The sublimely pink deepwater coral, Swiftia pacifica

They look strange, out of place…and they are. Because they’re not from around here. The odd-shaped stones and boulders that pepper the flat, dark, silty bottom here at nearly 1,800 feet look like meteorites, each surrounded by a wide, shallow crater. They’re not from outer space, but many have traveled a vast distance on Earth — hundreds, perhaps thousands of miles, over millennia. And now my sub is face to face with one of three I’d encounter on our first dive in Zhemchug Canyon yesterday (Saturday) afternoon.

They’re called “drop stones” and it’s icebergs that do the dropping. As glaciers move across the land, rocks become incorporated into the glacial ice. Once the glaciers find the coast, they “calve” into ice bergs and travel vast distances floating upon the ocean, melting along the way and eventually, releasing their rocky payload.

One might think of a rock, even a hefty one, falling to the bottom of the vast Bering Sea as one of the more inconsequential events in the universe. But if you’re tiny, living in a world that’s flat and unprotected from the swift Arctic current ripping by, even a tiny pebble can mean the difference between survival or not. Corals, like the sublimely pink Swiftia pacifica we came across yesterday, appear to be growing right out of the brown silt. But a closer look reveals a small rock or pebble beneath the surface providing a holdfast against the current. If you’re a tiny critter like a shrimp, your only option is to get down into a hole, if you can find one. But holes don’t last forever — the current will eventually sweep them away. You can also try to get yourself up against the downstream side of an object — like a rock — so you’re not swept away with the current. Other than that, there aren’t many options across the flat, nearly rockless landscape of the bottom of this neighborhood in Zhemchug Canyon.

Drop-stone covered with shrimp, a basket star, and a rockfish next door

So if one day a huge rock comes a-plummeting out of the sky, it’s like a deluxe condominium suddenly appearing, and the shrimp don’t waste a moment moving in. They covered the lee side of the drop stones I encountered, wall-to-wall. The penthouse was reserved for critters like basket stars, corals, anemones, sponges or hydroids that could attach themselves firmly, then grab prey as they float by in the current. Fish like rocks, too, especially, well…rockfish. The brightly orange-colored shortraker rockfish lay against one of the drop stones. A prehistoric-looking Giant grenadier, perhaps 4.5 feet long, with its long, eel-like tail gently waving in the current, nestled by another. And I encountered the aptly-named bigmouth sculpin by the third.

The halibut who taught me how to become invisible

During my last dive at Pribilof Canyon, I noted flatfish depressions and the fact that they were full of shrimp. Same here at Zhemchug. I was even treated to a flatfish hole digging demonstration by a small halibut that I “encountered” (translation: terrified). He was quite upset at being awakened by a noisy metal object with bright lights pointed at his face, so he swam a few body lengths, then flapped his flat body furiously and kicked silt up onto the top of his flatness until he was (or at least thought he was) invisible. That process, repeated millions of times, means sanctuary for a critical part of the food chain, including the many shrimp I spied enjoying their stay in a flatfish hole. Not only does the hole allow them to relax and not have to fight the current, but NOAA scientist Bob Stone points out that little eddies forming as the current runs by cause food particles to drop out of the water column. So if you’re a shrimp, you can kick back, not lift a claw, and let the food come to you. The current scours shallow craters around the drop stones, so shrimp living there not only get regular food deliveries, but also a high-rise view. I suppose that’s the Bering Sea definition of the good life.

A large, happy shrimp, living the good life in a flatfish hole

It’s quite remarkable in nature how little things matter, like where a rock falls or where a flatfish rests. And there are big things in this world that threaten those little things, like taking too many fish from the sea, and global warming, which is already believed to be changing the patterns of the ice pack in this region, along with distant glaciers, and the would-be drop stones they encounter. It’s important for us to think about what it takes — even the seemingly little things — to make an ecosystem work, especially one as wondrous and important as this one. Because if a rock falls in the Bering Sea, and no one is there to hear it, it’s still someone’s condo.

