Traveling light with Brett

After a long car ride from Biscayne National Park to Key West on a rainy Saturday in late July, Brett Seymour and I met up with the m/v Fort Jefferson, the Dry Tortugas National Park (DRTO) support and research vessel. Aboard the Fort Jefferson was Dave Conlin, who had just returned from 3 weeks in the DRTO. Unfortunately we had to say goodbye to Dave the next morning. The Fort Jefferson was set to depart in the morning on July 27^th, so we had just one day to gather all the groceries we would need to resupply the rest of the SRC staff out at DRTO for the next 3 weeks.

It’s hard to tell in this image, but just the groceries alone took up the massive bed of the SRC’s truck. That’s a lot of food – despite what kind of boxes the grocery store gave us.

The Fort Jefferson, DRTO’s support vessel. DRTO relies on the Ft. Jeff to bring in supplies like food, gasoline and diesel from Key West.

After meeting up with legendary archeologists Jim Bradford and Volunteer Extraordinaire Jim Koza, we took an entire day to gather all of our supplies and to double check that we had everything we would need to live in the remote reaches of Garden Key for the next 3 weeks. Key West is the furthest south you can drive on the East Coast, and in order to get to DRTO you either need to take a boat or a seaplane 70 miles to the west into the Gulf of Mexico. Throughout the summer I had heard many rumors and tails of DRTO, and I was very much looking forward to visiting the historic Fort Jefferson (the actual fort on Garden Key). DRTO is my last expedition for the summer, and I fully planned to make the most of it.

Ever since the Europeans colonized North America, the Dry Tortugas have been an incredibly important piece of maritime history. Sitting at the confluence of the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean, shipping traffic to and from the Gulf had to pass through the Tortugas, or swing far to the south and east. Because of the shifting keys, ever changing winds and shallow coral reefs, the Tortugas are home to an incredible wealth of cultural resources, mainly shipwrecks. In 1846 the United States started the construction of a hexagonal fort on Garden Key; some 16 million bricks make up the stunning Fort Jefferson. Though the fort was never technically completed, it still stands as a testament to military construction and ingenuity. Not to mention master masonry.

A little insight into a day in the life at Crew’s Quarter. Clockwise from top: Bert’s message board detailing the day’s activities, chore schedule and the dinner menu; the bunkroom, with complimentary plastic canopies to keep ceiling debris from falling on you; Bert at the all purpose dining table/work bench mapping a site; Koza pauses briefly after working on a detailed site map.

During our stay at DRTO we lived within the walls of the fort, in a casemate retrofitted with a kitchen, dorm room style bunks, a bathroom and even air conditioning. A luxury that the men and women stationed at the fort never enjoyed. 9 of the project staff would call the Crew’s Quarters home, while the others stayed in the Engineer’s apartments, or on the Fort Jefferson. The majority of the Submerged Resources Center was present at the fort, mounting a large maritime archeology inventory and documentation. It was great to be reunited with them after having spent the summer traveling across the Park Service.

DRTO works with a skeleton crew; mainly a few biotechs and cultural resource staff, law enforcement rangers that rotate on and off the island and a couple maintenance personnel which are responsible for keeping everything running. The bulk of the island’s population are the visitors to Garden Key that arrive and depart on the daily ferry from Key West. Though a few campers occasionally spend the night in the campground in front of the fort. With little running water and electricity, and almost no Internet, (for staff only) DRTO is considered one of the Park Service’s best-kept secrets. I knew I would fall in love with this place even before I arrived, but I wasn’t prepared for what I saw once the Fort Jefferson was tied up at her dock. The fort looms over a moat, connected to the rest of the key via a wooden bridge that takes visitors through the sally port, under the walls of the fort and into the parade ground. Stepping into the fort is like stepping into a medieval castle. This place would be my home for the next two weeks, and already I was bustling with excitement.

The next day I jumped on the survey boat with a few of the crew from the SRC. This is how anomalies are found, by towing a magnetometer behind a boat. Whenever the mag picks up a pulse, its position is marked on a map. Eventually we would get to jump some of the anomalies we picked up when “towing the fish”.

Volunteer Dylan Hardenberg and I prepare to launch the magnetometer off of the back of the SRC’s research vessel Cal Cummings. Photo credit to Susanna Pershern

The crews already out at DRTO had been there for some 3 weeks, and were more than happy to welcome new faces to their group. After a day of mag surveys, the last for the summer, I spent my days either jumping anomalies or helping out with some of the photo-documentation work Brett Seymour and Susanna Pershern, the SRC’s other photographer, were working on. In between photographing new sites, and some of the sites from previous surveys, Brett has been working on a new 3D photogrammetry technique for mapping sites. By swimming in a spiral around a fixed object, like a shipwreck, and taking pictures in a continuous stream, Brett generated 100% optical coverage of the object. After uploading the images into special software, sometimes more than a 1000 images, he is able to generate an interactive 3D image. It takes a lot of work, and a lot of swimming, but the models Brett is able to generate have huge implications for the future of cultural resource management and interpretation.

It would appear as though fish aren’t the only organisms attracted to DRTO’s cultural resources. Photo credit to Brett Seymour

Brett Seymour prepares for another dive documenting some of DRTO’s cultural resources while archeologist Jim Koza waits in the warm water.

Of course, while jumping anomalies and investigating shipwrecks, I couldn’t help but notice the abundance of flora and fauna covering the reefs of DRTO. Because of the Dry Tortugas’ remoteness, many large fish species that are absent or rare in the Florida Keys are thriving in the Park Service’s protected waters. Once commercially important fish, like goliath groupers, are all but gone from the Keys. But 4 or 5 of these monstrous fish lurk just under the dock where the Fort Jefferson ties up. And all of the intact shipwrecks we visited provide important habitat and structure for reef dwelling organisms. The natural resources of these waters are partially what attracted what are now considered cultural resources. And these cultural resources now attract said natural resources.

Due to DRTO’s remoteness, and the schedule we stuck to, it was easy to fall into a comfortable rhythm. After that first day on the survey boat, we pretty much spent every day after in the water surveying sites, jumping anomalies and documenting artifacts. Aside from being blown out by weather a couple of times, we were far from dry in the Dry Tortugas.

In between working with the archeologists, I was also able to squeeze in some time with the natural resource team. I walked the beaches of the remote East Key looking at turtle nesting sites, and even went on a night dive with a team looking at coral spawning events. With all the beauty of DRTO above and below the water, there wasn’t any time to be bored. It was honestly refreshing to live without certain modern obligations, like the Internet and cell phones. Though I was very appreciative to have air conditioning in our living quarters. Fort Jefferson is essentially a gigantic brick oven; “dry days” inside the fort were almost unbearable.

Although the teams were split between the two dive boats during the day, we all gathered in the evenings for a communal meal. Brett Seymour’s wife, Elizabeth, prepared dinner for the 13 of us every night, and I know everyone was incredibly appreciative. In order to keep things harmonious, everyone was assigned to a daily chore rotation. After a day of diving under the hot tropical sun, sweeping the floor or filling scuba cylinders wasn’t too bad if that was all you had to do.

Another look at the Windjammer’s prow. The dive conditions at DRTO were absolutely incredible.

All in all DRTO was more than I could have ever hoped for. Working and living with such a dedicated team of professionals was an incredible learning experience. And the memories I have from living in the fort, and from this entire summer, will stick with me for a long time. I’d really like to thank everyone from the SRC and SEAC for putting up with me during those two weeks. And even though my background is in marine biology, not maritime archeology, I learned more than I thought I could about cultural resources.

The members of expedition DRTO-SRC-0188 gather in front of Fort Jefferson’s welcome sign. From left to right: Dylan Hardenberg, David Morgan, Jeneva Wright, Susanna Pershern, Jess Keller, Charlie Sproul, Bert Ho, Koza, Jim Bradford, Brett Seymour, Elizabeth Seymour, and Cameron and Chase Seymour.

As I watched the sun set from atop the three story fort, I reflected on my experiences this summer. After a quick seaplane flight back to Key West, I’m off to give my final report in Washington D.C. Looks like I’ll be trading out a wetsuit for something a little more formal.

Thanks for reading.

I have to admit, DRTO made me more than a little trigger-happy. Everywhere you look, any time of day, there was something to catch the eye.

On some days we jumped up to 6 anomalies; the backwards roll is the preferred method of watery entry off of the Park Service’s boats.

