Drawing an important, but difficult line

One of the projects I’m participating in at the National Academies seeks to determine the extent of Ecosystem impact due to fishing and make recommendations about halting or reversing the damage. This has proven an interesting and complicated topic for a number of reasons.

For one thing, the volume of our global oceans dwarfs any scale we typically discuss, which makes it incredibly difficult to gather the requisite data. The five oceans (yes, 5…in 2000 the International Hydrographic Organization denoted the Southern Ocean which surrounds Antarctica and extends to 60 degrees latitude) cover 70% of the earth’s surface and dive to depths of over 36,000 feet. That’s an unimaginably vast region to monitor. Although satellites, an international fleet of research vessels, and unmanned buoys distributed in all corners of the globe constantly process information, it’s not even close to enough.

Then there’s the problem with data we do collect. Available information focuses on a few lucrative target species that can be gauged relatively accurately. Although this data seems mostly reliable, the preponderance of the information comes from the fisheries themselves, which presents the possibility of bias (although fisheries argue somewhat convincingly that they have an invested interest in maintaining a robust stock more than anyone, hence, why would they distort numbers to increase fish abundance). Regardless, these condition of these key fish stocks are known pretty well.

The impact on subspecies, non-target peripheral species, and non-fish marine life remains largely unknown, however. This occurs in a couple ways. For instance, the enormous nets used by commercial and industrial fisheries aren’t selective about which species they sweep up. Therefore, although a trawler in Northern California might only gather fish in an area known for high rockfish concentration, that doesn’t mean the rockfish will always swim there and it doesn’t mean the rockfish will exclusively swim there. Inevitably, many undesired lifeforms meet their demise in a confused tangle of net. Some choke themselves or slit their own throats on the netting, others are eaten in the melee, still others manage to escape but leave behind a crucial fin or an eye, thus leaving them prostrate to the brutal Darwinian forces operating in the seas. Those that don’t die on the boat are thrown back in an often mortally weakened state that basically guaruntees their imminent end. All these species perish to nobody’s benefit and most of them are not accounted for.

Beyond that, although the fish might escape the net, their habitat might not. Imperiled coral reefs, mangrove forests, and sediment beds constitute just a fraction of the habitat damage inflicted by these nets. Do you really think the fish will survive without that vital protection?

Then, there’s the clutter left behind: oil, nets, boats, ropes, pulleys, aluminum cans, drums, etc. etc.

Now, consider the cascading effect of severely diminishing one top-tier predator from the oceans. Blue marlin and swordfish, for example, once thrived in the central north Pacific, but their numbers plummeted in the second half of the 20th century. This allowed the small tuna population, the prey of those larger predators, to thrive. If given sunlight, the grass will grow. Or perhaps a fish species disappears the fed off the microscopic life at the ocean’s surface. Algae thrives, maybe to the point of taking over vast areas.

So does this constitute ‘damage’ to the ocean’s ecosystem, or is this just humans playing their role in evolution and natural selection. Sure, we kill off one species, but that means something else thrives. How do we decide if we should stop or even reverse an ecosystem (given the dubious argument that it is possible) and if so, to what former point on the temporal scale will be determine the pristine, wilderness ocean? If we do condone human invasion of the seas to gather nourishment where do we establish the cut-off point for such intervention and manipulation?

I don’t count myself among those promoting a complete withdrawal from the seas. I’ve fished before and I will happily fish again. My personal philosophy is that humans are another type of animal that uses primarily intellectual and technical ingenuity to subsist, rather than physical ability. Either way, we still need to consume to survive, just like any other animal. In reality, the gigantic net is only an extension of the spear. The exception, of course, being that the spear doesn’t kill things it doesn’t intend to kill. I think if you fish, then you should eat what you catch. I’d say the same about hunting. Therefore, I look forward to the advent of techniques that allow targeted fish, and only targeted fish, to be caught in humane ways.

