Playa Hundu Corals
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In May 2023 I started photographing dying corals.
When I moved to the Santa Cruz area a couple of years ago, I was familiar with a hidden dive site nearby. The first time I dived there was sometime in 2018 when the access road was still dirt and the drive was about an hour from where I used to live in town. Those were the days when I would still eagerly go on such an expedition on a day off from diving everyday for work. I remember finding it to be a beautiful mix of soft and stony corals with lots of little sandy patches in which slipper lobsters and stingrays hung around. The place is also special for its perfect mix of full and vibrant back reef and deep pinnacles interspersed between steep sloping sandfalls. I dived there in 2022 as well, when I would go to show visitors the incredible thicket of Staghorn coral; that's what Playa Hundu dive site is known for, one of the largest remaining natural Staghorn thickets on Curacao. Just a few short years later I look back on that time and realize that I was taking its health and beauty for granted.
In 2023 I heard that Stony Coral Tissue Loss Disease, or SCTLD, had purportedly started to spread in Bonaire, and had likely arrived in Curacao as well. In a panic, I went for a dive at Hundu to see if there were any signs of the disease. For some reason, after checking on a few arbitrarily chosen pillar corals, I couldn't let it go. And I started going back, as regularly as once a week when it was possible. Even though over the course of the last year and half it became a struggle go there and witness the corals bleaching and succumbing to disease, I felt a pull to document what was happening.
Now, it's difficult to have this collection of images. After each dive I relive the destruction on the computer screen. The images are proof of a heartbreaking defeat, reminders of the dread of continuing to watch corals die. It isn't easy to share them here. Often after I dive there, I come out of the water with so much sorrow and frustration. I feel I shouldn't burden others with the truth of this dying place, but simultaneously I feel I haven't done enough to save them. But beneath all of the emotional turmoil is a rejection of defeat. It feels like there is some obvious naked truth that is impossible not to speak about. Just as this living place is not for ownership, but a system of shared and complex life in a habitat foreign to humans, the fact that its dying doesn't have any one owner or arbiter. That we are all collectively culpable of natural degradation as humans living during climate change is a belabored point. I am keenly aware that most people I know feel tired by this fact. But I still think confrontation of this hard truth is necessary. I continue to document, despite the despair, because more awareness—and more action—is essential to preserve what remains.
Examples of Mortality
May 2023
April 2024
March 2024
July 2024
Jan 2024
Sept 2024
Large Colonies Lost
What's to be done?
When I moved to Curaçao, the reef was a lot healthier. Many people who had been diving for years before me would reminisce about the old days when the coral was so dense it was like trying to dive through a jungle. Now I can understand firsthand the helpless feeling that comes from watching a beautiful ecosystem degrade, and the pain of not being able to unsee what has been lost. Most people have a very emotional connection with the reef, a sense of peace with the knowledge of its existence. I find a deep connection to the wonder of biodiversity when I dive. But watching that biodiversity dwindle away is devastating. Sometimes it feels like I don't have the fortitude to push such a hulking boulder aside to maintain any hope and take action. The sad truth is that while collective action to combat the destruction of the reef is theoretically possible, every passing day more ancient corals are dead already. It is unlikely that the pace of destruction will slow down anytime soon. In the last year, from my perspective at least, it seems that at least 50% of the corals died at Hundu, and other places I've visited have appeared to be even worse. Many of the corals lost at Hundu were the largest, oldest colonies. My good friend and fellow coral lover (who deserves credit for turning this fish nerd into a coral lover as well), Katie Leeper, shared the resources linked at the end of this text which are meant to address the emotional toll of climate related loss. I hope that they might help me, and maybe you, to confront the hard feelings of climate change. It is a difficult pill to swallow that in our lifetimes we will likely only witness the sick and dying version of a coral reef, not a healthy ancient one. In Katie's words, "The results of restoration work are slow and incremental and the scale of the impact at an ecosystem level won't be seen for decades. Whilst chipping away at this problem though, you have to have unwavering belief that however small, you are making a tiny difference and that any small win is still a win."
The list of threats to corals is long: beyond the clear threats of bleaching and SCTLD as evidenced on this page, there is physical damage from anchors and poor boating practices, coastal development, severe weather like flooding and hurricanes, untreated sewage and polluted water run-off, irreversible plastic pollution, ocean acidification, changes in salinity, invasive species, and perhaps other unknown threats. To this end, restoration work must be a multifaceted effort, from citizen science and education, to cutting edge science-based research and development. Indeed, there are many people trying to come up with the answer for how restoration should be achieved, from many different angles. But they don't have nearly the amount of support they need.
Unfortunately though, due to the very nature of coral's life cycles and growth, these efforts will likely not benefit you or me. School aged children today might see the beginning of a new reef when they are very old, but only if the right steps are taken now to restore it.
While many of the threats corals face are on a much larger scale than the little island of Curaçao, some of the preventable issues are at a local level. Coastal developments inevitably result in concrete and other harmful materials ending up in the water and either smothering corals, or killing them from leeching chemicals. There seems to be no accountability or oversight for this kind of damage. Physical damage is so easily avoidable, and should be strictly enforced. The very property owners who allow this type of harm will also suffer from its consequences. The beauty of the coral reefs is a priceless selling point for real estate and tourism, but they are also essential to the health of the rest of the island, most of all the fishing industry. As the reef dies, so too will the fish which depend on it, many fish that are coveted items on the menu. The fisherman should have a significant stake in the health of the reef given that their livelihoods depend on a healthy ecosystem.
More images from Hundu
Ways You Can Help
Organizations in Curaçao and elsewhere in the Caribbean are working hard to address various aspects of the problem. Supporting them by following and sharing their work, making a donation, or volunteering your time will lift up and unite the efforts being made to take action. More noise needs to be made so that the leaders and decision makers of the Curaçaoan community recognize the importance of the coral reefs. If this much destruction could occur in a year, it is an incredibly urgent matter that needs more interest and involvement from everyone with a connection to the corals.
Branch Coral Foundation
Curaçao Nature Conservation
Reef Renewal Curaçao
Dutch Caribbean Nature Conservation (DCNA)
CARMABI
SECORE International
Stichting Uniek Curaçao