After 2 eventful weeks in the USVI, I found myself back in South Florida at Biscayne National Park. It might sound odd, returning to BISC felt like the closest thing to coming home. Although this has been an experience of a lifetime, as soon as I feel acquainted with a particular Park, I’m already off to somewhere new. After bouncing from Park to Park all summer, it was good to see some familiar faces.

With so many different projects going on at BISC it wasn’t hard for me to find a way to be useful. Because I had already spent my previous two weeks at BISC working with natural resources, I decided to try my hand at exploring some of the Park’s cultural resources. As it happens, one of the interns I was staying with, Maddie Roth, would be “jumping anomalies” all week with an undergraduate volunteer from a local University. I figured I would lend a hand to see if I couldn’t learn a thing or two.

Often times the weather in the South Atlantic can turn without a moment’s notice. It wasn’t uncommon for a squall to blow through, leaving calm water and sunny skies in its wake.

Because of Biscayne Bay’s rich maritime history, and potential navigation hazards, the Park and outlying waters are teeming with cultural resources. From sunken ATONS to shipwrecks, and artifacts from the last couple of centuries, there’s a lot to explore. However, the Park covers a lot of area, so looking for submerged resources is kind of like looking for a needle in a haystack. Every so often the Park Service tows a magnetometer behind a boat, which helps locate magnetic anomalies. The coordinates are recorded and cataloged with reports from recreational divers of potential sites.

After an anomaly is found, it must be thoroughly documented. Aside from drawings and photographs, measurements must be recorded as well. Here Maddie prepares to take the length and width of an anomaly found amongst soft coral.

Our task for the week was to dive on some these anomalies by using reports from previous surveys. We’d pull up to a given area, and read off of the report sheet something to the effect of, “divers previously reported 7 metal pipes. In 2001 divers searched for 15min and could not locate said pipes.” So we’d drop anchor and scour the coral rubble or seagrass looking for the pipes. Or “metal pins” or “potential coal box”. Searching for a relatively obscure object in 10ft of water through seagrass or rubble or sand isn’t exactly the most exciting task. But it makes finding something of interest all the more remarkable.

Most of the more interesting sites have already been well documented, so the interns tend to get handed the less desirable locations. However, on our first day we found a submerged ATON from the mid 19^th century, and even a potential wreck! Mind you the “wreck” was a collection of wooden boards with metal pins scattered throughout 15ft of seagrass. Some salvager, the bane of the Cultural Resources team, had used a powered dredge to remove the seagrass around one of the wooden boards. Seeing nothing of interest to sell on the market they left the site alone. The amount of knowledge gained from continuous surveys of sites like this far outweighs the potential monetary gain from pillaging these cultural resources.

Rob Warra, of the South Florida Caribbean Monitoring Network invited me to dive with him one day. Unfortunately our day was cut short when some equipment flooded.

For the rest of the week we spent our days diving in various parts of the bay, hoping to find more potential sites. On some dives we got skunked, and couldn’t find much of anything. However, occasionally we would find something of interest. Because my background is mainly in natural resources, seeing first hand how cultural resources are documented and managed was certainly interesting. Plus, Maddie and Austin’s enthusiasm for the cultural resources found in the Park is infectious. We were also optimistic about finding new wrecks, which are certainly still lurking in BISC, waiting to be uncovered so their stories can be told again.

I’d like to thank Maddie Roth and Austin, Maddie’s intern, for putting up with me and answering all of my questions about underwater archaeology. Now I’m heading down to Key West to prepare for the last Park I’ll visit this summer. Dry Tortugas National Park here I come!

Thanks for reading.

After hopping across three islands, one ferry and one tiny airplane ride later I made it to the island of St. Croix. Though still part of the US Virgin Island, St. Croix lies some 40 miles south of the cluster of Virgin Islands split between the US and Britain. Compared to the sparse population on St. John, St. Croix is a relatively industrial center for the USVI, though it is still home to both cultural and natural resource sites. Unfortunately my time on St. Croix would be very short, so I had to make sure I made the most of it.

The Elkhorn coral is an ESA listed species, but it is quite prolific around Buck Island. “I was swimming in the Caribbean…”

We hit the ground running. Clayton Pollock, the Park Diving Officer for the Buck Island Reef National Monument, picked me up from the airport the night I arrived and briefed me on the schedule for the next few days. It seems I could actually be useful during my time at BUIS. The marine park on St. Croix is home to a variety of ambitious project, one of which is a large-scale marine tracking program.

As a joint project between the Park Service, the University of the Virgin Island, the USGS, SFCN, NOAA, the USVI Department of Planning and Natural Resources Division of Fish and Wild Life, TNC, UMass Amherst and UMiami, 145 of acoustic receivers have been deployed at depth around Buck Island and offshore of St. Croix According to Clayton Pollock, the project goal is “to better understand animal movements within marine ecosystems and sustain the efficacy and connectivity between MPAs.” These collaborators are interested in tracking different organisms, such as sharks, turtles, fish, conch and lobsters. If a tagged organism happens to swim past one of the acoustic receivers, the tag is pinged and the signature is recorded on the receiver. Every once and a while the receivers are brought back up to the surface where the information can be downloaded and parceled out to the different private investigators.

Even though the receiver recovery dives had to be quick, the depths we went to still warranted a safety stop. Here Chris Biggs, a graduate student from UVI hangs mid-water, cleaning a receiver. The calm beneath the surface belies the stormy conditions above.

However, these receivers need to be serviced every once in a while, and as luck would have it 21 of the needed to be serviced ASAP. Because I happen to be on island at the time, I volunteered to join the UVI crew tasked with retrieving the receivers, so Clayton could continue the arduous task of prepping for the 2015 turtle-monitoring season. Much like on St. John the weather forecast for St. Croix didn’t look too pleasant, but we had a big job to do.

The receivers were moored over reefs at depths ranging from 10ft to 70ft, so it took quite a lot of energy to execute the dives. We would deploy two divers with a float, accounting for the ripping currents, unhook the receivers from their moorings, ascend to the surface, load our gear onto the boat, and motor to the next site to do it all over again. Couple that with 25knot winds and 4-6ft seas and we were in for quite a day. Even though it took all day, we managed to retrieve all 21 of the receivers.

In order to efficiently execute our dives, we entered the water already negatively buoyant, so that the current wouldn’t have too much time to blow us off of our mark. Chris would bomb down to the mooring, while I hung above him with a surface marker buoy.

The next day Clayton and I headed out to Buck Island, which is only about a 15min boat ride from St. Croix, to deploy 3 of the receivers. They were all in relatively shallow water, and thankfully we could take a more relaxed pace. The waters around Buck Island were much more sheltered, and I was absolutely blown away by the natural resources surrounding BUIS. Diving around St. John was spectacular, but the cerulean waters and colorful fringing reef around Buck Island is a site to behold. Especially when you surface just off shore from picturesque white sand beaches.

Still in the protection of the harbor, the conditions deteriorated just off shore from St. Croix. At least both the rain and the ocean were warm.

The Park Service has gone to great lengths to protect the cultural and natural resources on St. Croix and Buck Island, and I was absolutely blown away by both. After a quick orientation dive around BUIS, we headed back to Christiansted, the historic district on St. Croix where the Park’s HQ are located. The Park’s offices are housed in a historic building built by Danish colonists, and are right across the street from an old Danish Fort. As we prepared for turtle season, I marveled at the classic colonial Caribbean buildings, which looked like something right out of a movie set.

Just across the street from the Park’s HQ lies the historic Danish fort. Originally built to protect overseas interests, the historic site attracts visitors from all walks of life.

However, I didn’t have much time to wander about. The crux of the field season for BUIS is the Buck Island Sea Turtle Research Program. Every night from mid July through October since 1987 biotechs will wander the beaches of Buck Island, monitoring and documenting the sea turtles that come to dig their nests and lay their eggs. Hawksbills, greens and loggerheads are among the types of turtles that call the Caribbean home, and for generations female turtles haul themselves up onto the idyllic beaches under the cover of darkness to start an ancient cycle over again. Turtles that have tags on them are recorded, and tissue samples are taken as well. New females are tagged and logged; hopefully they’ll return year after year. Because female turtles return to the same beaches every time they lay, a lot of good data can be taken.

While there is a relatively established trail further inland, the BISTRP crews must hug the water line looking for turtles. Clayton Pollock helps clear a trail through Buck Island’s dense tropical bush. Imagine crawling through that in the middle of the night!

