Look Down and You Can See the Universe.
Anne Tranquilli-Bausher
The first time I ducked my head under the water the colors instantly blinded me. It looked fake in the way that over saturated colors do. Not so much awe, as complete surprise. Yes, it can be seen from the boat, and sometimes quite clearly, but the quality of the colors is completely different when you are there. It is as if these particular colors, because they were created by nature for that eerie underwater world, can only be experienced when you are a foot away. The same scene when viewed from my living room couch on my hi-def TV does not transport me to the Great Barrier Reef, or Belize, it only makes me wistful.
I took two trips to the Reef the year I went to Australia. The first trip was on a large boat, the “Ocean Spirit,” which had been set up for us by our travel agent. My mother and I were two of hundreds. It was our first time ever on the Great Barrier Reef. As a thank you for taking me to Australia, I signed Mom and myself up to scuba dive. We signed thirty page waivers agreeing that our great grandchildren would not sue in the event of a stubbed toe. It was my first time ever doing anything like scuba diving. Mom and I swam with linked arms from a sandbar all the way back to our boat, about forty-five minutes. For this amazing experience, the only instruction or education about the reef we had been given was brief. Touch any animal, except for large box jellyfish, if you dare, chances are they will not give you the opportunity. As for the coral, we were told not to touch it all. Human touch will most likely kill any coral, and some coral are poisonous, so they could damage us as well.
My first scuba diving experience gave me whiplash. I spent the first minutes after getting my bearing trying to figure out where to look. I have yet to encounter any other natural environment that when observed from so small a distance, has such diversity visible. Look straight ahead and all you can see is where you are going. Sure that's important, but look to the sides and you can see the sea life you are sharing the water with. Look down and you can see the universe.
I could hear the parrot fish munching on the green slime growing on the side of the, oh my God, is that a three and a half foot wide giant purple clam? The clam was not just purple, but the kind of purple I had previously thought was only visible under blacklight. Upon closer inspection that purple was the color of the streaks on the whitish inside of the clam. This was ringed with what seemed to be both green and orange at the same time. I wondered if I saw these colors because my brain was simply not capable of translating the quality, richness and iridescence of the truth. On the greenish-orange-ish outer ruffle were small florescent blue-green circles. No, they weren’t blue-green, but a turquoise lit from the inside. If it wouldn’t have meant my ceasing being able to breathe, my jaw would’ve dropped in the wonder of this Vegas Showgirl colored clam.
I could’ve spent all day there trying to comprehend the colors and just watching the clam sit there. Another diver from our trip swam up to the clam, very close. He was wearing these fancy short flippers, clearly not rentals like mine. I watched in horror as he put his foot into the clam! The clam instantly snapped shut, which diver Dan the dunce clearly had not anticipated. I’m not sure who was more pleased with his look of utter dismay me, or the clam. He wrestled his foot out, flipper barely attached and sped off towards the boat.
What compels someone to tease a wild animal? I think it is a special kind of ignorance bred from misplaced confidence in nature’s willingness to keep humans safe. I have scuba dived the Great Barrier Reef twice, and snorkeled the second largest reef, off the coast of Belize, twice. Giant clams are by far my favorite reef dweller. Their fairy tale size and outrageous color choices seem in complete contrast to their sessile, non-motile lifestyle. That another diver would see this majestic creature and choose to stick his foot in it embodies to me the negative aspects of nature as human kind’s playground. I believe nature can be a playground, a place to explore, learn, and test one’s limits. I also believe that some people think this means that nature can be used without regard to conserving resources, manipulated without regard to other species and exploited without regard to the future.
As my initial dive continued I found myself continually punching my mother in the arm. She ignored the one rule we had been given, and kept trying to touch the coral. I felt like I could see an instant darkening of color wherever she laid a finger. As our dive continued out to the boat, which was anchored near the resort of Green Island, I did notice a darkening. The coral lost its vibrancy. Colors were dulled or simply brown. Huge, intricate fans were murky sludge colored and had large holes in them, like ancient lace. Fire coral looked as if it had reached nirvana. Biodiversity severely decreased as coral was still abundant but clams, crustaceans, cichlids, cephalopods and their companions lessened. I learned afterwards that the closer to any of the resort islands, the less healthy the reef. These reefs have to survive runoff from the islands, large boats and the pollution that accompanies them and the large number of tourists making use of this particular playground.
