A Toast To The Zooillogix Boys

Alas, I was unable to attend a quasi-gathering of Bay Area bloggers last night in celebration of the Bleiman brother's new venture in state-sanctioned inebriation. I was somewhere over Texas at 33,000 feet when I should have been bellied-up to the bar at Tonic-- a new watering hole in San Francisco's sketchiest neighborhood--going shot-for-shot with the likes of Andy, Benny, Craig, and others. Well I can only hope there was at least one toast to Malaria, Bedbugs, Sea Lice, and Sunsets in absentia.

So in honor of the happy addition of another San Francisco drinking hole in which I've yet to be thrown out of, I raise a very Bonaire-themed toast to you all: an icy cold bottle of Polar (Venezuelan beer) and a hot plate of Bitterballen with mustard, my favorite Dutch pub-grub. Nothing says "Cheers" in the tropical Dutch Antilles quite as well as a long tug on a bottle of Polar followed by a crunchy and savory, deep-fried ball of minced beef mixed with beef broth, flour and butter for thickening, parsley, salt and pepper.

Many happy years of torturing livers, boys!

Shadows Of Their Former Glory

Even here in Bonaire, home of the healthiest coral reefs in the Caribbean, I'm still reminded of the challenges facing reefs worldwide. Take for instance the once mighty "forests" of Staghorn coral (Acropora palmata) and Elkhorn coral (Acropora cervicornis). Elkhorn has broad, flattened branches that resemble moose antlers. Staghorn is more rounded and pointed.

Elkhorn and Staghorn corals were once so abundant on Caribbean reefs that coral scientists named specific zonation along the reef profile after these keystone coral species. Both species are elaborately branching corals and generally inhabit nearshore zones that are more protected from strong wave surge. The complex geometry of Acropora zones created excellent habitat for fish and invertebrate species that could find protection in the maze of branches. As a young coral reef ecology student in the early 80's, I remember vast fields of enormous Elkhorn and Staghorn colonies.

However, increased sea surface temperatures over the past two decades have caused mass coral bleaching events throughout the Caribbean Basin. Being nearshore, shallow coral species, Caribbean Acropora were particularly susceptible to the warming and suffered massive die-offs. What were once fields of impressive Acropora have now been reduced to barren rubble fields or solitary colonies. Even here in Bonaire, Elkhorn and Staghorn corals were hit hard. Nonetheless, it's encouraging to still see both Acropora species slowly recovering here.

Say It Isn't So

A mystery is beginning to unfold here in Bonaire, Netherlands Antilles, and I must admit I'm not happy about the cast of characters. Beginning almost three weeks ago around the start of September, divers here began reporting unusual sightings of dead moray eels along the reef. Dead morays were also being spotted washed-up on the beaches of the marine park. Casualties do not at this time appear to be limited to any single species of moray. Apparently Green morays, Caribbean Spotted morays, and Goldentail morays have been among the victims. At present, the body count appears to be approaching 15-25 observed dead eel specimens, but the marine park is a big place and the actual mortality may be orders of magnitude greater.

In talking with the Bonaire Marine Park Manager, it is not yet clear what might be the cause of this UMT (unusual mortality event). It could be any of a variety of causes ranging from bacterial to viral to fungal. Bonaire does not have a marine pathology facility on-island, and there presently is no protocol yet established for screening for potential pathogens in specimens. The nearest facility for performing this sort of analysis is located in the Greater Antilles in Puerto Rico. But getting dead specimens from the water to the lab is not a simple process.

Yesterday provides a telling example. During a morning dive, a dive master found a recently deceased Spotted moray resting near the reef drop-off. With good intention, he brought it back to the dive boat in hopes of delivering the eel to the marine park authority for study. But with no means of temporary preservation in this tropical heat, a dead eel specimen rapidly degrades from fresh cadaver to a stinky wind-sock of liquefied goo. We looked for something to place the specimen in, but the only available storage was a cooler where cold drinks were stored. Not knowing what possible agent is at work in the moray deaths, it would be ill-advised to store a potentially infectious corpse where human food is also stored.

