My dive travels have taken me all over the world.Diving abroad is not just about seeing different
fish and habitats; it is also about honoring and embracing the local culture
and traditions, to the extent that they are offered by the locals.I never could understand people who travel
considerable distance to dive and go from the airport directly to the boat on
arrival and then from the boat directly to the airport on departure when not
compelled to do so by connections or logistics.Some of the tales from the logbook have nothing to do with submersion
and everything to do with immersion.
The evening of October 16, 2017 found us at anchor in Gau Island's lagoon. Many folks worked on laptop computers refining the many underwater images collected during the day. I scribbled my recollection of that day's four dives including two in the Nigali Passage and transfered the images from my underwater camera to my tablet. Others discussed their dives. This mix of activities is pretty routine on dive boats. But tonight was special.
The crew
of Naia invited the passengers to
share kava, a traditional drink across much of the western Pacific Islands used for medicinal and ritual purposes.The crew honored us with the invitation.Fujian kava derives from the crushed root of the yaqona (pronounced
yang-GO-na) plant, a member of the pepper family.The kava powder is strained with water and served from
a large communal bowl as part of the traditional kava ceremony. When consumed, it
creates a pleasant, numb feeling around the mouth, lips and tongue, as well as
a sense of calm and relaxation.
We gathered for the Kava ceremony on board the Naia after evening dinner.Participants in the ceremony were encouraged
to dress appropriately.In place of the t-shirt
and shorts that constitute evening wear on most live-aboard dive boats, I
donned a floral patterned tropical shirt (called a bula shirt in Fiji) and a sulu, basically
a large piece of cloth wrapped around the midsection, much like a towel, to
make a skirt that goes to about mid-calf. (I always pack at least one tropical
shirt; Naia provided sulus to each
passenger.)
At the start of the ceremony, crew and passengers sat around
a large wood ceremonial bowl.Crew
members mixed the kava, which is in a cloth sack, with water in the bowl.The resulting brown liquid is strained and
ready for consumption.The host asked
each person, in turn, if they would like to receive a full cup—“high tide” or a
half cup “low tide” of kava.I requested
a “high tide.” When presented with the cup, I clapped once and shouted “Bula!" (happiness and good life). I drank the beverage in one gulp and then clapped three
more times. The cup bearer then declared “maca” (it is done) pronounced ‘maw-they’.This sequence continued until all participants
had received kava.The ceremony continued
through a few more rounds punctuated by story telling, music and singing--all which created a sense of communal connection.
After a couple of high tides I retired to my cabin for a restful night's sleep.
In October 2017, I joined my friends Brandon and Melissa
Cole and others for a nine day trip around the Fiji archipelago on the
live-aboard dive boat, Naia. I made 27 dives during the trip. Some of the most memorable were on Monday,
October 16 and Tuesday, October 17 at Gau Island. My
dive journal for the first day cryptically states, “Nigali Passage, Shark Day.” We
stayed in the area a couple of days and made three dives to specifically observe
sharks. The experience, which could have
been dubbed “Sharks on Parade,” did not disappoint.
Dive Log
Date
Dive Number (Trip)
Depth
Duration
October 16, 2017
14
91
45
October 16, 2017
15
85
47
October 17, 2017
18
87
45
Dive Planning
We gather around the Muster Station early in the morning for
a briefing on our dives in the Nigali Passage. The passage, which
cuts through the island’s barrier reef, connects Gau island’s lagoon
to deeper water. The sharks and other marine life use that corridor
to move between the two areas.
The best time to dive Nigali Passage is 1.5 hours either side of low tide when current and visibility conditions are optimal.
A schematic of the Passage drawn on a white board used for site
briefings shows the general plan for the dive. The tenders will take
us outside the Passage, drop us into deeper water (about 80-90 feet) near the
bottom of the passage. We will then move up the passage toward the
lagoon with the wall on the right. We will cross a sand channel and
end up at a ledge in about 60 feet of water called “The
Bleachers.” The flat terrace creates a platform or bench from which
we can observe the grey reef sharks (Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos) as they
move through the Passage between the lagoon to deeper waterand white tip reef
sharks (Triaenodon obesus) as they rest on the bottom pointed into the
current. From the Bleachers we will ascend toward the lagoon,
turning right at the top of the channel.