Ever year 4 new seasonal biotechs are brought on to monitoring the beaches, and as luck would have it I happened to be on island for the first two nights of training. Lucky for me both because I got to see what training looks like, and because we only were doing half-nights, not a full 12hr night. After meeting up with the new seasonals, Clayton, Tessa (a previous seasonal turned fulltime biotech), Alex (a volunteer and previous seasonal) and I all headed out to Buck Island. As the sun dipped behind the horizon we discussed the protocols and divvied up the gear.

Buck Island is little more than a hill sticking up out of the water. However, over the course of the season over 100 turtles will lay their eggs in nests along the 2km of beach. Divided into a Southern and Northern patrol, the biotechs will take shifts slowly walking the beaches by themselves looking for turtles. During training however, we went in groups and took a leisurely pace. Even though Buck Island is open to visitors (only during the day during turtle season) most of the “paths” the biotechs follow needed to be cleared.

Even though we didn’t see any turtles over the 2 nights we spent on BUIS, it was still a really neat experience. Not many people get the opportunity to stroll the beaches of BUIS, which sounds a lot easier than it really is. Even though the temperature hovers in the low 80s at night, biotechs were pants in order to protect them from thorny or poisonous pants. And closed toed, waterproof shoes. We had to bushwhack through dense underbrush, through the lapping waves and over wide swaths of sandy beaches. Again, this sounds like a walk in the park, but each patrol takes an hour, and typically one does 8 or so patrols a night. It takes a lot of work, and that’s without finding any turtles.

As the sun sets past West Beach, the day is just beginning for the BISTRP crews. Come rain or shine, they must adopt a nocturnal schedule for the next 12 weeks, but at least they’re greeted by spectacular sunsets and a sky full of stars.

Even though I was kept very busy at BUIS, my time was unfortunately short. After an exhausting couple of days, it’s time to head back to Biscayne National Park for one more week of south Florida diving. I’d like to thank Clayton Pollock, Tessa Code, Alex Gulick, and the 2015 BISTRP crew. Good luck turtle lurking!

Thanks for reading!

After saying my goodbyes to the good folks at BISC, I jumped on a plane and headed into the heart of the Caribbean, the US Virgin Islands. After landing on the island of St. Thomas, I was met byMikey Kent, the Virgin Islands National Park’s Park Diving Officer. We headed over to the island of St. John via ferry and headed up to the Biosphere, VIIS’s HQ. Because I had arrived on a Friday afternoon, we had the weekend ahead of us before starting work on Monday. I happened to land during the final few days of Carnival, the Caribbean’s summer celebration. Let’s just say that when Monday rolled around I was ready to get to work.

Escaping the heat on land, I dove in the Park’s cerulean water every chance I could.

The Virgin Islands National Park covers nearly 60% of the island of St. John, but the majority of the Park actually encompasses the outlying marine area as well. Because of the island’s prime location, thousands of visitors are drawn the Park’s waters each year. And the marine crew here at VIIS has their work cut out for them. If you’ve ever camped in a National Park, you’re probably familiar with an “iron ranger”, also known as a fee station.

The majority of the visitors to VIIS arrive on private boats. In order to accommodate these visitors, the Park Service maintains hundreds of moorings. If you want to spend the night, you’ve got to register with a floating ranger.

Because the majority of the Park covers the water, the Park Service has hundreds of boat moorings scattered across the island of St John. Located in sheltered coves along the shore of the picturesque island, visitors can tie up their boats for the night if they register with a floating iron ranger. However, these buoys need regular maintenance, and that’s where the Park Service comes in.

During my first day at VIIS Mikey took me on a tour of the Park’s facilities, which are starkly similar to the ones in American Samoa. We also get a chance to dive in the Park, which was a refreshing after 4 days of being dry. However, after a fun day of exploring and orienting, it was time to get down to business.

Though not as big of an issue in the USVI, lionfish have spread from South Florida to Belize. On one of our orientation dives Mikey and I found and dispatched a pair of lionfish.

On my second day at VIIS I was invited to participate on an 8-hour commercial diving instruction session. All of the diving I have done with the Park thus far has fallen under the Scientific Diving standard, which is exempt from OSHA’s commercial standards, while still being in compliance. However, the maintenance of VIIS’s buoy and ATON (aids to navigation) arrays fall under OSHA’s commercial diving standards. The Park wanted to step up a few of its divers, and I got a chance to expand my knowledge.

There are a lot of different rules regarding commercial diving, and I won’t bore you with the details. The key difference between a standard science dive and a commercial dive is the amount of people you need. In order to execute a dive safely you always need a buddy when in the water, so essentially the smallest science dive team could just be two divers. For commercial diving you need three people; a diver, a tender and a designated person in charge. The diver is the one on SCUBA executing the task, the tender sits on the surface tending a line connected to the diver, and the designated person in charge (DPIC) is running the topside show.

A veteran of the VIIS aquatic team, Devin demonstrates how the moorings are connected from the surface to the substrate. Take a good look now, because underwater every surface will be covered in some sort of organism.

The diver, connected by a tether, technically has a buddy, the tender, who feeds out line or pulls it back in depending on the scenario. If the line is too tight it will prevent the diver from doing his/her job. If there is too much slack out then the diver is at risk of getting entangled. The tender is also in charge of communicating with the diver. Two pulls mean everything is OK, three means I need something and four means get me out of here! The DPIC is usually the person with the most experience for that particular task. He/she knows ever aspect of the dive, and can anticipate any issues the diver might encounter. For example, if the diver gives three pulls on the line, they might be asking for a tool and the DPIC should know which tool they need. Also, as an added safety precaution, the diver has to always carry a “pony bottle” (a very small scuba tank) strapped to his/her main tank with an independent regulator, just in case. Remember, there is only one diver in the water so if you run out of air you’re really on your own. The tender is always ready, with gear configured, to jump in the water as a safety diver in case of emergencies.

After a half-day in the classroom, we headed out onto the Park’s waters to learn about the different mooring configurations and to get a little in-water experience. After working on equipment with the Park Service in Glen Canyon I thought messing with shackles and pry-bars underwater would be easy. I should have known better; seawater and metal are quite reactive underwater. Plus, the mooring lines are invariably covered in fouling organisms such as algae, razor clams and fire coral. After nearly digging myself into the sand trying to pry a shackle loose, I definitely have a lot more respect for the aquatic crew at VIIS. Though they’re mostly biotechs, they maintain over 200 moorings across the Park. Oh, and there are only three full time divers by the way.

Dave, a law enforcement ranger, occasionally with the biotechs from time to time. Amidst the chaos of the disturbed bottom, Dave wrestles with a shackle on the underside of a mooring.

On day three I was officially stepped up to participate on some working dives with VIIS. I jumped in the water with one of the biotechs to retrieve a mooring ball that had been hit by a boat and sank. We had to use a 50lb lift bag, which was a lot of work. After that, I spent the rest of the day switching off as either a tender or a diver. Commercial diving is definitely a far cry from science diving, and by the end of the day I was exhausted. But that’s just another day for the crew at VIIS.

Biotech Adam helps keep the lift bag’s position in the water column. After dropping down the mooring line into 50ft of water, we had to find the unattached mooring ball and bring it back to the surface.

On day four, Mikey and I switched things up a little. The Virgin Islands has a plethora of natural and cultural resources, and I was fortunate enough to join the Park’s archeologist, Ken Wild, for a day of cultural resource diving. My background in marine ecology didn’t lend itself to underwater archeology, but it was really great to see another aspect of underwater science. Ken has had a lifetime of experience in the Atlantic and Caribbean, just being on the boat with him it was hard not to absorb some of the history from the surrounding area. We checked out some anomalies from a historic site around St. Thomas, and then investigated a shipwreck that Ken found in the shallows right around the corner from the Biosphere.

Sitting in about 8ft of water inside the Park boundary, the anchor has been resting on the bottom for at least 150 years.

If my week wasn’t interesting enough, on day 5 I jumped in the water with VIIS’s biologist, Thomas Kelley. Thomas is another titan in the Caribbean, and together we explored a few of the Park’s more interesting reefs. Thomas was preparing for next week’s big coral reef research foray, NPS/NOAA’s biennial Fish Blitz. Much like diving with Ken, while diving with Thomas I absorbed a lot of information regarding the natural resources VIIS has to offer.