It's been clearly established that many marine pathogens can be zoonotic, that is an infectious disease is able to be transmitted (usually by a vector) from animals, both wild and domestic, to humans. Four relatively common microbes––Brucella, Leptospira, Crytopsporidium, and Giardia--have been identified in commercially valuable marine fish. Ingestion of these pathogens can cause symptoms that include high fever, severe headaches, chills, muscle aches, vomiting, and diarrhea. Paralytic shellfish poisoning (PSP) or neurological shellfish poisoning (NSP), both caused by accumulated concentrations of algae-produced toxins, continue to afflict humans with seasonal outbreaks. Strains of a Brucella (a bacteria species) have been isolated from marine mammals and serological surveys suggest that exposure is widespread in dolphins and seals. The species has caused headaches, extreme fatigue, and severe sinusitus in marine mammal researchers. Other potential zoonotics include seal pox (occasionally causing painful nodules on the fingers of handlers) and Salmonella. A severe, painful bacterial infection associated with bite wounds, "seal finger", is also a hazard for handlers. Mycoplasma (a fungal species) have been implicated in its cause.

So in the interest of human safety, the dive master dumped the eel carcass overboard, and a potential treasure trove of scientific information was lost. Setting up proper protocols for handling potentially infectious specimens is not rocket science, but developing a well-articulated collection and storage protocol takes time and money. It's a function of resources and capacity to equip the entire marine tourism fleet here in Bonaire with the materials and training in how to handle dead marine specimens. Then of course there's the matter of analyzing the specimens. As I mentioned earlier, Bonaire lacks a marine pathology lab. Specimens must be quickly packaged and shipped cold but not frozen to a lab (specimens must not be allowed to freeze solid as expanding ice crystals in tissues will rupture cells and make histology difficult or impossible.)

Perhaps fortuitously, Steve McCullough is on-island this week as part of the Love Our Planet Week celebrations. Steve is founder and manager of the Marine Mammal Research and Conservation Center at the Harbor Branch Oceanographic Institute in Ft. Pierce, Florida. He's well-versed in UME protocols and the handling and study of marine mammal specimens that are found sick, dead, or dying. In fact, Steve was a busy man this week. In addition to his outreach and education responsibilities, he found himself called upon to perform a field inspection of a marine mammal stranding here as well. The first in possibly 12 years on Bonaire, he surveyed the decomposing remains of an as-yet unidentified toothed whale that washed-up on the east side of Bonaire.

Steve was able to advise the marine park authority on a cost effective and practical means of training Bonaire-based marine park staff on basic specimen preparation and analysis--from collection of specimens to rapid necropsy and sample collection. Rather than shipping an entire specimen to an out of country lab, basic tissue sampling and preservation can be performed in-country. While more precise microbiology and virology/toxicology may still need to be performed off-island, the speed in which specimens are prepared and a potential cause identified can be accelerated.

Since we are just three weeks-in on this moray UME, time is of the essence. The moray die-off may be just now manifesting itself and may be the first sign of a deeper problem affecting Bonaire's coastal habitats. Morays may be just one of many organisms that could be affected. Steve McCullough described an incident he witnessed in Florida a few years back where local crab fishers along the Indian River estuary first noticed a UME involving crabs. Dead crabs were just an early warning. The pathogen, a bacteria, rapidly worked its way up the trophic pyramid. In as little as one month, close to 35 Bottlenose dolphins that hunted within the estuary would eventually die of the same bacterial infection.

It's far too early to even speculate on a potential infectious agent in the moray UME. But it's worthwhile to keep in mind that marine pathogens can flow in two directions. I've already mentioned that zoonotics can create links that flow from marine organisms to humans. But reverse zoonosis can also occur where human or terrestrial pathogens can be transmitted to marine life. Dogs and cats may suffer Salmonellosis that has been positively correlated to localized outbreaks in marine mammal populations such as Harbor or Fur seals. In Monterey Bay, California, outbreaks of Toxoplasmosis (a protozoa) in Sea otter populations has been traced to kitty litter that finds its way into land fills or storm drains and works its way up the marine food chain.

