About R/V Llyr

Located in the highland forests of the Berkshires, in Heath, MA, BSG MapleFarm is a unique agroforestry project producing Single-Crop, Single-Batch maple Syrups. As a family, we find ourselves moved to action on behalf of oceans. Aboard our 53' research vessel Llyr, and working as Island Reach, in collaboration with The Ocean Foundation, we spend half the year working in the archipelago of Vanuatu in the South Pacific.

Moorea, French Polynesia

We arrived in Moorea after a short sail from Papeete and turned Llyr into Cook’s Bay, the first anchorage on the northern coast. We dropped anchor but were unable to get it set. A couple of other boats we know radioed to say they were headed over to the next bay where a cook out was to take place that night, so we gave up on getting a hold and headed further west. A brief motor brought us to Opunohu Bay where we could see most boats anchored at the mouth of the bay, just inside the fringing reef.The setting was beautiful. The jagged peaks of Mount Rotui loom over the bay.

moorea panorama

Right onshore next to the anchorage, a day camp for local kids meant that each day, dozens of small sailing boats zoomed around Llyr, filled with happy kids, having fun tacking alongside us and shouting out their greetings.

Moorea Sailing School

 

The beauty and fun above water, however, was not to be matched below.

Nutrient Indicator Algae

Nutrient Indicator Algae

We snorkeled the nearby reefs and found that one side of the pass was virtually dead, while the other showed only some small coral growth in shallow waters, although we did find a pretty cool wreck to explore. The situation with the reefs was grim. We needed answers as to what was going on and we were to find some of them on one of the fieldtrips we took on the island.

Three fieldtrips:

A) CRIOBE, the French acronym for The Insular Research Center and Environment Observatory field station.

At the head of Opunohu Bay, a paved road winds up the central valley of the island through pastureland. Right at its base lies this field station which welcomes French and international researchers. We stopped by briefly and were invited to attend a lecture where Canadian researchers were presenting on their studies of Pacific Northwest octopus! Chuck, meanwhile, had met up with the center director and had a brief exchange with him, which resulted in all of us returning the following week to learn about their work on FP reefs and tour the facility.

We met with biologist and center director, Dr. Yannick Chancerelle and Gilles Siu, a scientific diver and computer and math specialist. Here are some of the things we learned.

CRIOBE has been monitoring reefs in Moorea since 1971. Multiple factors led to the rubbly, dead reefs we had been seeing, the main one being a 2006 outbreak of Acanthaster (Crown of Thorns starfish) in the Society Islands, followed by a cyclone in 2010 which removed a lot of reef structure. As a result of these blows, according to Dr. the reef went from 40% coverage (which he indicated was good) to 0%. Current recovery is estimated to be about 5% on outer reefs (outer reefs fare better since they are more protected from inshore nutrient in the water). He indicated that it could take 10-15 years for recovery from such an assault. Other forces which slow recovery and that impact inshore reefs were listed as sewage, erosion from construction, agricultural run-of, and human contact with reefs.

While he didn’t initially include fishing as a vector impacting the reefs, at other points he related how overfishing is placing enormous pressure on the reefs. He reported that, unfortunately, there is no association of fishermen or any kind of collective organization among fishers, therefore there are no spokespeople from the local fishing community who can help provide oversight in marine protected areas.

Yannick introduced us to Gilles, a young Tahitian computer specialist who had recently secured a long-term contract with CRIOBE. Gilles was hired to set up live probes to measure oceanic variables and makes CRIOBE’s database available online. This led to learning fish counting and he is now employed by CRIOBE to take on fish surveys in several sites around the Pacific Ocean in addition to managing probes and the database. He had studied computers in France and had returned to Tahiti in the hopes of finding work. He reported that there aren’t many good job options for Polynesians with higher education and most of them remain abroad. He considered himself fortunate to find this work with CRIOBE and to be able to remain in Tahiti. (At the end of our meeting, he shared with us his deep-water photography: Spectacular images of creatures taken as deep as 100m!) He and Yannick showed us some of their data collection on a variety of reef measurements gathered from remote sensing buoys and grid surveys (among remote sensing measurements they were looking at temp, pH, etc). Interestingly, among there findings was some indication of warming waters (.33 degrees celcius in the last ten years.) They did not appear to find this significant and reported it was too short term for any conclusions to be drawn. In addition, the told us that their pH measurements – which would have interested us somewhat – were useless since the monitor was not sensitive enough and kept breaking down all the time.

We appreciated their taking the time to tour us around the facility and talk about their work. They seemed pretty enthusiastic about the idea of using Llyr for access to other island groups, but the timing was not right. Most of all, it gave Llyr’s crew a lot of food for thought about the nature of scientific research in the context of climate change, and about the problems of conservation where scientific knowledge and local knowledge have no common platform.

B) The Agricultural School (Lycée Agricole d’Opunohu (Opunohu Agricultural School), located 4 km further up the road from CRIOBE

The school system in FP is the French system. Among the islands, we’ve learned that children receive their primary education locally, but if they are to continue on, they usually have to leave home and board somewhere more centralized so that they can pursue further schooling. (more on this educational crisis in the Pacific later!)

The Lycee is FP’s high school for students interested in agriculture and draws students from across FP. It serves about 200 kids, ages14-18, roughly. Kids learn such skills as crop farming, horticulture, livestock farming, landscape design, and ways to create value-added products. We enjoyed some incredible ice cream made at the school using their own fruits and purchased a selection of exquisite jams, with flavors like nothing we’d tried before.

School was not in session, but during vacation periods the facility serves as a tourism destination, run by local staff, who also keep up with all the farming in the absence of the student farmers! Several (confusing) trails meander through the property where you can learn, with the assistance of a guidebook, about the various crops they grow and and how they can be used.

Given what we’ve seen and learned about farming and food in the Marquesas and Tuamotus, it was an interesting place to visit.

