A Beautiful Thing

November 20, 2024November 20, 2024 / Stella Maris & Flying Fish / 1 Comment

As I sail north out of the Caribbean Sea, I have spent much of the last month diving over dead and dying coral reefs. I try not to focus on this. There is enough despair in the world these days without highlighting any more of it. I prefer instead to acknowledge isolated moments of beauty and hope. This morning, while snorkeling over another reef of broken coral rubble, I was heartened by the sight of a tiny coral farm attached to the bottom of the bay.

Bahía Tamarindo Grande is on the northwest coast of the island of Culebra in the Spanish Virgin Islands. It is an isolated stretch of land with no development and no roads. There are flowering frangipani, a symphony of birdsong echoing in the trees, and a deserted white sandy beach. In contrast, a sign warns visitors not to pick up unexploded ordnance. This area east of Puerto Rico was once a bombing and artillery range for the U.S. military. Nearby, a Sherman tank is rusting on the beach.

The coral farm, suspended 20 feet underwater, has no identification plate or surface buoy to mark its location. It’s not shown on any nautical charts. It is simply a submerged platform the size of a backyard vegetable plot. Instead of growing lettuce and carrots, some anonymous person has planted branched finger coral. About 80 coral nubs are mounted on a plastic grid, and they are thriving.

There is nothing new about the aquaculture of coral. One of the first successful coral propagation attempts occurred at New Caledonia’s Nouméa Aquarium in 1956. Commercial coral propagation began in the United States in the 1960s. Still, it wasn’t until worldwide coral populations began to crash in the 1980s that the industry focused on propagating coral for oceans instead of aquariums.

Then, in April 2006, the Margara, a 750-foot tanker carrying over 300,000 barrels of fuel oil, ran aground on a shallow coral reef in Puerto Rico’s Bahía de Tallaboa. No oil was spilled, but the grounding and efforts to remove the vessel destroyed 6,755 square meters of reef, including six species of coral protected under the Endangered Species Act. Emergency restoration by NOAA and the Puerto Rico Department of Natural and Environmental Resources saved approximately 10,500 coral colonies in the affected reef by using farmed corals from nurseries and transplanting them back onto the ocean floor.

As coral populations diminish due to human negligence and climate change, it may seem that coral is disappearing faster than it can be replaced. This does not deter the efforts of research and conservation groups such as the Mote Marine Laboratory, which has restored more than 216,000 corals to Florida’s reefs. Notably, some restored corals are now naturally reproducing to create new generations of coral.

The Coral Restoration Foundation in the Florida Keys is also succeeding in growing coral that reproduces both sexually through spawning and asexually through fragmentation (where a small piece of coral can reattach and develop into a new colony). Since 2012, the Coral Restoration Foundation has transplanted more than 220,000 corals onto Florida’s reef, restoring over 34,000 square meters of habitat.

Back in Culebra, local commercial fishermen proposed the establishment of the Luis Peña Channel Natural Reserve to replenish local fish stocks and protect the coral reefs. This reserve encompasses Bahía Tamarindo Grande, home to the coral farming garden plot. It is the first no-take marine protected area designated in Puerto Rico. The mission statement is simple: The health of coral reefs directly depends on strong reef fish populations. Fish and other animals, such as lobsters and shellfish, rely on the health of the coral reef. The livelihoods and culture of the people of Culebra depend on healthy coral reefs.

_{An image from the NASA Earth Observatory of Culebra Island, located about 17 miles east of Puerto Rico.}

As always, sailing is not just about the wind and the sea; the places, the flora, fauna, and people encountered along the way are equally important.

Please click “Follow” so you don’t miss a new update, and please consider sharing this post with others who might enjoy connecting with the voyage. I welcome your comments and will always respond when I have an Internet connection. I will never share your personal information.

An additional website, www.JeffreyCardenas.com, features hundreds of fine art images—underwater, maritime landscapes, boats, and mid-ocean sailing photography–from exotic locations worldwide.

Upcoming Exhibition: “On the Reef” will be exhibited in The Studios of Key West’s Zabar Project Gallery, on view from January 2–30, 2025.

Instagram: StellaMarisSailing / Facebook: Jeffrey Cardenas

Text, Photography, and Videos © Jeffrey Cardenas 2024

Let this be a time of grace and peace in our lives – Rev. John C. Baker

Kingdom of Fire

April 25, 2024April 25, 2024 / Stella Maris & Flying Fish / Leave a comment

“Fire coral will be the last remaining living coral on earth.”

I remember writing those words once, in a bluster of prophetic arrogance. That’s not exactly the most positive Earth Day message to consider as I dive this week on a shallow reef in the French West Indies at Île Fourchue, Saint Barthélemy.

