Coral Sea Expedition - Project Lihou
Coral Sea Campaigner from the Australian Marine Conservation Society, Nicola Temple, joined a team of scientists and cinematographers for an expedition, "Project Lihou" to the remote Lihou Reef located in our precious Coral Sea. Nicola reported to us daily from the trip and a video series was produced to report the findings. Read Nicola's blog and watch the video series of Project Lihou below.
The Lihou Reef is a National Nature Reserve located in the Coral Sea, approximately 630 kilometres east south-east of Cairns. The Reserve comprises of about 8440 square kilometres of seabed and a horseshoe shaped reef system containing 18 cays.
PROJECT LIHOU ("lee-hoo") explored the wilderness of this "Serengeti of the sea." Though rarely visited by humans, its remoteness does not mean it is untouched by the effects of our everyday lives. Sea level rise, ocean warming, cyclones and ocean acidification are concentrated at the tiny coral cays: a microcosm of global climate change effects.
It's not just about the beauty of Lihou but the fact that all species and ecosystems on our blue planet are vital to the survival of our species. We are all connected.
Project Lihou (Lihou411) Video Series
Episode 1 - The Living Breathing Ocean
Episode 2 - The Precious Islands
Episode 3 - Connecting Land and Sea
Episode 4 - The Life-Giving Reefs
Episode 5 - Mysteries of the Deep
Episode 6 - The House of Cards
Nicola's Coral Sea Diary
4th December, 2009 - Anchor's Away
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Duffle bags, backpacks, enormous large cases containing thousands of dollars worth of equipment, and eighteen confused people stood on the pier wondering how in the world all of this gear was going to fit on the boat. Yet, two hours later all the gear was loaded and stored, our berths were assigned and we were on our way, with the buzz that comes with the anticipation of a new adventure.
MV Eastern Voyager
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Our point of departure was Gladstone and we are headed approximately 600km northeast to Lihou Reef in the Coral Sea, aboard the MV Eastern Voyager. There are scientists, videographers, tourism operators, film producers, conservationists, artists, engineers, and professional divers on board. We come from different walks of life, even different corners of the globe, but we are united on this trip in our desire to witness the beauty of the Coral Sea.
Two hours after pulling away from the wharf at Gladstone the sun has set, though the lights of industry still shine brightly on the horizon. I'm looking forward to a different view. With some great tucker in my belly, fresh air in my lungs, and the hope of seeing some spectacular marine life in my mind, I turn in early, wondering what adventures tomorrow brings.
5th December, 2009 - Twin cays
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I awoke to a different view this morning. There was no land in sight after motoring through the night. As people wake from their slumber they stake out their various positions on the boat. Others are kept in their bunks by the rise and fall of the boat on the swell. Someone yells "dolphins on the bow" and there is a sudden surge to the front with thousands of dollars of camera equipment dangling over the side, trying to capture the playful antics of the bottlenose dolphins.
About mid-morning we start to see some more sea birds including wedge- tailed shearwaters, brown boobies, and crested turns. We are now officially within the boundary of the Great Barrier Reef Marine Park.
The light turquoise water on the horizon indicates a reef ahead and the sudden increase in bird sightings brings home to me the importance of these oases in a desert of deep blue. The birds are not the only ones who have spotted this oasis though. A charter vessel with five tenders out fishing the edge of the reef is also taking advantage.
We stop mid-afternoon at Twin Cays. The skipper tells us that Hurricane Hamish virtually destroyed this place and that it is a fraction of the size it was two years ago when he was last here. We are all anxious to get our feet wet and we all pile into the tenders for a snorkel. The bottom is strewn with coral rubble and many of the corals are covered by a layer of algae. Yet on this stage of destruction there remains a host of colourful actors: the usual suspects mainly - butterfly fish, parrotfish, wrasse, Moorish idols, anemone fish to name a few. Some squid put on a light show as they undulate past me. A rough flutemouth gives me a thorough lookover. A whitetip reef shark patrols the bottom below. Yet with less than 1% coral cover and a complete loss of staghorn coral, one can't help but wonder what it looked like only a year ago.
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fish swimming
6th December, 2009 - Swimming with snakes
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"This is an area known to have high densities of tiger sharks," the divemasters brief us. "There's also likely to be lots of sea snakes and if you get a bite from one of those, best thing you can do is call home and say your goodbyes". My heart is racing, even though I know there is more chance of getting struck by lightning.