The grey reef shark typically reaches about five to six feet
in length.It feeds on small boney fish,
cephalopods, and crustaceans.They are
often seen in groups swimming slowly ‘upstream’ in current swept reef channels
by day. When threatened, grey reefs sharks lower their pectoral fins, arch
their backs and swim in an exaggerated manner.They are considered quite easy to approach by divers with
non-threatening movements.
The Dives
We don our wetsuits on board the NAIA. We finish
gearing up in the rigid inflatable boat (RIB) that serves as a dive tender
taking us from the mothership to the dive site. With everyone on
board, the tender motors into the Passage. I am buddied with
Michelle. We back roll off the rigid hull inflatable boat and
descend to 80+ feet. Near the bottom, a big school of barracuda swim
by in what seems like an endless procession. We start swimming up
the passage toward the lagoon assisted by the current caused by the water
moving into the lagoon on the flooding tide.
We pick out our spots in The Bleachers and settle
in. Tucked into the Passage wall, we have an unobstructed
view. Michelle would later remark “it’s like being in a wildlife
blind.” I agree. We are not really detectable to the
sharks except for our exhaust bubbles. The sharks seem to materialize, moving
down the Passage, some very close by. They seem to move with a
magnificent deliberate slowness that befits a skilled predator. You
can almost hear the “oohs” and “aahs” of the divers as the big fish move past
us. One grey reef shark cruises over our position but takes no
notice.
I know that these reef sharks are generally not a threat to
divers.Still, for a moment I experience
an atavistic response to its presence—a bit of apprehension mixed with a rapt fascination. I have encountered similar
sharks on many of my dives and my reaction is always the same.
After about 20 minutes, which passes much too quickly, it is
time to begin my ascent. Michelle and I move up the very steep channel assisted
by the current. At the top of the channel we turn
right. Visibility is somewhat by sand grains suspended in the
water. As it clears we see the “cabbage patch” a seemingly endless
expanse of cabbage coral. We surface, climb back on board the
tender, and head back toward the NAIA.
We board the
boat, Ima Kai, at 4:15 p.m. and head
for “Garden Eel Cove” aka “Manta Ray Cove” or “Manta Heaven” near the Kona airport.The crew cautions us that the trip to the
site might be a bit rough and wet.Leaving the harbor, the boat accelerates and is soon on step.The wake from the bow tends to come over the
freeboard into the cabin.The crew seems
to approach every swell as a challenge to see how far they can skip across the
surface. From all the whooping the Captain and our two dive guides are making
from the steering station, they think they are winning the contest.
A broken
engine cancelled our dives that morning.The crew quickly made repairs. I wonder if they are attempting to wring
out the repair of the freshly installed impeller.The boat movement does produce some
discomfort bordering on sea sickness among the riders in back.I feel it.Everyone got wet.Once we enter
the cove, the sea settles down.The boat
approaches the mooring slowly.A couple
of boats are already moored and divers may be in the water.
We tie off to
the mooring and prepare for our dive.Imran,
our dive guide, briefs us on what to expect on the dive.We will descend as a group using the bow line
and ascend to the boat at the end of the dive via the bow line.Other boats are likely to be tied off to our
stern as the number of boats arriving for the night manta dive exceeds the
moorings available.I nod my head as he
describes the situation.I have seen the
same technique used in Orange Beach, Florida and Wreck Alley in San Diego.
At about 5:15
p.m., we entered the water and descended down the bow line as a group with
Imran.On the bottom, I check my
buoyancy.The b.c. that I rented for the
evening dives seems a bit more buoyant than my personal b.c., but not enough to
require additional weight.We swim past
the rock circles that mark the “campfires” around which dozens of divers will
gather in a few hours to watch the mantas feed.Continuing toward deeper water, I see an spiny puffer fish (Diodon holocanthus)swimming
away from the group.I wanted to get a
picture of it, but could not get in front to frame the photo.They are usually pretty photogenic.This fish seemed perturbed.I soon discovered why.
We follow the
slope toward deeper water, about 70 feet.One of the diver spots a manta and we stop as it approaches.Soon, it is joined by a couple more.I snap a picture of Luke hovering vertically
in the water column looking up at a manta.I move to get closer to some of the approaching mantas when a pod of
bottlenose dolphins (Tursiops truncatus)swims by and stops.They hover just off to the right of us.It looks like two are trying to mate.Another lays on its dorsal fin, belly up in the sand, and still another
roots around in the sand picking up sea cucumbers.They seem stoned.I ignore the mantas as they continue to pass
overhead and concentrate on the dolphins!Quickly, the dolphins come out of their stupor, linger a bit and move
away.