Trawl scar on bottom, DeepWorker 7 in background

Yesterday (Thursday) morning, Michelle Ridgway and I descended in the twin subs for our expedition’s penultimate dive on Pribilof Canyon. Michelle’s lights shone as tiny pinpoints in the distant green as the light from above slowly vanished and the cold darkness of Pribilof Canyon enveloped us. I had a rare moment amid the descent’s harried series of checks and radio transmissions to reflect on where I was, and Michelle’s lights reminded me of how tiny we were, trying to comprehend an enormous, complex tapestry in the darkness armed with only a pen light. But on this dive, some of those complexities began to tell a story.

Yesterday (Thursday) morning, Michelle Ridgway and I descended in the twin subs for our expedition’s penultimate dive on Pribilof Canyon. Michelle’s lights shone as tiny pinpoints in the distant green as the light from above slowly vanished and the cold darkness of Pribilof Canyon enveloped us. I had a rare moment amid the descent’s harried series of checks and radio transmissions to reflect on where I was, and Michelle’s lights reminded me of how tiny we were, trying to comprehend an enormous, complex tapestry in the darkness armed with only a pen light. But on this dive, some of those complexities began to tell a story.

The welcoming committee of squid was there to greet us en masse, larger squid this time, more abundant, and more aggressive. They rocketed through the water faster than anything I’ve seen, passing millimeters from the front of the light, causing a startling bright flash against their light bodies, before deploying a cloud of brownish ink, spreading their tentacles to reveal a hungry beak, convinced that the light that had drawn them to the sub meant food was near. Some latched on a appeared to try to take a bite. Others gave a menacing dance, another blast of ink, and rocketed into the darkness. Still others appeared in pieces, casualties of my thrusters. It was squid madness, and it was fascinating, even comical to watch. But it also was a vivid reminder of the predatory prowess of these animals — a small fish wouldn’t stand a chance, but at least the end would come in the blink of an eye.

The bottom arrived at 1,052 feet and I landed on what appeared to be some sort of geologic stratification — unusual layers and grooves of sediment in parallel lines across my path. I then realized I was looking at a trawl “scar,” the deep ridges in the bottom made by the wheels of a trawl net dragged across the bottom. A wide swath of bottom appeared as if it had been plowed like a cornfield, overturned sediment neatly piled along the long groove. I remembered that Michelle had told me some of the trawls used in these parts are as wide as a Boeing 737′s wingspan.

Sea whip (Halipteris willemoesi) coral

We began our transect, but shortly thereafter I was told to hold position — apparently the squid had won the last round against Michelle, causing one of her thrusters to blow a fuse. She surfaced for an early recovery while I continued the dive alone. I was excited to see a number of corals. The bottom was covered with tiny (an inch or two) white sea whips (Halipteris willemoesi), one of the corals we had seen elsewhere in Pribilof Canyon. But the sea whips we had seen elsewhere were much larger, 3 or 4 feet long. I only spied two or three that big in this location.

I moved along in the darkness, saw many snow crabs and flat fish, including the beautiful rex sole and equally dramatic sharp nose skate. I then spied a strange white ridge along the black horizon. As I approached I saw this ridge lay directly in my path, straight as an arrow. A geology professor of mine once gave our class a clue at identifying features in aerial photos by pointing out that straight lines are rare in nature. Sure enough, this was another trawl scar, larger than the first. I radioed to Sasha at the navigation station on the ship and asked that he note this location on his tracking computer. I continued and found many more linear features along my path, more trawling marks, no doubt, perhaps older ones.

As I continued ahead, some of the pieces I had been seeing in the tapestry during the week started to merge and suggest a pattern. Most of the tiny sea whips I had seen were roughly the same size, suggesting that they’re roughly the same age and most likely regrowth after a major disturbance, such as one that might be caused by dragging a massive object over the bottom…like a trawl. It’s gratifying to see an ecosystem demonstrating resiliency — little sea whips pushing up and trying to make a go of it. But knowing how important corals are to the health of marine ecosystems, it’s troubling to see such widespread impacts.