Over the weekend Mikey kept me in the water by offering to let me dive with a local dive shop, and in return I shadowed a basic open water scuba course he was conducting. In one week I managed to dive every day. From commercial diving to cultural resource diving, natural resource diving to recreational diving and finally professional diving. But my time with VIIS wasn’t over yet! Every other year NOAA partners with the Park Service to survey the reefs around the US Virgin Islands with tremendous detail. Although I had missed the Blitz on St. Croix, I was fortunate enough to participate on the first two days on St. John.

On another site Mikey took line point index data while a NOAA intern took benthic habitat data behind him.

On Monday the ragtag group of NOAA biologists gathered at the Biosphere to shake hands with the Park Service crew, some of which had come from Florida to help out for the next two weeks. After the meet and great, and a couple of hours in the office, we headed down to the water to get the show on the road. NOAA scientists had generated dozens of GPS coordinates scattered across water from St. John to the outer edge of the territorial boundaries (the British Virgin islands are almost within swimming distance of the USVI at some places). Instead of diving known sites, we would be dropping into the unknown to sample the benthic habitat, and the diversity and abundance of fish.

The sits from the Fish Blitz range in depth from 15ft to 99ft. Here Mikey Kent takes a line point index in about 90ft of water.

The crew was split into three teams across three boats, and from the harbor we motored to our sites. On a typical Fish Blitz day each team will sample 5-6 sites; if all goes well each site will only take a team 1 dive. In order to reduce surface interval times, the teams use Nitrox instead of compressed air. However, this added a further complication because the closest Nitrox compressor is at a dive shop on St. Thomas. One boat became the dedicated tank boat; towards the end of the day we would call our dives early, round up the empties from the other boats and motor to St. Thomas to get the tanks filled. Because I was only an observer on the Fish Blitz I volunteered to help on the tank ferry.

The two days I got to participate on the Fish Blitz were very exciting, and all too familiar at the same time. Much like the Kelp Forest Monitoring project, there is an immense data set that the Fish Blitz adds to. From coral health and rugosity, to benthic habitat and fish diversity, the Blitz covers it all.

After a week and a half on St. John, it was time to pack up my bags and head over to the nearby island of St. Croix. Most of all I’d like to thank Mikey Kent for keeping me in the water every day, and for giving me a place to stay. I’d also like to thank Thomas Kelly, Jeff Miller, Ken Wild, and Alanna Smith for putting up with me. Stay loose St. John!

As lush as the tropics are above the water, the coral reefs of the US Virgin Islands are home to a fecundity of fish, invertebrate and algae species. The orange coral, Acropora palmate, is an ESA listed species. It was good to see so much of it in the Park.

Thanks for reading!

After a week of decompression training and diving, it was time to ditch my bailout bottle and strap on a regular SCUBA unit. As part of deal with the University of Miami, a few lucky graduate students get to spearhead their own research projects while working as biotechs at BISC. During my second week at the Park I got to participate on a few of the projects they’re working on.

UM graduate student Dana bagging a lionfish. Dana’s project involves lionfish outreach and education; this fish will be used to help spread more information.

Remember from my last post how I mentioned that the Park had requested deco training so they could extend the reach of their lionfish-culling project? Well, you might ask, why are they hunting lionfish in the first place? Don’t these beautiful fish have just as much right to the reefs as we do? The answer is no. Lionfish are native to the western parts of the Indo-Pacific, not the Atlantic and Caribbean. They inhabit coral reefs, preying upon just about anything that they can fit into their mouths. Lionfish are quite popular in the commercial aquarium trade, and unfortunately they were accidently introduced to Biscayne Bay about 20 years ago. Since then they have spread like wildfire across the Caribbean, Atlantic and even into the Gulf of Mexico.

Shelby Moneysmith, BISC’s PDO and the region’s RDO is still a biotech at heart. I haven’t gotten a picture of a live lionfish yet because Shelby and the rest of the biotechs are too good at finding them before I do!

Lionfish are such potent invaders because they have no natural predators on the East Coast. Also, they tend to specialize in eating young fish, which further complicates the issue. BISC has gone through considerable lengths to try and cull lionfish as much as possible. Not only does the Park dispatch the intruders, they also study their diet and behavior. Lionfish are shot at depth using a poll spear, and then brought to the surface. Back at HQ the lionfish are measured, tagged and frozen. Every so often the Park distributes the lionfish to local schools for outreach and science education. Of course, every once and awhile a hungry biotech can fillet a fish or two.

UM graduate student Nicole Besemser nabs a lionfish on one of the Park’s outer reefs.

After being brought back to HQ, lionfish are measured and tagged. The data collected by the Park goes back to just after the start of the invasion.

I’ve worked on projects in the past where culling is a major part of the investigation. While I cannot support aimless killing, it’s remarkable to see how negative of an effect these lionfish can have on a reef. I was really glad to have been able to participate on this project, both on deco and at shallower depths. Also, I couldn’t help but try my hand a cooking up some lionfish fillets for myself!

Not all of the lionfish made it into the freezer. As part of outreach, some folks are trying to get lionfish on the menu at local restaurants. I recommend the fish tacos!

After diving with the Park for over a week it was time to switch gears and try my hand on some other projects. I was able to join two other graduate students for a couple of days working a turtle nesting project and a coral recovery project. Both studies involve making observations in the field, and analyzing the data back in the lab. Because neither involves SCUBA, things were (superficially) less complicated. Or so I thought!

Typically beaches along the edges of the outlying keys are sampled for potential turtle nests multiple times a week. Loggerheads, greens and hawksbills are just a few of the turtles that might utilize the relatively projected sandy shores of the Park to lay their eggs. However, these turtles lay their eggs by night, which definitely complicates the issue. To monitor the beaches for new nests, we drove a Park boat from key to key, wading out in shallow water to walk along the hot, sandy, bug infested shores looking for signs of activity. If a new nest is found, the interns (who get incredibly excited when a nest is found) carefully dig in the sand. Once the eggs are located they are reburied and a protective mesh screen is placed on top. After about 2 months the screen is removed so that the hatchlings can head for the cover of the ocean. It was hard work! But definitely rewarding.

UM graduate student Kelsey Armstrong suites up to survey a beach for potential sea turtle nests. The sun is hot but the bugs still bite!

UM graduate student Tina Van Doornik prepares to wade to shore. We walked along the sandy beaches of the keys looking for sea turtle activity. It was kind of nerve-wracking wading through the warm shallow water, but Tina’s enthusiasm for sea turtles was infectious.

After scouring the beaches for nests all morning we headed to a shallow reef to anchor the boat and do coral health surveys. About 6 months ago a handful of young individual corals were sampled. Sizes were measured and pictures were taken. You can get a general idea about a coral’s well being based on tissue color. Corals have a symbiotic algae living in their tissue, and these algae make sugar from the sun, and in turn nourish the coral. They also give the coral their vibrant colors. If a coral becomes stressed it will release the algae. A “bleached” coral is not happy, and although they may recover, typically this leads to the death of the reef.

Our task for this project was to try and local the small individuals based on pictures taken months ago. Once we found our target, we assessed their health (bleached, recovered, or dead) and took pictures for comparison. This was all easier said than done. The shallow reef was exposed to wind and swell, and since we were doing these surveys using snorkels we got moved around quite a bit.

These three projects are prime examples the natural resource work conducted by the Park Service. In collaboration with local institutions, our natural and cultural resources are well studied and managed. It was really excited to participate on so many projects, especially since working in tropical ecosystems is still relatively new to me. I’d like to thank the UM graduate students Dana Tricarico, Nicole Besemer, Kelsey Armstrong, and Tina Van Doornik for letting me tag along. Now I’m off to the Virgin Islands National Park to continue my dive training.

There’s one thing I can tell you for sure, Florida and Oregon are definitely on opposite sides of the continent. After leaving the burgeoning summer in the Pacific Northwest, I arrived in south Florida some 20 hours later. There I met up with Brett Seymour, Deputy Chief of the SRC, and together we headed to Biscayne National Park at the southern end of Biscayne Bay.

A little known Park, BISC covers 172, 971 acres of Biscayne Bay. While the eastern most edge of this mostly marine park is delineated by a depth contour of 60ft, the majority of the Park is westward of the outlying keys, which presents some very interesting navigation hazards. After spending 2 weeks in American Samoa, and another on Oahu, you’d think that I would be accustomed to summertime weather in the tropics. But I guess a week on the Channel Islands and another at Crater Lake spoiled me. My head was positively spinning when I got to BISC. Mangroves border the water’s edge, while cicadas drown out all but the loudest boats. But I didn’t have much time to soak in the tropical climate; we had to work to do.