First of all, fire coral is not even a true coral. Instead, it is more closely related to hydra, a very small predatory animal similar to jellyfish and other stinging anemones. But, for the sake of consistency, I will still refer to it as fire coral.

Fire coral can be either blade-like or encrusting. It is colored a mustard-yellow to dark orange, often with white edges. It has strong stinging cells that on contact cause intense pain lasting from two days to two weeks. Relapses of inflammation, itching, and welts are common. Fire coral releases venom through tiny hairs called cilia. It is their only defense mechanism against predators, including thoughtless human beings. Do not touch it, or any coral.

^{Microscopic venomous hair–cilium–inflicts intense pain that can last from two days to two weeks. Photograph: © Jeffrey Cardenas}

Because fire coral has the unusual ability to grow in two different forms, some marine biologists believe it has a survival edge over other Caribbean corals. It can grow like a bush with a stem and branches sprouting upward, or in sheets that appear as a flat coating across rocks and other surfaces.

“Fire corals have been around for millions of years and what they are doing is pretty darn successful,” says California State University marine biologist Peter Edmunds. For the past 30 years, he has been traveling to the Caribbean to document the life history of fire coral on inshore reefs.

“They are now poised to be… the inheritors of the reef, while other corals, particularly stony corals, die back,” he said. ”When it’s not stormy, they can produce branches and exploit the light and plankton in the water. When it’s storming and everybody gets beaten up, it loses its branches but it still has its sheets, which it can use to spread out and claim more territory.”

^{A sunken granite boulder near shore is slowly becoming encased in a sheathing of fire coral while fire coral branches take root and sprout from the surface of the dead rock. Photograph: © Jeffrey Cardenas}

Researchers believe this adaptation may help save Caribbean reefs, which have been plagued by hurricanes, global warming, disease, and an overabundance of algae. Because fire corals are thriving as other corals die off, they are creating structures for fish and other organisms. Fire corals “are going to be very important habitat providers because they are able to survive under these stresses,” says Colleen Bove, a marine ecologist at Boston University.

But fire coral is not bulletproof. Some species have brittle skeletons that can easily be broken during storms, by anchors, or by careless divers and collectors who are taking fish for the aquarium trade. I watched blueheaded wrasse spawn over fire coral. Rock beauties, butterfly fish, yellow tangs, and the aggressive beau gregory retreat into branches of fire coral when threatened. In Brazil, fire coral colonies are extensively damaged by divers harvesting yellowtail damselfish. The fire coral is deliberately smashed and the fish hiding among the branches are captured in plastic bags.

Bluehead wrasse spawn at midday on a full moon over a pinnacle of fire coral at Île Fourchue, Saint Barthélemy in the French West Indies Video © Jeffrey Cardenas

Reproduction in fire corals is more complex than in other reef-building corals. The polyps reproduce asexually, producing the jellyfish-like medusae. These contain the reproductive organs that release eggs and sperm into the water. Fertilized eggs develop into free-swimming larvae that will eventually settle on the substrate and form new colonies.

Most divers wouldn’t mind seeing less fire coral on the reef, but I like to think of fire coral as a tactile warning to tread more carefully underwater. When the alternative may be a reef of dead rock, the sting of fire coral is a potent reminder that there is still life on that reef. And, it is one of the few ways the habitat has of fighting back.

^{Blue runners feed amid clusters of sargasso being swept over a West Indian reef of fire coral. Photograph © Jeffrey Cardenas}

As always, sailing is not just about the wind and the sea; the places, the flora, fauna, and people encountered along the way are equally important.

Please click “Follow” so that you don’t miss a new update,- and please consider sharing this post with others who might enjoy following the voyage. I welcome your comments and will always respond when I have an Internet connection. I will never share your personal information.

Instagram: StellaMarisSailing / Facebook: Jeffrey Cardenas

Text, Photography, and Videos © Jeffrey Cardenas 2024

Let this be a time of grace and peace in our lives – Rev. John C. Baker

A Reunion with an Old Friend

April 1, 2024April 25, 2024 / Stella Maris & Flying Fish / 16 Comments

^{A close encounter with a permit on a shallow reef in the Virgin Islands brings back memories of decades spent fishing for them. Photograph © Jeffrey Cardenas}

It seems like another lifetime ago that I was obsessed with this fish.

This fish is a permit, for those who may not know. For those of you who do know permit, you probably understand my obsession. It is regarded as the most challenging fish to catch on a fly rod. Some saltwater fly fishermen consider catching a permit in shallow water a lifetime achievement. Just look at that eye; it sees everything and quickly senses danger. It’s spooky; it perceives movement above and below the surface of the water. A permit often vanishes before an angler even sees it.