After motoring through the night and most of the morning, we have reached Marion Reef, which is nearly 43 kilometers in length and within the Coral Sea Conservation Zone. It is apparent that there has been cyclone destruction here as there is less than 1% live coral coverage, though the damage is not as extensive nor as recent as we saw at Twin Cays yesterday. There are some young corals developing, and the water is thick with larval and juvenile fish.
Within the first 10 minutes of our dive a grey reef shark cruises by us to have a look. Then I spot my first sea snake, coiled discretely under some dead coral. My dive buddy points to another one that is swimming toward me; curious but clearly not aggressive. One feels rather uncoordinated next to these limbless swimmers. Everywhere I look there is another sea snake, every now and then popping up to the surface for a breath of air, the only reminder of a terrestrial life left long ago in its evolutionary history. Sea snakes are a truly marine reptile, no longer dependent on land for any part of their life history, unlike turtles. It is a good sign that there are so many of these apex predators here.
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Sea Snake at Marion Reef
Despite advancements in gear technology, sea snakes are still caught in massive numbers in commercial trawl fisheries. As we have seen over and over again, removal of apex predators has far reaching effects on food webs and ecosystem dynamics. On Marion Reef, a place struggling to recover from natural impacts, it seems even more sensitive to such invasions.
7th December, 2009 - East Diamond Islet
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We arrive at East Diamond Islet around noon. The waters are aquamarine blue surrounding the low sand islet. Small darker patches give hints of the coral mounds below. The sky above the islet is filled with birds and confirmation of their presence wafts in on the sea breeze.
We eagerly get into the water and at 20m below the surface, the coral is like nothing I have seen yet on this trip. It is alive! Boulder, plate, soft, branching...blue, green, red, yellow...it's all here in full glory. Colourful reef fish quickly dart out of their coral shelters, and disappear just as quickly the moment I click the shutter. I could stay looking at one square meter for hours as my eyes adjust to the more intricate details of Christmas tree worms and nudibranchs. As we ascend to 12m, the coral is noticeably less healthy. There is more algae cover, more rubble and less diversity. What has caused these shallower corals to die?
We head to the islet in the evening. As I walk along the beach, masked boobies, red-footed boobies, brown boobies and frigate birds dance on the wind sometimes coming so close I could reach out and touch them.
Red footed booby chick at East Diamond Islet
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The island is a hub of activity with terns, three species of boobies, two species of frigate bird, two types of noddies, and shearwaters all nesting here. The chicks, unaccustomed to terrestrial visitors are curious as we point our cameras in their faces.
As I come around the point to the windward side of the island my eye is drawn not to the masses of frigatebirds soaring above me, but to the chain of human trash that marks the high tide line. Plastic bottles, bags, bottle caps, glass bottles, thongs, shoes, empty oil containers to name just a few recognizeable objects. The chicks on this island may have never seen humans before today, but they have been raised among the discarded waste of our society.
8th December, 2009 - Kathy Cay, Lihou Reef
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It is our fourth day out and we have been travelling almost non-stop.
With the exception of last night, we have travelled through the nights also. It is at this point that it becomes quite understandable that we have only explored 5% of our oceans. This sounds terribly naïve, but it's a big place!
As our ship steams through the crystal blue waters, flying fish and flying squid take to the air in front of us. A feeding frenzy off the bow with hundreds of birds plunging into the ocean indicates a pelagic hub of activity. As we come closer we can see tuna coming to the surface, attacking the smaller fish from below. A bigger splash off the starboard side is evidence of something larger below...a sailfin perhaps? It is a moment of excitement in this vast blue world; and then it passes.
We anchor off Kathy Cay, part of Lihou Reef, just after lunch. I didn't know water could be this clear. We can watch the anchor drop to the sand 20metres below and it is as clear as if it were 1 metre. I spot the familiar shape of some sharks circling below, curious about this new intrusion. We jump into the water and explore the depths below. Five grey reef sharks (Carcaharhinus amblyrhynchos) pace back and forth, curious. I like to know where they are, but I don't feel the least bit concerned by their presence.
In the afternoon, three of us head to the Cay to film an interview being aired with the World Wildlife Fund in Copenhagen. We are trying to link what we are seeing to Global Climate Change and of course the decisions being made there. This is easy as we have seen cyclone damage and coral bleaching on every dive, both of which are expected to increase with climate change trends. Out here at Lihou Reef, a National Nature Reserve since 1982, remote from the coast, the water is so much clearer, the corals comparably so much healthier. It is a snapshot of what we stand to lose, or put in a different perspective, what we have the potential to save. It is protected areas like this that build the resilience of coral reef ecosystems for the future.