I have not
seen dolphins and manta rays on the same dive in nearly 40 years of diving! I
have seen manta rays and I have seen dolphins, but never together.What a fabulous sight we have on this
dive.The show ends too soon.Reaching my “low on air” point we head back
to the boat.Traffic overhead is
increasing as more boats are arriving for the night manta dive.When we get back to the boat we discover that
a vessel has tied off to one of the stern cleats.
We discuss
the behavior of the dolphins.I remarked
that they seemed to be “high on drugs.”One of the crewmembers mentioned that dolphins have been known to play
with pufferfish and that the fish’s toxin (tetrodotoxin) produces a
hallucinogenic effect in the dolphin.I
mention the sighting I had of a “pissed off puffer” just before we encountered
the dolphins.A different boat crew on
our dive the next day repeated the connection.
Do Dolphin
Get High on Pufferfish?
While I am
skeptical that there is a cause and effect of pufferfish on dolphins, I decided
to look into the phenomena.A single report
with some very interesting video, appears to have been magnified through constant
repetition through media until it becomes widely circulated fact. What I
discovered is that in the internet/social media age, the more a story is
repeated, the more it is accepted as fact.
Smithsonian
Magazine citing press reports from late 2013 reported, “footage from a new
BBC documentary series, "Spy in the Pod," reveals what appears to be
dolphins getting high off of pufferfish. Pufferfish produce a potent defensive
chemical, which they eject when threatened. In small enough doses, however, the
toxin seems to induce "a trance-like state" in dolphins that come
into contact with it…”
Many
individual news outlets around the world carry the story with attribution going
to the initial report.
The BBC
series footage of dolphins interacting with pufferfish soon appears on social
media.It appears in two versions on
Youtube, the shorter Dolphins purposely
'getting high' on pufferfish and the longer Dolphins Play Catch with a
Pufferfish!By 2024, the former
segment has segment has 3.5 million views in 10 years while the latter has a
quarter million views in four years.
The behavior
the bottlenose dolphins exhibit in the BBC footage is similar to the footage I
took.So do dolphins habitually get high
on the pufferfish toxin?
As Whales on Line,
noted “a 2014 BBC documentary showed a pod of dolphins playing with a
pufferfish, prodding and grabbing it with their beaks while taking great care
not to harm it. Playing with the fish is believed to trigger the release of a
toxin that the dolphins can ingest. Are they looking for a high or are they
just playing?... According to Rob Pilley, zoologist and producer of the
documentary, the dolphins seemed completely euphoric. This would not be the
first time that dolphins have made use of this psychotropic element. On the
other hand, other experts argue that this is an anthropocentric over-interpretation
of the behaviour.”
The website, Dolphins
and You seems to put the behavior into context.
“Renowned for
their intelligence and playful demeanor, dolphins have been observed engaging
in fascinating behaviors, one of which is playing with pufferfish. This
intriguing behavior has intrigued researchers and animal behaviorists for
years. One possible explanation for dolphins’ interaction with pufferfish is
their curiosity and the desire for stimulation. Pufferfish have unique
features, such as their ability to inflate themselves into a spiky ball when
threatened. This novelty may attract dolphins and spark their interest, leading
them to interact with these fascinating creatures.
Another
possible reason for dolphins playing with pufferfish is their use as a form of
playtime and social interaction. Dolphins are highly social animals, and they
engage in various playful activities to bond with one another. Playing with
pufferfish could serve as a recreational activity, enabling dolphins to
strengthen social bonds within their pod. The playful interaction may involve
tossing or pushing the pufferfish gently, providing both physical and mental
stimulation for the dolphins.