We were luck to have Steve Sellers, the NPS’s DSO, provide the instruction for the deco class. Maintaining buoyancy midwater during a long safety stop while keeping control of a surface marker buoy can be pretty tiring after a long dive. Steve showed us the proper way to “hang on a bag” so that you’re keeping tension on the SMB without having it pull you up, or you pulling it down.

BISC has one of the most ambitious diving operations in the Park Service. Divers are usually in the water almost every day, working on a variety of interesting projects. Biscayne Bay is home to a wide array of shipwrecks and other cultural resources dating back several centuries. But the natural resources of the Park are just as interesting. Most people don’t associate the United States with coral reefs, aside from Hawaii of course, but southern Florida is home to prolific coral reefs. However, there are increasing environmental and anthropological pressures threatening the reefs and cultural resources of BISC, and that’s where the Park Service comes in.

To help combat an invasion of lionfish of epic proportions (more on that later) Park Services divers cull these dangerous trespassers with all they’ve got. However, the sneaky fish are found ever deeper, so the park management of BISC had requested some decompression dive training from the NPS National Dive Safety Officer Steve Sellers with support from the NPS Submerged Resources Center Chief and Deputy, Dave Conlin and Brett Seymour.

On my first full day at the Park I was reacquainted with Dave and Steve, after saying goodbye to them in Denver way back at the beginning of all of this. I also met Shelby Moneysmith, BISC’s tireless Park Diving Officer and the southeast region’s Regional Diving Officer. Shelby had requested this course so that some of her divers extend the lionfish management program to deeper depths. Steve would be teaching the course, with Dave and Brett as support staff, and by some good fortune I was able to participate.

Many SCUBA divers pay close attention to their NDL, the no decompression limit. As a function of breathing compressed air at depth, nitrogen gets diffused into the body’s tissues. As we come up from depth, we need to let the nitrogen safely come out of our tissues in order to avoid complications such as decompression sickness. Most divers won’t stay down long enough to require dangerous amounts of nitrogen, and can theoretically ascend to the surface (safely!) at any time during the dive. Though safety stops (hanging out at 15ft for 3 minutes) should always be made.

With decompression diving, all you’re doing is extending your dive time past the NDL. Essentially you dive deeper, and longer, and then have to make more than one safety stop. I won’t bore you with the details, but just for example after a 120ft dive you might stop at 50ft for 1 min, 40ft for 2 min, 30ft for 4 min and 15ft for 25 min. Of course, that’s all hypothetical. Notice that last stop though, 25 min at 15ft! I’ve had working dives with less bottom time than that! Of course, with decompression diving you’re extending your overall dive time, so you need to plan on bringing a lot more breathing gas than usual. But that’s all part of the training. Are you still with me? Good.

Before any deco dive you need to calculate your respiratory minute volume (RMV), how much gas you breath at depth. From that calculation you can adjust how much gas you’ll need to bring with you to execute a safe dive.

So, day 2 at BISC and we’ve started off our deco training with a nice long classroom session. It had been way too long since I’ve gotten such formal SCUBA instruction! Steve did an excellent job walking us through decompression theory, gas planning and management, contingency planning (safety first!) and safe boating practices. In places like BISC, with a reef on the bottom and nothing but water to the surface, all of those decompression stops are usually done floating in the water column, so you have a lot of different factors to consider.

Shelby Moneysmith, BISC’s tireless PDO (and the region’s RDO) participated in the deco training with us. After we finished training we put our skills to the test, hunting lionfish on a wreck in about 130ft of water.

After a day in the classroom it was time to hit the water. On day 1 of our in-water training we planned on doing two dives each; we were not planning on going into deco. We were tested on our gear handling and gas consumption at depth first. Typically, the bigger the tank the more gas you have to breath and the longer you can dive. We planned on diving with steel 125cfs, that is 125 cubic feet of air. Not only that, but we also each had an aluminum 80 clipped to our sides. With a tank of “back gas” at 125cf, and “off board” tanks at 80cf, we each had a total of 205cf of air to breath! That’s more than 3x what I would normally dive with! Talk about contingency planning. Also, our back gas tanks had H-valves instead of the typical valves you see on a SCUBA tank. The H-valves have to independent regulators connected to them (instead of just 1). That way, if you have a leak on either regulator you can isolate it and save your gas.

When planning a decompression dive, you always need a contingency in case of emergency. Typically you use an H-valve (instead of a regular yoke) with two regulators on your tank (instead of one), that way you can always isolate a regulator if you have an issue. In this picture Mike, one of BISC’s biotechs, practices isolating a regulator. This picture was taken at about 120ft.

Day 1 went smoothly, so for Day 2 we planned on executing an actually deco dive. Here we go. Steve would be leading the dive, with either Brett or Dave accompanying us on their rebreathers (more on that later). We lined the gunnels of our dive boat and waited for the skipper’s call. Because BISC sits at the edge of the Gulf Stream, the currents can absolutely rip through a dive site. You need to be ready to coordinate a drop and get to the bottom as a group as quickly as possible. Head the skippers call; all diver’s ready? dive, dive, dive! We backwards rolled over the rail, and hit the water. Immediately the ache from the heavy tanks is relieved as the buoyancy of seawater does its thing. Our slung 80s moved into position under our flanks, and we dropped into the blue.

It took some getting used to, but after a couple of dives I hardly noticed the tank on my side. Notice the pole spear dangling from my right shoulder; on this day we hunted lionfish on a wreck in about 130ft of water.

What does a coral reef look like at 130ft you ask? Just like it does at 45 or 60ft, except the light is a little dimmer, you’ve got a lot more water above you. What’s it like going into deco you ask? It’s no different than any other dive. Your dive computer starts to freak out at you, but of course we had everything planned. It was a remarkably uneventful dive. We practiced our skills, and took a quick tour, nothing out of the ordinary. Your dive team really needs to be on point for this kind of work, so when we reached our time limit we ascended as a team to your first stop . Then to our next, and finally to our last and longest. It’s strange having a “soft ceiling” above you for the duration of a dive. The water was very clear; you can plainly see the surface from depth. But you can’t go up, not until you’re cleared from each depth-stop. With our surface maker buoys attached to our hand-held reels, we patiently waited for our tissues to off-gas. Floating mid-water over a reef 100ft below you, carried helplessly in a current, can be a little nerve wracking. But of course we stayed as a group, floating together and occasionally signaling to one another. Nothing makes you hungrier than watching your computer count down a 25min stop after an already hour-long dive. I’m bringing a candy bar next time.

Lionfish have no predators in the Atlantic or Caribbean and don’t live long enough to learn to avoid divers. Shelby nabbed this big lionfish under the Bluefire wreck.

Day 3 we repeated the same skills, only this time we brought along pole spears. After manipulating our H-valves, and passing around our off board cylinders, we proceeded to scour the reef, looking for our not-so-elusive prey. After all, the whole point of this training was to allow the participating divers to safely hunt lionfish at deeper spots. Swimming around with a hung tank on your back, a normal sized but still large tank, clipped to your side and a spear in hand isn’t easy. But it was certainly a very good training exercise.

A lionfish may present a danger to any fish smaller than it, but they are also dangerous to anything trying to eat it as well. Armed with multiple sharp and venous spines, they must be properly handed to avoid injury. Terry, a long time volunteer with BISC, has helped cull the lionfish outbreak in the Park for years.

After 4 days of deco training, Steve gave Shelby and the BISC divers the green light to continue their operations at deeper depths. Watch out lionfish. But the SRC wasn’t content to sit by and watch, they had their own dives to do. Because of the SRC’s mandate to support underwater resources in parks at a wide range of depths and environments they use closed circuit rebreathers to extend their bottom times, decrease their decompression times, and most importantly accomplish both in the safest manner possible. Normal SCUBA diving is considered open circuit; you take a breath off of your regulator, and exhale it out into the water (hence all the bubbles). Rebreathers recirculate your exhalation, remove the excess CO² and pump back in oxygen to balance the breathing mixture. No exhalations, no bubbles. Rebreathers look like spaces suites without all the body constriction, and are about as complicated.

Prior to entering the water on a closed-circuit rebreather (CCR), divers must first pre-breath their gas mixture to make sure everything is functioning properly. From left to right: Steve Sellers (the NPS’s DSO), Dave Conlin (the SRC’s Chief) and Brett Seymour (the SRC’s Deputy Chief).