Perhaps of greatest concern is the growing evidence that contamination of coastal waters from treated and untreated sewage discharge or rainwater and river runoff raises concerns that marine animals can act as reservoirs for bacteria—acquiring and maintaining antibiotic-resistant genes and then multiplying and spreading them to other marine life. Where does the antibiotic-resistance come from? From our almost ubiquitous overuse of antibiotics in everything from medicine to beef, poultry, and pork farms, to agriculture.

That's a scary prospect for Bonaire, where "healthiest reefs in the Caribbean" is almost the national motto. I'll be following the developments closely and look forward to hearing what insight researchers find.

That's A Moray Monday: The Live Blogging Version

I had such great hopes that this would be a fantastic series of crisp images of a photogenic moray that was posing for me on the reef this morning. I snapped-off a sequence of six shots, from a variety of angles. But in my haste, I must have disabled the macro setting so I was too close and out of focus. So the best I can do for now is post the least blurry of all the shots.

Bummer. This Caribbean Spotted Moray (Gymnothorax moringa) was putting on a show. But I've seen plenty of active morays on this trip already, and will try to pull together a photo showcase of some of the stars.

The Wonders Of Bringing Your Own Light While Diving

You may have noticed in my previously posted images that many of the underwater shots look very blue and that the reefs look blah and rather washed of color. Where are the amazing reef colors as seen on CORAL's website or in all those PBS documentaries of reef wonders? I can assure you they are there, but one of the properties of seawater is that it attenuates (or filters) wavelengths of light differentially by depth.

Keep in mind that visible light is composed of different wavelengths of light. The old Roy G Biv mnemonic may come to mind. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet are the visible wavelengths (or colors) that comprise "white" light. Reds, oranges, and yellows get filtered out in the first 30 or so feet of water. The blue-hued wavelengths penetrate deepest. Hence most of my images (like the one to the left) are saturated with blue, the wavelengths of light that are able to reflect off of surfaces at 60-80 feet.

If I had a big divelight or a camera with professional external strobes, my pictures would show the true colors of the reef. But I've been diving with a crappy underwater camera with a minute flash. The dinky built-in flash is not anywhere powerful enough to fill-in when I try to snap big vistas.

But when I attempt some macro shots, I can manage to fill the scene with enough artificial light to show at least some of the true colors that get filtered out of natural light.

Attack Of The Lonely Remora

There I was, minding my own business at about 40 feet, slowly making my way up the reef slope when I felt something brush my leg. I ignore it, but then I feel it again. I stop and look down below me (or as much as I can with a heavy metal cylinder strapped to my back) but see nothing. I continue swimming and then feel the brush of something against the other leg. This time I do a few rolls, and lo... I find a secret dive buddy, a Remora, that's tagging along.

I chuckled a few months ago when Miriam over on The Oyster's Garter described her close encounter with a Remora while conducting field work. And this isn't my first encounter with a curious Remora either. But this little fella really wanted a friend. It swam along under my chest for some time, evidently thinking that I did a satisfactory impersonation of a Bull shark. But as I approached the shallows, I think the fish decided it needed a more pelagic host. The Remora swam off in favor of a diver headed for the depths. But not before one last look-see of my legs. I was a bigger substrate and probably safer host, but unfortunately I was headed in the wrong direction for the fish.

Remora trying to attach to tank
Headed straight for me
Headed off with a new host

Yeah... This Is My Job

How's your 9 to 5 treating you?

My first full day on Bonaire had me in the water for at least 2 hours this morning checking out the fringing reef in front of Capt. Don's Habitat (my base of operations for the week). The water here is bath-water warm, and as soon as I sucked one tank dry I returned to shore, swapped-out a fresh bottle, and down I went. I intend to spend the week totally saturated, but with my dive jones satisfied.

