Nuclear fishin’
Who would have thought it a Good Thing to put a nuclear power station on the shore of a Marine Protected Area? The argument runs that because it’s such a dangerous place, people aren’t allowed to build houses next to it. So there’s less human pressure on the coral reef next door.
That’s the somewhat contradictory story of the Biscayne National Park, where a bunch of journalists headed out to see the reef up close and personal. The story isn’t quite so simple, of course, as our visit taught us. Apart from nuclear fuel, the power plant burns coal. The tanker that delivers it has a nasty habit of running aground. Just as long as it doesn’t hit the signposts…
This was a day of two halves for me. On the one hand was revelation after revelation about how many things were deemed to be acceptable in a supposedly protected area. This highlighted the problems faced by marine biologists here in restoring coral reef ecosystems. But it wasn’t all doom and gloom. Not by a long way…
Having tooled up with flippers, snorkels, masks and life jackets, we were shepherded aboard our boat. It took a long time to back out of the quay, but once away we roared off up the manatee channel (at a sea-cow friendly 5mph). No sign of ‘em though. They’re perhaps bored with having to swim unceasingly up and down the same channel.
After what seemed like a lifetime, and for some undersea creatures probably is, we arrived at the first patch of coral. After a short flight hostess safety talk, we stepped off into the Blue. Ahhh. Now this is living. Curious thing, marine biology. You guys work somewhere that the rest of the world has to take holiday to go to, but your findings are, by and large, depressing stuff.
Below the surface the sea teemed with life. Well, maybe that’s going a bit too far. There were lots of corals and lots of stuff going on among them, but it wasn’t exactly the opening scene out of Finding Nemo. The dangers of Disneyfication!
We splashed around happily with varying degrees of grace for the allotted thirty minutes, before it was time to climb aboard once more and head off for the next destination. Oh, dry land. It’s lunch time. Some of the “crew” had trouble resisting the resident raccoon, who by his sheer audacity signaled he knew that was going to be the case. He didn’t have too much luck though, and his mangy appearance signaled that he was expecting as much. Being a raccoon seems to be one of Life’s Thankless Tasks.
Lunch over, it was time to get to the next snorkeling site, this time a ship wreck from the early 1800s. Yours truly completely failed to make the connection, but in my defense that was because I was enjoying the amazing underwater world I was seeing. There was a full size stingray, someone saw a nurse shark, and a whole host of other fishy things going on among the beautiful coral garden.
There you go. Conversion point. Once you’ve seen it up close, you know there’s no question about acting to save it. I’m hooked. Job done, SeaWeb. I’m not alone. Here’s Steve Connor of The Independent.
I was being unfair. The poor guy had only just got out of the water. It has to be said though, the sense of bewilderment was palpable. That was my interviewing technique…
Next, it’s back in the boat. The SCUBA guys kept putting their cameras in the water. We’re not allowed to go anywhere near the bucket. We return to the jetty where we had lunch, to be surprised by the revelation that it doubles up as a coral nursery. Whenever pieces of coral can be rescued – after the weekly groundings of the coal tanker I guess – they are picked up and carefully allowed to recover. Then they’re sliced up into as many pieces as possible. Each slice is fitted with an RFID tag – a tiny gizmo that allows each lump of coral to be identified with a scanner – then stuck onto a plastic peg. Each of these coral peglets is stuffed into a hole drilled on some hefty timbers submerged a few feet below our picnic jetty.
We get to go in the water to look. There are squeals of excitement: someone has spotted a barracuda! There’s safety in numbers, right? The barracuda won’t get me for exactly the same reason I never win the lottery. Oh no, that’s because I don’t play the lottery. Argh! The barracuda is going to get me because I don’t play the lottery!
The coral nursery is a great symbol of hope. They may be hopelessly slow growing, but at least these ones can grow up in peace. Once they hit adolescence though, it’s off to the big bad reef. Good luck, little corals!
A great day. Many, many thanks to all those involved in organizing it. I think everyone learned things in an instant that couldn’t be learned in a month of lectures. Here’s the Guardian’s Tim Radford – who had a little more time to think about it – on what he learned… once again, please excuse the appalling interview technique. I’m learning.
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