Activities of 16th and 17th March are in outlined in an earlier bulletin, published on the web site www.grainofsand.org.uk as number 14. This update includes material omitted from that earlier bulletin, starting with some of Tom Goreau's comments following his early morning dive to assess the state of corals at Saya.
"It is not as vibrant as many reefs" he says. "The nutrient levels are too high here for many corals. Indeed, what here we have right here, with less than 50% coral cover, is more accurately described as a coral community rather than a reef. But marginal areas like this one, protected by upwelling [of cooler waters]…are likely to make it [through the massive die-off that is happening world wide]… There's a lovely variety of fish here, but they are not present in large numbers: this could not be significant fisheries resource.
"I was sorry to see that a lot of the larger corals that were alive last time [the 1997 expedition] are now dead. Porites species, which are usually the last to die, are affected by disease. In general, diseases are more advanced than on our last visit.
"This is part of a pattern we've tracked across the Pacific and the Indian oceans over the last twenty years - a complex of four or five [new] diseases which is spreading fast…No one knows why it is happening. In the case of Saya and other very remote areas, it's unlikely to be pollution …[but] I suspect there is ultimately a human link, something we're doing that increases the mutation rate of pathogens…The trouble is that by the time we recognise the symptoms, much less identify the pathogen, the [new] disease is everywhere and its origins cannot be traced.
Tom concludes: "The state of the corals [on this part of Saya] is similar to that on the outer islands of the Seychelles. [The good news is that] it is much healthier than most things you see in the Indian Ocean or indeed the Caribbean".
After lunch, Frank leads a dive team to extract cores from the seabed. Working with Roman and Hartmut, he takes two samples. The area where they drill has a calcareous layer three to five [?] centimetres (2 to 3 inches) thick on top of a layer of compacted sand. This kind of substrate could present problems for securing a large structure. Gravity alone may have to do the job.
Caroline and Gaby, accompanied by Steve and I, conduct a biodiversity survey in the area around the old structure. In well under half an hour Caroline and Gaby log the following species. Corals: Montipora digitata, pocillopora verucosa, platygyra daedalea, acropora humilis, favia favus, pocillopora verucosa, stychodatlya martensi, stychodatlya haddoni, favites abdita and montipora (bleached). Fish: tridacua maxima, linctis laerigata, arothron hispidus, zandus cornalus, scarus sordidus, chaetodor sp., chromis dimitiada and chrysiplera unimaculata.
On the Orphee Wolf decides to start building base units for the new structure. His design calls for three box frame steel base units 2m long and 1.5m high. Three legs are to rise from this base to a central tower emerging from the water.
Towards the end of the afternoon, as the air temperature abates, work on the base units begins on the foredeck of the Orphee. At the same time, the Orphee recommences transects of the seabed, sailing up and down over an area some one kilometre square. Moving through the water actually gives the boat a steadier rolling motion, making work marginally easier than when the Orphee lies at anchor.
Gaby, Roman and Frank, who are among the most experienced metal workers in the team, cut sections of the thick steel angled lengths to two and one and a half metres using a rotating grinding blade.
This produces a lot of noise and great showers of sparks that cascade across the deck. Two generators running on the front and rear deck of Orphee for the air-compressor to recharge the diving bottles and for the welding machine. Orphee's engine is running too.
Around us, the most breath-taking sunset unfolds in complete silence. The light sinks into incredible glory and silence while eight or nine of us on the Orphee make our own little world: not much more than forty feet long - a grinding, pounding, roaring, choking little speck, brightly lit up beneath an indifferent canopy of stars.
We work until about eight. But the carbarundum discs used for cutting the steel are wearing out, and no-one can find the spare sets even though every corner on the boat has been turned upside down (the log book listing where items are stored has gone missing).
We stop for vegetable curry. Orphee anchors for the night. Work begins again at around ten and goes on beyond midnight, using the last of the blades. The wisest team members go back to the other boats to sleep, but some, aided by excellent rum, stay up much of the rest of the night talking about everything from octopi at a lab at the University of Texas which learnt to unscrew the lids of jars with food inside to how German guerrilla warfare in East Africa in World War One broke new ground.
At about two am a rough windy squall drags the Orphee. The anchor makes a horrible tearing and creaking sound over the sea bed. In heavy rain, we get drenched pulling up the chain by hand and relocating the boat at a safer distance from Vaka-Lele and Ceres.
Caspar Henderson
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