May 9, 2011: They are the maddening questions that haunt us when eating seafood: What fish is safe to eat? What fish is sustainable? Is farmed better than wild caught? Our guest is Marianne Cufone, now Executive Director of the Alliance for Sustainable Aquaponics, with sound advice on eating seafood and a glimpse of the fish and other food you’ll eat tomorrow. Also: The Ocean Doctor’s next expedition and more about the film, “Cuba: The Accidental Eden.”

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The Fish You’ll Eat Tomorrow

Marianne Cufone, Executive Director of the Alliance for Sustainable Aquaponics, receiving kudos from her friend, Speedy

Marianne Cufone is now the Executive Director of the Alliance for Sustainable Aquaponics. At the time of this interview, she was still Food & Water Watch’s Fish Program Director. She has been involved in natural resources management, and specifically fisheries management for the past 15 years. Before coming to Food & Water Watch, she was the Managing Partner of Environment Matters, an environmental consulting firm in Tampa, Florida. Previously, Ms. Cufone was a Program Manager for a national conservation organization. She has worked with law firms, educational facilities, government entities and organizations throughout the United States on a wide range of issues including: fisheries, pollution, impacts mitigation, stewardship and outreach. She also teaches courses and guest lectures at assorted academic institutions. She currently maintains positions on assorted natural resource advisory boards for Hillsborough County, the State of Florida and the federal government and sits on several non-profit Boards of Directors. Ms. Cufone received her J.D., Cum Laude from the University of Miami School of Law through a joint Masters program in Marine Science and Policy at the Rosenstiel School of Marine and Atmospheric Science, University of Miami. She received her BA, from Boston College in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts.

Marianne Cufone talks about the fish you'll eat tomorrow. And where it comes from may surprise you...pleasantly.

Alliance for Sustainable Aquaponics (ASA) is a collaborative group of researchers, business owners, non-profit organizations and interested members of the public working to further Recirculating Aquaculture Systems (RAS) in the United States through research, education, legislative work and advocacy. We believe that RAS, closed-looped and biosecure aquaculture operations, are the best option to meet our country’s need for a clean, green, sustainable, healthy seafood source to supplement our wild fisheries.

In January 2009, Food & Water Watch hosted a Sustainable Aquaculture Summit in Washington D.C., a collaborative discussion among leading businesses, researchers, health professionals and government officials to discuss in-land, closed-loop recirculating aquaculture systems (RAS). The ASA was founded by several of the individuals in attendance at the Summit with the purpose of working to further RAS in the United States through research, education, legislative work and advocacy.

RAS are closed-loop systems that retain and treat the water within the system, reducing discharge of fish waste, excess food, fish escapes and the need for antibiotics or chemicals used to combat disease. Recirculating aquaculture is a cleaner, greener, more sustainable method of fish production than the open water aquaculture systems currently being pushed in the U.S.

Links

• Alliance for Sustainable Aquaponics
• Food and Water Watch
• Smart Seafood Guide (by Food and Water Watch)
• Institute for Ocean Literacy (Download “Small Fry” and more of Mark Holmes’ great music!)

April 25, 2011: Take a walk out to the end of San Francisco’s Pier 39, and you’ll hear an interesting symphony of barking California sea lions and reactions of delight and amusement from droves of human onlookers. And if you’re lucky, you might also find the “Gentleman Biologist of Pier 39,” Tim Vogel, a volunteer at the Marine Mammal Center in Sausalito, who has pursued tech career in Silicon Valley but has never forgotten his Seacamp roots. He spends hours teaching and inspiring visitors about the incredible wildlife of the West Coast and the wonders of science. Also: An update on the penguin rescue effort from Tristan da Cunha by Trevor Glass, Director of the Department of Conservation there.

The Ocean Doctor airs weekly on WebTalkRadio.net. Want to listen on your iPod, iPhone or mp3 player? Download the mp3 file or subscribe on iTunes and don’t miss a single episode. See the complete list of episodes.

Follow The Ocean Doctor on Twitter — Become a Fan on Facebook!

Submit a question and I’ll try to answer it on the air. Even better, record your question or comment on our special message line and I might play it on the air. Call: (805) 619-9194. You can also leave questions and comments for this episode below.

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The Gentleman Biologist of Pier 39

Timothy Vogel, the "Gentleman Biologist of Pier 39," a Docent for the Marine Mammal Center, talks with young visitors about the area's whales, dolphins, seals and other marine mammals

I’ve known Tim Vogel for many years — since the late seventies. We worked together at Seacamp, a marine science camp in the Florida Keys. If you listen to this show regularly, you’re probably starting to think that Seacamp is some sort of cult the way many of us ex-Seacampers have stayed in touch all these years and reminisce with wide eyes about our days there. Well, OK, I guess it is sort of a cult, but a damn fine one.