Dave, Brett and Steve wanted to execute some mixed gas decompression dives to maintain proficiency. Their target was 220ft using a special breathing mix called trimix. I won’t bore you with the details again, but in short trimix uses helium to replace a portion of nitrogen in the breathing mix to minimize nitrogen narcosis at depth. In order to get the gas mixtures precise they had to spend hours at the dive locker balancing the gas mixes and filling their rebreather cylinders and off board “bail out” bottles with the special mixture before diving the next day. Though they’ll never admit it, these guys are kind of a big deal.

After coming up from their dive to 220ft, the SRC had plenty of time to decompress. They had to spend over a 30min just at 20ft to decompress safely. Notice the lack of bubbles? CCRs recirculate air back into the mix. From left to right: Dave, Steve, and Brett.

Days 4 and 5 we accompanied the SRC out to their site, where they would make a live drop with a narrow window down to 220-230ft to a wreck site called the Sir Scott. After they came back, some 90 minutes later, it would be our turn to drop down, to much shallower depths of course, and hunt for lionfish.  As they worked out their kinks, I was continuously impressed with how humble and nonchalant they were. Refusing help with their rebreathers, off board 80s and 40’s so they knew exactly where everything was in case of emergency, they were more than eager to help us load up with all of our gear.

One thing to consider when planning a deco dive is the amount of time you need to decompress in the water column. Floating midwater can be a little nerve wracking, especially when big toothy things are cruising near by. However, sharks play a vital role in the ocean, and have gotten a bad rap over the years. It was awesome getting to see this 6ft silky shark, even if he got a little too close for comfort.

Steve, Brett and Dave worked through the weekend to help us get comfortable with deco diving, and wasted little time achieving their goals as well. I’d really like to thank them for all of their help. And of course Shelby Moneysmith as well, for being continuously patient and in good spirits no matter what happened. Now that training is over, I can finally get to work with the Resource Management team here at BISC.

Thanks for reading!

Much like diving, one of the harder learned lessons from traveling is to always be flexible. And patient. After leaving the WWII Valor in the Pacific National Monument in Hawaii, I jumped on a red eye for the mainland. My next destination, after another bout of air travel, would be the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area (GLCA). After a quick layover in my hometown of LA, and a coffee fueled reunion with an old friend, I headed for Phoenix, Arizona for another layover before my final flight to Page. Though groggy and tired, things were going rather smoothly and I could finally start to relax.

That is, until I got a call from the airline an hour before we were supposed to take off. Turns out my flight was cancelled due to mechanical issues. Well, here we go. I was stranded in Phoenix with 5 others; 2 Russians students, 2 Bulgarians students, and a college kid from Delaware. The airline company promised to put us on a bus to Flagstaff, AZ, that night, and then on another shuttle to Page, AZ the following afternoon. Though I wasn’t happy about missing a day in Glen Canyon, I was happy to finally be moving again. We didn’t make it to Flagstaff until close to midnight, but fortunately the 6 of us were able to get the last 3 rooms in the closest motel. After bunking with the Russians for the night, I was glad to be on our way the next day.

Taken at sunrise; the Colorado snakes out of the Glen Canyon Dam and begins its run through the Grand Canyon just a few miles downstream

In Page, later that afternoon, I met up with Scott Norwood, the second in command for the GLCA Dive Team, and my supervisor for the week. After a brief visit to the dive locker and adjacent facilities, Scott took me on a tour of the surrounding area. Originally I wasn’t exactly excited about spending a week in Arizona. It’s hard to follow up American Samoa and Hawaii. But what I saw just around the Ranger Station took my breath away. And that was even before we got on the waters of Lake Powell. The bottom end of Lake Powell is stopped by the Glen Canyon dam, which controls the flow of the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. All of the wonders of the Grand Canyon are reflected in the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area, though Lake Powell spaces everything out more. That night I was given the keys to a government Jeep and was off to camp at one of Scott’s favorite spots. I drifted off to sleep at the Lone Rock campground, under the Arizona stars, exceptionally glad to be on the quiet, sandy shores of Lake Powell.

The Cove or the Secret Spot, my secluded camping spot for the week.

I’m not sure what I expected work to be like at GLCA, the only diving we had planned was a dry suit check out later that week. But I definitely got to witness just how hard it is to run a park with thousands of visitors, mostly on the water, everyday. GLCA is a huge recreation area, and is famous for its houseboats. Because the lake draws so many visitors every year, the Park Service has its hands full all summer. All of the docks, both private and government, are floating but moored to the bottom and chained to the shore via heavy wire rope. However, as the steel rusts and erodes, and as the water level changes, the docks need to be moved and the cables replaced. Work in the park starts early, by 6 am you’re expected to be caffeinated and ready to head into the field. The day gets hot quickly and no one wants to be too exposed to the sun for too long.

I’ve worked in some cold places before, but the juxtaposition of seeing the NPS’s diving insignia next to a warning sign about freezing water was still novel to me. Especially since the temperature soared well into the 90’s while I was there.

We set to work moving cables, and prepping the boat for the day. The majority of GLCA is on the water, so the park service maintains a flotilla of multi purpose workboats. The dive team, which has a legacy of excellence through the NPS, uses a 46ft flat-bottomed vessel as its workhorse. Of all the dive boats I’ve been on this one, the 450, was by far the most impressive.

We spent the day, and the better part of the week, meandering through the finger canyons of the lake replacing wire rope and moving docks at places like Dangling Rope and Rainbow Bridge, both popular recreation spots. On our way around the lake we occasionally stopped to service navigation buoys or help out-of-luck boaters. During the course of the week we worked long and hot hours, using heavy equipment and working hard. But every night I got to sleep under the stars, which was a welcomed change from sleeping on couches and planes.

One of the floating docks the Park Service maintains. This one leads to Rainbow Bridge, about a mile hike up from the dock.

Just another gorgeous shot of the Lake Powell in the morning. Taken from my campsite.

However, midweek I got to done my dry suit, which was shipped to GLCA from the good folks at USIA, and jump in the green waters of Lake Powell. I didn’t have much experience in a dry suit, but Scott has spent 5 years with US Navy’s Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit (MDSU) and is an expert diver. We did a quick tour of the government dock and then took the 450 to the “log boom”, just a 1/4 mile above the dam. While replacing the chain on the boom, which catches floating debris before it gets caught in the dam, someone had managed to drop a heavy metal ring used to keep the chain from getting tangled. The substrate underwater mirrors the land above. The sandstone cliffs drop into the abyss, in some places over 400 feet down, with an occasional ledge or two at about 30 feet and 60 ft. Scott and I had planned to drop down the log boom’s anchor chain to about 60ft to look for the ring for no more than 10 minutes. Miraculously we dropped right on top of it in 30ft of water and were able to enjoy the eerie green water for a few minutes. Lake Powell, like many other freshwater lakes in the United States, is badly affected by an invasive mussel, which covers everything in the lake not made of sandstone. Afterwards, Scott and I did two more dives on the Antelope Point launch ramp, doing dock surveys and a ‘salvage’ dive, i.e. treasure hunting for refuse left by careless boaters. Though we mostly picked up fishing line, trash, and beer cans, occasionally some lucky Park Service diver finds a camera or a watch.

Getting ready to jump in the water for some equipment recovery. Our divesite was just about ¼ mile above the Glen Canyon Dam.

Descending under the canyon wall, almost considered an overhead environment, was something new to me. But it made for some incredible moments.

There isn’t much to see in Lake Powell, manly because the sandstone causes the water to be rather turbid even on a calm day. However, diving in the lake was my first time diving in freshwater, at altitude, and my first time diving in a drysuit for a number of years. With Scott as my dive buddy we explored the murky bottom, searched for lost objects, and looked over the edge of a precipice into the eerie abyss at the bottom of Lake Powell.

Scott and I having a little too much fun on a safety stop during one of my check out dives.

Scott hoisting the metal ring we had to search for. That thing weighed close to 20lbs! You can also see the invasive zebra mussels covering the metal chain we ascended and descended on. Zebra mussels cover every surface they possible can.

A shot of Rainbow Bridge – a popular tourist destination, Rainbow Bridge was sacred to the native peoples of this region. It’s hard to grasp the size of this incredible arch.

