Stream Surveys in Kalaupapa National Historical Park

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I left Hawaii’s biggest city for one of the most remote places in the islands: Kalaupapa National Historical Park on the island of Molokai. The Kalaupapa Peninsula is the site of the historic settlement for victims of Hansen’s Disease, or leprosy. Patients from all around the pacific were essentially imprisoned here for decades until the colony was closed in 1969. Many patients continued to live here, and about 16 still call the settlement home. The park is thus unusual for its living history, and very few visitors get the opportunity to come here. The park’s isolation means it also has rich ecological resources, and I’m looking forward to seeing the reefs and fish here as well as learning more about the history and interacting with the residents of Kalaupapa over the next few weeks.

The dramatic sea cliffs of Molokai

From Honolulu I hopped on a tiny nine-person plane to Kalaupapa. I met NPS maintenance mechanic/biological technician Randall Watanuki and his wife Meli, one of the patients at the colony. They greeted me by name—news of visitors travels fast in the small Kalaulpapa community. The flight offered beautiful aerial views of Oahu and Diamond Head Crater, and soon we approached the striking sea cliffs of Molokai, the tallest in the world. NPS marine ecologist and my coordinator Eric Brown welcomed me with an aloha at the airport and drove me to the settlement. On the way, we stopped to check out a Hawaiian monk seal and her pup who had hauled out on the beach. These are some of the most endangered marine mammals in the world—slightly over 1,000 remain—and they come to raise their pups on Kalaupapa’s beaches. The pup was about a week and a half old but already about the size of the sea lions in the Channel Islands, and we watched from a distance, hidden under pine trees as the pup nursed. Not a bad introduction to the island!

A Hawaiian monk seal pup nursing

The view from the start of our hike. Waikolu valley is behind the nearest cliff. You may recognize this view from the opening sequences of Jurassic Park III.

Eric showed me the dive locker and park office, which was conveniently right across from my housing in Bay View Home. We met up with biological technician Sylvester “Sly” Lee, and went to meet the Pacific Network Inventory and Monitoring team: aquatic ecologist David Raikow, biological technician Anne Farahi, and volunteer Barbara Leuhrs. They had flown into topside Molokai and were hiking down the cliff trail. We would spend the next week together camping and performing stream surveys in Waikolu valley. Eric had us over for a fabulous vegan pizza dinner and we discussed the week ahead. The next morning, we loaded all of our camping gear, food, and sampling materials in waterproof bags. Randall, Sly, and Dave took them to our campsite in the park boat, while Eric, Anne, Barbara and I drove to the backside of the peninsula and hiked over, picking our way across loose lava rocks. We helped swim in the bags and coolers of food and set up camp near the mouth of Waikolu stream. Dave Conlin had generously sent over a tent for me, and Eric brought an extra sleeping pad and cooking supplies, so I was well equipped for the week ahead. After a quick lunch, we headed over to the mouth of the stream, our first sample site.

Anne and I&M aquatic ecologist Dave Raikow work together on a fish count

The stream surveys are designed to test water quality, map stream habitat type, and monitor stream-dwelling species of fish and snails. The park boundaries reach nearly to the tops of the sea cliffs, meaning the entire watershed is protected. They sample both permanent and randomized temporary sites every year, and thus may be able to track the effects of weather events and landslides, as well as long-term climate trends. For each site, we lay a 30m transect and characterize the stream habitat type at each meter. We test water quality with a Sonde device that measures parameters like pH, salinity, and dissolved oxygen, and take water samples to be tested in the lab. A flow tracker measures the total amount of discharge in the stream. This survey is tricky because it works best in pure flow without any vertical or horizontal eddies from uneven surfaces. Ideally we would find a perfectly flat spot with vertical walls, but since this is unlikely to exist in a natural stream we have to settle for reasonable spots, or sometimes shift rocks and boulders to dam up any “leaks” and create the best site we can. Another survey is the pebble count, for which we measure the longest diameter of 20 rocks at even intervals across the stream at the 0, 15, and 30 meter mark along the transect. We also do fish counts, for which a snorkeling scientist records numbers of a species of stream-dwelling fish, collectively called o’opu, at 10 randomized quadrats along the transect. In those same quadrats, we measure any hihiwai snails and count all juveniles and eggs. The surveys require a fair bit of scrambling over slippery rocks and walking in the stream, so Eric outfitted me with a pair of felt-soled tabis, which not only allowed me to stride sure-footedly through the stream, but were also undeniably stylish.

Tabis: always tasteful.

The following days, we hiked along the stream to our planned sites. The trail isn’t regularly maintained since it exists primarily for these surveys (visitors are permitted to boat along the coast but not set foot on land), so we often had to crash our way over, under, and through dense vegetation. After the first few sites we fell into a routine, and with our big group we were soon able to finish each site in a little over an hour. On one marathon day we completed three sites, putting us well ahead of schedule for achieving our goal of eight sites in five days. After hiking back to camp, Randall would take the water supplies back to the park in the boat to keep them frozen (this prevents any photosynthesizing organisms from altering the chemical contents of the water), while we organized data sheets and put away sampling equipment. We would rinse off in the stream—turns out wild ginger fruit makes great shampoo—and prepare for dinner, which we took turns cooking for the group. My ambitions for backcountry snacks didn’t extend much beyond trail mix and granola bars, but Sly, a true camping gourmand, treated us to pear and brie hors d’oeuvres each evening as we waited for our camp stoves to heat. One afternoon we got back early enough to fit in a pre-dinner snorkel, and eagerly explored the little reef by our campsite, finding colorful flatworms and a huge moray eel. At night we admired the Milky Way and exclaimed over occasional meteors before retiring to our tents.