This morning I broke in a new BC (if anyone needs a recommendation for a BC, I COMPLETELY endorse the Oceanic Probe LX) and surveyed the familiar reef formations for any noticable changes since last year. Other than a few patches of macro-algae I don't remember from last time, things look good. Impressive live coral cover, spectacular fish diversity and abundance, and reasonably clear visibility.

There were a few bleached sections of one coral colony (looked like Black Band disease) but besides that it was typically healthy Bonaire conditions. I plan to fit in a night dive after our evening meeting as this is coral spawning week and tonight's show should be spectacular: Staghorn coral, Massive Star coral, a few sponge species, and sea stars are slated to spawn tonight. Stay tuned for front row reports. In the mean time enjoy a few snaps from this morning.

Did I Or Didn't I?

I'm once again sitting in the Bush International Airport in Houston, on my way to the island of Bonaire for a week of conservation programs there and (of course) a shitload of diving. Since I've received several queries from readers wondering whether or not I summoned the cajones and actually went through with the much hyped Pelagic Magic Black Water Night Dive while I was in Kona a few weeks ago, I figure this is a good time to provide answers to the curious.

Readers will recall that I was at once fascinated and repelled by the notion of dangling in deep, ink-black water in the middle of nowhere waiting for something, anything, to swim or drift into the paltry beam of my dive light. My highly unscientific poll of readers indicated overwhelming agreement that, risky or not, I should go on the dive.

Before even getting to Kona, I did a little research with dive shop owners on Maui who had themselves braved the dive. One diver/owner was literally giddy in relaying her experiences. She showed me image after image on her laptop of blurry, yet colorful, globs of translucent jelly and refracted light that rose from the depths attracted to her lights. Did anything make her feel ill at ease? Nope, she responded that she was too excited to be worried. In fact she apparently didn't even bat an eye when a huge Marlin began circling the clutch of divers! She said the bill alone of the massive fish was longer that any of the divers.

With reports like this, it's easy to get the adrenaline pumping. A Marlin? A freakin' Marlin?! And I get to be in the water with it? Sign me up!

On the flight from Maui to Kona, Liz (CORAL Hawaii Field Manager) and I were all set to sign up! The only tricky thing was the timing. We were in Kona to participate in the US Coral Reef Task Force Meeting, not to have a dive holiday. If you think that business at these meetings is conducted only during plenary sessions, you'd be wrong. Like any meeting, the real business (discussions, agreements, negotiations, and bartering) takes place in hallways, over coffee, over beers, in elevators, or in impromptu sidebars. While we were in Kona for a week, most of that time was already filled.

To participate in the night dive, we would need to be at the dock no later than 5PM for the required dive briefing. One of the boat captains at Jacks Diving Locker who leads the Pelagic Magic dives told me that he gives the first of two dive briefings at the dock before any passengers even step foot aboard the boat. As he explained, while the dive safety briefing is standard right before entering the water, he has learned that giving everyone an explicit, unexpurgated overview of what to expect before boarding can save people the cost and time of a long cruise out to the dive site only to bale-out at the last second.

And what should people expect? First and foremost, this is no gentle harbor cruise. The Black Water Night Dive locations are out in the open ocean with no wave protection. Big rolling swell is common. By late in the day, the trade winds pick-up considerably in Hawaii and the sea surface is choppy and rough. Once the boat gets to the general area and starts to drift, it's subject to full-on port-to-starboard rocking that has even well-seasoned captains and staff tasting bile and scrambling for Saltines.

[By now, I know those Deep Sea News boys are laughing their sea-worthy asses off at the woosie coral reef ecologist who can't handle a little chop. I'm secure in my woosie-dom though, and if this means I can't earn my Steve Zissou red beanie then so be it.]

But the briefing isn't just a scare tactic. It's a reality check. And I was also assured that the briefing describes the vereitable wonders that participants would see. And just so it's clear that you don't need to be a chest-thumping, y-chromosome type to enjoy this experience, I was told of a recent trip where a 12 year-old girl eagerly dove right in to the abyss once the boat shut down the engines while grown men were still cowering on deck. There was talk of making the girl the unofficial poster child for the night dive in future ads.

