Wave-watching in paradise

Last week I returned to Byron again. 


We were lucky. We managed to get a cancellation so we could stay overnight Saturday. Normally, you have to book weeks in advance to get a room or apartment of choice. One thing that seems incompatible with Byron's image and raison d'être is the fact that rarely can you visit spontaneously, deciding on a Thursday that you fancy the weekend in your favourite place, and be able to find somewhere to stay.


We decided to drive 'over the top' into New South Wales, via the delightful Numinbah Valley and the Springbrook escarpment. Leave the Pacific Highway at Nerang and take the Nerang-Murwillumbah Road. We turned off left soon after to look at the Hinze Dam. (There was no sign of a dam but there was a tree-lined lake!) Leaving Murwillumbah, follow the Tweed Valley Way to rejoin the Highway for the last 20-odd kilometres to Byron. 


It's a longer, fiddlier way, but prettier, and there was hardly a thing on the road. There must have been a bikie convention somewhere though because there was a disproportionate number of unmuffled bikers in convoy on our route. Maybe they just enjoy the twisty-turny climbs and descents. It was a beautiful morning but there was a lot of evidence of the recent heavy rains and flooding (above). We stopped for a coffee just before Natural Bridge and were told there'd been so much rain ducks had drowned. The greens were glorious.

As we headed down the Tweed Valley there were a few sprinkles from unwelcome clouds, but they backed off as we drove along Ewingsdale Road from the Pacific Highway to the sea. Haven't I always told you that the sun smiles on those who arrive in Byron Bay?

One reason we were here was that my friend wanted to go to the beach. So off to Broken Head we went. He wrestled with waves: I photographed them.

 

Have I told you how lovely the Bay is at sundown?

The next day was the first Sunday in the month, so Byron Markets day. It has to be one of the most colourful markets I've ever seen. There's good music and like-minded souls. We chatted to a man on the Sea Shepherd stall for quite a bit, although he was preaching to the converted. And we listened to a musician on a cigar-box guitar and four other instruments at the same time. It was very hot in the sun and we drank lots of juice while buying a hat, two chairs, many candles and some bunting.

And then it was off to the beach again. I had wanted to go to Wategos but it was rammed and there was nowhere to park. So we went to Tallows, where there was virtually no one. Despite big surf and a strong current, I ventured into the waves – an indication of how relaxed I was – as well as watching them, again.

Too soon, it was time to return to Brisbane. Leaving Byron is always a wrench. But there's always a couple of hundred photographs to remind me.

Fish tales of woe

Last week The Age published a piece entitled Where have all the fish gone? It focused on the Jack Mackerel, whose numbers have been decimated throughout the southern oceans – 90 per cent gone in just 20 years. Rich in essential oils and protein, the fish is a food staple in Africa and is widely used as feed for farmed fish. It takes more than 5kg of Jack Mackerel to raise 1kg of farmed salmon. 


In 2006, Chile, New Zealand and Australia pressed for the establishment of a South Pacific Regional Fisheries Management Organisation. Only six countries have ratified measures drawn up by 14 countries to protect the southern oceans' fish, in particular the Jack Mackerel. In the meantime fishing fleets from far and wide, not bound by statutory regulation, dashed south to engage in what The Age calls 'a free-for-all in no-man's-water at the bottom of the world'.


The newspaper describes super-trawlers chasing Jack Mackerel with nets measuring 25 metres by 80 metres at the opening. As the catch is hauled on board, the fish are hoovered into the hold by means of giant suction hoses. Read more at 
http://www.theage.com.au/environment/conservation/where-have-all-the-fish-gone-20120129-1qntz.html


They're only fish, though, right? But have you seen The End of the Line? It made me cry. I never would have thought that the fate of fish could make me cry. I stopped buying tuna immediately: I used to eat it several times a week. This film should be shown in classrooms worldwide. For information, see 
http://endoftheline.com/


For several years in the UK, we only bought fish bearing the Marine Stewardship Council sticker of approval, which meant the fish was sustainably sourced. After The End of the Line we began to ask in restaurants whether they knew the provenance of their fish supplies and if they were responsibly sourced. If they couldn't answer both questions in the affirmative, we didn't order the fish. Fish cakes, a huge favourite of mine, were a complete no-no, since they're invariably made up of fish bits, the sources of all of which would be very difficult to identify.


Here in Brisbane, we asked at James St Market's fish counter where their fish was sourced. They told us that we were the first people ever to have asked that question and that they didn't know the answer. Greenpeace Australia Pacific recommend you ask your fishmonger three questions. Where was the fish caught? How was it caught? Do they have a policy for sourcing only truly sustainable seafood? If they can't answer, go elsewhere. So we did. We limit our fish buying to species we've been able to find out about ourselves.


We've even stopped buying some of the best prawns we've ever eaten from Powerhouse Farmers' Market because they're bottom-trawled. This is an environmentally damaging fishing method whereby a net is trawled along the surface of the seabed. Large amounts of sediment are churned up, increasing the turbidity of the water, reducing light and redistributing pollutants that have previously settled in silt on the bottom. Ecosystems are wrecked, particularly on seamounts rising from the ocean floor where many different forms of sea life congregate.


It's not hard to find out which fish are OK to eat still. Greenpeace have a Seafood Redlist that you can download. 
http://www.greenpeace.org/australia/en/what-we-do/oceans/Take-action/The-Seafood-Redlist/


The Australian Marine Conservation Society lists Sustainable Seafood as one of their major campaigns (others include the Sharks in Peril appeal and Save the Great Barrier Reef). Learn more at
http://www.marineconservation.org.au/WhatWeDo.asp?active_page_id=167. 
There is a Sustainable Seafood Guide iPhone app that is free to download from the AMCS. If you don't have an iPhone, the information is available on their website or you can obtain a hard copy.