Additionally,
some researchers speculate that dolphins’ interaction with pufferfish may have
a practical purpose. Pufferfish are known to produce a toxin called
tetrodotoxin, which can be lethal to most predators. However, dolphins have
been observed carefully handling pufferfish without triggering their defensive
response. It is possible that dolphins have learned to use their skills and
intelligence to manipulate the pufferfish in a way that avoids the release of
toxins. By practicing these interactions, dolphins may be acquiring valuable
knowledge and honing their hunting techniques
Pufferfish
contain a potent neurotoxin called tetrodotoxin, which is highly toxic to most
animals, including dolphins. Ingesting or coming into contact with tetrodotoxin
can be lethal. Dolphins are aware of the dangers associated with pufferfish and
have been observed engaging with them cautiously, often avoiding direct
ingestion or contact with the toxin. While dolphins may interact with
pufferfish, it is not for the purpose of getting high but rather for play,
exploration, or potentially learning about their defensive mechanisms.”
Who Wins in
the Dolphin-Pufferfish Encounter?--Enter Artificial Intelligence
Using
artificial intelligence, the Animal Matchup
website analyses the advantages and disadvantages of a dolphin and pufferfish
would have in contest between the two in a three round match.When I ran the query, the dolphin won in the
final round
“As the final
round begins, the Dolphin keeps up its assault, wearing down the Pufferfish
with precise strikes. Sensing defeat, the Pufferfish desperately puffs up in a
last-ditch effort to deter the Dolphin. However, the Dolphin outmaneuvers the
inflated Pufferfish and delivers a decisive blow, incapacitating its opponent
and securing victory.”
As darkness falls, Luke and I descended with the rest of our
group to our designated area in 35 feet of water a short distance from the
boat. Our dive boat is one of many
vessels crammed into Garden Eel Cove/Manta Heaven on the Kona coast of the island of
Hawaii. So many vessels have brought
people to watch the manta rays feed tonight that the installed boat moorings
are quickly occupied. Thereafter, boats
tie up to each other, bow-to-stern, in a daisy chain of as many as three
vessels.
Our dive guide, Carrie, placed a bright light pointed toward
the surface in the center of our semicircle of kneeling divers.It became our “campfire” illuminating swarms of
plankton in the aura of its blinding brilliance.We each grasped a hand-held underwater light
also pointed to the surface to further illuminate the plankton.I adjusted my buoyancy and position to find
the stationary balance and minimize the effects of a light surge.Looking around I could sense many other
“campfires” across the seafloor, each with a group of divers huddled
around.Light also shown from above from
the many boats crammed into the cove and the snorkelers on the surface on
floating frames and pool noodles.
Almost immediately, a few reef mantas (Manta alfredi) arrive and feed on the illuminated
plankton. Soon, more mantas careen
through the water column barely avoiding bumping the kneeling divers or
colliding with one another.We watched
the critters graciously loop-the-loop across the area rising and descending through
the water column.The area quickly fills
with more swooping manta rays.The very
frenetic feeding frenzy or, more accurately, a feeding scrum forms.Countless mantas circle in and out of the
light sometimes thumping into the kneeling divers or brushing by each other.
The resulting manta “aquabatics” never gets dull.At times, I am looking right down the gullet
of the manta at it cartilaginous interior. At other times, I flinch as the manta
passes over me.Another manta bumps me
from behind as it dives into the light.
In the excitement and wonder of the show, the 45-minute
bottom time passes quickly.Our dive
guide extinguishes the campfire, retrieves the light, and leads our group back
to the boat.We ascend directly to the
surface at the bow of the boat.We
forego the three-minute stop at 15 feet on this dive. With the boat traffic in
the area and divers ascending and descending, it is safer to skip the stop.
Everyone returned to the boat quite exhilarated by the
spectacle of the swooping and soaring mantas! Three times I have seen the
performance and it always is breathtaking.“Many, Many” may be the most accurate count of the number of mantas that
showed up for the feeding. Manta Ray Heaven has lived up to its reputation.
A Very Popular
Activity
The Manta Ray diving and snorkeling experience ranks high among
the top “must do” activities by Trip Advisor for the Island of Hawaii.I recommend the activity whenever someone
mentions they are going to Kona.Given
the stream of visitors that travel from Anchorage to Kona, that is a lot of
recommendations. Like me, many have done the activity multiple times.Most of them do it from the surface; I have
always done it on scuba.
Big Island Now reporter Megan Mosely described the experience.[1]
“The manta ray night dive off the coast of Kona is on the
bucket list of many divers from around the world. It is a unique experience for
snorkelers, too.Tour operators bring
bright lights, which attract plankton, a yummy meal for the manta rays. To
gobble up the plankton, the majestic black and white sea creatures — with
distinctive markings and wing spans of about 12 feet — swoop through the water
with their mouths open. It looks like a choreographed dance, watching them
gracefully swim through the water, turning and somersaulting, often within a
few feet of divers. For many, it’s mesmerizing and magical.”