Sagittarius sets over Eric’s tent. Many thanks to Sly for his photography expertise!

We were so efficient that we finished our eight sites well ahead of schedule, and returned to the settlement on Thursday afternoon. After some extensive unpacking, laundering, and showering, we were invited to state employees Tim Richmond and Rafael Torres’s lovely home for their weekly movie night. Tim cooked a sumptuous dinner and we enjoyed a screening of Lilies of the Field in honor of Auntie Pauline, one of the patient’s, 79^th birthday. Even in my first few hours of being back in the settlement it was clear how close-knit and loving a community this is. The next day, I happened to be in the communal kitchen when NPS Chief of Natural Resources Paul Holsten and his niece Laurel came in to harvest honey from his bee colony, and got to help collect the honey and do some tasting for quality assurance. Sly then took the I&M team and me on a tour of the Kalaupapa peninsula. He showed us the lighthouse, beautiful tidepools, lava caves, the world’s deepest pond (which he tells me we’ll be sampling next week!), and the churches of the original settlement in Kalawao, on the backside of the peninsula. Each site has associated histories and mythologies that the patients have passed on by word of mouth or in their memoirs. Dave, Anne, and Barbara headed back to the Big Island, but I’m looking forward to two more weeks in this beautiful and unique place. Coral surveys, a climate change project, and, I’m told, lots of community volleyball, frisbee, and movie nights lie in store for the rest of my stay!

Pano Dave seeks artsy shots in the back

The protestant church in the historic Kalawao settlement.

Aquarium Collections

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It was my fourth week in Oregon and time to experience my first collection dive. We took Gracie Lynn offshore to North Pinnacle and anchored on the crest at a depth of about 40 ft. The warm and sunny weather we have been enjoying for the past week came with a caveat, plankton blooms made visibility in the upper 30 ft. of the water column very poor. Additionally, the surge in the 30-40 ft. range made it difficult to work, especially when trying to pry invertebrates off of their hard substrates. So we headed to deeper water to find our living treasures. After tying a safety reel to the anchor line we swam to the edge of the crest where the sea floor drops suddenly to a depth of just over a hundred feet.

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We descended down the wall, which was covered in plumose anemone, and made our way west. The visibility was greatly improved at this depth and I was finally able to see what the north pacific waters had to offer. I watched carefully as Captain Jim, the director of husbandry, and Roy, one of the aquarists at the aquarium, searched for their target animals, and scooped them into their goodie bags. As we used our lights to peer into dark crevices along the wall, we came across a juvenile wolf eel. After a few failed attempts to coax the eel out of from his hiding place, we decided to leave it be and start heading back to the anchor line. SONY DSC Once we got back to the boat, I climbed aboard and helped to pull up Jim and Roy’s goodie bagswhich held an array of organisms including moonglow and Christmas tree anemones, burrowing sea cucumbers, sea lemon nudibranchs, and a chalk lined dirona, as well as hairy tritons, granular claw crabs and a sharpnose crab. We emptied everything into a barrel filled with seawater for the journey back and pulled up anchor to head back towards the bay. Back at the aquarium, some of the new organisms went to exhibits to be put on display, while others went to the education department. Many of the exhibits in the aquarium reflect Oregon coastal habitats, making local collections a key method for stocking exhibits.

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World War II Valor in the Pacific National Monument and Diving the USS Arizona

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I spent the last week in Pearl Harbor at Valor in the Pacific National Park. Chief of Cultural and Natural Resources Scott Pawlowski was my host for the week and guide to the island of Oahu. He first took me to my housing on the Pearl Harbor naval base: Bachelor Officers’ Quarters (BOQ), housing for transient or visiting officers, which also serves as a quasi hotel for government or military affiliated visitors. I rented a car for the week, a tiny light green Toyota Yaris, and felt very safe each night as I presented my special visitor pass to armed guards each time I drove into the base. On my first day of work, Scott drove me around the base, pointing out historic buildings. Women and men of the Navy were everywhere, some in full uniform, others jogging in characteristic yellow shirts and blue shorts. I was taken aback by how young so many of them were: one gangly member of a trio of joggers still had braces.

Stan inventories a newspaper clipping from December 10, 1941

When I first arrived, the park was still in the process of stand-up, but there was plenty of work to be done topside. I spent my first few days assisting Retired Chief Petty Officer and current archivist/curator extraordinaire Stan Melman with inventorying the park’s museum collection. They have an extensive collection of artifacts, letters, newspaper clippings, photographs, art, and the like relating to Pearl Harbor and its role in WWII, and not all of them can be displayed at the visitors center. They’ve transferred their records to a computer program, and we were retrieving and checking a randomized list of artifacts to make sure they were in their recorded location and free of damage. It was fascinating—each new drawer and box was full of glimpses into the past, many of them reflecting the gaiety and glamour of life on the base prior to the December 7 attack. We checked off letters to families, a ship’s bell, a program from a boxing match between members of the USS Oklahoma and USS Arizona, and dozens of other treasures.

Pages from a sailor’s album of life on the naval base. This photograph depicts organized calisthenics on one of the ships.