Not all of us have gone on to be marine scientists, but so many of us who were there in our younger days still have in our hearts a powerful love for the oceans and appreciation of the importance of educating others about their beauty, wonder and vulnerability. We often joke that we often find ourselves going back into teaching mode at the drop of a hat. A few years ago, when our fight was delayed in Dutch Harbor, Alaska, I found myself giving an impromptu PowerPoint presentation to the fishermen in the boarding area, holding up my laptop with one hand and gesturing enthusiastically with the other! I think many of us have stories like that.

California sea lions "hanging out" at San Francisco's Pier 39

Tim is another perfect example of a Seacamper who never stopped teaching. His career took him in fascinating directions, in software engineering and data mining, and areas that, quite frankly, despite my geeky nature, I don’t fully understand at all. He’s worked for years in Silicon Valley, has built small companies, sold software to Microsoft and others with great success. But his passion for the oceans and Mother Nature remain strong, which is why several times a week, you’ll find him today at the northwest corner of San Francisco’s Pier 39, adjacent to a noisy group of California sea lions who began hanging out here more than 20 years ago. He’s a volunteer docent for the Marine Mammal Center in Sausalito, which maintains a presence on Pier 39 to engage the throngs of tourists and enlighten them about sea lions, whales, dolphins and the other rich marine mammal wildlife of the California Coast.

Timothy Vogel, the "Gentleman Biologist of Pier 39"

Volunteers like Tim earn a special place in my heart. When I ran The Conservancy of Southwest Florida, we had hundreds of volunteers, and working with them is what I miss the most about being there. I was so humbled by their selfless dedication to education and conservation. Tim’s no exception. It’s obvious to anyone watching him for just a few minutes that he absolutely loves what he’s doing. But it’s more than that. He’s clearly a voracious reader and over the years it’s apparent that he’s thought long and hard about science, our species and our fellow species, and how we all fit together on this planet. I hadn’t seen Tim in many years, and though we’ve stayed in touch online, it was wonderful to see him again and talk with him, which is why I wanted to share my visit with the “Gentleman Biologist of Pier 39” with all of you.

About the Marine Mammal Center

The Marine Mammal Center is a nonprofit veterinary research hospital and educational center dedicated to the rescue and rehabilitation of ill and injured marine mammals – primarily elephant seals, harbor seals, and California sea lions. Since 1975, it has been headquartered in Sausalito, CA in the Marin Headlands within the Golden Gate National Parks, and has rescued and treated more than 16,000 marine mammals.

During rehabilitation of the animals, its research team studies the causes of their illnesses and by doing so, learns about conditions affecting the health of marine mammal populations and the oceans – conditions that can affect humans as well. The Center’s core research includes studying domoic acid poisoning in sea lions, bacterial infections such as leptospirosis, and even cancer, which is found in approximately 17% of adult sea lions that undergo post mortem at its hospital.

The Center’s education programs teach nearly 30,000 students and adults each year about marine mammals and the urgent need for environmental stewardship of earth’s marine environments, with the goal of inspiring ocean conservation. Its school programs are designed to meet the California State Academic Standards for science. Additionally, the Center’s Youth Volunteer Program provides younger ocean stewards with hands-on experience as volunteers working on animal care crews or as education docents.

Links

• Marine Mammal Center
• Seacamp Association

November 22, 2010: CONCLUSION: Village de l’Est, known locally as “Versailles” in New Orleans East, holds the highest concentration of Vietnamese outside of Vietnam. Settled in 1975 by Vietnamese refugees when Saigon fell to the Communists, the community’s residents bought boats and have fished the Gulf of Mexico — 80 percent of the community is dependent on fishing and the fishing industry. But in 2005, Hurricane Katrina nearly wiped the community off the map. Still recovering from that disaster, the BP oil spill now leaves the future of fishing uncertain in the Gulf. Now, in a partnership with The Ocean Foundation, the community is looking at next-generation land-based fish farming as a solution. Join The Ocean Doctor in a visit to this unique community that is determined to do whatever it takes to endure.

The Ocean Doctor airs weekly on WebTalkRadio.net. Want to listen on your iPod, iPhone or mp3 player? Download the mp3 file or subscribe on iTunes and don’t miss a single episode. See the complete list of episodes.

