Reef Wisdom
When I was a kid growing up in Malibu, I used to love going to the tide pools with my dad and our dog when the tide at Trancas Point was at its lowest. Even when I got older and didn’t need my dad to get there anymore, I still continued visiting on my own to pick up sea stars and walk through the caves that were exposed at low tide.
At the time, I remember wondering what would happen to this spot if nobody came to visit it. If nobody took the long walk down Broad Beach past all the big houses to appreciate the anemones and sea urchins and crabs, would they still exist? A very anthropocentric viewpoint, yes, but that’s admittedly what my ten-year-old brain was worried about.
Fast forward some years, after earning an environmental studies degree and writing more essays about the inherent value of nature than I can count, my perspective has of course matured. Today, though, I was reminded of that ten-year-old sense of wonderment as I was snorkeling in one of the most impressive spots I’ve ever visited, a reef off the coast of Zanzibar.
The water was warm and impossibly clear and the more creatures I spotted, the more other-worldly the whole setting seemed to be: the highlighter-bright flecks of pink, green, and yellow on a graceful fish as it zipped past; the sea anemones so big they look like they belong on another planet; a fish so effectively camouflaged into the white sand that its hard to imagine how any other creature could detect it.
Our Zanzibarian guide, a man named Captain Chicken (origin: his dad used to steal chickens from the villagers), was something of a sea warrior. He effortlessly darted around stalking an octopus and catching fish with his bare hands. His sea prowess is no surprise; during the high season, he told us, he’s out on the reef everyday. He also has 8 children, who I imagine eat some pretty good seafood every now and then.
Living in a place like London, where I’ve been for the past 6 months, it’s easy to think that humans have got this whole life-on-earth thing down. We have planes, trains, buses, iPhones, parks, Pret-a-Mangers, and Starbucks and we don’t need much else. We go to work and to meetings and read magazines and watch movies and meet friends for drinks and oh-my-god we’re all so busy. Even for someone like myself, an environmental writer who spends a lot of time thinking about the harm that humans cause, it’s so easy to forget that there’s a lot more to life on earth than what we see on a daily basis.
I find it reassuring to know that regardless of how the stocks close on Wall Street, what idiot Republican is running for president, or what the unemployment rate is, the happenings on this reef and the tide pools at Trancas Point continue undeterred. The trouble is though, it’s not a given that I’ll be able to take solace in that fact forever. Warmer sea temperatures, runoff, and increased sunlight are all things that do affect the reef, and they’re things that humans, both near and far, are causing at an ever-increasing rate.
I felt guilty today as we were approaching the reef on our dhow boat and then on foot, simply for the fact that we were causing disruption and harm ourselves. However, the benevolent reef gave me something magical in return, which I promise not to waste: a renewed sense of awe and appreciation for the natural world and a strengthened resolve to try and fix it.