Allow me to say right now that peer pressure has never worked on me. Whether delivered by my peers, seniors, or even 12 year-olds, peer pressure has never been an effective behavioral modifier. I need to want to do something. So while I was delighted to hear that 12 year-olds can handle the dive, I was only concerned about this 44 year-old. And besides, I no longer had visions of curious sharks as the scary part of the dive. I was more concerned with epic dry heaves and puking into my regulator.

A little tangential back-story would help here. About 2 years ago, Liz and I both participated in a different night dive while visiting Kona. We had heard about the famous Manta Night Dive and were psyched to see for ourselves. For those of you who may not have heard of this dive, it takes you to a small cove along the northern Kona coast just after sunset. This location is unique in that swarms of zooplankton are concentrated in the cove and have attracted hungry Manta rays that swoop into the cove to filter feed on the planktonic soup. Divers allegedly discovered this natural feeding station and have been gathering nightly in the summer to watch the show. Of course dive lights now attract even more zooplankton, which means even more Manta.

Liz and I had a blast watching these massive cartilaginous fish perform barrel rolls and soar just inches from our faces. It was amazing. Except there's an odd thing that happens during night dives. With no horizon or point of reference, all I found myself doing was following the looping Manta's that glided into and out of our light beams. After about 40 minutes of this, I was utterly dizzy and nauseated. I began swimming back to the boat, with now pesky Manta's blocking my egress as they followed the light I was carrying. What was just a few moments before an exquisite underwater ballet now turned into a clusterfuck. "Get out of my way! Damn Mantas," was all I could think. Before I even got to the boat, I added my own stomach contents to the plankton soup. I'm sure the Mantas didn't mind.

As Liz can attest, I spent the remainder of the ride home, the walk to the hotel, and that evening in dry heave hell. I believe I ralphed on the grill of the rental car too. I have a fatal flaw in my genome: I'm a marine ecologist who gets violently sea sick.

But back to the original story.

In looking at our schedule for the US Coral Reef Task Force meeting, we had only one window of opportunity for the Pelagic Magic Black Water Night Dive. We both flew home on Friday. That means no diving is possible on Thursday. After diving with compressed air, you need one day before going to altitudes greater than 2000 feet to allow any residual nitrogen in your bloodstream to dissipate. Otherwise, the change in altitude while flying can cause all sorts of painful (or deadly) problems. So as it was already Tuesday, our only option would be Wednesday.

And here's where I have to admit, to my (and no doubt your) disappointment, I chickened-out on the dive for this trip. Why? Call it the remaining fear of the unknown. Call it the professional hesitation at not wanting to spend a business meeting clutching porcelain for a night. Call it not wanting to do it alone without psychological support (Liz' travel plans changed and she left sooner than anticipated making her decompression day one day earlier).

So yes, after all the drama and build up, I passed. But, I have an offer from Teri Leicher, owner of Jacks Diving Locker and home of Pelagic Magic Black Water Night Dives to do the dive "on the house." I'll take you up on that, Teri, next visit. Third attempt is the charm. And I promise the blogosphere pictures to prove it. Now all I need is industrial-strength Dramamine.

Overdue Housekeeping: Leisure Pro Partners With CORAL

Miriam over at The Oyster's Garter stole a bit of my thunder on this one, but it's worth repeating.

In the mish-mash of all the crazy work and travel over the past few weeks, I utterly beefed on announcing a very cool new partnership we have launched with Leisure Pro, the biggest and best online retail source for quality dive gear. Our joint effort seeks to impact public perceptions and attitudes about the dire state of the world's coral reefs. With every purchase from Leisure Pro, customers will be offered the opportunity to contribute a donation that supports CORAL's reef conservation programs worldwide. All participants will receive quarterly updates on our projects and how their support is making a difference.