Submit a question and I’ll try to answer it on the air. Even better, record your question or comment on our special message line and I might play it on the air. Call: (805) 619-9194. You can also leave questions and comments for this episode below.

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This Week: The Gulf’s Green Future and the Vietnamese Community of New Orleans East

The Vietnamese Community in New Orleans East has the highest concentration of Vietnamese outside of Vietnam

One of the hardest-hit communities by Hurricane Katrina and the BP Gulf of Mexico oil spill is again demonstrating its exceptional determination not only to survive, but to breathe new economic life into its community while establishing itself as a visionary leader in green business and technology. And all the while, the community continues to strengthen its cultural heritage. Its vision: The Viet Village Urban Farm Sustainable Aquaculture Park, a project that will bring green jobs and a vibrant business model to the region while offering a sustainable alternative to fishing wild stocks and environmentally unfriendly forms of fish farming/aquaculture.

New Orleans East (NOE) is a largely Vietnamese-American community located in the wetlands of Louisiana approximately 10 miles from downtown New Orleans. NOE families lost their homes, their jobs and indeed, their entire community support system following Hurricane Katrina and the needs among NOE communities remain significant. Five years after the storm, many homes remain vacant and more than 40 percent of NOE’s residents never returned. The Village de l’Est neighborhood in NOE is a community comprised of Vietnamese Americans (about 58 percent), African Americans (34 percent), Latino Americans (7 percent), and non-Hispanic Whites (less than 1 percent). This is a particularly vulnerable population, as 26 percent of the population lives below the poverty level and 40.6 percent are renters of temporary housing. Nearly 90% of Village de l’Est residents have returned to the community following Hurricane Katrina.

The "Squatting Market" in Versailles, New Orleans East

The timing of the BP oil spill disaster has been devastating to the this community as it is still tenuously recovering from the impacts of Katrina. In addition, the announced closures of the NASA Assembly plant in NOE and the Avondale Shipyard in south Louisiana, and the ongoing moratorium on deepwater drilling have had significant impacts on employment.

There are 40,000 Vietnamese living and working in Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama, and one in three work in the seafood industry. Vietnamese and Southeast Asian fisherman make up one-third of all shrimping vessels in the Gulf Coast. Many also work catching oysters, crabs and packaging seafood. The closure of nearly one-third of federal waters to fishing in the Gulf of Mexico due to the BP oil spill disaster has already had a devastating economic impact on the New Orleans East fishing and seafood services communities. Even as fishing closures are lifted, there is growing concern that the unprecedented level of use of dispersants in the Gulf has resulted in a massive infiltration of toxic substances into the marine food chain. The safety of seafood in the Gulf of Mexico may remain in question for many years, and the viability of the region’s seafood industry is now in question.

Former fisher and fishing industry worker, Sy Tran (left) addresses the group

In addition, oil and dispersants have directly killed numerous fish and other species and may have increased the size of the anoxic “dead zone” in the Gulf. Thus, even if claims that chemicals in dispersants do not constitute a threat to seafood safety are true, impacts to the Gulf’s productivity may have long-lasting consequences to commercial fishing.

There is increasing recognition that sustainable aquaculture can play a key role in the transition toward safer, more environmentally and economically sustainable seafood production, offering a viable, safe and sustainable alternative to fishing wild stocks and one that can bring strong economic benefits. Land-based, next-generation recirculating aquaculture systems (RAS) offer a unique combination of conservation achievements, socioeconomic benefits, and potential for scalability. Such technology could lead the way toward a revolutionary transition of fish production.

Group photo following the 2-day sustainable aquaculture workshop

A land-based, sustainable aquaculture industry for NOE is envisioned as a component of the community’s proposed Viet Village Urban Farm project and as such, represents an investment in a long-term, profitable, sustainable and green-job-creating industry with significant environmental benefits. In addition, because RAS technology remains under-commercialized in the United States, the Viet Village Urban Farm Sustainable Aquaculture Park has the opportunity to serve as a national aquaculture hub and training center, as a showcase not only of next-generation aquaculture technology, but also of the business model and community-level benefits.