Scott also showed me how to build the coral settlement devices that they’ll use to study growth in the harbor. They consist of two brick tiles screwed into a metal rod, anchored with a lead weight. Larval coral settles between the tiles and the devices can be removed for measurement and study. For this I had to first assemble and then use a tile saw, as well as break out the power drill and masonry bit. Rest assured, I wore my safety goggles

I also had the exciting opportunity to tag along with Retired US Navy Commander Mike Freeman, the former commanding officer of the Navy’s Mobile Diving and Salvage Unit One (MDSU1) and current Harbor Pilot as he and his crew piloted a huge container ship out of the harbor and a naval submarine back in using two tugboats. Stan and NOAA Archaeologist Kelly Gleason joined us for the ride. We pulled up along the Maersk Peary, which distributes fuel among naval bases, and the tugs turned her into the crowded harbor and guided her into the open sea. Stan pointed out various historic and current aspects of the harbor, and as we came out into the ocean we had a great view of Waikiki and Diamond Head Crater. I even got to drive the tug back toward the harbor, and we then met up with the sleek, sharklike black sub (for national security reasons I’m not at liberty to say which one). It had been out on exercises and was coming in briefly to switch personnel and get more supplies, first and foremost about a dozen five-gallon drums of ice cream. The sub headed back out to sea and we returned to the base. Definitely a unique experience!

The crew was very brave to endure me at the helm, even just for a few minutes.

By the end of the week the park was given the green light to dive, and we prepared for the main activity of my stay: diving the USS Arizona. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, since only National Park Service or Navy divers may dive here. I would join Scott for a routine dive to check and maintain the buoys at the bow and stern, monitor some cracks in the hull, and collect any trash that visitors had dropped from the memorial. There are also ongoing scientific projects to map the wreck and study rates of corrosion, monitor the oil that continues to leak from the ship, and study the surrounding marine ecosystem and harbor as comparable to a protected area, including the coral settlement study I had helped prepare.

Scott first took me on a few proficiency dives on Oahu’s north shore (which lacks its famous surfer-attracting waves during the summer months) so I could get used to the full-face mask we would use in the harbor. Visibility is low in the harbor and getting disorientated on the wreck is always a risk, so it’s safer to be able to talk to one another via the microphone systems in the masks. More importantly the full-face mask protects us from any oil or other carcinogens in the water leaking from the USS Arizona. We dove in protected areas, full of fish, and saw a few turtles and a retreating shark. It took me a while to get the mask to fit, but once it was set I found it very comfortable to have so much of my face dry underwater. Scott also took me to the USS Arizona memorial to orient me, and showed me where we would put together our gear and enter the water, as well as the buoys and features of the wreck visible from the memorial. I had been to the memorial once before a few years earlier, and it was no less moving the second time around to be reminded of the history of the place and be surrounded by visitors paying their respects to the fallen sailors below.

Visitors peer at us as we prepare to enter the water.

USS Arizona Memorial.

On the day of our dive, we drove our gear and tanks to the memorial and loaded them on the same ferry that takes visitors out to the memorial. Fortunately it wasn’t a terribly busy day—the park gets 1.8 million visitors each year, so the ferries can get jam-packed, leaving little room for dive gear. On the memorial dock, we brought our gear to an out of the way corner to set up. We waited for everyone to go from the boat into the memorial, the returning crowd to go from the memorial into the boat, and for the boat to take off. We then had a few-minute window before the next boat came into view to quickly change into our wetsuits in hopes of avoiding too many pictures of or visitors upset by the bathing suit-clad National Park Service workers. We donned our scuba gear as curious visitors craned around from the memorial to see what we were doing. A kindly WWII veteran thanked us for our work and wished us a good dive as his family wheeled him up the ramp, and with that blessing we were ready to roll into the harbor.

Helicopters fly over the USS Arizona Memorial

We swam over to the wreck and descended into the murky green water. I’d known this dive would be on my schedule since early June and had thought a lot about how to approach it, unsure how I would feel to be diving at a site that is the tomb of over a thousand Navy sailors, and represents the sacrifices and loss of thousands more. As features of the ship’s hull came into view, I was reassured by a sense of peacefulness. The wreck is covered in soft sponges and delicately swaying feather worms, everything quiet under the water. Scott pointed out both ecological and historical features of the wreck as we swam along the hull to the buoy at the stern. They’re trying a new strategy to protect the buoys from encrusting organisms and the oil that continuously leaks from the wreck: wrapping them in saran wrap. So far it’s proving effective. We continued along the starboard side, and Scott pointed out the intact guns of turret no. 1, which were long thought to have been salvaged but the Submerged Resources Center discovered in the early 1980s when they initially mapped the wreck. We then moved into the blast zone. Here the violence of the explosion was apparent in metal twisted beyond recognition, everything confused and mangled. Having been surrounded by such young Navy faces at the base and recently dropped off my eighteen-year-old brother at college made it especially sobering to consider the 1,177 lives cut short here seventy years ago.

After inspecting the bow buoy, we did a quick sweep underneath the memorial for anything visitors had accidently dropped. All we found was a pair of sunglasses already coated in coralline algae, although Scott tells me the record is four iPhones on a single dive. We broke down our gear and caught the last ferry back to the base along with the final load of visitors who had come to pay their respects that day. I’ve felt somber and reflective after diving before, generally about the state of the ecosystem, but never before had I emerged from a dive so grateful to be alive and have my family intact.

The base of gun turret no. 3, visible above the surface.

Part of the USS Utah’s hull is visible above the surface.

Scott was kind enough to give up his Saturday for me, and took me for another dive on the USS Utah. The Utah was a training ship, and one of the first hit during the attack on Pearl Harbor. She lies canted on one side where she was moored near Ford Island. The Utah isn’t as heavily visited as the Arizona, so our preparation and entry were much more relaxed, save for one delighted little boy who exuberantly pointed us out to his family. The Utah was also hushed and serene, and had more recognizable features: a ladder here, a hatch there. Since this wreck is in a more remote location and not constantly staffed, there have been some problems with fishing and looting. Scott and I got tangled up in an abandoned fishing line early in the dive, and Scott pointed out a silver handle that had recently been stolen off the wreck. He told me that they’ve even had problems with theft of the ashes of the survivors who request to be interred with their shipmates. I was astonished that someone could be so disrespectful. We ended the day with some beautiful snorkeling on the north shore and a delicious visit to the famous Poke Stop.

