Research Adapts Itself to Weather Conditions!

Tues, Feb. 24
All night long the wind blew strong and true down the long reach of the Atlantic to the north shore of San Salvador island. I even had to lower the windows in my bedroom! This morning awoke with a sky gray with towering clouds, and white caps scudded along in the bay and beyond. Instead of underwater work (under murky and surgey conditions), we explored the terrestrial neighborhood. There are many unique and unspoiled natural features here.
First we visited the rainwater catchment system that supplies the research center (and community) with the best water in Bahamas. Long ago, when the research center was built as an army base, they paved about 3 acres of a land basin to catch and funnel rainwater into tanks. Several years ago 3 new tanks were installed, each with a different filtration system, so by the time the water comes through the taps, it actually tastes pretty good! Guarding the basin (now bone dry) is a handsome pair of osprey and their huge nest. We have seen them winging by with fish in talons, and I love their distinctive calls to each other in the morning.
To reach one of the super salty lakes, we pushed our way through a trail into the scrubby brush. There one can find a few interesting wasps, butterflies, birds, and evidence of the wild cattle that hide out in the bush. The plant life is quite different from our familiar oak grasslands. Almost every plant has thick, waxy leaves that help it conserve moisture during the long dry periods. As with most places on Earth, invasive exotic plants are gaining a foothold – in this case most markedly the “Australian pine”, otherwise known as “Casaurina sp.”. The problem is poses is that it is a water hog, and of course, being from Australia, has no natural predators to keep its spread in check.
We were startled and delighted to come upon a large cactus grove, and I wonder if they flower at night for the benefit of the bats that reside in nearby caves. Guess who greeted us at the lakes ( 3x as salty as the ocean)? Mangrove trees propped up on their spreading roots, stripey snails leaving trails in the mud, flat dark oysters clinging in clumps, mossy soft emerald green algae. I will show you my pictures when I return. Although the water was clear, nobody was particularly tempted to swim.
After lunch, I hiked the beach and then climbed the layered cliffs (you kids would have been scrambling all over!) to the top of a long ridge that separates our bay from the open reach of the Atlantic. There is nothing so exhilarating as coming over an innocent grassy hill, to find the white caps and curling waves sparkling on a surging deep marine blue on into the horizon. Islands and evidence of shipwrecks punctuated the dramatic scene. I followed a trail to the end of the point, where a “cut” of water separates the point from islands beyond. I imagined you all with me, at this intersection of land and sea, feeling the immensity and grandeur of our precious planet Earth!

Weds, Feb. 25
We loaded up the truck and headed to the south end of the island, where we hoped the winds and surge would be less forceful, to a deserted beach on French Bay. Back in our teams, we headed out with the frames and tally sheets to continue our “cover type surveys”. Here we mourned over the loss of the once huge and glorious elkhorn corals, whose skeletons now serve as mute reminders. They are providing the substrate (new hard material to attach onto) for many soft and hard corals. Although there was a lot of surge (it was hard to keep the frame and our bodies in one place), we took turns recording the data and free diving, looking for fish. Perhaps because of the conditions, fish viewing was not as productive as the reef could provide in calmer times. Afterwards, beachcombing for shells and coral skeletons, and plant appreciation resulted in some corny photos. You’ll see.
Later we explored a rocky shoreline that was riddled with blowholes and dramatic sculptured cliffs. The waves rolled in and exploded with a zillion drops of spray launched upwards, outwards. Tiny snails cling on in the tidepools, sea caves are undercut, salt crystals glint in small holes as the sun evaporates the moisture left behind. I couldn’t help but compare it to Natural Bridges State Beach down in Santa Cruz. There, being on the mainland, we have a lot more birds, surfers, and other forms of wildlife.

Thanks for checking in and I’m so sorry that I am not able to post pictures, but I will add plenty when I return. I’m hoping to Skype chat with at least a few classes on Thursday, and/or Friday! Meanwhile, my students, keep caring for and observing the trout alevin, the goldfish and pond snails, and be your best inquisitive and cooperative selves with Ms. Suther.

Your teacher on distant shores, Ms. Ann Brown