By diversifying our diets and avoiding unnecessary and inhumane kills, I think we can move closer to impacting the ecosystem less while remaining realistic about the fact that we are member-crucial members-of this global community and will invariably leave our mark. We adjust to what we know, and if more types of cuisine passed down our throat, we’d realize there’s no reason to concentrate on just a few. This ensures that no species diminishes to the point of extinction. The important thing is that the consumer ultimately drives the market. If you disagree with the harvesting of a particular type of species, don’t eat it. If you think others should do the same, offer a convincing argument defending your position. Screaming at somebody won’t do the trick.

Lest this entry turn into a novel and cheap proselytizing, somebody put a muzzle on me. I’m running away to the wilds of Virginia for the weekend, so fare ye well. (ps. i wrote this kinda fast and gotta cruise so i apologize for any glaring grammatical mistakes, missed words, etc....also, as always, i apologize for myself in general)

Thoughts from a cubicle

The world teems with diversity, beauty, and adventure. The urban, the isolated. The tropical, the arctic. The mountains, the ocean depths. The desert, the rainforest. Russians, Salvadorians. Silicon Valley Nanotech, Barrow whaling. Bangkok, Rio de Janeiro, Jerusalem, Berlin, Shanghai, Moscow, Addis Ababa, Johannesburg, Nairobi, Tokyo, Paris, Buenos Aires, Kiev, Cairo, Mosul, Los Angeles, Sydney, London, Bombay, and on and on and on! I want to snake through the bazaars of Istanbul, swim through Vanuatu’s tropical waters, ride Japanese bullet trains, gaze upon the crystal reflection of an alpine Patagonian lake, and explore Tehran’s Persian treasures.

The Problem: All this requires money, equipment, savvy friends, visas, the end of wars, and time. Don’t get me wrong, I want all those quixotic schemes to come to fruition within my lifetime, but practicality demands careful planning, patience, and perseverance. Luckily, there’s hope for the meantime…

The truth: adventure is more a state of mind and less a plane ticket. Treasures tuck themselves away in the most unexpected, easily dismissed locales. This lesson drilled itself into my thick skull when my roommate and I drove up to rural Maryland this weekend to visit some friends. The couple who recently built their beautiful, modern retirement home on 8-acres led me out into the musty, insect-symphony night to showcase their hidden gem. Sitting there, not 30 feet from the house itself, was a cabin constructed over 150 years ago that they had used as a bucolic escape for years before building the new house. Those same sturdy planks offered protection from the elements to some family during the American Civil War! This unexpected historical find sits less than 40 miles away from my apartment in DC and I’m sure countless other rickety cottages dot the landscape around here.

Which finally brings me to the point: the stomping ground that I know and love best, the western US, cradles its own panoply of accessible rarities-especially natural rarities-many of which I’ve never thought to explore. Since nature is what the west does best, it came as no surprise when I discovered that six western states house the oldest known tree species in the world: the Bristlecone Pine (Pinus Longaeva).

It seems the Bristlecone Pine has managed to stave off competition hungry to enforce the Darwinian call for newer, stronger species by employing a number of self-protection techniques. Thriving at typical elevations between 10,000 and 11,000 feet, Bristlecones persist in circumstances other types of growth find uninhabitable. They survive on dolomite and alkaline soil layers that offer insufficient nutrients for most types of growth. Furthermore, they know how to protect themselves from each other. Loners for life, these ancient trees leave ample room between themselves, thus ensuring that lightening strikes normally only destroy small clumps of trees, instead of whole forests. Fire cannot jump the distance between trees and no ground cover serves to transfer the flames. Also, if damaged by fire, drought or storms, much of the bark and tissue that conducts water dies back, effectively reducing the nutrient load the tree must supply to tissue and balancing the result of the damage. It seems you learn a lesson or two over the course of millennia.

Mommy and daddy Bristlecone conceived the oldest known individual tree in the world, Methuselah, 4,789 years ago (it celebrated its 100th birthday when the Egyptian Pyramids were being contructed). Methuselah traveled much in its younger years but returned to the White Mountains of California to live its millennia out among relatives. Methuselah descended into a severe depression in 1964 after the US Forest Service allowed a geologist to cut down his older brother Prometheus. The geologist’s coring tool broke after passing 4,000 years and USFS decided finding out that Prometheus was 4,950 years old was more important than letting it live. USFS now strictly protects these venerable soldiers.