Moorea hike, inland view

We made this visit with a trio of teens from another boat, and as we left the school, our boys joined them to hike further up the road to the Belvedere Lookout. They panoramic view of the valley and the two bays on either side of Mount Rotui looked dramatic in their photos.

view from Belvedere Lookout

The Hilton Resort

Our third fieldtrip took us over to the Hilton Resort! There, we attended a talk by Dr. Michael Poole on the dolphins and whales in French Polynesian waters. Michael Poole is a friend of Pamela and Alain of GEMM whom we met back in Rangiroa. Most of the attendees were cruisers (if I haven’t mentioned this elsewhere, this refers to people living on boats!) as the word about the talk had spread through the anchorage and one of the sailors had actually gone to graduate school with him; however, there were a couple of honeymoon couples present as well, those constituting the more typical audience at these weekly talks. Hilton, as part of their “Green and Socially Responsible” efforts, pays Dr. Poole to make these weekly presentations to their guests on marine mammals. We learned a lot of very interesting facts, including confirmation that what we saw during our sail along Nuku Hiva’s east coast, were indeed hundreds of rare, protected melon-headed whales! Overall, however, many of us were somewhat dismayed by a sense of greenwashing of the difficult issues facing marine environments. Clearly, this could be considered a limitation of the setting: Probably not too many honeymooners in Paradise want to hear gloom and doom about the oceans! A few of us yachties stirred things up with challenging questions and the talk went on a lot longer than typical, or so Dr. Poole indicated. Afterward, the conversations among Llyr’s crew focused on greenwashing and the conundrums of public outreach, as well as the challenges of obtaining financial support for conservation work while in the lion’s den.

 

 

 

Rangiroa to Mo’orea, French Polynesia

Rangiroa, in the Tuamotus, is the 3rd largest atoll in the world (I couldn’t tell you where numbers 1 & 2 are; our guidebook doesn’t say!). We arrived after an overnight sail from Ahe, timing our entry into Tiputa Pass, one of two navigable passes on the atoll. If you miss the timing, the pass becomes a wild funnel of hard and fast current and large standing waves. We witnessed this wild energy under a full moon a couple of nights later, from the safety of shore.

The pass is famous for Bottlenose dolphins. Brooks dropped Connor and Rowan off near the pass exit to do a drift dive and they were surrounded by the dolphins. Such an encounter is a powerful and privileged one and the guys were pretty awestruck! Their experience was also shaped by facts we’d learned shortly after our arrival in Rangiroa. We visited the home of a small non-profit organization called GEMM (www.gemm.org) (in association with French and American universities), run by a couple named Pamela and Alain, that focuses on marine mammals. (The name GEMM translates as: Study Group for Marine Mammals.) Here in Rangiroa, they study the dolphins; later in the season they’ll head further west in FP, to Raiatae, where they’ll engage in humpback whale and spinner dolphin research. On this atoll, in additional to their scientific studies of the dolphins, they are embroiled, to varying degrees, with the 6 dive operators who sell dolphin encounters to tourists, and in some cases, promote touching the dolphins. While the researchers of GEMM fully appreciate and share the human interest in being in the water with these animals, they object to the lengths to which some operators go to provide a thrill for their customers. It is commonplace for people to think of dolphins as friendly mammals of the sea. Their “smile” misleads us into a sense of camaraderie, but as Pamela bluntly described: “They “smile” even in death!” Dolphins are wild animals, she stressed, and dive operators who promote and encourage the touching of wild animals are exploiting them for economic gain. While contact with dolphins is illegal in FP, there is little to no regulation or oversight way out here. During their 5 years of dolphin research, they have observed dolphin behavior changing as a result of these engagements and shared with us footage of divers touching dolphins and, in one case, being pushed around by a dolphin. They’re concerned about the long term behavioral effects, as well as with the potential for disease spread across species.

The tourism industry sells more wildlife encounters than just dolphins. Before leaving Rangiroa, we completed our Pacific Reef Check Ecodiver training, conducting a survey on a site known as “The Aquarium”: lots of fish and moderately healthy coral in patches. The dive boats feed the fish and eels at this site to entertain the tourists, so we were often surrounded by snappers and, on one trip, saw 4 large Moray eels coming out to take advantage of the easy meal. It felt somewhat like a zoo.

A short sail of a few hours took us across the lagoon where we spent two days anchored in pale blue, calm waters, surrounded by black tip sharks. At one point, we counted 15 circling Llyr! Black tips are fairly shy, so we felt safe in assuming that tour boats must feed them on this side of the atoll as they do on the other, making them approach boats more regularly.

We left Rangiroa on a calm afternoon, making our way out of the pass and circumnavigating the atoll, headed for Tahiti, and the capital of Papeete. We commented on what a pleasant sail we were having and laughed about how that was sure to change. And sure enough, it did. By 9 in the evening, the winds had climbed up to about 30 knots with very confused seas, once again pitching the boat side to side and making for a rough and uncomfortable sail.

Our trip to Papeete was about 36 hours (two nights and a day) bringing us into the capital early in the morning. Tahiti juts out of the ocean in tall jagged spires and sloping mounts. It is surrounded by a barrier reef which has protected the shoreline from storms and provided calm waters for boats. Approaching Papeete, the reef is visible only as a breaking wave. We entered the pass and motored along the inner waterway between the shoreline and reef to Marina Taina, our first marina since Panama (and our first real showers in over two and a half months!!)

We didn’t get much time to travel around Tahiti; instead, we were busy with provisioning, cleaning and repairs, doing a little visiting with other boats, and getting ready for the arrival of Benjamin, a friend and high school senior who will be interning with us for the next two months. Our few trips in and out of town by bus made us aware of the limited public transportation system and the heavy reliance on private automobiles. We hadn’t seen people or cars in this concentration for a long time!

While we were not able to get underwater during our time in Tahiti, Chuck had the opportunity to make a couple of dives with one of the local operators and came back to report dead coral and lots of algae.
With Ben on board, we were eager to leave Tahiti and head to Mo’orea, hoping for better waters, and the possibility of getting Gavin certified as a SCUBA diver. Reports of an incoming weather system with lots of wind also required us to leave the mooring ball at Marina Taina. Mo’orea is only about 15 miles from Papeete; we were aiming for Cook’s Bay (named after that sailor who preceded us there by a few hundred years).