Additional Resources:

• “The Gulf’s Green Future: One Community’s Hopeful Example After the BP Spill & Katrina” (1planet1ocean)
• What is Next-Generation Aquaculture? (Aquaculture Developments)
• Mary Queen of Viet Nam Community Development Corporation

Seven Mile Bridge in the Florida Keys

On July 18, 1975, the tanker Garbis spilled 1,500 to 3,000 barrels of crude oil into the warm, turquoise, coral-rich waters roughly 26 miles south-southwest of the Marquesas Keys, Florida. The oil was blown ashore along a 30-mile stretch of the Florida Keys, east of Key West. I was 16 and enjoying my second summer at Seacamp, a marine science camp on Big Pine Key. Rumors of the spill raced throughout the campus until finally, instructor James Smithson decided to find out for himself what menace might be approaching. He took a small away team aboard his 21-foot Mako, “Isurus,” and made haste south toward the reef tract. We waited impatiently for word back as the sun fell to the horizon and scattered its tranquil orange glow across the water. What I saw next filled me with dread. The Isurus entered the harbor, its white hull stained with enormous swaths of dark brown oil. In that moment the menace was no longer abstract, and to my young mind, everything we treasured — the corals, the mangroves, the fish, the turtles –was on the brink of extermination.

More bad news: The tides were predicted to bring the oil in toward shore overnight. But what could we do — a bunch of unruly long-haired kids? Simple. Seacamp is a science camp, so we would do science. I was among the older students and felt lucky to be included in a group of students and instructors shuttled to the south side of the island to do transect studies along the south-facing shores and tidepools. With measuring tapes, pencils, clipboard, flashlights and bug spray — lots of bug spray — we’d carefully measure each and every critter in each and every crevice so that if the oil hit, we’d have both a before and after picture. We couldn’t protect our shores, but we could hopefully learn from them. We stayed out the entire evening — it was exhausting and exhilarating.

At morning’s light there was no sign of the oil. It never arrived. I never really learned where it ultimately went. In retrospect, it was the most glorious waste of time I ever spent. I had never felt so strongly focused and such a sense of camaraderie with any group before. We were off our collective asses doing something constructive in the face of a terrible situation, in hindsight a powerful lesson for a teenager. Years later I found a study that indicated that the oil had come ashore in some areas, and several habitats were affected, killing echinoderms, oysters and mangroves.

Blue Hill Consolidated School, Maine

During my “50-States” tour and my meetings with students around the country, I am gratified to see their love and concern for the oceans, even among students who have never seen an ocean before. But I’m also pained that after decades of arrogance, carelessness and treating the oceans more like it belongs to large corporations than as the public trust that it is, it seems that we’ve failed to learn our lessons and have burdened our children with an environmental disaster of historic proportions, the effects of which will no doubt still be felt when they’re raising kids of their own. But if my generation didn’t get it right, I’m still hopeful that the next one will. This is a whopper of a lesson to learn from and change will come from it. But most of all, I’m buoyed by the kids themselves, like the young student at Maine’s Blue Hill Consolidated School who raised her hand during our discussion of the oil spill and, pointing to her classmates, asked simply, “What can we do?

The destination was Seacamp, a marine science camp on Big Pine Key, the largest of the Lower Keys, roughly 35 miles east of Key West. As the chartered bus headed south over the old, narrow Overseas Highway, I marveled at the turquoise waters below me. I also marveled at the bus driver’s ability to keep us alive along the narrow pavement laid down upon the trestles where the Flagler Railroad once ran, long destroyed by a terrible hurricane. The railroad track now made up the guard rails.

Founded in 1966, Seacamp was among the first marine science camps and my 15-year-old, Philadelphia-raised perspective was about to change permanently. For my 15th birthday, my parents obliged my obsession with the TV series, “Sea Hunt” (starring Lloyd Bridges) and granted me my wish: SCUBA lessons. Thanks to an ad in “Boy’s Life” magazine, I found Seacamp, and in a day or so would find myself entering that world I’ve never really left since. Nearly 40 feet below the surface, I was sitting in white sands in those warm, turquoise waters, six miles due south of Big Pine Key at Looe Key, now a National Marine Sanctuary, curious angelfish eyeing me and drifting across the reef.

So powerful were the experiences I would have in those few weeks that I returned for three summers as a camper, followed by eight summers as an instructor, and I’ve never lost touch for long with the camp’s leaders, Irene Hooper and Grace Upshaw, who are still changing lives there today. I knew before the end of that incredible summer in 1974 that I had found a cause worth dedicating myself to. The oceans were incredibly beautiful, tantalizingly mysterious, but to my amazement — even back then — in grave peril. Like so many others, I thought the oceans to be too vast and limitless, and to my eye, appeared so pristine that it was hard to imagine that we were already taking too many creatures from the sea and dumping too much of our waste into it.