I was a fly fishing guide for several decades in my youth. Serious saltwater anglers made pilgrimages to my home waters of Key West each year for an opportunity to catch a permit. I hunted these fish all day, nearly every day, for years. Some days the results were heroic. Other days ended in humiliation. Many anglers fished for a week, never made contact, and went home in despair.

A few years ago, I traded my skiff for a sailboat, I migrated from shallow water to blue water, and I exchanged my fly boxes for a locker full of charts to navigate around the world. I don’t fish for permit anymore–it’s another story for another time–but I dearly miss my encounters with this great fish. I loved seeing them feed on the flats, their tails quivering with excitement as they discovered a crab, shrimp, or other crustacean on the ocean bottom. But, it has been years since I have even seen a permit.

These two worlds united serendipitously yesterday on a shallow reef off the Caribbean island of St. John. I was underwater photographing a living stand of elkhorn coral in the Virgin Islands National Park when I sensed movement behind me. I swirled around, saw the shadow of a fin, and found myself face-to-face with the lucid eye and the goofy rubber lips of a mature permit. My heart was apparently beating faster than this fish’s heart because while I hyperventilated, the permit merely looked on in curiosity. In all my years of fishing for permit, I have never seen one not flee from contact with a human being. This permit allowed me to photograph it for 30 minutes while it foraged and actively fed in front of me.

A remarkable coexistence with one of the most wary and sought-after sport fish among anglers. Video © Jeffrey Cardenas

Sometimes wild fish, especially those in a protected environment, acclimate to human contact. They hang out with snorkelers in tourist locations because they are being fed junk food. The location of this reef, however, is not a marked dive spot where tourists swim and chum fish for photographs. I never saw another person in the water during the three days I swam on that reef. What is also unique is that this encounter was in national park waters where sport fishing and the taking of fish is allowed. This permit should have been wary of being caught, like every other permit I have seen.

Instead, this was truly a rare moment of coexistence with a wild creature. I’ll mark this day in the logbook of Stella Maris as a reunion with an old friend.

As always, sailing is not just about the wind and the sea; the places, the flora, fauna, and people encountered along the way are equally important.

Instagram: StellaMarisSailing / Facebook: Jeffrey Cardenas

Text, Photography, and Videos © Jeffrey Cardenas 2024

Let this be a time of grace and peace in our lives – Rev. John C. Baker

Flamingo Tongue Snail

December 10, 2023December 11, 2023 / Stella Maris & Flying Fish / 7 Comments

Don’t kill me because I’m beautiful

^{The spotted mantle of the flamingo tongue snail warns predators that, despite being pretty, it is also poisonous. Photograph: © Jeffrey Cardenas 2023}

The bare shell of the flamingo tongue snail looks like a characterless white rock. It is the living part of this animal–the mantle–that dresses up the shell with its outrageous leopard-print cloak. It does this to impress its underwater neighbors. The flamingo tongue is not looking for a date. It simply wants to avoid being eaten. The colorful spots tell predators, like lobsters and pufferfish, that, however beautiful it might be, the flamingo tongue is also toxic.

I am weathered-in aboard Stella Maris for several days with 30-knot winds and driving rain. There is no better cure for cabin fever than time spent underwater. I particularly enjoy freediving in shallow water, where I can get up close and personal with the minutiae of the underwater world. The flamingo tongue snail is a part of this world today. At less than an inch long, it might be easily overlooked were it not for its flashy costume.

The snails are most frequently found grazing on toxic soft corals like sea fans and other gorgonians. The flamingo tongue uses its foot, which resembles a long ribbon with teeth, to secrete chemicals that dissolve coral into digestible food. The snail is not concerned by the coral’s toxicity—it repurposes the chemicals by storing those toxins in its own tissues to use as a defense mechanism against predation.

Not every diver is happy to see flamingo tongues because as they graze, they leave a thin trail of dead coral polyps in their wake. But the snail will rarely kill its host coral. Most damaged gorgonians can regenerate their lost tissues. Marine biologists who have specifically studied snails and their effect on coral say that because the polyps regrow, this predation is part of a well-balanced reef.

Female and male flamingo tongue snails leave behind mucus trails that release pheromones on the soft coral when it is time to breed. Flamingo tongue snails are hermaphroditic, having both male and female reproductive organs. However, they cannot fertilize themselves and require a mate to reproduce. Mating can last up to four hours (snails move slowly). Four days after mating, the female lays her sticky white egg clusters onto part of an exposed gorgonian skeleton. Each egg can contain up to 300 embryos! After ten days, the egg capsules hatch to release free-swimming larvae.

The flamingo tongue snail is not currently considered endangered, but like many marine organisms, it is threatened by human activities. It is listed in Appendix II of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES), meaning that international trade in this species is regulated to ensure that it does not become threatened with extinction.