Here is how the Lonely Planet Guide describes diving in Mo’orea: “Mo’orea is one of French Polynesia’s main underwater playgrounds, which is no surprise considering its high visibility and clean waters. The underwater scenery is every bit the equal of what’s on land: you can dive sloping reefs and go nose-to-nose with sharks, rays and numerous reef species.”

Here is what we have seen so far: lots of dead coral and algae.

At the nearby Hilton, the iconic over-the-water bungalows are surrounded by classic turquoise blue waters, but in between the white sand patches there is mainly dead coral and choking algae. While we’ve yet to dive the outer reef, we’ve heard it isn’t much better, and the dive operators, as in Rangiroa, are resorting to selling impressive dive experiences by feeding the sharks and rays so that they gather around in large congregations. Fisheries are reportedly finished in Mo’orea. We’ve been told that most fish now come from the Tuamotus and Marquesas, as we had observed there. We have yet to hear local accounts of the disappearance of the fishing industry in Mo’orea.

If the reefs aren’t growing and adding new skeleton aloft, storm surge will overwhelm the reef. Add to that sea level rise, and, well, these shorelines are facing a difficult future. (We’ll write more on the complex nature of coral reefs in a future posting.) We have a meeting planned with some scientists at one of the environmental research institutes here in Mo’orea: CRIOBE (www.criobe.org) and hope to learn a lot more about what has happened and is happening to these reefs.

I am reminded that when I last left off with this blog in Ahe, I was wondering how heading towards more touristed settings might affect our perceptions of environmental conditions. A picture is developing, and it isn’t pretty. Our human appetites are immense, and those of us with a few resources are eager to consume at a scale which is not sustainable. That goes for us aboard Llyr as well. Our footprints lie heavy on the planet. I’ve read that if everyone consumed like the average westerner, we’d need about 7 planets to provide for us! Out here, I’m feeling it! This planet is breaking under our weight. Whether we’re “consuming” electronics from Best Buy, or a broccoli that has traveled from France to the Tuamotus, or even an aesthetic experience on a beach or a woods hike, we can’t seem to avoid heavy tread. I’ve heard that Mount Everest is littered with oxygen bottles left behind by climbers. Today I read that the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute has a long term study (22 years) with over 18,000 hours of footage from deep sea ROVs (remotely-operated vehicles) showing human -made garbage everywhere off the coast of California, as deep as 13,000 feet.

While I work to be a strong advocate and help raise awareness, I’m not sure how effectively I can lighten my load or that of my children. I’m not sure if we, as a species, can do what it takes to halt the 6th wave of extinction that we humans have set in motion.

Slowly Sinking in Paradise, by Chuck

Slowly Sinking in Paradise.

Research Vessel Llyr, my sailing home for 2 and a half months this summer, is now in French Polynesia, visiting the Marquesas, Tuamotus and Tahiti groups of Islands. The Tuamotus are coral atolls, which average 5 feet above sea level, although much of the residential areas are within about two feet of current high tide. If the most widely accepted predictions about sea level are correct, the Tuamotus will become uninhabitable by mid-century.

It is wonderful and sad and a little weird to be here in this place that looks like the classic cover of a travel magazine: beaches, coconut palms, turquoise waters, women with Gauguin faces, and at the same time to be reading John Englander’s new book High Tide on Main Street; Rising Sea Levels and the Coming Coastal Crisis. Here, future sea level rise stares us in the face each day through the low shorelines. When I see a baby or a pregnant woman, I can only think that those children will not be able to spend their lives where their voyageur ancestors settled centuries ago, the islands of their culture and heritage.

The book, High Tide on Main Street, collects and explains the scientific literature on ocean level increase, and this is not a new concept to those who have been reading about climate. Nevertheless to see it all pulled together is a very sobering read, which I highly recommend.

I recently sent a note to family and friends quoting a recent study observing that for each degree Celsius of temperature increase, the sea has risen to reach an equilibrium of 65 feet higher. My old friend and fellow environmental warrior, Peter Bachman, who pays close attention to stuff he reads, challenged me on that, because the prediction in this century is for maybe 2 degrees Celsius increase (we already have .8) and the main line scientific consensus is for only 4 to 5 feet of ocean increase. But my report was accurate from the perspective of geological time, because it is referring to ultimate equilibrium. Here’s the quote from Englander’s book:

In 2008, Dr. David Archer showed what happens over longer periods of time when temperatures, ice sheets and sea levels reach a new equilibrium. Using the work of glaciologist Dr. Richard Alley, his analysis showed that sea level has changed by a stunning 20 meters, (65 feet) for every degree of change Celsius (1.8 degrees F. Since the oceans and atmosphere have warmed almost one full degree, it is just a matter of time before sea level adjusts according to this historic relationship.

Englander points out that this study shows, with the .8 degree increase we already have, “based on 40 million years of actual history, not theoretical projections, sea levels will rise more than 50 feet, …once the ice has had time to melt. “ The melting of Antarctica and Greenland ice caps will be responsible for about 95 percent of sea level rise ultimately and the process will take at least centuries (if the predictions about tipping points come true) or perhaps millennia, but the RATE of melting is many thousands of times more rapid than the Earth has experienced in previous naturally-caused warmings.

2 years ago, Steve Piragis, Martha Brand and I were standing at the calving edge of the Illiulissat Glacier in Greenland, the largest outside of Antarctica, which is moving now at several times the rate of a few decades ago and accelerating. (Its dramatic calving was the feature of James Balog’s documentary, Chasing Ice. ) Thinking back about that view of the massive 2 mile high ice sheet oozing down into the fjord and out to sea, I now understand that we were witnessing the birth of a new era in the earth’s history, one that will last for thousands of years, and the first to be actually caused by our species.

I am sailing west across the Pacific with a unique family on the Research Vessel Llyr, a 53-foot ketch sailboat, on a 2 fold-mission for 2013: first, to observe, document and analyze social and economic changes from such environmental insults as climate change and overfishing as they impact coastal communities and coral reefs ; and second, to do diving surveys to document the health of coral reefs for Reef Check, a citizen science program for reef monitoring worldwide. The Dad/Skipper, Brooks McCutchen is a former practicing psychoanalyst. Janis Steele, the Mom, is a PhD. Anthropologist and former documentary filmmaker. Both are now Maple Syrup Farmers in Massachusetts, and focus on the cultural politics and economics of small-scale, sustainable food production and marketing. The 3 boys, Connor, 18 (the First Mate), Rowan 15, and Gavin 10, all at home underwater, could not be more enthusiastic about being a real part of the project. I’ll add what I can as a survey diver, an environmental advocate, recovering lawyer, aspiring underwater photographer, and writer. In 2014, they also expect to be based in Vanuatu as a service vessel, assisting communities to adjust to the impacts of a changing environment.