USS Utah

My heartfelt thanks to Stan for all his expertise on Pearl Harbor, Mike for taking me out on the tugboat, and Scott for taking such care to provide me a varied and rich experience here, as well as to our veterans and the men and women serving our country.

SMURFing….

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Early Thursday morning I packed my diving gear onto Gracie Lynn, the aquarium’s research vessel used for off coast specimen collection and scientific dives. We pushed off the dock a little after 6 a.m. and set out to go SMURFing. SMURF is an acronym for Standard Monitoring Unit for the Recruitment of Fish, and is a cost-effective tool used to determine spatial and temporal variability in abundance and diversity of settling fish larvae. The SMURFs consist of about 60 sq. ft. of snow fence, which is bundled up and encased in green garden fencing. The finished piece is sausage-shaped and about a meter long.

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The color and design of this simple tool is appealing to juvenile fish who are seeking shelter. The fish are free to swim in and out of the SMURF, so it is important to quickly enclose the entire apparatus in a net, known as a BINCKE (Benthic Ichthyofauna Net for Coral/Kelp Environments), upon collection. The SMURFs are attached with clips to a mooring line a meter below the surface. The shallow working depth allowed us to use snorkel as our means of retrieving/ replacing the SMURFs.

blog3_b Kirsten Grorud-Colvert, the lead scientist on the project, and I were dropped off at each buoy while the boat circled around waiting for us to complete the task. With me carrying the BINCKE, and Kirsten carrying the replacement SMURF, we approached the buoy.

blog3_c I waited for Kirsten to unclip the SMURF from the mooring line and replace it with the new SMURF. As soon as she unclipped the old SMURF I scooped it into the BINCKE and we signaled for the boat to come back and pick us up.

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There were a total of eight SMURFs deployed from the Southern Boundary of Pirate Cove to Rocky Creek Wayside (excluding Whale Cove), seven of which were still in tact at the time of collection. One was missing, most likely dislodged from strong currents or knocked off from driftwood, so we replaced it for the next round of collections. By the second SMURF collection Kirsten and I had the routine down and it only took a few minutes for us to collect and replace the SMURFs.

Once the retrieved SMURF was onboard, one person bailed seawater over the SMURF as another person shook it to flush out the fish. blog3_e The fish were collected, and stored in individually labeled bags, which were kept on ice for transport back to the lab. The information gathered from SMURFs provides insight about settling patterns in early life stages for many nearshore fish species. This information is essential for effect marine conservation management, and will also act as a platform for educational outreach about the early life stages of marine organisms. As an efficient and low-cost method for sampling this type of information, it is hoped that SMURFs will become prevalent in large-scale monitoring projects throughout the west coast.

REEF Fest

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REEF keeps myself and the other interns pretty busy with office work, diving, lionfish derbies, and fish identification presentations. But on top of all that, this summer we have been preparing for REEF Fest. REEF Fest is a weekend full of diving, free educational seminars, and nightly social events in celebration of REEF”S 20th Anniversary! The volunteer fish survey project, REEF’s first and main project, was started in 1993. What started as small groups of people doing fish surveys has now led to the world’s largest marine sightings database. REEF offers free membership, and this membership allows divers and snorkelers to enter their surveys into a database, which has been referenced in many publications. The surveys are a way of monitoring fish populations over time, which is very important currently as we are facing climate change, pollution, and of course, in the Caribbean, the invasive lionfish. Currently, there are over 170,000 surveys entered in the database!

So 20 years of success is definitely worth celebrating! The REEF board and founders would be not only attending REEF Fest, but also leading dives and seminars for other guests. It was an absolute privilege to meet Paul Humann and Ned and Anna DeLoach, who are not only the founders of REEF, but also the authors of Reef Fish and Coral Identification Books. I assure you, if you have ever taken a marine ecology or identification class, these are the textbooks you used! REEF Fest also attracted divers from across the country, including REEF members from the very beginning, and new members who have just started to get their feet wet.

REEF Fest guests at Bayside Grille on Thursday Evening

Enjoying the sunset on the Island Time Dinner Cruise

The weekend kicked off on a Thursday afternoon with Caribbean fish identification seminars led by Jonathan Lavan and Janna Nichols. Unfortunately the first dive of the weekend had to be cancelled due to weather, but the party continued at a local bayside restaurant. Friday was filled with more seminars and diving, despite the rough weather. That evening we hosted a party at the REEF headquarters, and we were absolutely thrilled to have over 200 guests attend! The next day I was set to lead an Artificial Reef dive with Lad Akins on the Spiegel Grove. The wind was blowing strong and we were facing 6 to 7 foot seas, but we were still joined by 16 determined REEF members. It was the roughest weather I had experienced all summer, so the boat ride was not easy. However, one quickly forgets the weather and overcomes nausea once underwater on a 510 ft. wreck! The visibility was not the best, but I was able to see some amazing fish including one of my favorites, the goliath grouper!

The final celebration of the weekend was held that evening on a dinner cruise boat called “Island Time”. About 120 REEF members boarded the “Island Time” and cruised through the bay at sunset enjoying good music, great food, and the best company. There was even a conch blowing competition and a limbo contest. I am proud to say I was the limbo champion that night.

The night ended with a speech from Ned DeLoach and recognition of 16 REEF members, who have submitted over 1,000 fish surveys, an astonishing achievement. REEF Fest was one of the most enjoyable weekends I have had in Key Largo, and I hope that I don’t have to wait 10 years for the next celebration. It was a pleasure to be a part of such an exciting time at REEF and an even greater pleasure to know that I helped make it happen!