As an indication that Leisure Pro is taking the conservation partnership seriously, they have stopped selling fish food on their site. As I've talked about before, the practice of feeding fish while snorkeling or diving can have disastrous effects on coral reefs by altering predator-prey relationships and pushing delicate ecosystems out of balance. When people feed algae grazers like surgeonfish, the fish can eat less algae, causing the algae to flourish and potentially smother coral colonies. Not to mention that fish feeding makes for overly aggressive fish. Leisure Pro has agreed to support our Take a Bite out of Fish Feeding campaign — a collaborative effort launched in Hawaii to eliminate reef fish feeding.

Leisure Pro's new reef-friendly policy represents the first business on the U.S. mainland to support CORAL's successful campaign. According to Leisure Pro CEO Phil Mendel, "Our concern about coral reef damage has brought us a new awareness of the harm caused by reef fish feeding. By ceasing to sell fish food, we will hopefully not only reduce supply, but also raise consciousness about the potential damage."

An ardent supporter of CORAL's work, Mendel believes "the world is interconnected ... business and the environment must go hand in hand."

Couldn't have said it better myself.

Overdue Housekeeping: Congrats Deep Sea News!

Yeah, yeah, yeah... I'm always late to the party. But whilst I was indisposed with work, those knuckleheads of abyssal wonders--Craig, Peter, and Kevin of Deep Sea News--up and left the realm of ScienceBlogs and set up shop at Discovery Blogs. I'm green with envy. Though it may also be the after-effects of the last buffet dinner in Mexico.

Make sure you have redirected your bookmarks for their new digs and get the new RSS feed to stay on top of everything deep and marine.

If It's Good Enough For The Mayor...

That's Maui Mayor Charmaine Tavares in the image above and to the left. She's a proud supporter and participant in a reusable grocery bag giveaway that took place this week on the island as part of their ongoing 2008 International Year of the Reef (IYOR) celebrations. The Coral Reef Alliance was also proud to support and participate in this fantastic outreach effort.

Just a few weeks ago, the County of Maui was awarded Hawaii's Living Reef Award in the category of Non-Commercial/Government Agency for their work supporting Maui's IYOR education efforts. Maui's Community Task Force, in which CORAL Hawaii Field Manager Liz Foote participated (that's Liz on the far right in the below photo, along with Rhiannon Chandler, ED Community Work Day Program, Skippy Hau, DAR Aquatic Biologist, Kuhea Paracuellas, Maui County Environmental Coordinator, Office of the Mayor, a representative from Ah Fook's market in Kahului, and Emily Fielding, Maui Marine Programs Coordinator with The Nature Conservancy), was responsible for getting the bags into the stores and into the hands of shoppers.

Plastic bags make up a big percentage of marine debris and can prove fatal to marine life like sea turtles that accidentally ingest them. I can't tell you how many dives I've been on along coral reefs where I find myself removing plastic shopping bags that get entangled on coral.

It will certainly take more than a one-day reusable bag giveaway to solve the problem of plastic bags as marine debris, but at least the County of Maui is taking proactive steps to educate the public and add their efforts to the many other community-based reef conservation efforts.

The Wrong Path To Conservation

Back in October of 2006, I was in Alotau, Papua New Guinea, trying to salvage the pieces of a conservation project that we were then participating in with Conservation International. It was a tremendously sad visit to a country I very much love, since a significant investment of time, money, and passion in helping to build a network of marine protected areas was self-imploding. In the eyes of most participants on the ground, the blame rested squarely on the project management led by Conservation International. But I wasn't there to cast blame. I was there to find a way to make coral reef conservation happen despite the dysfunction.

While CORAL couldn't find sufficient funding to re-stitch all the work that Conservation International had started in PNG (it was a truly massive project that planned to create and manage an interconnected network of marine protected areas throughout Milne Bay), we re-prioritized our approach and relaunched in a different region of the country, Madang Lagoon, where a small NGO with significantly less financial resources than CI could still have a positive impact on biodiversity conservation.