A Seacamp flattop teaching vessel at Looe Key (Photo courtesy of Seacamp Association)

My treasured memories of Seacamp would fill a volume, but a few came to mind this morning as I realized that it was June 24, the first day of camp for more than a hundred new campers, settling into their new bunks for the next two and half weeks. I remember being first to the bottom on a deep dive to 125 feet and finding a collosal sea turtle asleep just inches from where I stood. I remember surfacing from a dive to find it hailing sideways, our boat surrounded by three menacing waterspouts. I remember peering down into the water from atop the old Bahia Honda bridge at night to see the slow-moving, eerie sillhouette of an enormous shark, illuminated by the bioluminescent plankton in the water. I remember seeing my first tarpon underwater — massive, prehistoric-looking fish, a group of six swimming past me, their huge scales gleaming in the morning sunlight like polished silver. I remember Mel Fisher, discoverer of the Spanish Galleon, Atocha, proudly slapping a silver ingot he recovered from the wreck onto a table top, its great report stunning the audience into silence, then boastfully telling us it was worth 50 thousand dollars! I remember my surprise at seeing tiny Key Deer quietly yet swiftly swimming from island to island in the backcountry. And I remember laughing harder than I’ve ever laughed as two dolphins hijacked the canoe of two of my students and gave them the ride of their young lives. (I almost lost my job over that one — a tall tale for another time.)

Today, many Seacamp alumni are my close friends and colleagues. If you saw the wonderful film, Arctic Tale, it was made by Seacamp alumnus Adam Ravetch, who’s gone on to become a major underwater filmmaker. Dr. James A. Bohnsack, who was my favorite instructor at Seacamp and someone I consider one of the biggest influences in my life, is the Team Leader for Ecosystems and Biodiversity Investigations in the Protected Resources Branch at NOAA’s Southeast Fisheries Science Center in Miami. His voice and leadership have been critical for protecting fish resources. Dr. James D. Thomas, a good friend and colleague, is a professor at NOVA Southeastern University and has traveled the world in search of tiny crustaceans called amphipods and helping to unlock environmental trends through patterns in their distribution. Jim is helping us now identify the myriad of amphipods we collected in the Bering Sea during the Greenpeace-led expedition in 2007. I recently met fellow Seacamper, Gaelin Rosenwaks, at the Explorer’s Club in New York and learned of Global Ocean Exploration, a company she founded to “devoted to bringing cutting-edge expedition research science to the public through photography, writing, film, and web-based products.”  As I write this, Gaelin is blogging from aboard a research ship near the Hebrides studying salmon. Not all Seacampers go on to work in marine science…in fact, most don’t. Some are accountants, attorneys, software engineers, interpreters, teachers, etc. But I doubt any can forget their Seacamp experiences, and most I’ve met since continue to hold a special place in their heart for the oceans and a greater, enduring awareness of their fragility.

When I began the Ocean Doctor’s “50 Years – 50 States -50 Speeches Expedition” earlier this year, my Seacamp experiences were, predictably, front and center in my mind. Young people have a natural fascination about the ocean, if only given the chance to experience it. I wish I could toss all of the nearly 10,000 students in the 12 states I’ve visited so far into those turquoise waters of Looe Key. Short of that, I hope that my words, images and videos can convey a small fraction of the wonder of those waters. From the heartwarming responses I’m receiving from students all over the country — even students who’ve never seen the ocean — I’m optimistic.

Big Pine Key coming into view as my flight returns to Miami from Havana

Never could I imagine in 1974 that I would spend a decade of my career working less than 100 miles south of the Keys on a large island, sitting at night with a mojito in my hand gazing northward toward the Keys. As I returned from Havana a couple of weeks ago and peered out the window (yes, I still prefer the window), the first land I saw was Big Pine Key, and there was Seacamp, still occupying that special corner of the island, and that special place in my heart.

Today I reflect on the experiences many of us Seacampers shared, like the pungent, organic scent of mangroves standing in bathtub-warm waters. Like the impossibly beautiful sunsets of painted oranges and purples, and knowing the next night’s would probably be even better. Like the earth-shaking roar from above that triggered our sprint outside to worship the DC3 kissing the treetops as a gray cloud of mosquitocide billowed from its hold on top of us. Like the mild sting of a Casseopea jellyfish in your armpits. Like the sound of the incessant crunching of colorful parrot fish’s beaks against the coral. Like the constant, steely yet curious stare of the barracuda. Like the sandpaper feel of a shark’s skin or the glassy smooth feel of the dome of a Moon Jelly on your fingertips. Like the sickenly sweet taste of bug juice. Like the light of the moon dancing on Coupon Bight as the splashes of distant fish echo in the night. To my fellow Seacampers, I think of you today — and most days. And to Eastern Airlines: A late but sincere thanks for the ride…I’ll never forget it.

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