Although my stay at GLCA was short, all my misgivings about spending time at the inland NPS unit were instantly abated the moment I saw Lake Powell in person. Arizona is a vastly different environment from the tropics of Samoa and Hawaii; it carries its own character and has very specific demands. The Park Service at GLCA deals with a very specific set of concerns, such as being swamped by the wake from a negligent boater while trying to hoist a 600lb buoy out of the water. But they work hard and earn their mettle. My stay in Arizona was short, but it was made very enjoyable by Scott Norwood, Kendra Nez, the maintenance technician who never seemed to take a break from working, and the rest of the staff out at GLCA. Now I get to head back to LA for a few days of R&R before shipping off to the kelp forests of the Channel Islands National Park.

Though the Park is in Arizona, my campsite was just across the Utah Border. It’s hard to grasp the sheer size of this part of the country. But the vistas never disappoint.

Thanks for reading!

After a restless red eye from American Samoa, I found myself on another tropical island in the Pacific. Honolulu, Hawaii, on the island of Oahu, is a bustling city sprawling from the foothills of the Ko’olau Mountains to the blue waters of the south coast. Even at 5:30am traffic is backed up and people are already going about their day. Bleary-eyed and overwhelmed I felt like a fish out of water in this mad city. However, I made my way to the park office later that morning and met the staff of the Valor in the Pacific National Monument in Pearl Harbor. I received a greeting equally as warm as the one I got in Samoa and instantly felt right at home.

After getting established at the visitor center I was given a “passport” to some of the attractions at the park. I met up with Naomi Blinick, the 2011 OWUSS/NPS intern, who is currently working for VALR. We toured a retired WWII submarine, the USS Bowfin, and explored the features and exhibits of this historic park. While every child in America knows the story of what happened in Pearl Harbor the morning of December 7, 1941 few people know the stories of the men and women who were there that day, and the subsequent months as the US’s involvement in the Pacific began.

All of these thoughts were bouncing around in my brain as I took the ferry over to the USS Arizona’s memorial. Moored over the sunken battleship the memorial serves as a testament to those who were lost, and those who survived the brutal and sudden attack almost 75 years ago. My visit to the memorial was especially meaningful as I was planning to dive the Arizona the next morning. But, much like in American Samoa, I would soon learn how sudden events could rearrange even the best­-laid plans.

The next morning (Thursday May 28) I met with Scott Pawloski, VALR’s Park Diving Officer, and Naomi, at around 0800 to load up the park’s Boston Whaler. Just as we were unloading the gear from the Park’s van the first ferry shuttling visitors to the memorial came charging back to the visitor center. The captain of the ferry told us that something had happened to the landing on the memorial, and that he couldn’t dock the ferry. We dropped what we were doing and sped out across the harbor towards the monument to see what had happened.

(PHOTO by US Navy Sailor)

Just moments before we got to the visitor center that morning the floating hospital ship, USN Mercy, was being escorted from its dock adjacent to the monument and the visitor center. Though the final report is unclear, apparently either the Mercy or one of the tugboat-escorts hit the monument’s dock. As we came up to the monument things looked far from good. We were greeted by twisted steel, broken concrete and the landing platform approximately 30ft away from where it should have been. All thoughts of diving were out of the question; at this point damage control was everyone’s main priority.

As we headed back to the visitor center I could see the concern on Scott’s face. He has a strong connection to the monument and knows the Arizona like the back of his hand. Back at the visitor center you could cut the tension with a knife. Although Hawaii exists in a perpetual stare of “island time”, the Park Office, and Navy Command, sprang into action. I did my best to stay out of the way as phones rang and people moved about. The circumstance weren’t exactly good, but I was very impressed by the quick and thorough action and communication the Park Service and the Navy shared over the next few days.

However, the main reason that the Mercy had to move that morning was because the USS Carl Vinson was making its way to Pearl Harbor. Scott had somehow arranged for me to ride along in one of the 4 Tiger tugboats that would be escorted the absolutely massive aircraft carrier to its dock. Although still concerned about the morning’s events, I was thrilled to see first hand how four 100’ tugboats (miniature by comparison) could help escort such an enormous vessel. Of course, they did so with ease and efficiency.

The Navy’s Carl Vinson as seen from Tiger Tug #4.

It’s hard to imagine that Tiger tug is 100 feet long! Four Tigers escorted the Carl Vinson to its dock next to the visitor center.

That afternoon, back at the visitor center the mood at the office was somber, but things were already happening. I made plans with Naomi to do a resource orientation dive on the USS Utah for the next morning. The Utah was one of three ships that the military was unable to raise after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Sitting on her side, leaning at about 45degrees, only part of her hull breaches the water. She is located on the other side of Ford Island, away from the visitor center and from the typical commotion found at the National Monument.

Before our dive on the Utah Naomi gave me a topside orientation. Here you can plainly see how tilted over the battleship is.

Naomi and I about to descend on the Utah.

Naomi and I toured the wreck, and it was unlike any dive I’ve ever been on. Though the visibility is typical better than the Arizona it was still only about 15’ at best. After sitting on the bottom of the harbor for almost 75 years the battleship is fouled with an impressive array of marine fauna. Most of the ship’s features are unrecognizable, only certain structures like the gun turrets give away the true nature of the substrate. Though I have been on dives with a similar feel, every so often some aspect of the ship would reveal itself, and would I get a very eerie feeling.

Leading down to the ship’s interior, this hatch has remained open
ever since the Utah was sunk.

After the dive I returned to the visitor center, just in time for Scott to motion me over to the Park’s Whaler. He told me to jump in and we sped over to the memorial. The Navy never sleeps; already there was a topside engineering crew and a subsurface salvage crew working on the memorial. It was the latter that Scott wanted me to meet. The Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit 1, or MDSU 1, is one of the best diving operations in the business. It was a rare treat to see these guys working in the silty, oily water surrounding the memorial.

As part of a consolation for missing the Arizona, Scott offered to take me on a fun dive to one of his favorite beaches that Friday. However, as Friday chugged along we had to push the dive back further and further. Scott was moving from meeting to meeting trying his best to get the maintenance work on the memorial moving as quickly and efficiently as possible. By some stroke of good fortune I found myself in the Ranger Office listening in on a meeting with the Park’s superintendent, the head ranger, the head of interpretation, Scot, and a consultant. The good news was that the Navy crews were doing their best, but time was not on their side. The superintendent looked at Scott and told him that he needed to do a survey of the Arizona in the next few days to make sure the artifacts and ship were intact, if Scott deemed the conditions safe enough. I could see the gears turning in Scott’s head, and without missing a beat he passed me a sticky note across the table. The note said, “We’re diving the Arizona” and, this being my last day at the park, I knew he meant now.

In our hast to survey the Arizona we sped by the USS Carl Vinson.

Taken as Scott and I descended on the Arizona. Here we’re looking at the visitor center moored over the ship.

With a speed the dead opposite of “island time” we rallied our gear, briefed the dive, and within 45 minutes of leaving the Ranger Office we were speeding to the memorial, having just gotten last minute clearance from the Navy’s harbor patrol. We had just one hour to survey the wreck and get out of there. Scott tasked me to film the dive, and anything he indicated, so he could write a report of what we found. The dive lasted less than 30 minutes, but still it was an amazing experience. Visibility was less than half of what it was on the Utah, which intensified the spookiness of the dive. The Arizona makes herself known to the lucky few divers who get a chance to circumnavigate the wreck. As we swam in a counterclockwise sweep we got momentarily lost in a slit­ out, examined the ship’s artifacts, and saw a school of juvenile ulua, or Bluefin trevally Thankfully there was a light wind, which kept the oil (still leaking out of the ship at about 1L/day) away from us.

A school of juvenile ulua swim over the deck of the Arizona.

Just as quickly as everything ramped up were already on our way back to the visitor center. Although I didn’t have much time in Hawaii, the pace was certainly faster than in Samoa. After saying goodbye to Scott and VALR, I was able to spend my last day in Hawaii on Oahu’s North Shore. Though only active in the winter, the waves of the North Shore are a mecca for every surfer; it was amazing to see the places imprinted in my brain from countless movies and magazines in real life. “Island time” takes over on the North Shore, and it seems I was able to catch my breath after such an exciting week. But now I am trading out tropical Pacific islands for the cold and murky waters of Arizona’s Glen Canyon National Park, after one more solid day of travel of course.

I’d like to say thanks to Naomi Blinick for helping me out and showing me the Utah, and Scott Pawlowski for all of his help and patience. And also a big thanks to my friend Astrid Letiener, who was able to give me a couch to sleep on for the week after my housing fell through at the last minute!