But the demise of what was then called "The Project" in Milne Bay has remained on my mind ever since. Every time I've discussed or conducted planning in PNG (or elsewhere) it's been with the memory of how The Project self-destructed and what impact it left in the minds and hearts of local people and conservationists who not only witnessed it on the ground, but had invested themselves wholly in the proposed outcomes. There are the memories of the young, passionate conservationists who found themselves literally homeless and broke with suddenly no "project" to work on one day.

I haven't written about this incident in great length primarily because it has remained a sore spot and reminder of the dangers of big projects and big budgets in the biodiversity conservation world and how being a big organization is not necessarily better.

But I was forwarded a link to a story in The Nation that finally tells the sad tale in excruciating detail. In the current issue of The Nation (subscription needed for full version), writer Mark Dowie hunted down all the major players from Conservation International (from CI Chairman and CEO Peter Seligman to their PNG-based field staff) as well as all the various in-country participants and interlocutors to paint a picture of big-budget biodiversity conservation that is far from flattering.

Mismanaged funds, exorbitant expense accounts ($25,000 a day dive trips for cultivating donors), and a $6,443,022 total project budget that was spent two years before it was supposed to have been. Dowie doesn't hold back in his analysis, and I can only imagine that CI's PR team is working overtime to spin this. Actually, I suspect they've had a response crafted for a long time and have been just waiting for this shoe to finally drop.

I know personally almost every player in the story (save for CI's executive management) and sat together with most of the PNG partners and stakeholders during both the project's early good times (and there were some very good early results that get lost in the story) as well as the very dark end times. I suppose it's expedient to see Conservation International as a whole as the big bad of this story. But the reality is that the senior project management are really the ones at fault. And then Governor of Alotau Province in PNG also gets off rather lightly in the article when it was very clear that obstinate attitudes and bad decisions rest on his shoulders as well.

For our part in the story, I worked with and saw extremely talented, passionate, and sincere conservation professionals from PNG, Australia, the USA and beyond who were drawn to The Project because we shared a common vision of what ocean conservation at the community level could look like. I saw individuals invest their lives in this vision. These were people who genuinely believed that they were not just safeguarding coral reefs, but the local human communities who depend upon healthy reefs for their livelihoods. And I watched as these hopes shattered while hard-earned trust from local people was lost.

Ocean conservation efforts may return to the communities of Milne Bay someday. Perhaps CI may even return should political winds blow favorably. But the interest to be paid in regaining local trust and support for conservation (by Conservation International or anyone else) will certainly be significant. We all collectively took a black eye in how The Project unraveled. I can only hope that a black eye is the worst after-effect that PNG's people and their environmental future are subjected to.

What A Long Strange Trip It's Been

Remember me? Yeah, it's been a while.

Apologies to my loyal readers, but I've been insanely busy, traveling, and at times out of internet access. My sincerest thanks and apologies to Jim and Doug for actually voicing concern. You guys are great.

No, I wasn't devoured by sharks, giant squids, nor irritable stakeholders. Last you heard, CORAL Field staff and I were wrapping-up work at the US Coral Reef Task Force meeting in Kona, then it was back to San Francisco for a few days to prep for a board meeting, then off to Mexico for site visits and yet more meetings, dodging Hurricane Ike in Houston and getting rerouted (what's with me, field work, and hurricanes?), and now I sit stranded in Cleveland, Ohio waiting for the next flight home to the Bay Area tomorrow.

But wait, there's more!

I'm home for four days, then off to Bonaire in the Netherlands Antilles as a week-long guest speaker at their Love Our Planet environmental celebrations. Technically it's work, but I'll be spending the week talking to locals and visitors about marine conservation, coral reefs, marine protected areas, and best practices in marine recreation. Bonaire gets the relationship that healthy, protected reefs mean healthy business and vibrant local communities. Oh, and Love Our Planet Week coincides with Bonaire's annual coral spawning event. So it's a two-fer!

Rest assured, I'll do some catching up and answer lots of questions of what's been keeping me busy, and what's new in coral reef conservation news.

Damn, it feels great to blog again!