Moral of the story: something really interesting is probably really close.

It's a fact, it's a fact

The CIA's World Fact Book has effectively held me prisoner at different points in my life. Today, I once again collapsed under the pressure and fed my insidious addiction. Here's some interesting stuff:

• Macao became the first European settlement in the far-east when Portuguese sailors first colonized the area in the 1500’s. Today, this tiny country (actually, it’s the Macau Special Administrative Region of China) consisting of two small islands and the bottom tip of a peninsula jutting out from Southern China into the South China Sea houses the densest population concentration in the world; 449,198 people in an area 10% the size of Washington, DC. Ironically, the extremely affluent residents in Macau enjoy the second longest life expectancy in the world (82.12 yrs) behind Andorra (83.51 yrs, located between France and Spain)
• Liberia’s unemployment rate equals 85%
• Gauging by 2001 estimates, the United States consumes 19,650,000 billion barrels of oil per day, while the second and third highest consumers, the European Union and Japan, consume a collective 19,830,000 billion barrels/day. That means our consumption equals 99.09% of all those countries combined
• There are more cellular telephones registered in Hong Kong (7,241,400) than there are people (6,898,686)
• The HIV/AIDS figures in the south of Africa are staggering: 38.8% of the adult population in Swaziland (independent nation located between South Africa and Mozambique) contract the disease, 37.3% of the adults in Botswana, and 28.9% in Lesotho (tiny Kingdom completely enclosed by South Africa). The numbers go on and on in that region.
• The border between Ethiopia and Eritrea has yet to be firmly established in the wake of their 2 ½ year war that ceased in late 2000, which followed in the wake of a 30 year insurgency in Ethiopia that finally afforded Eritrea independence in 1993 (and all the coastline). Fun times in Eastern Africa.
• Canada holds the second largest proved oil reserves behind Saudi Arabia; our northern neighbor has obviously focused its concentration on Natural Gas considering it ranks 21st in proved NG reserves, yet produces more NG than any other country except Russia
• Russia is really big
• There’s an island named Jersey. That means something.

Anybody else have any choice factoids that the small, sad world reading Pop, not Soda simply must know?

poor, abandoned blog

life's been crazy and ebay blows. that's my explanation.

There’s an unmistakable perfume that permeates Portland air in the summer months. The dreary gray days have receded (mostly) into a winter memory and slow, sun baked lushness finally blossoms in all its glory. A verdant, fragrant, gorgeous city enjoys itself and the quality of life it offers it inhabitants. I had the opportunity to revisit this often overlooked gem in the pacific northwest last weekend that cradled me through college and its aftermath. A sizeable part of me wants it to remain overlooked, although judging by the Pearl District, north/NE Portland, and SE, I think that notion can be tossed out the window.

Besides attending an ideal summer wedding (congratulations Maria and Jason), checking out my brother’s james bondesque lab at nike, strolling through Saturday Market on the Willamette River, and eating at the greatest breakfast café ever, we managed to make our way up to Mount St. Helens for a quick outing. More than ever, I stood agape taking my first glimpse of the mammoth crater carved from the 1980 eruption. Even at a distance of 5 miles (access to the mountain has been severely limited due to the recent spate of volcanic/seismic activity) the sight is humbling.

I learned some stuff: At 8:31 on May 18, 1980, Mount St. Helens in southwest Washington State stood at 9,677 feet above sea level, minutes later 1,314 vertical feet lay scattered across the surrounding countryside or hovering miles above. The mountain now stood at 8,363 feet above sea level. A yawning crater facing the north (1.2 miles east-west, 1.8 miles north-south, 2,084 feet deep) offered the beautiful peak that had stood there before. (I took this pic looking southward at the i-got-my-shit-kicked north part of the mountain, check out the steaming vent)