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Grey reef shark
9th December, 2009 - Going Deeper
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We are off Lorna Cay on Lihou Reef and one of the scientists on board spends the day putting together a Remotely Operated Vehicle (ROV) to allow us to explore a little deeper. It is a terribly complicated operation that can be best described as flying a kite underwater, but from a moving platform. Ocean currents take the ROV in one direction, the boat drifts in another and the two are tethered by 110m of cable.
The second coordinated effort is successful and we all wait with baited breath to see what lies 100m below us.
It isn't perhaps as exciting as a giant squid rising from the depths to wrestle with the ROV camera, but what we see is rather awesome nonetheless. There are soft corals here, more than we have seen while diving, as well as sponges and whip corals. Then we see a gorgonian fan, a type of soft coral, more than three metres in diameter. I ask how old it might be, but no guesses are offered, except to say that they pulled up some off the coast of Tasmania recently that were 2,000 years old. Could what we are seeing be that old?
We head to the Cay for a walk late in the afternoon. A group that had been out earlier spotted dozens of tawny nurse sharks basking in the shallow waters and I'm hoping they are still there. I cross the island and see five right away. They are still in the shallows, their fins out of the water. Something draws my attention up the beach. I catch sight of a fin thrashing about on the beach. At first I think it is a turtle coming to nest, but then I realize it is a shark. It has come up with a wave onto the beach after a crab and finds itself stranded.
I race over for a closer look but a big wave draws the 1.5metre animal back into the water before I can pull my camera out. Perhaps the sharks will give me another opportunity tomorrow.
10th December, 2009 - Lorna Cay, Day 2
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We're on the Cay by 4:30 this morning, trying to get there for first light; optimal lighting for filming and photography. Some keen birders are also excited about getting some estimates of birds. I'm there to see if the tawny nurse sharks are still around.
I find a spot on the beach, among the shore crabs, which are all lined up on the east side of the island looking into the rising sun. Land hermit crabs start to invade my camera bag. As a scavenger on such a remote and harsh environment one doesn't waste time exploring new items on the beach as they may be either food or a new home.
These sand cays are very desolate habitats. This cay has some low lying vegetation on the northern end and it is here where thousands of birds have congregated. It is a succession of events that led to this.
When the sand cay breaks the ocean surface, a few species of birds, such as terns, will begin to use it to roost, depositing rich nutrients there. As the cay grows, turtles might find it an appropriate nesting spot and they turn the sand over in the process, much like farmers tilling the soil. After some time, the first grasses appear. This attracts other seabirds such as noddies and brown boobies, which bring more nutrients to the island, and thus the cycle continues until the seeds of larger vegetation, such as Pisonia, can grow. It is a gradual process, and this cay which is essentially barren on the southern end and a flurry of activity on the vegetated northern end is a wonderful example of these different stages.
Some others spot the tawny nurse sharks in the shallows and I abandon my camera and case to the hermit crabs for now and grab my snorkeling gear. At first I don't see anything, with the exception of a terribly good looking moray eel, but then one...two...three...dark sharks cruise by me just an arms length away. What a day...and I haven't even had breakfast!
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Lorna Cay, Lihou Reef
11th December, 2009 - Diving the wall...
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We leave Lorna Cay first thing in the morning and head south to Anne Cay, still part of Lihou Reef's over 8,000km2 of land mass. We jump in the water where we can see a bit of a wall on the charts, though most of this region is very poorly charted. We drop to 30metres and the wall just continues down to the blue depths to 500 metres. The coral is a colourful display like nothing I have ever seen.
Just ten metres or so below us fan corals branch out spanning two metres or so. A couple of grey reef sharks come and check us out. We make our way along the wall, all of us in awe. There are heaps of fish here. A school of giant trevally swim among us. We startle a hawksbill turtle that is resting in a crevice. We work our way up the wall half way through our dive and the list of fish is endless. We are at about six metres when we catch sight of a Humphead Wrasse. It's a male, about 1.5metres long and I can't help but think of Barry. My dive buddy points to a second one that is now approaching us from around the corner and I catch sight of a third. We are now at five metres doing our safety stop, though none of us want to leave this paradise. A fourth Humphead Wrasse comes in, then a fifth...in the end we have eight of them swimming around us. My camera is out of batteries, but the memory is ingrained in my mind forever. This has been , without a doubt, the best dive of my life.