My Life is a Beach Boys Song

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Living in Key Largo, I find myself occasionally singing “Bermuda, Bahamas, Come on Pretty Mama. Key Largo, Montego, Baby why Don’t We Go”. And while I already live in paradise, it is hard not to dream of those other beautiful Caribbean Islands. So I could barely contain my excitement when I got a call from my boss, Lad Akins, asking if I wanted to join him at the 5^th Annual Green Turtle Cay Lionfish Derby in Abaco, Bahamas. For those of you who don’t know, the Green Turtle Cay Lionfish Derby was the first ever lionfish derby, which began 5 years ago.

I immediately jumped at the chance to be apart of the derby, but the next 24 hours would be a crazy rollercoaster ride. I guess I should mention that I got this call on Friday and the derby was Saturday; kind of short notice. I had to find just the right flight to get there in time, and when I found it, I was ecstatic. And then came the bad news…. I didn’t bring my passport to Florida. It was sitting at home in Illinois, locked away in a safe. For the next hour I had pretty much given up hope, but then I had an idea. I called my mom, and after a bit of research we located a UPS store that was within 5 minutes of the Miami airport. She quickly sent my passport, which would hopefully make it from Illinois to Miami in less than 24 hours.

So I packed my bags and the next morning headed north to Miami. After a very nervous 45-minute wait in the UPS parking lot, the package finally arrived! One plane, one taxi, and one ferry was all it took to get me to Green Turtle Cay about one hour before all of the lionfish would come in; just in time for the craziest part of the day. I grabbed a scoring sheet, joined Stephanie Green, and we measured each lionfish that came in. In total: 1,204 LIONFISH! This year’s derby was very successful, and was a great way to prepare for other derbies we would have later in the summer.

However the real work came after the derby. Over the next 3 days myself, along with 4 others (Lad, REEF intern Catie, previous intern Elizabeth, and Stephanie), would go out and survey about 75 sites. As part of REEF’s research a series of sites are surveyed before and after the derby, in order to measure the benefits a derby can have. At each site, 90 meters of transect is laid out, and then one person swims up and down each side of transect looking for lionfish, lobster, and grouper. The relative sizes, habitat, and activity of each are noted. Some sights previously had 10 or more lionfish, but after the derby were clear of them. However, we also visited a few sights that were not hit during the derby, and what I saw confirmed everything I had learned about lionfish. One small artificial structure was home to about 30 lionfish! The only good thing about that site was target practice. We grabbed a few pole spears and after a few tries I was able to spear my first lionfish!

The long days of snorkeling yielded a few scrapes and bruises from strong surges, a few awesome marine life sightings including my first flying gurnard, and some pretty funky sunburns. The obnoxious tan lines around our ankles from our dive boots gave way to the new name of our boat: The Booty Tan. My trip to the Bahamas turned out to be one of the greatest experiences of my life. It not only confirmed my love of research and fieldwork, but also allowed me to see first hand the difference REEF makes. Every lionfish removed counts and seeing the difference after removing 1,204 was incredible.

Florida Lionfish Derby Series

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I think that the greatest part of the REEF summer internship is the lionfish derby series. Since I was lucky enough to attend the derby in Green Turtle Cay in June, I had an idea of what to expect at the derbies held in the U.S. First came the derby in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. The other REEF interns and I were able to convince many of our friends to volunteer at the derby, which is absolutely necessary for it to be a success. On Friday afternoon we headed north for the captains meeting. Attendance to this is required if a team wants to participate at the derby, because the meeting discusses rules as well as lionfish collecting and handling tips.

REEF Staff and volunteers at Ft. Lauderdale Derby

2 of the biggest lionfish at the Ft. Lauderdale Derby

13 teams set out at sunrise on Saturday and would have all day to collect as many lionfish as they could. However, all fish had to be back at the dock by 5pm to qualify for the cash prizes. When teams arrive at the dock they come directly to me to check in. I note the time of their arrival, which is very important because in the event of a tie, the team that came in the earliest will win. Next, teams go to our scoring station, where each and every lionfish is measured. The results then come back to me to be entered into our database.

Once all of the fish are in and measured, the party does not stop. Myself along with other REEF interns, employees, and volunteers fillet lionfish so that it can be immediately cooked up and served to derby participants and the general public. Filleting the fish is my absolute favorite part of the derby, because the people who just happen to be at the dock or restaurant, but don’t know anything about lionfish, come to you to ask questions. “But I thought lionfish were poisonous?”, “Wait they don’t really belong in the Caribbean?”, or even “What’s that?” are some of the most common questions. Educating the public is the most fulfilling part of my job so I happily answer their questions: “Lionfish are native to the indo-pacific and as one of the most common aquarium fishes, they often get dumped in the Caribbean when people no longer want to care for them. They are not poisonous but venomous so you can eat them. The difference is that poison is ingested while venom is injected. They have 18 venomous spines, 13 on their dorsal fin, 3 on their anal fin, and one on each pelvic fin.” Sometimes you even attract a few children who are absolutely fascinated by the fish. While teaching one boy about them, I came across a lionfish that was about to release her eggs…. potentially 20,000 of them!

The other question many people ask is how we can fillet them without getting stuck by a venomous spine. Filleting takes a lot of finesse and attention, but it can be done quite easily. It is important to be aware of where you are placing your hands at all times, and to go slow if you need to. Rushing won’t do any good if a spine sticks you! But of course, it is fun to impress the general public with what they consider to be “bravery and skill”.

Learning to fillet lionfish earlier this summer!

