Volunteer, Fiji Marine Conservation Project, July-Aug 2003
Added to website: 05 January 2005
Why save the reefs? Because they support more than a third of all known fish species? Because they are a crucial source of food and income to some of the world’s poorest nations? There are a million scientific and economic reasons, and they are all valid. But when I ask myself ‘why?’ ultimately it is because a coral reef is arguably the most beautiful environment on the planet.
Coral Cay Conservation (CCC) is an international, not-for-profit organisation at the cutting edge of ecotourism, sending teams of volunteers to survey some of the world’s most endangered coral reefs in Fiji, Malaysia, Honduras and the Philippines. The data I was going to collect in Fiji would form part of an official report to the government recommending marine areas for protection.
I had a month’s leave from work and headed to the tiny island of Qalito. On the horizon, waves were breaking against the outer reef. Inside the sheltered atoll, the turquoise water was flat and so clear you could see the abundant coral below.
Science training lasted two weeks and had us working our way through sponges and invertebrates to corals and fish. There was a huge number of target species that we would have to be able to identify underwater in order to map the areas of highest biodiversity. There were also important indicator species that signal sewage and other pollutants in the water.
Each lecture was followed by a dive. For my first lesson on sponge identification, I was buddied up with the science officer on the house reef. Ten metres from shore our path was blocked by a line of 40 squid. They flashed silver as they shifted with the surge. We hovered and watched until they turned in unison and pulsed into the blue.
Shortly after descending, Babs, the resident barracuda loomed towards us with a menacing grin while across the ledge a large stingray was burrowing into the sand, hoovering up invisible plankton. In the crevice of a massive coral, barely distinguishable but for an orange eye and slight pulsing of soft flesh, an octopus lay in wait for its prey. This was why I was here - I had the South Pacific as my training ground.
Camp life however was not all sun, sea and wetsuits. By the end of the second week I was exhausted. Between exams, revision, chores and diving there was little down time and the island is so small that you could never entirely escape. Our days started at 5.30am, preparing porridge by candlelight for 25 people. And by 9pm when the generator was turned off, most of us were in bed.
There were some things I would never get used to, such as showering in half a bucket of cold water every other day, burning rats caught overnight, a non-flushing toilet, ants in the sugar and mosquito bites. Getting up got harder and the water felt colder. However, Saturday was reserved for recreational diving, there was a party to celebrate the end of exams and I had also been chosen to work as part of a small group on a satellite survey off Bounty Island, where we would be diving several pristine reefs, inaccessible to the tourist crowds.
Bounty Island was my real introduction to the Fijian community. The island was tiny, little more than a sandbank, crowned with lush vegetation. We shared it with the 15 staff that ran the small backpacker lodge. As part of CCC we were neither guests nor staff but got to experience the best of both worlds: steak medium rare, and Kava ceremonies in the staff quarters.
Kava is a traditional drink central to Fijian culture. It is made from plant roots and tastes slightly soily. It looks even less appetising - a muddy brown mix which has to be continually swilled to keep the sediment from settling. The ‘ceremony’ goes as follows: Clap once with cupped hands, take the cup say ‘bula’ (a Fijian greeting), empty it while co-drinkers clap three times, say vinaka (thank you), hand the cup back and clap twice.
The effect is said to be akin to taking amphetamine and smoking a joint at the same time but the only effects I experienced were a numb tongue and nausea. Our skipper, Api, was worse for wear. Even antacid was not enough to sort him out and he spent half the next day asleep on the boat.
Survey work and report-writing began in earnest on Bounty Island. I carried out two dives a day and experienced some of the most breath-taking reefs, the memories of which still fill me with emotion.
I also witnessed man’s destruction first-hand. Dead, grey reefs smothered by sediment, corals ravaged by disease. A sewage outlet from one of the neighbouring islands was responsible. In turn they had created a self-perpetuating problem for themselves. Every morning, the beach had to be trawled with a huge net, hauling in tons of algae washed-up with the tide. It was then put on a barge and dumped at sea. Ironically, this island bills itself as an eco-tourism destination.
Would I do it again? Yes without a doubt. The scope of my diving has changed. I have a greater appreciation of the underwater world. Instead of seeing ‘pretty’ fish, I can now differentiate and name them; I understand feeding habits and symbiotic relationships. I have a greater respect for the reef environment knowing the kind of damage a misplaced fin can wreak. I gained a special insight into the colourful and warm Fijian culture and shared experiences with new friends. Ultimately, I have played a small part in conserving some of the most beautiful reefs on Earth.
ZOE MURPHY