The article estimates that up to 60 boats per day visit
Garden Eel Cove.Proposed regulations
would limit the number of boats per day, the hours of operation, and the time
that any single boat could be on site.It would also limit the number of commercial licenses to 24
operators.Some current operators could
lose their license if the regulations go through.
Efforts by the Department of Land and Natural Resources to
establish more strict regulations over the years have proven difficult.[2]
The Hawaiian
legislature passed HB 1039 in 2023 that would have provided a legislative
solution for commercial manta viewing licenses but the bill was vetoed by the
Governor.[3]
Manta viewing is a staple for boat operators and dive
shops.Advertising for the encounters
are ubiquitous throughout Kona.You can
even book a snorkeling experience at the Kona Costco..The
operator I used reported that they might do as many as three trips to the site
per night.They do an educational
program on-site about manta ray natural history prior to the dive.The briefing, using manta hand puppets,
explains the creature’s physiology and behavior. The guides don’t pass up an
opportunity to throw in one-line dad jokes.Some of the shtick is so corny it is actually funny.A lot of information is conveyed through the
accompanying theatrics and the people on board enjoy the show.
Dive Log
Each of the three times that I have done the manta ray
viewing on Kona, I went with a company that offered a two tank dive package—a late
afternoon dive in the Garden Eel Cove area (during which we did encounter manta
rays) and the night dive around the campfire.Each time we had multiple mantas show up and put on a heck of a
display.
Date
Dive
Depth and Duration
Dive Buddy
Wednesday,4-3-2013
Garden Eel Cove
70 feet for 45 minutes
Justin Lima
Wednesday,4-3-2013
Garden Eel Cove (Manta)
35 feet for 45 minutes
Justin Lima
Thursday,
3-29-2018
Garden
Eel Cove
73
feet for 50 minutes
Luke
Lima
Thursday,
3-29-2018
Garden
Eel Cove (Manta)
33
feet for 45 minutes
Luke
Lima
Tuesday,
3-28-2023
Garden
Eel Cove
68
feet for 49 minutes
Luke
Lima
Tuesday,
3-28-2023
Garden
Eel Cove (Manta)
35
feet for 45 minutes
Luke
Lima
I can only add to the hyperbole by describing my experience
as “magical, magnificent, and memorable.”I think my teenaged dive buddies, two of my nephews, found the encounter
as I described.In the case of Luke, the
video of his older brother’s dive may have been a factor inspiring him to learn
to dive.I certainly enjoyed watching
their wide-eyed amazement and enthusiasm.I guarantee that no one will have the reaction of “meh.”
The Kona manta dive was not my first encounter with these
magnificent creatures.During a December
2010 dive trip on the Nautilus Explorer
to the Revillagigedo Archipelago, 300 miles south of the tip of Baja, Mexico,
we dived on an underwater pinnacle where the mantas lined up like so many jet
liners lines up for an approach to LAX.That experience will be the subject of a future blog entry.
The irony that our human-manta encounters may be detrimental
to the very thing we treasure is not lost on me.I do not have an answer to the dilemma faced
by the Hawaiians involved in this issue.I have found that regulations that create barriers to entry for
operators often raise the costs for participants making the activity less
egalitarian and much more exclusive.Favoring
the longest operating companies may be unfair to new entrants with more
innovative approaches.Education and
implementing best practices can certainly help to mitigate but cannot eliminate
effects.These problems are not unique
to manta viewing.These considerations
frame decisions regarding all fisheries, both consumptive and non-consumptive.
[1] Mosely,
Meghan.Big Island manta ray tour
operators mixed about proposed rules, possible new law.Big Island Now.June 18, 2023.https://bigislandnow.com/2023/06/18/big-island-manta-ray-tour-operators-mixed-about-proposed-rules-possible-new-law/accessed July 5, 2023
In a recent blog post, I spoke about my dives at “One Mile South” between El Capitan and Refugio State Beaches west of Santa Barbara along U.S. Highway 101. My last sport dive at that spot was in the summer of 1994, just before I moved to Alabama to teach at Troy University. Three years later, I returned to southern California to work as a social scientist for the Minerals Management Service where I re-established the long dormant Pacific Region’s scientific diving program. It was in that capacity that I visited “One-Mile South” for the last time to look for an elusive white abalone,, also known as Sorenson abalone (sp. Haliotis sorenseni).