Mahalo, and thanks for reading!

When I stepped off the plane on the night of May 11^th and breathed in the wet, heavy air, I instantly knew I was truly in another world. After 17 hours in the sky, 3 time zones and as many layovers, I had left the snow covered ground in Denver behind for a chance to explore the tropical island of American Samoa. Though my eyelids drooped, and my shoulders felt heavy, my mind reeled from the sensory overload provided by the humid stormy night.

American Samoa truly is another world. Like many people from the States the name “American Samoa” held an air of mystery, partly because it seems that almost no one from back home knows where this place is. Located about 14º south of the Equator, slightly west and south of Hawaii, American Samoa is hardly more than a series of dots in the vast emptiness of the South Pacific.

When I landed in American Samoa I had no idea what expect, or even who was going to meet me at the airport. As it happens, a good friend of mine from Santa Cruz has been working for the Park Service in American Samoa for almost a year. I was very grateful to see the long lost face of Ian Moffitt at the airport. Although it was exhilarating to finally be here, the adrenaline of almost missing my connection in Honolulu to the once-weekly flight to American Samoa was slowly fading, I was truly thankful when we pulled up to the interns’ house late that night.

A few of the interns entering the water at Amalou, the first place i got to dive

The National Park of American Samoa (NPSA), covers over 10,000 acres and approximately 4000 acres of it is underwater. The dive team certainly has it work cut out for it. The NPSA dive team has undertaken many different scientific studies and projects related to the conservation of the National Park. Most recently they are spearheading an island-wide effort to help control the outbreak of the Crown-of-Thorns Sea Star, a voracious echinoderm that preys primarily on the living tissue of coral reefs.

We hit the ground running at 7:30 am on my first day and I was glad to hear we were headed into the field. After a week in Denver, and over a day of air travel, I finally felt in my element again. Loading tanks, prepping gear and heading out into the field I felt an instant connection with the 4 other interns. I couldn’t contain the smile on my face as we speed out of the Fagasa bay in the Park Service’s open deck Boston Whaler on the way to the field site. The crystal clear waters and dense island flora clinging to the rocky coastline immediately blew me away; the island’s steep cliffs drop vertically into the sea and make for a very dramatic boat ride.

an image of the coral reef (taken at about 45′)

Much to my chagrin I had to wait 24 hours after flying before I could don my scuba gear with Park Service, so I contented myself to snorkeling and free diving around the team as they completed their inventory and monitoring surveys. Never before have I been able to swim in water so warm and clear

I couldn’t wait to dive with NPSA for the next two weeks, but unfortunately the weather had other plans. After that Tuesday the island was battered by harsh winds and incessant rain, making field operations all but impossible. The NPSA dive team doesn’t get much downtime, so when the weather is uncooperative they have to make the most of it. I was tasked to assist with the maintenance issues that typically accompany field operations. Normal wear and tear on boats, scuba gear and field equipment is further compounded by American Samoa’s constant humidity and moisture. Needless to say we had our work cut out for us.

Another reef shot (probably amalou in about 35ft of water)

However, as the week rounded out the weekend showed promise for nicer weather. With hope rising we set out on a relatively calm Saturday morning to try our hand at diving on the North side of the island. Because American Samoa is ringed by fringing reefs, scuba diving is best planned around high tide. As we waited for the tide to rise we snorkeled in some of the most amazing tide pools I’ve seen. Vibrant corals and hardy algae cling to the volcanic walls of Vatai tide pools, nestled above the crashing surf.

After swimming in bathtub-like waters for an hour or two we hiked back up to the car and drove down the road to Amalou, where I would finally get to dive on the reefs that had tantalized me all week. Though the rest of the dive team complained about the poor visibility (only about 60ft!) and the relatively “cold” water, I could barely contain my excitement. Getting to dive in 82º water, in just board shorts and a rash guard, for over an hour is something I won’t soon forget. Though the reefs have been impacted by overfishing, I was blown away by the size and color of the coral found along the steep reef slopes. Massive Porites dwarf even the largest natural structures I’ve ever seen in a kelp forest. The various forms and colors of Acropora are like something out of a Dr. Seuss story. The rest of the dive team casually cruised the reef; this was their day off after all so they too could enjoy the wonders the reef had to offer.

During our surface interval, as we planned for a second dive, I heard talk that Ian was planning on skipping the second dive in search of surf-able waves, an activity also best planned around a high tide. Back home in California one rarely has to choose between surfing and diving, the ability to pursue either activity typically precludes the other. Needless to say, I jumped at the chance for a “perfect day”. In a refreshing change of pace we found the closest surf break to be entirely sheltered from the wind. We traded waves by ourselves for an hour as the sun serenely set behind the mountains of American Samoa. And I didn’t even have to change out of my board shorts! I could get used to leaving my neoprene at home.

Typical American Samoan transportation with Kersten Shnurle, another NSPA intern

While Sunday was no different than any of the other days that week, we decided to brave the weather and climb the steep trail to Mt. Alava, the second highest point on the island. Because it was one of the intern’s birthdays, a large group of eager hikers set out to brave the 3 hour long hike to the top of the mountain. Like something out of Jurassic Park, primeval fog obscured the all but the trail in front of us. The trail winds across the spine of the island’s mountains, the shifting clouds provided us with brief glimpses of the coast below.

The rest of the workweek proceeded much like the last; rain and wind lashed the coast and kept us high and dry in the office. Again, I jumped in with the “maintenance crew” doing repairs and preventative care on the field support equipment. I quickly realized how much I have taken for granted how easily accessible parts and tools are back on the mainland. On an island that is infrequently visited by cargo ships even the simplest of repairs can be thrown off if a single nut or bolt can’t be purchased. Needless to say I was thoroughly impressed with the resourcefulness and positive attitude the dive team constantly maintains.

As luck would have it Saturday looked like the weather might break, at least for a couple of hours. We loaded up the gear and drove the length of the West Road. Winding first south, then west and eventually north we drove past villages, rainsqualls and idyllic beaches pounded by heavy surf. No one had their hopes up as we rounded through the final mountain pass and dropped into the little village at the end of the road. Like something out of a fairytale the little bay of Fagamalo opened up before us; we were greeted by blue skies and calm water. Ecstatic, we geared up and jumped in the water, after obtaining permission from the village chief of course.

Schooling reef fish (ID still unknown) taken at Fangamalo in about 50ft sea water

After surface swimming across the fore-reef, we dropped down into crystal clear water over an immaculate coral reef. Because Fagamalo is bordered by a marine protected area, or MPA, to the north, the reef was teaming with wild arrays of fish and invertebrates. While swimming past the massive 3-dimensial coral structures, examining reef fish and their bright colors, I finally met the antagonist of the NPSA marine program, the Crown-of-Thorns Sea Star. A voracious coral predator, these fast moving sea stars are as dangerous as they are beautiful. Ringed by poisonous spines they are hard to remove, and given certain conditions can turn a vibrant coral reef into a bleached graveyard. While scientists are still debating about the cause of recent outbreaks, there is evidence that they are becomingly increasingly abundant on coral reefs across the Indo-Pacific. Although the dive team’s main assignment is their removal, they are naturally found on coral reefs and it was certainly exhilarating to see a few on our dive.

A school of sweetlips swims over the reef at Fangamalo. Sweetlips are one of the target species for the fish tracking project

The Crown-of-Thorn Seastar, the NPSA dive team’s current antagonist. Though they’ve been able to control outbreaks inside the national park, CoTs remain an issue on less managed reefs

As we drove home through the rain I was able to reflect on my previous underwater foray. Though these last two weeks in American Samoa didn’t turn out quite as expected, but I am anything but upset. Saturday’s dive alone made up for a frustrated week of uncooperative weather; it takes months of preparations to properly execute field operations and I was more than happy to help out in any way I could.

I won’t soon forget American Samoa, its gregarious people, and the oppressive tropical weather that makes this place so beautiful. And I certainly won’t forget the openhearted generosity of the NPSA staff. I would like to thank Dr. Tim Clark, NPSA’s marine ecologist, and especially the dive-team, aka the “Tim-terns” that housed me and showed me ropes over the last two weeks; Kersten Shnurle, Paolo Marra-Biggs, Karen Bryan and of course Ian Moffitt. Now I’ve got to pack my bags and head north, to the island of Oahu to explore the WWII Valor in the Pacific National Memorial.

Fa’afetai!