Upon reflection, it does not seem strange that the natives here are not shouting to the industrialized countries to stop burning fossil fuel, because neither are most of the citizens of Miami, New Orleans, New York, Norfolk, and Sacramento, other costal areas which will be devastated by the end of this century, although some defensive measures are finally being taken. As a nation, we too continue our struthious (ostrich like) outlook, taking care of immediate needs while ignoring those of our grandchildren. We live in the moment: this week, this month, this year, not this century.

Yet, Englander does not close with total gloom and doom (which of course doesn’t work and destroys hope). While recognizing that adaptation to sea level rise is inevitable, and will cost many billions, he of course notes that reducing carbon producing energy sources is the only hope of bending the rising curve of atmospheric and ocean carbon. He closes with a famous quote from Winston Churchill as England and the free world faced the terror of the Third Reich:

If we fail, then the whole world. …Including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age….. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that if we last for a thousand years, men will still say, “this was their finest hour.”

The wartime quote highlights the reality of our situation. We need a commitment equal to that which was required to fight and win a world war and we don’t have it. The other night, on board, we watched Les Miserables and I thought, perhaps those of us who are trying to build a real movement are like the young French revolutionaries on the barricades, expecting the multitudes to rise in support, which doesn’t happen. I hope that’s not true, and I am hopeful that the pendulum is beginning to swing the other way as evidenced by the responses to Hurricane Sandy and President Obama’s recent climate speech. Perhaps the reality of sea level rise will be the thing that finally wakes us up to the need for more commitment to action. Momentum, momentum, momentum.

But, don’t buy any waterfront property.

On to the Tuamotous

The South Pacific islands have long held a mystique in western consciousness. From Captain Cook to Margaret Mead, stories of sexual liberties and cannibalistic appetites have fueled our fantasies and fears. I know I come with my own preconceptions, but as I travel across this vast ocean, with its far flung island communities, I’m curious to learn more about the richness of Polynesian history: languages, arts, and mythologies that, thanks to early Polynesians’ incredible navigational skills, continue to unite peoples across thousands of miles. It is a remarkable fact that words spoken in the Marquesas can, with some care, be understood by Maoris in New Zealand, thousands of miles away!

 

We have now made two landfalls: Nuku Hiva in the Marquesas and Ahe atoll in the Tuamotus. Though only three and a half days apart by sail, they offer a stunning pallet for the senses as well as plenty of food for thought regarding biocultural diversity. From the rugged peaks, lush forests, and dark, plankton-rich seas of the Marquesas to the low-lying, clear waters of coral atolls in the Tuamotus, the beauty of each is unique; yet I can’t help wonder about earlier migrations of Polynesians who chose the rubbly, narrow bracelets of islands, motus, that ring coral-rich lagoons versus those who settled the loftier terrains of young volcanic islands. More than that, I wonder about the fates of these communities today, impacted by globalization and its multiple forces and effects, including those of a changing climate.

 

French Polynesia, like many regions of the world, is in economic crisis today. We are led to understand that since France has terminated its controversial nuclear testing in the Tuamotus (between 1966 and 1996 this created over 100,000 jobs!), since the Black Pearl market has been devastated by commodity-scale actions taken in China and elsewhere, and with the recession in tourism, jobs have been hard to come by. The capital of Papeete continues to draw outer-islanders who hope for work, but we’ve heard again and again that unemployment in the capital remains high along with the cost of living, and life is very hard. In contrast, people on the outer islands say that at least at home, there is community to take care of you and costs are lower. This is hardly a unique tale. According to our observations, the Marquesas have some distinct advantages in this crisis. Food for the picking is everywhere on these islands—mangoes, bananas, breadfruit, grapefruit, limes and more – as well as an abundance of fish in the surrounding seas whereas this atoll of Ahe appears to have plenty of fish but little else that is indigenous. Coconut palms, imported long ago, provide a cash crop called “copra”which is a widespread in these atolls and is exported to Tahiti where the government subsidizes it in order to support island livelihoods.

 

While all the islands of FP depend upon the regular supply ships that arrive from Tahiti, the atolls appear more dependent upon them for day to day living than the Marquesas, given the dearth of fresh foods. These atolls have also undergone the recent boom and bust of the black pearl trade which collapsed a little over a decade ago following overproduction, Chinese knock-offs, and depressed earnings for harvesters. This has left clear signs of a community that has directly suffered the effects of large-scale commodity markets, with abandoned farms rimming the reefs. While signs of commodity pressures are not as immediately evident in Nuku Hiva, in our own experience passage-making and by local account, the rapacious fishing fleets from Japan, Korea and China, are beginning to strip the waters clean. Henri, a local in Taiohae whom we spoke with extensively, expressed concern that in future, should his grandchildren wish to continue fishing, this might not be an option for them.

 

Henri plans to run for mayor in 2014 and is part of a council seeking sustainable development strategies for the island. He lamented the impact of cash economies on lifestyles and values, but likewise recognized the need to develop some strategies that would provide people with wages. He spoke of small, local initiatives to develop artisanal vinegars and honeys, as well as larger plans for a cooperative business for the export of goat meat. When we asked him about climate change and what we should say to people in the US, he described an image of American power plants, factories and cars belching pollution. Then he added, jokingly, “Atomic bomb!”This was his same mock solution when asked about foreign fishing fleets depleting fish stocks: “Too many mouths to feed. Atomic bomb!” This repeated reference struck us as particularly poignant given France’s decades of bomb testing in the region and ongoing disputes about long term environmental and human health impacts.