On our second dive we're keen to go back to the first spot but the current is now raging through there so we head to a different part of the wall. We are quickly joined by several silvertip sharks and a white tip reef shark. When they are bored with us our attention is drawn to a flurry of activity in shallower water. Surgeonfish are spawning and others are coming in to take advantage.
The surgeonfish are casually swimming in groups down below when suddenly a female darts up from the group with several males in pursuit. At the top they release their eggs and sperm together and in theory, the fastest (and therefore the best) male will fertilize the majority of the eggs. It is amazing to watch and the water is cloudy from all the spawn. There is a whole host of fish species here, convict surgeonfish, longtoms and others dart in and eat the eggs released. Three black and white snapper open their enormous mouths and swim through the clouds.
There are gale force winds forecast so we head back to the boat, pull up anchor and leave Lihou Reef. We will push through the night to try and reach Marion Reef in the morning. I leave Lihou with an inspired soul and a renewed dedication to protect our oceans.
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Shark cruising above the reef
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12th December, 2009 - Starting the journey home
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We are back on Marion Reef today. We anchor off a tiny sand cay with room for only one person to stand. It's unclear whether it is the beginning of a new cay, or the end of an old one. It is a very dynamic world out here; things are always shifting.
The scientists continue to collect data on our journey. They are conducting bird counts, noting bird species that have never before been recorded in the region, and doing underwater transects to estimate coral cover and the overall health and diversity of the reef. There is poor baseline information for the Coral Sea and so every bit of information we gather will give us a better understanding of what is here.
Juvenile fish in coral
13th December, 2009 - The Swains
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It was a Rock 'n' Roll night and I wish I were referring to some classic Rolling Stones, but it is more a description of the sleeping conditions. We travelled through the night through some amazing swell to find ourselves within the Great Barrier Reef Marine Park this morning.
We start to see boats again first thing. There are five commercial fishing vessels on the horizon and a charter fishing vessel. I'm suddenly appreciative of the remoteness we have experienced in the Coral Sea.
Our first dive doesn't seem all together promising as from the surface I can only spot some coral rubble, most likely a result of storm damage. However, as we move along, the coral bottom improves, we see species of angelfish we have not seen before and we come across at least five species of nudibranch. A Spanish dancer (a type of flatworm) takes to the water column and lives up to its name; its royal blue frills undulating, emulating the dress of a flamenco dancer.
We watch the sunset from the deck, pull anchor and are headed southwest, one step closer to the mainland.
Nudibranch
14th December 2009 - The Journey Home
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Just before lunch, we anchor off of North West Island, located at the southern end of the Great Barrier Reef, and we are clearly back in civilization. Campers are nestled between the high tide mark and the trees and there are several other boats anchored nearby.
We head off for a dive, feeling somewhat skeptical of what we might see, if anything, as the soupy water is rich with nutrients and jellies making visibility very limited. We get down there and are pleasantly surprised, however. We see a large number of nudibranchs, blue spotted stingrays, giant moray eels, a parrot fish having a sleep under a rock and one of the divers (not me unfortunately) saw a hammerhead shark. By the end of the dive the current has gained significant speed and we are all holding on to rocks to hold our place. We give the thumbs up for our ascent and we simultaneously let go of our anchors and drift up and out as the current sweeps us. We are staying at five metres for our safety stop and we're all being carried at about 3 knotts. We luckily have a boat picking us up, so we know we're safe, and we all simply look down and enjoy the view as we cruise by.
We head to the island for sunset and are immediately thrilled to see shovel nosed rays lining the shallows. Turtles continually are putting their heads out having a look at the beach. As the sun sets, wedge-tailed shearwaters by the thousands start to come in and circle the island in a narrow band, their wingtips nearly touching the water. It is like the Gateway Motorway during rush hour. Approximately 80% of the Capricorn-Bunker population of wedge-tailed shearwaters breed on this island. As the last rays of sunlight disappear on the horizon, these commuters start to head into the island above our heads.
The birds are soon replaced by twinkling celestial bodies and I lie back in the sand to soak in the night sky in its full glory, in the absence of city lights. The stars seem infinite here. I think about the disconnect we feel living in cities, from the sky, from the tides, from our natural elements. We become desensitized by necessity as we are surrounded by noises, smells, and sights, and I think this has allowed us to have the impact on the Earth that we have had. For the last ten days I have been acutely aware of the weather, the tides, the currents, pollution, and any sign of life on the horizon. I am grateful for this reconnection to the ocean and I will try to hold onto this feeling for as long as I can upon my return to city life.
Sunset over the Coral Sea
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