At the Ft. Lauderdale derby, the winning team brought in 58 lionfish; the largest lionfish was 400mm, while the smallest lionfish was only 62mm! In total 256 lionfish were brought in! The Palm Beach County Derby is set up in a very similar way. This year we had 8 teams bring in a total of 612 lionfish! The Palm Beach Derby ends a bit different, as it is followed by a banquet. It is a great opportunity to hang out with all of the teams and learn about their experiences and thoughts on lionfish. This years Palm Beach Derby was just 3 days before I would leave the Keys, so it was a bittersweet ending to my summer. But the derby series isn’t over! On September 14^th, REEF will host a lionfish derby at John Pennekamp State Park. There will also be a one-day only exception to the usual spear ban within the State Park limits. This will hopefully draw in more lionfish hunters, especially those who prefer to use a spear over nets. So if you live in the area and want to be a part of an amazing event, get a team together and go out and hunt lionfish! More information can be found at the following link:http://www.reef.org/lionfish/derbies.

The smallest lionfish at the Ft. Lauderdale derby, and a very small filefish found in the stomach of another lionfish

Ft. Lauderdale Derby Catch!

Now Entering Paradise

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I have always preferred warm weather over cold, salt water over fresh, and diving over just about everything else. So I could barely contain my excitement as I headed from Central Illinois to Key Largo for the summer. After just a few weeks of interning with Reef Environmental Education Foundation, I felt I had found my niche. It’s not just the location, weather, and diving that suit me, but also the passionate people I have met and the valuable work I have been doing.

My fellow REEF interns Alex, Alexis, and Catie

My weeks are split between the field and the office. While the field definitely creates more excitement, the office work is just as important. I have been dedicating large amounts of my time in the office prepping for REEF Fest! REEF fest is our 20^th Anniversary Celebration held August 8^th-11^th filled with diving, free seminars, and nightly social events that will attract divers from across the country. I am so proud to be a part of such an exciting time in REEF history, and with this on top of the lionfish derby series, things do not get boring around the office.

Days in the field are just as productive, but in a very different way. As a REEF intern we have the amazing opportunity of diving with local dive shops at no cost, in order to conduct fish surveys and teach as many divers as possible about REEF. When I head out on a boat for the day, I find myself surrounded by others who are passionate about the underwater world and interested in the knowledge I can share with them. I gladly point out some common species from my underwater fish ID booklet, and love to discuss all of the fish sighted after the dive. It quickly becomes a game, as people describe the fish they saw and I try to ID it from memory or my handy ID book. Many divers on the boat may have never heard of REEF before, so each day out usually means a handful of new REEF members!

A beautiful French Angelfish

I have also had the privilege in assisting with lionfish research! We visit different dive sights in the area, and using transects, record and measure the lionfish, grouper, and lobster found at each location. Now this may not sound too tricky, but most of these sights are only marked by a small pole in about 60ft of water. Add a strong current and poor visibility, and your day of research diving may be a loss. One site, the notorious W-8, had not been found during the previous round of surveys. The search took time, and many attempts, but W-8 was found and we couldn’t have been happier…. especially because the sea got the best of us that day. Lets just say our big breakfast wasn’t the best idea.

The “We Found W-8″ Celebration

A lionfish Speared during research

Finally, through the amazing opportunities I get with REEF, I have been able to obtain my rescue diver certification and enriched air certification. I am so glad that I can continue my dive education, and can’t wait for the next step: Dive Master!

fill station operator training and science on tap

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This week I was trained as fill station operator so that I can fill scuba cylinders. It is very important to be properly trained to handle high-pressure cylinders because of the hazards associated with them. A damaged cylinder, or improper filling techniques can cause a cylinder to explode, a serious danger to the person filling the cylinder and to anyone in the vicinity. The training included a PSI/PCI PowerPoint and quiz, as well as an orientation to the compressor room and fill station. We learned about cylinder markings, different types of cylinders and compressors, how to conduct a cursory inspection, and cylinder maintenance.

After completing the classroom portion of the training, we headed to the fill station and each went through all the steps involved with filling a cylinder, including visually checking the cylinder for proper markings, making sure it is up to date on inspections, and actually filling the cylinder. I became even more familiar with the components of high-pressure cylinders by helping Vallorie, my supervisor, service a cylinder that was due for its annual inspection. I learned how to take the cylinder valve apart, go through the required checklist for annual inspections, replace the O-rings and burst disk, and put everything back together again.

After a full day of learning about cylinders, I was ready to kick back and relax. I attended Rogue Brewery’s ‘science on tap’, an event in which local scientists come out to talk to the public about their projects.

This month the focus was on citizen science. By bridging the gap between the general public and the scientific community with projects such as REEF and marine debris monitoring projects, we are able to gather information that could be critical to coastal habitat sustainability and conservation. The idea is that success of conservation projects will come through integration rather than implementation. This is especially true in towns such as Newport, where the fishing/marine industry drives the economy.

With much of the public already holding close ties to coastal ecosystems, citizen science projects will further engage fishermen and the general public in the health of coastal ecosystems, further increasing the success of conservation efforts. As the presentation wound down, the floor was opened up for questions, and I was extremely impressed by the level of interest expressed by members of the community. Thoughtful questions and suggestions continued for about 40 minutes, proving just how engaged the community is. As I sat there listening to the lively discussion, I couldn’t help but think how unique of a situation it was. Not every community has members that are this active and willing to get involved. Newport seems to be the perfect place for citizen science projects to blossom, and I have no doubt that this is exactly what will happen.