 

As we walked the paved streets of Tenukupara, Ahe’s sole village that is roughly 3 blocks by 3 blocks existing on a small motu between the breakers of the ocean and the shelter of the lagoon, we couldn’t help wonder about where this atoll will be the decades to come given the forecast for a rising sea level. Somewhat remarkable to us, our conversations with community members did not elicit similar concerns. For example, the police chief, a school teacher, and a shopkeeper were all well aware of such warnings, but reported that either they were secondary to the current economic crisis, or, in one case, were God’s punishment for homosexuality! In Nuku Hiva, sea level rise poses threat to the coastal villages, yet there is the option to move to higher grounds if necessary. No such options exist on the 77 atolls that constitute the Tuamotus. They will simply disappear under the sea.

 

Today, we head to Rangiroa, the second largest atoll in the world, 90 miles to the west of Ahe. Here, children of Ahe must relocate for school if they wish to continue studying as teenagers. Tourism is reportedly more robust. Several dive operators work in the atoll and diving is considered world-class. I wonder how my impressions of the Tuamotus might change with our time there? Plenty of evidence from around the world shows that tourism is a double-edged sword in terms of community well-being; too often, biological and cultural diversity become packaged for western consumption. As we sail towards more heavily touristed regions of the South Pacific, we’ll see how this impacts the island communities and the local ecosystems.

Traveling Nuka Hiva

We rented a car for the day to drive across the island to visit some of the peaks, waterfalls, and archaeological sites. On Nuku Hiva, the remains of old villages—some dating to the 13th century–can be found all around. The early Marquesans used boulders and rocks that are strewn about this old volcanic island to build walls and various structures that still stand in place. There are two principal roads on the island that climb up over the central ridges: one heads to the airport and the other heads to the northeastern corner. We took the latter and found ourselves bumping along on a dirt road, with vistas of waterfalls and plunging canyons, and with lots of birdsong. There are no snakes or poisonous insects in the Marquesas so we felt fine tramping off into the forest edges, stopping to visit with the roaming horses and wild goats, and wandering through ancient villages.

Ruins

 

A few days later, we hoisted anchor and set sail around the eastern shore of the island, bound for Anaho Bay. Anaho is a spectacular, protected bay on the north shore. Apparently, Robert Louis Stevenson wrote pages eulogizing its beauty; we’ll have to find that when we’re back in Heath.

Coming to Anaho Bay

Anaho Bay

 

Anaho Bay is the first place where we’ve come across several kids boats. Gavin has had a wild time playing with kids in the water on kayaks and floaties. We don’t seem too worried about the Black Tip sharks swimming about nearby.

A 30 minute trek along the shore and over a small pass takes us to a farm where we are able to buy more fruits and vegetables. We have a long talk with the farmers about how they make a living and what weather and pest challenges they face on the farm.

Maria's Farm

Taiohae Fishermen

 

We stay a few days in the Bay before heading back to Taiohae and plans for one more stop on Nuku Hiva: Daniel’s Bay.

Manta Rays in Taiohae

 

Above is a photo of Manta Rays in Taiohae Bay that we took from our tender.  As we left for Daniel’s Bay, out boat was surrounded by them.  We’ve since learned that when they travel in long processions, it is in preparation for mating.

There is a 2 hour hike  in Daniel’s Bay that brings one to the 3rd largest waterfall in the world!  Gavin here could not help finding every rock and cave to climb and explore.

Gavin at the waterfall near Daniel's Bay

 

 

 

 

Nuka Hiva, Marquesas

Nuku Hiva, Marquesas

 

Taiohae Bay. We’ve read about it in such classics as Melville’s Typee, and Jack London’s Voyage of the Snark. Here we are, anchored in this large, crescent bay surrounded by steep, lush mountains. This, or one of the other Marquesan islands, is welcome landfall for many tired sailors hailing from Panama, like ourselves, or Mexico, or even Hawaii.

 

Nuku Hiva is the hopping off point for Bri and Rob, who plan to make their way across the Pacific by boat-hopping. We’ll miss their willingness to dive in, work, and get dirty (or just extremely salty!), their readiness to play games and laugh over a joke, and their good cooking! (Connor will also miss Bri’s guitar!) We shared a huge experience together as 7 people in a small, pitching vessel out of sight of land for over a month. We wish them well on their journey, wherever it may take them, and look forward to following their stories at their website onthehorizonline.com

 

Nuku Hiva is also where our new crew member, Chuck Dayton, joins us. Chuck has done a lot of sailing in different parts of the world. He is also a diver and photographer and will be photo-documenting much of our journey forward and themes of climate change in the South Pacific. He is also preparing blog reports for the Minnesota Chapter of the Sierra Club. Chuck was drawn to Llyr’s mission and will be on expedition with us for about 8 weeks until we reach Tonga. During his time aboard Llyr, he will also train to become a Pacific Reef Check Eco Diver.

 

We’ll spend some time here in Nuku Hiva, exploring this beautiful island, before heading on to the Tuamotus.

 

Connor's Graduation at Sea

Crossing the Equator

Apologies for blogs out of order! Some things seem to jump ahead of others.

Crossing the equator is considered a big event for mariners. As we approached the latitude of 0 degrees 00 minutes 00 seconds, we tried to figure out what would be most celebratory and appropriate for our crew.  Bri made a cheesecake with strawberries (instant and canned, respectively, but still yummy) and we each wrote a poem based on the word “Equator”.  Sailors often toss a little champagne overboard, but it seemed appropriate in our case to share a little maple syrup with the sea!  (Pictures to follow) Bri and I each wrote poems and you can read hers at their blog. Below is my eeffort.  The reference to the green noodles concerns another boat making the crossing, on which the father cooked some spaghetti, colored it green and wore it as if he were King Neptue. !

“Counting down: degrees, minutes, seconds of latitude. Oddly, not unlike the centimeters, hours and minutes of labor and childbirth, both mystical rites of passage involving waves and dizziness.

A slow approach to that spherical line of balance between
north and south
night and day,
a point of encounter,
a Maginot line of wind effects

Where King Neptune awaits intrepid mariners who pay him homage, in return for safe passage in a new hemisphere.

Salute the King!
Don green spaghetti and wave your trident!
Tip your bubbly overboard!

Llyr spills the sweet blood of our Heathen trees back to the sea from which it came,
as we feast on cheesecake and strawberries.