Two days later my mother and I returned to the reef. This time we choose to travel with a very small eco-minded boat. The boat, the “Ocean Free,” was owned by Captain Tim, and staffed by two dive coaches, one cook/bartender and one snorkel instructor. Mom and I were two of fifteen passengers. On the ride out the staff talked constantly about the types of animals and plants we would see. They explained that they kept their operation small so as to be able to disseminate as much information per person as possible. We sailed, Tim driving with his bare feet, and used the motor only when leaving and returning to the dock in Cairns. We traveled for longer with the “Free” crew so as to be as far away from the big ships and resorts as possible.
The reef I experienced on this trip was full of life. A flatbacked turtle the boat tried to follow seemed to fit perfectly. She was almost three feet long and here she seemed to have enough room to really move. This portion of the reef seemed glad to have a few visitors, and showed off accordingly. Our snorkel instructor showed us a portion of the reef built on old pipe, and I learned that this is may be a way to help the reef have more stability.
Why is it that the image of negative impact is more compelling than the memory of beauty? Or is it the combination of the two that stokes my memory causing me to feel a longing tinged with sadness? I often wonder if I would have the same appreciation of, and worry for the welfare of reefs, if I had not experienced these depressing incidents. I think the immediate image of dying brain coral and human stupidity brought the beauty more sharply into focus. Without swimming through the foggy Green Island reef, I may have assumed the clear water of the outer reef was the norm.
On the drive to the airport to pick Mom and me up on our return trip from Australia, Ben asked my father if it would be alright if he asked me to marry him. Eighteen months later Ben and I dove and snorkeled the Belize Reef on our honeymoon. Our most memorable trip out to the reef was to the Great Blue Hole which is at the center of Lighthouse Reef, off of Ambergris Caye. The snorkeling here is amazing, as there are always more species present at an ecotone, than at one habitat. For part of the day we snorkel off the caye and the water is never more than eight feet deep. So close we see tiny squid alter the color on their bodies. Our group scares a pufferfish and we get the full defensive display.
The snorkeling off the caye is difficult, because the water is so shallow there is hardly any room to move about, that doesn’t involve hitting the coral. No one does it on purpose but coral is bumped and rubbed. Ben wrote in our travel diary that night “people really shouldn’t be here…we were just too close. I know that once or twice, in an effort to move somewhere, I bumped some coral. I saw some others do it too- not at all intentionally, but the fact that it happened makes me angry- these ecosystems are so endangered and fragile, we have to preserve them.”
We traveled to Belize to have new experiences, and specifically to view the reef. The tourism industry here exploits as it educates. The reef is Belize’s biggest tourism destination, so without it the country would suffer. But the way it is currently used will spell its end. I understand Ben’s anger, we are there to see and leave nothing but waves, but simply by being there we contribute to the destruction. This cycle of thoughts leads me to a feeling of helplessness and the futility of one person’s anger is comical when looking at a cruise ship full clumsy snorkelers.
But it is our job to bear witness and do what little we can. I am a teacher, so I teach. Upon my return from both Australia and Belize my class did units on both countries, as well as reefs. My young students wrote letters to children living there, and shared original artwork of the fish we identified in books and pictures. I don’t expect them to remember any of this as adults. I can only hope of encouraging their curiosity and engaging the part of their minds that not only asks “What is that?” but “How do I live with that?”
I enjoy swimming a great deal and that led me snorkeling and scuba diving. Reefs are the first habitats I think of when I contemplate conservationism. I lived in the woods for a long time, and I adore the woods. I have visited the rainforest, and its possibilities for existing harmoniously with people awe me. So why is the reef my choice to worry about? I cannot sound my own depths and discover the reasons hidden in the darkness underneath the atoll of my mind.
I do believe that I am a giant clam. I feel unwieldy in most surroundings, but not the water. I am covered with the slime of preconceived identity trappings. I am more sessile than I should be; teaching is the only stalk I sometimes feel I have to extend into uncertain fog. Am I motile? It is not often that I feel I have the freedom to move in the way I wish, to where I wish. I am attached to an ocean floor because I have yet to evolve legs to change my position. If you happen to see my inner workings, the colors will not make sense and seem contradictory. I am contradictory and that is how I was created. My strongest defense is to close up and hide anything of interest. Mess with me, and I may make you lose your balance.
It is this oddly personal connection with the water and its inhabitants that draws me to think of, and plan visits to reefs. I am planning on having children in the next few years and I plan for and await anxiously taking them to see my favorite destination. The thought that the Great Barrier Reef will most likely not exist by 2030, when I will be a scant half century old, makes me angry. I understand that progress in the form of fuel, grazing land, and suburbia has been more important to people than preserving biodiversity and the way the earth was meant to be. I do not know how to change this. The problem appears insurmountable, but I will continue to teach and choose my activities on the thought that I will be able to say to my grandchildren, I did what I could.
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