Rex sole (Glyptocephalus zachirus)

Continuing the transect, I enjoyed seeing the sole, halibut, skates and other flat fish. I’ve always been fond of these strange looking creatures and never appreciated the role they played in the tapestry until this dive. Shallow flat-fish-sized depressions cratered the soft bottom. But as I passed over these “flat fish holes,” the lights from the sub reflected off of hundreds of tiny eye balls looking back at me. These little depressions were teeming with little shrimp and other critters — colorful micro ecosystems moving in where a flat fish moved out.

This was an area of high current — maneuvering the sub was difficult — and I saw that these depressions offered the shrimp refuge out of the current on a silty bottom that was virtually devoid of rocks or other relief. I realized my flat fish friends were ecosystem engineers. The simple act of burying themselves in the silt and leaving a depression behind meant habitat for countless other creatures. NOAA scientist Bob Stone, aboard Esperanza for this expedition, smiled when I later mentioned this to him — he’s published a paper on the topic. I’ve seen a similar pattern in the Gulf of Mexico, where grouper dig enormous swimming pool-sized holes in the soft bottom sediment, exposing hard substrate for corals and sponges to grow and attracting many fish and invertebrates. So it’s troubling to me when we think of fish essentially as crops that we can simply harvest from the sea. Such a perspective ignores the critical point that fish themselves are part of the ecosystem and have important, often critical roles, in maintaining the health of the ecosystem. Removing fish from the ecosystem changes the ecosystem.

The call from Sasha came too soon, as it always does, “DeepWorker 6, at this time prepare the cabin for recovery.” As I ascended through the darkness, alone this time, I turned my lights off to gaze upon Pribilof Canyon in its true state and pondered how much of our planet’s life lives in complete darkness. My tiny sub had illuminated but a few new corners of this vast place. There lies so much more to see and discover, but with each tantalizing glimpse come new insights and a little more of the story the tapestry tells.

Continued favorable weather and few mechanical problems means that the team aboard Esperanza has been able to complete 14 manned submersible dives at Pribilof Canyon. On Saturday (August 4), Esperanza arrived at Zhemchug Canyon to explore this, the largest undersea canyon in the world, much larger than the Grand Canyon. Within the first few minutes of the deepest ROV dive yet, more than 3,000 feet down, the team discovered corals, including pink “bubblegum” corals along with other soft corals.

Earlier, during the final dives at Pribilof Canyon, the team documented numerous corals, but also evidence of extensive trawling damage in the area. Read David Guggenheim’s account in his OceanDoctor blog.

The Esperanza is carrying two manned submersibles, a remotely-operated vehicle (ROV) and an international research team to the Bering Sea for a three week survey of Zhemchug and Pribilof Canyons,to map and document deepwater corals living at depths of more than 1,000 feet. The expedition was conceived of and is being led by Greenpeace.

Track the Bering Sea Expedition: Esperanza’s Current Location, Weather & Live Webcam

Thanks to great weather, state-of-the-art equipment and a top-notch crew, it has been a productive weekend for the team aboard Esperanza which arrived on site at Pribilof Canyon Saturday morning (July 28) when David Guggenheim and Michelle Ridgway made the first tandem dive in two DeepWorker submarines into Pribilof canyon to a depth of just over 1,000 feet and began to document a fascinating diversity of life, including a variety of corals, anenomes, sponges and fish. On Sunday, the ship visited a second site in Pribilof Canyon where John Hocevar and Timo Marshall completed a successful tandem dive, documenting more corals and successfully collecting a number of specimens with DeepWorker’s manipulator arm for analysis by scientists around the world.

John Hocevar (Greenpeace Senior Oceans Specialist) pilots DeepWorker at 1,100 feet in Pribilof Canyon (Video still by Timo Marshall – 29 July 2007)

Already, the Greenpeace-led team has accumulated nearly 16 hours of bottom time (8 hours per sub), more than all of the previous research done in this region combined. The subs’ high-definition video cameras have already collected over 120 Gb of data. The subs are performing linear transects which will then be analyzed on the video. Twin lasers spaced 20 cm apart allow accurate analysis of the size of organisms encountered.