In a flash, the degrees, minutes and seconds begin to climb again as we cast ourselves forward to 3000 miles of open ocean and promised, distant landfall.”

 

Somewhere In the South Pacific

The Galapagos Islands lie 12 days behind us, or over 1500 nautical miles. Ahead of us, roughly the same distance, are the Marquesas, an island group in French Polynesia and the setting for Herman Melville’s first book, part novel/part autobiography, Typee: A Peep at Polynesian Life.  Rowan, Brooks and I have been reading it during our voyage and sharing Melville’s rich descriptions of the landscape we’re longing to see.  It is strange to think that Melville lived in Pittsfield MA, not far from our farm in Heath, not long after visiting these islands. 

I’m on an early morning watch – 4 to 6 – aboard RV Llyr. The pre-dawn sky is filled with stars, including the Southern Cross, and Llyr’s bow wave sparkles with bioluminescence. We’re sailing the trade winds of the southern hemisphere in Force 5 winds on the Beaufort scale, or 18-24 mph. Our vessel seems to be flying as 12ft following seas lift Llyr up to surf the waves. We make 6-7 knots or about 150 nautical miles per day, crossing the vast 4000 mile expanse between Central America and French Polynesia.

We’re underway for our second year of this Ridge-to-Reef expedition.  RV Llyr wintered over in Panama while we returned to Heath to run our maple farm and markets. The northern Spring’s melting snow found us back aboard Llyr, preparing her for the significant passages of 2013 – 7000 nautical miles from Panama to Fiji via the Panama Canal, Galapagos, French Polynesia, Cook Islands, and Tonga – and the variety of projects we have planned for our landfalls across the South Pacific.

We started this Ridge-to-Reef expedition as a response to calls from scientists and other observers who are documenting and witnessing dramatic changes underway in Earth’s oceans. Loss of species, overfishing, warming temperatures and changing weather patterns, acidification, rising sea levels, pollution, dead zones: the list is grim. Half of the air we breath comes from photosynthesizing plankton; the oceans drive atmospheric conditions and shape our continental weather; billions of people, directly and indirectly, depend upon the sea to feed them. Despite all these benefits and the fact that Earth is, in fact, more water planet than terrestrial, human commitment to ocean conservation lags far behind land concerns. So, out here, in the middle of this Southern Ocean, with little evidence of culture or human-kind, I’m taking the opportunity to explore at least one person’s efforts to engage the sea.

Truthfully, it is a challenge. Mariner accounts often describe this run from Galapagos to Marquesas as one of the most idyllic sails on the planet with tradewinds on a ship’s quarter and reliable weather. Set a rhumb line, find a star, and follow them southwest to the towering volcanic mountains of Nuku Hiva. In fact, we’ve had difficulty aligning Llyr with the winds and sea state. Most days, we’ve found ourselves rocking dramatically from side to side on lumpy, confused seas with swell that has built up to 15 feet in 15 to 20 knot winds that are not quite at the right angle. As a result, I often feel closely identified with Mark Twain who said that being on a boat is like being in prison, with a chance of drowning!

As I grapple with this discomfort and the queasiness that often accompanies it, I’m thinking of lessons to be learned and analogies to be drawn. Aboard Llyr, we must often change course to accommodate wind and wave. Is it possible for human kind to respond to the oceans and change our course before it is too late? I spend a lot of time longing for a still horizon, earth beneath my feet, colors beyond this pallet of blues, whites and greys. Everything is salt-encrusted: the deck, our bedding, the dishes, my skin. Is it possible for me to be an ocean advocate when I also feel kind of miserable? Out here, the ocean really does feel vast and so much more powerful than we humans; surely it must be safe from our influence? And yet, we know it is otherwise.

Someone once wrote: “The sky starts at your feet. Think how brave you are to walk around.” Today, the ocean also starts beneath my feet, miles deep with all manner of life and landforms I cannot see. Each morning, small squid and flying fish litter the deck, having leaped to their deaths on the only firm surface for thousands of miles around. Pods of dolphins regularly visit and ride Llyr’s bow wave. The other day, an Orca, or killer whale,came alongside Llyr to investigate. We watched in awe as the Orca moved around us in crystal clear waters and went beneath the boat several times, turning on its side to gaze upwards to see if we were of further interest. Red footed Boobies have landed on deck, riding out the night tightly gripping Llyr’s plunging bowrail while they sleep, while one weary bird, a Christmas Shearwater, landed unceremoniously on Connor’s foot in the midst of a squall, threw up fish, and spent the night sitting next to us, having made its choices between risks. Like that bird, I hold tight to those moments when I have trust in this rugged steel vessel to bear me along safely. Then I can know that Llyr is not really a prison but a means to carve a path across these waters so that I might learn more about this amazing planet and share this knowledge with others.

Article that appeared in the Shelburne Falls Independent newspaper

The following article written by Janis was published in the Shelburne Falls Independent.  It offers a summary of our research in Haiti and Costa Rica.

From Hilltown ridges to Caribbean reefs: part 2

On April 27th, our family left Salem harbor, Massachusetts aboard our research vessel Llyr, a 53′ sailing ketch, on the first leg of a ridge-to-reef expedition. The “ridge” component of this expedition references our farm in Heath where, for the past 14 years, we have been building and operating Berkshire Sweet Gold maple farm as a family-scale, direct-market agroforestry. The farm has grown into a successful business, and yet we are well aware that our forest is changing and our ecosystem faces new threats. Combining our experience as farmers with our social science training, we are drawn to the growing field of social entrepreneurs who develop new market models that seek innovative solutions to pressing social and environmental problems. Over the years the farm has come to function with a simple overriding mission: to design direct market structures for harvesters, processors and consumers of foods from wild, perennial zones which are better insulated from destructive commodity markets-of-scale and more able to stabilize or build biocultural diversity.

 

The “reef” component of this expedition concerns our interest in working on behalf of tropical coastal communities and coral reef regions. Coral reefs are arguably the most biodiverse habitats on the planet, similar to rainforests. Among the many aesthetic, scientific, and economic benefits they provide, they are considered nurseries for much of the ocean’s fisheries thereby feeding millions of people worldwide. However, coral reefs and our oceans at large face many threats. In the past 35 years, an estimated 85% of coral reefs in the Caribbean have died. Because many of the world’s reefs are located in poor countries, all too often environmental protection and alleviation of poverty are posed as dichotomous interests. This false dichotomy is exactly where we seek to target our work and research.

