation.

Freshwater Wave

Pacific Ocean
Photo: David Orias

Growing up in California, which has always been a place of regular droughts, one of the first things you learn is that water can be a precious commodity. One of the things you don’t always learn is how to use it wisely. There always seems to be either too much, too little, it’s just not in the right place at the right time, but ingrained habits of overuse are hard to put aside.

Water conflicts have been a part of life in California from the earliest days. The water from the northern lakes and reservoirs has been used to irrigate the agriculture industry, grow the cities and industry, provide power and drinking water. A state of over 30 million inhabitants, the 5th largest supplier of food in the world. Reclaimed water, i.e. treated wastewater, has already been in use for irrigation in some areas since the 1930s.

Over the past few decades, the water challenges have only increased as agricultural use pollutes groundwater, lakes run low, and the competition for the resource only becomes more fierce.

The state’s governor has just signed in a number of bills meant to address these problems, and has proposed consolidating all water issues under a single entity, a state Water Resources Board. One of the  keys to ensuring long-term water access, according to Brown, will be the efficient and affordable recycling of wastewater into drinkable water.

Technically, of course, all freshwater on Earth is recycled water. The terms recycled and reclaimed water refer to wastewater that has been treated in a facility to meet a certain standard and directed towards specific uses rather than simply discharged into surface waters like rivers or oceans to let the hydrosphere take care of things.

Even though direct recycling of sewage into potable water without the intermediate step of depositing that water in a lake or reservoir is already being test-run elsewhere, I imagine it will require overcoming both technical and psychological hurdles in the United States.

At the same time, given the long history of water challenges in California and throughout North America, it’s a little surprising it’s taken so long to start having this discussion in earnest.

 

Abyssal Giant

A giant squid (Architeuthis dux) washed ashore near Cantabria on the northern coast of Spain this week.

Marine creatures wash ashore all the time. Dolphins, whales, seals, jellyfish and starfish, are found on beaches around the world, often in alarming numbers.

Architeuthis dux Image: Verrill / Wikipedia

But the great Architeuthis dux is one of the rarest of all sightings, both in and out of the water. Little is known about them, and what is known applies mostly to what can be discovered from their corpses – even less is known about them while they are alive. A study in obscure clues and educated conjecture.

They grow long, live deep, and feed large.

They are creatures of the superlative. While they aren’t quite the largest invertebrate (that honor belongs to Mesonychoteuthis hamiltoni, the colossal squid), they aren’t much smaller.

Their long tentacles, lined with the suckers that make them so fearsome to us, are actually more frightening than I had realized. Each sucker is lined with hard, sharp chitin – claws with which the prey is drawn inextricably towards the inner beak. Their eyes are the largest in the world (except for perhaps those of their large cousin, the colossal).

They have formed the stuff of human fantasy for centuries, mythical stand-ins for the dangers of the unknown, kraken-points on a map to indicate where rules of the known world becomes treacherous and can pull the unwary sailor into the inky depths.

And the giant squid is one of the main characters in one of the strangest books I’ve read all year, China Miéville’s Kraken.

There have been a few live sightings – elusive, tantalizing and intriguing.

The posthumous fate of this particular squid is undecided. It might go to a museum, it might be dissected. But for a moment, at least, it succeeds in death what it undoubtedly did in life – inspire awe and induce a few shudders.

Trash Tsunami

This certainly isn’t the case for all beaches and surf areas surrounding Java, but…photographer Zak Noyle was shooting Indonesian surfer Dede Surinaya in a remote, mostly uninhabited bay and this is what they found.

This shot was taken in the formerly pristine waters off of Java, Indonesia. According to several sources, the 17,000 islands of Indonesia have a serious problem with trash disposal. Java, with a population of 135 million people, is the world’s most populated island.

Many areas lack reliable, clean waste disposal systems, so many people burn their trash, including plastic garbage. Whatever doesn’t get burned ends up in the most unlikely places, while strong currents can carry trash far from any town or city where it was generated.

Looks an ideal testing ground for new ideas for waste disposal infrastructure and technologies on limited land mass.

More:

HuffingtonPost article – Photographer Captures Waves of Trash in Indonesia by Gabriela Aoun

Limpet Limits

Finger limpets (L. digitalis) Photo: Robert & Jean Pollock

Finger limpets (L. digitalis)
Photo: Robert & Jean Pollock

Finger limpets, small gastropods common on the shores of the U.S. Pacific coast, are creatures of two worlds. They like hot sun and cold water, and live their lives mostly on rocks or piggybacked on other creatures with similar preferences, such as mussels, riding out the ebb and tide of the ocean.

A limpet can move about quite a bit, and its strong gastropodal foot can keep it firmly fastened to a rock even under the force of a strong wave, but as it turns out, what they can’t do is tolerate large variations in air temperature.

A recent study in the Journal of Experimental Biology – Thermal physiology of the fingered limpet Lottia digitalis under emersion and immersion – showed that while limpets might look like they are tenaciously attached to an intertidal rock face, their grip on survival might not be quite as strong as it appears. They aren’t able to adapt to rising temperatures while exposed to the air (’emersion’), and their comfort zone is relatively narrow.Lottia digitalis‘Clinging like a limpet’ might take on a new meaning when it comes to climate change adaptability. These marine snails can act as a barometer for the effect of an increasing number of warmer-than-average days on tidal species.

 

More:

Journal of Experimental Biology studyThermal physiology of the fingered limpet Lottia digitalis under emersion and immersion by B. Bjelde and A. Todgham

Marin Independent Journal articleTiburon marine research shows peril global warming brings to sea species by Mark Prado