How the Armor Rock Came to Be Placed
Santa Barbara County and other regulators had long insisted that the Exxon platforms in the Santa Ynez Unit be operated with electric power that was generated onshore and transmitted to the platforms via a subsea power cable. The quarry rock was placed over the nearshore portion of the cable route to armor the installation. The electrification strategy was thought to greatly reduce air emissions compared to electrical power generation from on-platform diesel generators. In the 1980s and 1990s, air emissions from offshore oil and gas facilities contributed greatly to the County’s air quality degradation. A special unit was created within the air quality management district just to address permits and monitoring from these sources.
Problems Under the Armor Rock Protection
By 2001, the power cable between Exxon’s Las Flores Canyon processing plant and the offshore platforms needed to be replaced. That operation required the removal of the overlying rock protection. A staff report by the California Coastal Commission framed the need for the dive.
“During a pre-construction biological survey in August 2001, the Applicant found what was believed to be a white abalone on armor rock about 50 feet from the end of the nearshore cable conduit at about 20 feet of water depth. The white abalone is a federally-listed endangered species with a historic range from approximately Point Conception on the north to Baja California in the south. (Note 1)
The white abalone is generally found in much deeper waters (80 to 200'); however, this individual was found in about 20 feet of water about 50 feet from where excavation work is proposed to allow cable removal and placement through the conduit terminus. (Note 2) The excavation work would result in turbidity, which would be short-term but could adversely affect the abalone.
Additionally, cable removal and placement, along with vessel anchoring in the vicinity, could result in abalone being crushed or being disturbed by any increased turbidity.”
Species Uncertainty
The NOAA website notes that the white abalone has “a thin, oval-shaped shell. The shell has a row of holes used to breathe, remove waste, and reproduce. The bottom of its foot—the muscle it uses to move and adhere to rocks—is orange. It also has a tan-orange epipodium, an extension of the foot with tentacles used to sense the surrounding environment.”
While this description sounds definitive, some species of abalone in the wild are difficult to positively identify, especially when the object is far back in a rock crevice. Some believed that the only way to positively identify the white abalone was to examine the foot for the most distinctive characteristics. Such an examination would require the abalone to be pried off the rock. However, removal and replacement of an abalone, even to positively confirm the species, could have been a violation of the Endangered Species Act if the abalone turned out to be a white abalone. In other words, we could only observe the abalone. The abalone could not be removed or disturbed in any way.
Because there was uncertainty as to whether the individual abalone was indeed a white abalone, California Department of Fish and Game biologist Ian Taniguchi was asked to do a follow-on survey to visually confirm if the abalone was indeed a white abalone. Ian contacted the Minerals Management Service to see if its dive team could assist with the survey. I had met Ian when we were divers participating on a National Park Service Kelp Forest Monitoring cruise a year earlier. Herb Leedy, the second MMS diver, was a wildlife biologist in the environmental and assessment study section.
I was excited to participate in this reconnaissance. The MMS dive team had recently been authorized. Up until that point our activities had been limited to training dives, a reconnaissance of the ocean-to-beach transition of a pipeline at Carpenteria pier, and assisting Channel Islands National Park in the underwater video program from the Anacapa Island landing cove.
The plan was for us to join Ian on Peter Howarth’s boat, which was normally used for marine mammal rescue response, for the trip out to the site. Ian had arranged use of the vessel. Once at the site, we would dive on the cable’s protective rock covering, locate the abalone, and complete our assessment. Our dive plan was quickly approved by MMS regional managers. On September 19, 2001, Herb and I met Ian and Peter at the Santa Barbara Harbor for a quick voyage to Las Flores Canyon.
The Dive
Tuesday, September 19, 2001, was foggy and overcast—the typical early morning Southern California marine layer. We boarded the boat at the Marine Mammal Center’s berth near Sea Landing at the Santa Barbara Harbor. The trip out to the location was uneventful. There was a slight chop on the surface easily handled by Peter’s boat. We motored up the coast past many of the places from which I made beach dives over the years. As we approached Elwood Pier and The Junkyard, I got a close look at the luxury Bacara Hotel.