 

Fewer Fish, Smaller Fish

Our voyage has taken us from Salem, to Bermuda, Dominican Republic, Haiti, the offshore islands of Colombia, Panama and Costa Rica. Throughout this journey, we have been exploring common threads of economic pressures on biocultural diversity. Following our certification as Reef Check Trainers in the Dominican Republic with marine biologist Dr. Ruben Torres, we sailed on to Haiti where we volunteered Llyr, crew and dive services to work with Reef Check surveying the southern coastline. Reef Check (RC) is a non-profit working in 90 countries measuring reef health and supporting conservation efforts. Working with Dr Greg Hodgson, RC’s executive director, and two of his associates, we were investigating the coastal reefs of Haiti for the potential establishment of marine protected areas. Readers will be familiar with many of the tragedies that the people of Haiti are dealing with. You may be less aware that a significant percentage of the population depends upon fish for food and income, and yet fish stocks are seriously depleted and a typical fisher’s catch is now much reduced and consists of undersize, juvenile fish. Scientific research has proven that marine protected areas help revitalize fish populations; however around the world, many MPAs have failed to thrive because they have not been established in participation with local communities, have ignored local knowledge, and have offered no alternative means of livelihood.

 

Ile A Vache, Haiti

On Ile a Vache, a small, hill-covered island off the southern coast of Haiti, dozens of small communities subsist on fisheries and the sale of mangoes to the nearby city of Les Cayes. Ile a Vache is surrounded by reefs and our surveys discovered that many of them still have some vitality. There are a couple of small “resorts” that cater mostly to wealthy Haitians and workers with non-profits and UN personnel who need a break. There is no public electricity on the island, no cars and no roads.

 

Ile a Vache is also home to L’Oeuvre Saint Francois, an orphanage and school run by Sister Flora Blanchette, a French Canadian who has spent the last 35 years on the island. Some people who have met Sister Flora and learned of her works compare her to Mother Theresa. She radiates passion and pragmatism, with an eye towards what is necessary for her community to grow and flourish. We brought school supplies, powdered milk, and our youngest son contributed a collection of Legos. Sister Flora sat down with us to tell us of the challenges that she and the island communities face.

Our visit took place on a rainy day after a long dry spell. We walked several miles along the coastline and through the hills on slick, mud-heavy paths to reach the orphanage. We met many villagers along the way as it was market day on the island. People were selling their produce, livestock, fish-traps, and supplies like candies and toiletries brought from the mainland. At the orphanage, Sister Flora was glad for the rain to fill the water cisterns, but concerned because cholera thrives in rain and the cooler temperatures it brings. In December, she lost 6 children to cholera.

 

The orphanage and school receive little help from the government. Sister Flora is grateful for charitable contributions she receives to continue with her mission, but she is less in favor of charity as a way to help the communities of Ile a Vache and Haiti overall. It comes down to economics, she stressed. People need to earn their living in meaningful and sustainable ways and she is well aware that the fisheries are in trouble. While Sister Flora’s hands are full with her operations, she spoke of her vision of bringing pistachio farming to the area, a crop with strong intrinsic artisanal value that keeps and transports well. She was in full agreement with us that innovative, locally-based, and socially and environmentally responsible markets are necessary for the region and are the only way that the community could work collaboratively with the creation of a marine protected area where fishing would be off-limits.

 

Critical choices for Haiti’s future

Haiti has been characterized as the republic of NGOs. There is no question that Haiti is in a real mess and a lot needs to change; sadly, there are a plethora of projects introduced by NGOs that lie strewn about the country with broken parts, abandoned goals, and people still suffering from a lack of basic provisions . Means of subsistence are most sustainable if they come with long term vision that supports biocultural diversity. An example of just the opposite is occurring in the northern Haitian town of Caracol. There, in a region formerly slated for a marine protected area, the government, in concert with USAID, has opted to remove local farmers from the land and build a massive compound of factories for sale to offshore businesses. Promising tax free business, cheap labor ($3.25 a day!) and weak environmental regulation, the development is being marketed to Haitians as a tremendous opportunity. But already, there is plenty of social and biological evidence that this commodity of scale action has little sustainable development to offer Haiti and Haitians in the long run. The United States is putting 25% of its aid to Haiti into this unfortunate project.

 

Creating Responsible Fisheries in Costa Rica

Further on in our expedition and in a very different setting, we had the opportunity to visit with an artisanal fisheries project that is working actively to build responsible and sustainable practices for their community. Tarcoles is a small fishing town located on the central Pacific coast of Costa Rica. Costa Rica enjoys a reputation as a premier eco-tourism destination and as a safe and pleasant place to retire. They have an extensive national park system and have successfully promoted their green image abroad. In fact, marine conservation is a fairly recent concern in Costa Rica, and published research has shown that the established MPAs are not achieving their goals. Local communities report that they have not been consulted in project development, have no co-management opportunities and see no economic benefit coming their way.

 

CoopeTarcoles is the last remaining fisheries cooperative in Costa Rica that is pursuing an integrated model that supports both biological and cultural sustainability. Seeking consultative and technological support from a professional organization called Coopesolidar that aims to empower these types of community projects throughout Costa Rica, the town has developed a dynamic model. The government granted them an experimental protected fisheries zone from which industrial shrimp trawlers were excluded and which stipulates subzones for specific artisanal fishing methods (eg long lines, nets, diving). The cooperative has allowed the community to cut out the middle men and secure a better price for their catch; they have found innovation and greater resilience in managing their resources and understanding how different practices improve or hinder their long term interests. They have built a modest and compelling fisheries-tourism model which offers visitors valuable knowledge about the processes and activities of bringing fish to the table.