The tumbling anenome, Liponema brevicornis, photographed here by David E. Guggenheim on Saturday, July 27 at a depth of 620 feet in Pribilof Canyon (The two red dots are from onboard lasers used to assist in estimating size. The lasers are 20 centimeters apart.)

The Esperanza is carrying two manned submersibles, a remotely-operated vehicle (ROV) and an international research team to the Bering Sea for a three week survey of Zhemchug and Pribilof Canyons,to map and document deepwater corals living at depths of more than 1,000 feet. The expedition was conceived of and is being led by Greenpeace.

Track the Bering Sea Expedition: Esperanza’s Current Location, Weather & Live Webcam

Humpback Whale Sounding on the Way to Pribolof Canyon

We departed Dutch Harbor at 4pm Alaska Time today. It’s after 11pm now, still plenty of daylight, as we head north to Pribolof Canyon for our first dive in the morning. I’ll be one of the pilots, so I hope to get some sleep soon. As we headed north away from the Aleutians, there was a steady stream of announcements from the bridge over the intercom: “Whales, port side. Whales, starboard side. Whales, off the bow.” Humpback whales in groups of ten. We also saw fin whales.

Captain Peter Wilcox Taking the Esperanza Out from Dutch Harbor

We have flat seas, mild temperatures in the fifties, and we’re all very excited to finally be at sea following many weeks of preparation.

I’ve spent much of the day preparing a boatload (get it?) of hard disks for the fire hose of data to be stored on them coming from the high definition video cameras on each sub. Now off to get some sleep…zzzzzzz

The Expedition to the Bering Sea officially got under way as the M/V Esperanza departed Dutch Harbor, Alaska on Friday, July 27 at 4pm Alaska Daylight Time. The Esperanza will steam through the night — for roughly 15 hours — to its first destination, Pribolof Canyon near the Pribolof Islands in the Bering Sea. The first DeepWorker dives are scheduled for Saturday morning.

In June, an international team of researchers and conservation specialists recently completed a week of intensive training and preparations for this Greenpeace-led expedition to Alaska’s Bering sea. The Esperanza is carrying two manned submersibles, a remotely-operated vehicle (ROV) and the research team to the Bering Sea for a three week survey of Zhemchug and Pribilof Canyons, specifically to map and document deepwater corals living at depths of more than 1,000 feet.

Captain Peter Wilcox gently maneuvers M/V Esperanza away from her berth in Dutch Harbor, Alaska, kicking off the Bering Sea Expedition. (Photo by David E. Guggenheim)

These corals, some nearly two thousand years old, are vital components of the Bering Sea’s rich and unique ecosystem. Unfortunately, these corals are at great risk, ending up in fish trawling nets as “bycatch” or “incidental take,” the unintentional harvest of one species while fishing for another. Many tons of corals have been destroyed by indiscriminant trawling gear which scrapes the bottom and sides of seamounts — underwater mountains — for fish.

It is hoped that the data collected during this expedition will help advance our scientific understanding of these deepwater coral communities and be helpful to policy makers as well, leading to more effective conservation measures. A Scientific Advisory Panel is advising the project, including representatives from Scripps, the Smithsonian, the St. George Island Ecosystem Office, MCBI, Oceana, Texas A&M, and Nova Southeastern. 1planet1ocean president David E. Guggenheim will be serving as a sub pilot and scientific advisor.

The expedition will be using two DeepWorker submarines, one-person mini-subs, untethered, that are capable of a depth of up to 2,000 feet. Each sub is equipped with a high-definition video camera, a manipulator arm for collecting samples, sonar for navigation and is always in contact with the surface using through-water (acoustic) communications.

DeepWorker’s cabin recirculates the air, using carbon dioxide scrubbers similar to what’s used in spacecraft, providing up to 80 hours of life support. A typical dive lasts 4-6 hours.

Track the Bering Sea Expedition: Esperanza’s Current Location, Weather & Live Webcam