Kelpscape

Oatgrass Meadow on Santa Cruz

It's hard to believe that the grass in this image is an invasive species, but I believe it's oatgrass, native to Europe.  It's interesting to think about what this scene looked like before oatgrass grew here.  The oatgrass made good pasture for generations of sheep: I think of the sheepherding operations here on Santa Cruz Island, which TC Boyle described convincingly in When the Killing's Done. I'm not sure what, if any, animals depend on it now. It's hard to answer the question: if we want to turn the clock back for the island ecosystem, when should we set it?  What species deserve to stay here, and which must die out?  It seems to me that the ones that exist only here, or are extremely rare, deserve to stay. Species that other species depend upon deserve special consideration. Species that are so common that they choke out others should be trimmed back. And from my perspective, survival of a species is more important than survival of an individual.

Refugio Beach

Refugio Beach is the most entertaining and accessible cove along the Gaviota Coast -- for both scuba divers and ocean creatures. I learned to beach dive there, but after more than 200 dives at Refugio, I still see something new on every dive. Every day the ocean presents a new episode of its eternal serial drama, in which each scene quickly gives way to another, introducing new actors to meet with the old ones.

As I learned to dive, I began to recognize the players on California's ocean stage: sea slugs with electric blue margins and orange tufts, fractal-mouthed burrowing clams, anemones of all sizes and colors, all amidst forests of kelp and meadows of eelgrass. I noticed changes from year to year. A dozen angel sharks assembled beyond the rocky reef, the next year swell sharks gathered, and the next jellyfish flowed through. One year the gray whales migrated near shore, and one surprised me with its blasted exhalation when I surfaced. Lizardfish were common early on; they reappeared only years later. Cormorants zipped past me underwater. A wolf eel moved in for awhile, far south of his typical range. Refugio Beach contains an ever-changing variety of sea life.

Over 12 years, I've noticed trends within the many fluctuations: an erosion in the amount of kelp, increases in the area of completely bare reef, and a decline in sizes and numbers of fish. Lobsters-large and common on my first dives-are gone. Urchins are more plentiful, the kelp thinner. Indeed, records and photos from a half-century ago show that kelp is much thinner, and that many fish once plentiful, such as sheepshead, are now gone from Refugio; although they still thrive in the marine reserves in the Channel Islands.

We are affecting the ocean -- as we have been for generations -- and we have the power to change it more. We can't ensure the survival of individual ocean creatures, and some species may be beyond recovery; but the ocean has tremendous powers of regeneration. We can set free those powers.

This description of Refugio Beach was written for Marc Shargel's upcoming book, "Wonders of the Sea: The Southern California Coast".