 

Direct-markets for the public good

CoopeTarcoles is a great example of small-scale and locally-based economic development. Our visit was both educational and inspiring. We discussed with members of the cooperative where their next steps might lie. We observed that they had not yet made the conceptual and practical leap to move themselves more fully into a direct market model that would help protect them from commodities-of-scale that are never favorable to artisanal harvesters and their habitats. At this point, they continue to sell their fish at the same wholesale rates as the industrial producers. While they have improved their pricepoint by eliminating the middlemen, they are not yet securing a better price for the fish which should reflect their more sustainable practices.

 

Around the world, commodity markets have lengthened food chains, obscuring relationships between production and consumption. When consumers think of food more as product than process, their understanding of food as relating to particular communities and cultures, histories, economies and ecosystems is lost. Establishing a different pricepoint for their fish would reflect their efforts to rebuild and stabilize biocultural diversity in the Tarcoles region as a public good for all Costa Ricans.

Next month, CoopeTarcoles and its protected zones come before the Costa Rican government for review. There are powerful forces operating to remove the protected fisheries zone and allow the shrimp trawlers back in.

 

Biocultural Diversity & Social Entrepreneurs

Direct-market models will not solve the world’s problems, nor are commodities-of-scale about to defer to small-scale production. But increasingly, we hear stories of people around the world who recognize that both biological and cultural diversity must be built into our market prices wherever and whenever possible. The hidden costs of our industrial systems end up being paid by us all in the health of our communities and environment.

 

Berkshire Sweet Gold Maple & Marine is committed to this interlinked project from Ridge-to-Reef. Many people ask us how we can afford to undertake this activity. We are fortunate to have started with perennial forest farmland as a family resource, and from that we have been able to build a successful family-scale agriculture (EDIT) that is now capable of supporting, through leveraged debt, the early phases of this expansion of our work and research. Like many Americans today, we have no retirement savings, no educational funds for our children, and our full share of indebtedness. In the near future, we must begin to see new ways to recover some of the costs of this pursuit or fail. Jumping in before insuring we are well and fully resourced is part of our commitment to the larger goals, and part of what defines this as a social entrepreneurial effort.

 

Social entrepreneurs are growing in numbers worldwide such that they are now generally recognized as sharing several characteristics. In their book, The Power of Unreasonable People: How Social Entrepreneurs Create Markets that Change the World, (Harvard Business School Press, 2008), authors John Elkington and Pamela Hartigan’s list includes the following:

Social entrepreneurs

  • Identify and apply practical solutions to problems, combining innovation, resourcefulness and opportunity.
  • Focus first and foremost on social value creation and, in that spirit, are willing to share their innovations and insights for others to replicate.
  • Jump in before ensuring that they are fully resourced (See above!)
  • Have an unwavering belief in everyone’s innate capacity, often regardless of education, to contribute meaningfully to economic and social development.
  • Show a dogged determination that pushes them to take risks that others wouldn’t dare.

We are inspired by countless examples of people worldwide and we hope to contribute in our small ways to supporting realistic and visionary efforts to preserve and enhance biocultural diversity. To learn more about these projects, ways that you can become involved or trained, and the expedition’s blog, please visit www.berkshiresweetgold.com and let us know what you think

[vimeo]http://vimeo.com/31113926[/vimeo]

 

Bocas Town and Marina, Panama

With little rest from our night threading our way through lightening, we came towards Bocas del Toro in the daylight hours, racing more storms. As we entered the channel to Almirante Bay, the weather was upon us with blinding rain and winds gusting above 20 knots. Fortunately, we could see the depths were good and the bay was large enough for us to move about while keeping well away from any shoreline, as well as the many small motor launches and boats working the bay despite the weather.

 

The weather cleared fairly quickly, however, and we were able to drop anchor just off the town. The port captain found us and told us to stay put until he returned with the various officials for our check-in to Panama. However, staying put turned out to be a little harder done than said. Though we had made two attempts to set our anchor, we appeared to be dragging and we were now concerned that there wasn’t good holding for our 30 tons, especially given the winds we’d experienced upon arrival. We radioed Bocas Marina while awaiting the port captain’s return and arranged to come in to the dock once we’d cleared in.

 

Brooks has become a real master at bringing Llyr into tight docking spaces. From Salem to Bermuda’s customs and fuel docks, to a crazy-tight spot between megayachts in Casa de Campo, DR, to bow-in at Boca Chica, and now a narrow slip in Panama right next to the mangroves: at each site he has deftly maneuvered Llyr into place with nary a bump (this includes the time our motor died as we were coming off the dock in Casa de Campo because our idle was set too low!).

 

Anyway, we settled in for the weekend at Bocas marina, anticipating Connor’s friend Tess’ arrival one week hence, doing laundry, getting to know Bocas town, and preparing for our trip to Costa Rica. Bocas is a small town experiencing oversized tourism. A popular backpackers’ destination, it is also a big surfing mecca as well. The town seems to be experiencing some growing pains as it makes adjustments to the influx.

 

By Monday, we’d decided to leave Llyr at the dock for the month of July while we traveled inland. Looking forward to the next steps of the expedition, we were struck by tragic and frightful news. A sailboat at the anchorage just off the marina (where we had tried to drop anchor a few days before) had been boarded by two men in the middle of the night. The couple on board, who are in their sixties, were tied up and the wife was violently assaulted. As the news spread around the community, everyone was horrified by this brutal attack. The expat and cruising communities quickly came together to raise funds for a reward. One man has since been taken into custody and the second man has been identified but is still at large. Aboard Llyr, we moved into a highly defensive and alert mode. It took some time for us to recover our equilibrium and feel that we and Llyr could be relatively safe here.

 

On a brighter note, we’ve met some great people here in Bocas and had the opportunity to learn a lot, from how to transit the Panama Canal and sail the Pacific, to gaining new tips on boat maintenance. Among this cast of self-sufficient and knowledgeable characters is Chris. Chris sailed here from Mexico aboard a Polynesian outrigger sailing canoe he built himself, known as a Pacific Flying Proa and named Desesperado. It has no bow or stern; rather Chris can “shunt” the sail from end to end so that he does not have to tack. Chris has ideas of traveling all the way to Brazil. It is a beautiful craft and we’ve all enjoyed a turn aboard. More than that, we enjoy Chris’ sharp wit and philosophical musings. Below are some photos of Desesperado.