Kelp Forest Monitoring in the Channel Islands

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This week I left the warm coral reefs of the Caribbean for a five-day Kelp Forest Monitoring cruise in California’s Channel Islands National Park. After some 23 hours of traveling I made it to the park headquarters in Ventura Harbor, where marine ecologist Josh Sprague met me and led me to the Sea Ranger II, the 58-foot boat where I would spend the night and then the following five days. A quick update on the stand-down: the new dive policy has been written and approved, and now individual parks are in the process of adjusting their dive programs to be compliant with the new policy, resubmitting their qualifications, and completing the type of updates and rewrites of emergency protocols that I was working on in DRTO. Fortunately for me, the Channel Islands’ dive program has been extremely on top of this, and was the first in the Pacific-West region to be stood up (Park service lingo differs slightly from dating lingo, I’ve found). One hundred twenty-four pages of dive policy and a 65-question test later, I was ready to dive with them.

The Sea Ranger II

On Monday morning, I awoke to the rest of the crew beginning to load the boat. I met marine biologist and Regional Dive Officer David Kushner, biological technician and Park Dive Officer Kelly Moore, boat captain Keith Duran, and biological technicians James Grunden, Mykle Hoban (a former OWUSS AAUS intern), Jaime McClain, and Doug Simpson. To my utter joy, they were filling the boat’s refrigerator and cabinets with all the most delicious Trader Joe’s snacks I could possibly desire. Loading and logistics complete, we were off for a week of intensive kelp forest surveys.

Anacapa’s iconic Arch Rock

A native Californian, I’m partial to foggy seascapes, and I was immediately taken with the Channel Islands in their understated loveliness. On land, the islands offer rich cultural history and biodiversity, with endemism (when species are unique to the islands or even an individual island) comparable to that of the Galapagos. On this boat-based mission, however, I only viewed the terrestrial resources from afar: we were there for what was below the surface. The marine life here is particularly interesting because these islands lie on the convergence point of cold currents from the Arctic and warm currents from Mexico. These currents bring together warm- and cold-water species to create high biodiversity, and their mixing churns up nutrients from the deep ocean, a process called upwelling, which supports a large biomass.

Five of the eight Channel Islands and the waters out to one nautical mile from their shores were designated as a National Park in 1980 with a specific view toward long term monitoring. The Kelp Forest Monitoring (KFM) project began in 1981, and is the longest running monitoring program in the National Park Service. They started with thirteen permanent sites, and now regularly survey 33, taking data on the size and abundance of certain indicator species at various levels of the food chain. The sites represent a broad range of temperatures and levels of protection. The state of California controls the marine resources and allows fishing within the park, but eleven no-take Marine Reserves within the park boundaries were established in 2002. The KFM project added sites inside and outside these reserves to assess their efficacy. Their data helps inform the state’s management decisions, and demonstrate how policies affect the marine ecosystem. What’s especially cool about the KFM project is that it provides long-term fishery-independent data. Most of the information we have about fish populations comes from studies of what fishermen catch, like the creel surveys I did in Biscayne. Fishery-independent studies, while harder to perform, provide a much more accurate and comprehensive picture of what exists in the marine ecosystems, as opposed to what fishermen are targeting in response to demand. Dave also explained to me the value a multi-decade dataset, a rarity since the usual span of a funded study or PhD project is only a few years. Evaluating trends over so many years has yielded some surprises. What park scientists thought they understood about weather patterns and population trends is changing as the broader view reveals larger trends that a five- or even ten-year snapshot would fail to capture. To continue this legacy of rigorous data collection, the KFM team goes out every other week from May through October to complete surveys on all 33 sites.

That first afternoon, we pulled up to the closest island, Anacapa, and jumped in at Landing Cove. I was assigned 5m quadrants with Kelly, for which we swim along either side of a 100m transect and count any giant kelp, invasive sargassum, and two indicator species of sea star, giant-spined and ochre, within one meter of the transect line, tallying them in five meter increments. When we’re done, we go back and do Macosystis (giant kelp) counts, which involve measuring the largest diameter of the holdfast and counting the number of stipes (like stems) present at 1m height for 100 total individuals. All around us, other members of the team surveyed the benthic substrate and the abundance and size of fish, sea stars, urchins, sponges, and other indicator species.

PDO Kelly Moore sets off on a Macrosystis count

We had calm winds and relatively flat water, so below it was beautifully clear. I’ve heard kelp fronds compared to stained glass, and light filtering through the kelp into the hush of the water did evoke a cathedral-like sense of sacred. California’s giant sequoias have the same effect. The kelp forest has a more reserved color scheme than the riotous Caribbean coral reefs, which makes the occasional bright colors—the vivid purple of sea urchins, the deep orange of the garibaldi—all the more striking. I was enthralled by the minutiae all around the transect: it was incredible to be diving among the creatures that had inhabited the touch tanks of my childhood.

The garibaldi, California’s state fish.

Calm weather meant great conditions, and also that we went to the more exposed sites and the northern islands, which most visitors never see. I was thrilled to be so lucky, but it did mean we went to all of the coldest sites. Despite the four years I spent in Boston specifically training for situations like this, I was hopelessly chilly. People were kind enough to loan me extra gear, but even in a 7mm wetsuit, two vests, two hoods, and thick gloves, my teeth were chattering on the regulator by the end of each dive. This was partially because the team goes on extremely long dives to collect as much data as possible. I’m used to dives between 30-50 minutes, and here they were often above 80. This makes each dive incredibly productive, but I definitely wasn’t as useful a contributor as the dives went on and I lost sensation in my fingers

I CAN’T PUT MY ARMS DOWN.