Once on site, we quickly geared up to enter the water. I noticed that Ian used a horse collar buoyancy compensator—the hallmark of scientific divers trained in the 1960s and 1970s. Herb and I used the equipment that had been purchased for us by the MMS when the team was initially authorized.
Peter did not anchor the boat as part of the operation. Instead, we dropped a white marker buoy into the water. He would stationkeep in the area around the buoy and our exhaust bubbles, an operation known as “live boating.”
We entered the water as a group, briefly floated on the surface and descended to about 30 feet. We immediately located the armor rock reef and started examining the area for the abalone. We knew generally where the abalone had been located on the reef and concentrated on that area. I quickly located the abalone and banged on my tank with my dive knife to signal my two buddies.
The abalone appeared to be a white abalone. Herb also visually examined the abalone. Ian visually examined the abalone and took pictures with a Nikonos underwater film camera. We checked the area for any other abalones before surfacing. The entire dive lasted just over 30 minutes.
Peter backed the boat to our surface location. After confirming the engine was in neutral gear, we climbed onto the boat’s rear platform and ascended the ladder to the deck. We removed and stowed our gear as Peter headed the boat back to the harbor. We agreed that the abalone appeared to be a white abalone. Ian said the next plan would be to submit the findings to the State and await their further direction as to the best course of action.
The Aftermath
Herb and I returned to the office and filed the dive report with our findings. Ian emailed us the photographs of the abalone a few days later. (Unfortunately, I no longer have those images.)
A number of actions followed our reconnaissance dive.
In April 2002, Exxon-contracted marine scientists performed an expanded survey to determine if there were other abalone in the area that could be adversely affected by the project. According to the above mentioned California Coastal Commission staff report:
“The survey covered an area about 825' by 800' centered on the conduit terminus. The survey found 21 additional abalone in the area, one of which was thought to be a white abalone about 600 feet from the excavation area. The survey also found the shell of the white abalone identified in the August 2001 survey. The surveyors also observed a sea otter near the site and was believed the sea otter had eaten the abalone during the period between the two surveys.”
Final Thoughts
The preconstruction surveys confirmed my earlier description of the site as “abalone acres.”
The irony of a sea otter (an endangered species) consuming another endangered species (white abalone) is not lost on me. (Note 3)
Little did I know that this dive was my last dive as a government scientific diver. Shortly after the dive, MMS announced that the Pacific Region would undergo a 50 percent staff reduction and I transferred to the Alaska Region. My efforts to established an Alaska Region dive team proved fruitless.
Notes
Note 1.
The
National Marine Fisheries Service had listed the white abalone as a federally
endangered species under the federal Endangered Species Act on May 29,
2001. This action made it the first
marine invertebrate listed as a result of human harvest.
Note 2
Marty
Snyderman in his 1987 book, California Marine Life, notes that the white
abalone is “the favorite of many ab hunters, being noted for their delicious
and tender meat….(W)hites prefer deeper, colder waters.In Southern California white abs are often
found at depths in excess of 100 feet, while in northern waters they are found
as shallow as 35 feet. Dennis Divins, the Diving Safety Officer at the
University of California Santa Barbara, once told me that while the white
abalone was generally found deeper than 100 feet they were not uncommon at much
shallower depths along Santa Barbra County’s South Coast.He thought this might happen because of the
upwelling of cold water in the area.
An environmental
impact analysis completed for the on-going project in 2013 by Exxon noted “this
species has occurred in shallower depths near its northernmost
limit…Specifically, localized mainland areas in the Coal Oil Point region, west
of Santa Barbara, have supported white abalone in water depths less than 60
feet (20 meters)…Speculation concerning reasons for its presence in shallow
water includes competition with red abalone (H. rufescens) and/or a
localized decrease in predation from sea otters without
a concomitant increase in harvest…The
vertical distribution limits may also be controlled by water temperature.”(emphasis added)
Note 3
Technically,
the sea otter should not have been there.
In the 1980s, the Fish and Wildlife Service translocated an number of
otters to San Nicolas Island. As part of
that program, the Fish and Wildlife Service promised to relocate any sea otter
found south of Point Conception and outside of San Nicolas Island translocation area, to the north of Point
Conception. The otters had other ideas
and expanded naturally into their historic range. The relocation policy, long abandoned to the
whims of nature, was only officially withdrawn a few years ago.