Conservation efforts for the flamingo tongue snail include protecting its coral reef habitat through marine protected areas. Some countries, such as Jamaica, have implemented regulations to limit the collection of flamingo tongue snails, and the United States has banned the import of these snails for the souvenir trade. Flamingo tongues are often collected by people who mistakenly think that the shells themselves are colorful when they see the leopard spots on the mantle. Once a flamingo tongue snail dies, the mantle is gone and the surface of its shell becomes a bleached bone-white piece of calcium.

Flamingo tongue snails may not yet be endangered. Still, as I swim in this gorgonian garden and see so much beauty on a windy and rainy day, it makes me wonder: what is so toxic about human nature that makes some people, when they see something beautiful, want to kill it for a collection? Life on coral reefs is already seriously threatened by climate change, ocean acidification, and mass tourism. The one thing we can do right now is minimize our impact by moving more slowly–and less possessively–in this fragile underwater world.

^{Beautiful in life, a souvenir trinket in death.}
^{Photograph: © Jeffrey Cardenas}

REFERENCES:

National Marine Sanctuary Foundation (21 Feb, 2020) Sea Wonder: Flamingo Tongue Snail
Oceanus (26 Aug, 2008) Biochemical Warfare on the Reef, Kristen Whalen–Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution
One Earth (8 Aug 2023) Flamingo tongue snail: the beautiful tropical creature of the Caribbean, Lindsey Jean Schueman
Ocean Conservancy (10 Sep 2021) What is the Flamingo Tongue Snail?, Eric Spencer

Thanks for sailing along with Stella Maris on this Bahamas leg of our journey.

As always, sailing is not just about the wind and the sea; equally important are the places, the flora, fauna, and people encountered along the way.

Please click “Follow” so that you don’t miss a new update,- and please consider sharing this post with others who might enjoy following the voyage. I welcome your comments, and I will always respond when I have an Internet connection. I will never share your personal information.

Instagram: StellaMarisSailing
Facebook: Jeffrey Cardenas

^{Let this be a time of grace and peace in our lives – Fr. John Baker}

A Hidden World Protected

November 20, 2023November 20, 2023 / Stella Maris & Flying Fish / 12 Comments

Eleuthera’s New Seahorse National Park

^{This proud papa, a lined seahorse, flaunts his pregnancy with a swollen brood pouch and will soon give live birth to hundreds of baby seahorses. Photograph: © Jeffrey Cardenas}

I am channeling Charles Darwin today as I step out of the thick Bahamian scrub and into a landlocked pool of anchialine water in Central Eleuthera known as Sweetings Pond.

This body of water, fed from a maze of subterranean connections to the ocean, is teeming with bizarre life forms. They include the red flame scallop (which is actually a clam) that can dislodge itself from the seabed and “walk” away from predators by clapping its valves together. And then there is a gelatinous sea slug called a fringeback nudibranch with sharply serrated gill fingers and long tendrils that pulsate in shades of aquamarine. But the show-stopper is a mutated miniature lined seahorse with enough characteristics from two distinctly different types of seahorses that some marine biologists think we could be witnessing the evolution of an entirely new species.

Protecting the 500-acre Sweetings Pond with its unique biodiversity has been a quiet mission for conservationists. Until recently, researchers and locals managed to keep its location a secret. In its anonymity, the pond faced no immediate danger. However, the rampant development of resorts and marinas in the Bahamas, as well as other threats including agricultural runoff and poaching has encouraged marine researchers and governmental organizations like the Bahamas National Trust to push for the preservation of this rare habitat.

One of those researchers, Dr. Heather Masonjones from the University of Tampa, has been studying the seahorse population in Sweetings Pond for over five years. In an interview with BBC Wildlife magazine, she said that the pond may have one of the most densely populated seahorse communities anywhere on Earth. She hopes the protection of the pond brings sustainable tourism that will educate people about seahorses and contribute to improving their conservation worldwide. “If we don’t take action it could be lost forever.”

Several weeks ago, the Bahamian government formally designated Sweetings Pond as its newest National Park. “The declaration of Seahorse National Park is more than just a designation,” said Lakeshia Anderson-Rolle, Executive Director of Bahamas National Trust. “It is our shared promise to our community, to future generations, and to the world that we are committed to conserving our unique and diverse ecosystems.”

Thanks for sailing along with Stella Maris.

As always, sailing is not just about the wind and the sea; equally important are the places, the flora, fauna, and people encountered along the way.

Instagram: StellaMarisSailing
Facebook: Jeffrey Cardenas

“^{Let this be a time of grace and peace in our lives” – Fr. John Baker}

Stella Maris Sail

New Horizons

Marine Life

A Beautiful Thing

Kingdom of Fire

A Reunion with an Old Friend

Flamingo Tongue Snail

Don’t kill me because I’m beautiful

REFERENCES:

A Hidden World Protected