I’ve been getting some questions about how we collect data underwater, and it still blows my mind each time so it’s well worth some description here. We record data on UNDERWATER PAPER. I haven’t actually asked what it’s made of yet, but it maintains most of the properties of ordinary paper while being completely waterproof (and slightly shiny). The paper can be attached to clipboards with rubber bands, as we did in St. John, or slid into a frame of plastic slates and secured with wing nuts, as is customary in DRTO and the Channel Islands. The preferred writing implement for underwater science is the kind of pencil you may remember from early elementary school with several plastic segments of graphite that can be pulled out and then inserted in the top of the pencil to advance the next segment. Regular mechanical pencils rely on metal springs that quickly become useless in salt water, so these all-plastic instruments are premier (Their main weakness is that the loss of a single segment renders the entire pencil useless, but this can be mitigated with a spare pencil or a stray urchin spine). These pencils are secured to the slates with rubber tubing (which is much more reliable than trying to stick it in a BCD pocket or just holding it, which is how I probably doubled the Virgin Islands National Park’s pencil expenditures for next quarter). One of the most important inventory decisions scientists must make is which pattern to select for their pencil orders. This is also an important choice on each dive. I was particularly attached to a pencil festooned with purple whales in St. John, although I would settle for the one covered in $100 bills. In the Channel Islands I was always happy to get a slate with a glitter pencil, but wasn’t going to complain about puppies or bumblebees.

An Artificial Recruitment Module. Photo courtesy of David Witting, NOAA Restoration Center.

On subsequent dives and sites I put segmented pencil to underwater paper for more 5m quadrants and Macrosystis counts, diving with Dave, Josh, and Mykle. On the second day, diving off Santa Rosa, Dave showed me another survey type, Artificial Recruitment Modules, or ARMs. Many kelp forest critters, especially juveniles, live under rocks and in crevices, but it’s difficult to survey them in a controlled way since different divers might have different rock-turning capabilities. By creating artificial rocks with halved cinder blocks, the KFM team has created a systematic invasive survey. They stack these cinder blocks in wire mesh boxes, leaving a “courtyard” in the middle, and periodically turn each over, take all the indicator species out, measure and record them, and put them back. This is useful for tracking recruitment, the rate of juvenile individuals reaching maturity. Opening the ARM was Christmas for kelp nerds. Dave turned over the first block to reveal an octopus guarding her clutch of eggs, and each new block was crawling with brittle stars, urchins, sea stars, and the occasional tiny crabs that would huffily scuttle away. Juvenile fish cowered in the center, and larger fish lurked nearby in case we overlooked anything tasty. The site’s resident harbor seal, whom Keith has nicknamed Chester the Molester, also stopped by to oversee the proceedings. There were far too many study animals to measure during the dive, so we brought our stash to the boat, where it joined several other similarly stuffed mesh bags from the other ARMs at the site. On deck, everyone grabbed a chair and a set of calipers, and for the next several hours we grabbed urchin after urchin, sea star after sea star and called out their measurements to the furiously recording data collectors (this recording was executed on standard land paper).

The contents of one of the ARMs.

San Miguel.

On Wednesday evening we reached San Miguel, the northernmost and least accessible island. Here the kelp was so thick that we were diving in near darkness, and the water was freezing! On deck we stay warm with a hot water hose that we regularly stick down our wetsuits (boat norms differ slightly from normal norms, I’ve found), huge fleece-lined parkas, and lots of hot tea and cocoa. A buddy team is usually in the water at any given time while we’re completing a site, so there’s a fairly continuous rotation of dive preparation and dive recovery. For one of the surveys they use a full-face mask with surface supplied-air and a microphone system, so the diver can stay down longer and dictate data to someone recording on the surface (also done on land paper). We bustle around donning gear and passing around the hose to the constant sounds of Darth Vader breathing and rapid categorizations of the benthic habitat.

When we’re not diving, we’re generally sleeping or eating (The bounteous, nay, Brobdingnagian supply of snacks was defenseless against our onslaught). In the evenings there’s usually a fair bit of data processing and discussion before we eat dinner as a group. Members of the team switch off cooking for everyone, and their culinary abilities were uniformly outstanding. In transit we might have time to read on the fly deck or in the cabin, and one night we had a screening of Wedding Crashers, enjoyed with brownies à la mode.

In sharp contrast to the dense kelp forests I saw on the first day at Anacapa, the urchin barren habitat outside the reserve illustrates the cascading consequences of overfishing.

On the last day, we had time for a few dives before heading back to shore. We anchored at Anacapa once again, but surveyed a site outside of the no-take reserves. The difference was remarkable. On this site, all we could see was urchin barren, a classic example of the cascading consequences of overfishing. With the removal of sheepshead and other fish that prey on sea urchins, the urchin populations exploded and grazed all of the kelp. Rather than forest, here was grassland, although the grass, on closer inspection, was the waving arms of millions of brittle stars. The water was clear and much warmer (60°! I could almost forgo the second hood!) (Almost.) and the surveys were quick with no kelp to count. Mykle and I brought some calipers to measure as many sea stars as we could, while sea lions cruised by in clear hopes of making mischief.

You lookin at me?

The cruise was all too short, but I was also looking forward to a family visit. In another bout of fortuitous timing, my return to Southern California was a few days before my younger brother’s move-in day for his freshman year at USC. I had a great weekend with the family exploring the Getty Museum and Venice Beach before braving the cattle round up of lanyards and shower caddies and frazzled parents that is moving into a freshman dorm. I bid farewell to the new college student and the new empty nesters, and set off to spend the next month in Hawaii.

Thanks so much to the KFM team for letting me tag along this week, feeding me handsomely, and loaning me all sorts of extra gear, not least of which the underwater camera I used to take all these pictures (The SRC camera is back in Denver for repairs, since it turns out my flooding troubles were not as over as I hoped. Luckily the camera is fine, but Brett is being kind enough to service the housing for me!). I had such a wonderful time, and will definitely be making a return trip or many to the Channel Islands.

The entire crew.