After months of warning activity that included repeated earthquakes, a steaming crater, and a bulging north flank, the anticipated climax arrived on the morning of May 18, 1980 (I had 15 days to prepare for the party upon entering this world). Perhaps causing, but more likely caused by a 5.1 magnitude earthquake 1 mile beneath the volcano, three successive landslides ripped away the north flank of the mountain. Picking up rocks and trees during its violent descent, this landslide transformed into a jumbled debris avalanche that eventually covered 23 square miles, buried the North Fork Toutle River to an average depth of 150 feet, and reached velocities up to 150 mph. this avalanche swept over towering ridges (which I hiked across this weekend, and never in my life would have imagined could have been overrun) and completely buried pristine Spirit Lake and good old Harry Truman (although there's some debate regarding whether the ensuing explosion reached him first). Before literally swallowing the water in Spirit Lake, the landslide ‘pushed’ it toward its northern shore and forced a flood of water up an 800 foot embankment on the other end before the water came crashing back to the now covered lake floor. If Harry was gonna go out, I think he did it in style.

The disappearance of the north flank relieved restricting pressure on the yearning gas deep within the bowels of the volcano. This superheated gas expanded at hugely accelerated rates and blasted through the weakened walls of the north flank. This fiery explosion was enhanced by vaporized snow and ice which, when mixed with ash and lava, formed a dramatic steam column rising an estimated 16 vertical miles above the crater. At its most violent, the blast tore away from the mountain at 300 mph. 300 mph!!! The blast was so strong and toxic that 4 billion board feet of timber (enough to build about 300,000 2-bedroom homes) blew down in the face of such pressure. You can still see many of the toppled trees to this day all lying with their tips facing northward, some with diameters as large as 8 feet. This ash column followed the prevailing winds and spread eastward across the state, the nation, and eventually encircled the entire globe 15 days later! My family in eastern Washington holds distinct memories of having to shovel an inch of volcanic ash off cars and sidewalks some 200 miles away.

All this heat melted glacier ice and snow and sent it cascading down the side of the mountain. As it sunk into the ground, a dangerous slurry of cement-like mud raged down the mountain, carrying trees and boulders along. This thick paste clogged rivers and punished any bridge or home in its path. Between this and the accompanying pyroclastic flows, any untouched forest or river in the path of the eruption eventually met its doom. For some great pictures of before, during, and after the explosion, check out this site. If you have a slow computer be prepared to wait while it loads because all the pictures reside on the same page.

Aside from the 57 people who lost their lives due to the eruption, wildlife perished in droves. The Washington State Department of Game estimates that 7,000 big game animals died, along with all birds and most small mammals. Furthermore, the Department of fisheries estimated that 12 million Chinook and Coho salmon fingerlings were killed when hatcheries were destroyed. Another estimated 40,000 young salmon were lost when forced to swim through turbine blades of hydroelectric generators as reservoir levels along the Lewis River were kept low to accommodate possible mudflows and flooding.

Staring at Mount St. Helens reminded me that mother nature remains the most awesome and devastating force on this planet as evidenced recently by the 1991 Bangladesh floods, the 2003 Iran earthquake, and the 2004 Tsunami in the Indian Ocean. Compared to these natural disasters of immense proportions, in human terms the 1980 Mt. St. Helens earthquake proves but a tiny dot on the radar screen. Its location in the United States surely catapulted its importance in the eyes of national and international press, perhaps beyond its due limit. However, just as the Grand Canyon is one of those natural scenic points that simply blows you away regardless of how much you’ve heard before visiting, so too does Mt. St. Helens make your jaw scrape along the gravel trail when you consider how much force it required to transplant that much earth in a geological instant. If a city had surrounded the base of the mountain, it would have been completely annihilated. Don't laugh. in fact, move up the Cascade Range to next prominent peak: Mt. Rainier. should this 14,000 foot giant realize its all too real volcanic potential, the Seattle-Tacoma area, especially the south-eastern satellite communities, might suffer catastrophic fatalities, not to mention the economic blow. Consider San Francisco or any number of metropolitan areas along the California coast that sit prostrate as the earth's crust amasses pressure, just waiting to unleash an earthquake of mammoth proportions, with the possibility of an ensuing tsunami. These are just a couple examples from one region in one corner of the globe.

I'm sayin'...I'm just sayin'.