So, no excuses, you seafood-loving Aussies. The more you ask of your fish shop, the more you and they will learn, and perhaps then there's a chance of reversing the dramatic crashes of fish populations the world has seen lately, including in the seas surrounding this continent.


Sustainability is not just the domain of commercial fishing, of course. Recreational fishing is a massive business here. There are regulations in each state, but a recent study has revealed a fair bit of ignorance of them, as well as a perception that recreational fishing is not wide-ranging or ecologically impactful enough to warrant fisheries management. If you are one of four million* Australians who fish for pleasure, take a look at guidelines by Fishers for Conservation. 
http://www.ffc.org.au/Recreational_fishing_best_practice.html

Then, read this: 
http://espace.uq.edu.au/eserv/UQ:61819/Darrly_McPhee_Swallowing.
pdf 
Swallowing the bait: is recreational fishing in Australia ecologically sustainable? raises issues that I'd never fully considered. There are many ecological impacts of angling: it is by no means an 'environmentally benign' activity. The size and diversity of the recreational catch is not inconsiderable and has been aided massively by technology; discard rates are not adequately quantified and the detriment of taking undersized juveniles is still not fully appreciated by many anglers; the harvesting of bait from intertidal areas impacts on many other animals, such as migratory birds; pollution by hooks and fishing line causes injury and death, as do fishing vessels; introduced species (to bolster depleted stocks) adversely affect endemic species, and not just fish; quotas (bag limits and boat limits) are often ignored and difficult to enforce; the establishment of no-take Marine Protected Areas is not generally supported by anglers, who tend to view the conservation of marine diversity as the stuff of environmental groups rather than legitimate fisheries management; and politicians are reluctant to alienate a large, well-organised and vocal tranche of voters who believe their right to fish is sacrosanct.


Finally, while I am doubtless making myself unpopular, let's talk about sushi. I am the only person I know, apart from my friend, who doesn't eat sushi. I've never tried it, mind. Until the Japanese stop massacring whales and dolphins I will have nothing to do with their country, their customs or their cuisine. In fact, they didn't invent sushi: it was developed originally in Southeast Asia and spread to China before Japan.


I don't know my Narezushi from my Nigirizushi, or my neta from my nori, but I do know that sushi uses a lot of fish, and tuna in particular. I know that the Australia seafood industry focuses on high-value export species that include tuna*. And that Japan is Australia's second-highest-value export market* for edible fisheries produce.


The most valuable species of tuna are the three Bluefin species. It is claimed that the Atlantic Bluefin population has collapsed by 90 per cent since the 1970s, and the Southern Bluefin by 95 per cent since the 1950s. The Pacific Bluefin is also under severe threat. The huge increase in demand for sushi across the world in recent decades has taken a terrible toll. For the view of one marine biologist, go to 
http://sarah-curran-ragan.suite101.com/tuna-stocks-facing-collapse-and-all-because-of-sushi-a348760


If you don't see why you should give up sushi, but you're worried there might not be any fish to put in it in the not-too-distant future, never fear. Mitsubishu has stockpiled thousands and thousands of tonnes of the critically endangered Bluefin so that, when the poor creature is extinct, it can clean up as the only supplier.


The bottom line with all these issues is the safeguarding of the world's aquatic biodiversity for future generations. Will my children's children ever see something like this?

* Source: Australian Government, Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade

Why is there a Wet?

If you come from temperate climes, where it rains off and on fairly regularly and predictably, the idea of serious drought, sometimes for years, and then a downpour on a scale hitherto unimaginable is intriguing. Not to say terrifying, if the latter is accompanied by the kind of storms we experience in Brisbane. I have yet to see the huge hailstones that fall out of a green sky and destroy roofs and cars big time, but only a small part of me (the photographer) wants to. 

It's rained a lot the last two weeks; all part of 'the Wet'. In Tropical North Queensland especially there are two seasons, the Wet and the Dry. South East Queensland is subtropical and the lines are a little blurrier. Since I've lived in Australia, however, there doesn't seem to be any such thing as normal weather patterns: records are frequently broken and no one predicts with confidence. 

Last year's floods happened because of rains exacerbated by a La Niña event. The La Niña or El Niño effect, as measured by the Southern Oscillation Index (SOI), increases or decreases the likelihood of rainfall, and can last many months. My favourite weather lady, Jenny Woodward, updates the SOI every week as part of the ABC's forecast. A negative value means less rainfall than usual is likely: a severe drought resulted from El Niño events in 2007 and 2009, for example, and was relieved a matter of weeks before we arrived in Queensland. A positive value means La Niña is the dominant influence and there is likely to be more rain (and lower temperatures) than usual: I can't remember anything but positive values since I've been here*. To understand how these effects come about, see A bigger wet, October 2010. 

There are also monsoonal effects on the weather here. From October to March high pressure sits over the Himalayas and an ocean current (the Indian Ocean Counter Current) flows from west to east in the Timor Sea, blocking the 'Indonesian Throughflow' from the Pacific the rest of the year. This results in a large mass of relatively still water off the northwest of Australia, which heats up in the summer sun. Evaporation occurs, making the air above the 'warmpool' very moist. Northern regions of Australia are also warming up, and hot air rises leaving low pressure beneath. (Such heat lows only occur over large land masses.) Air flows into the low-pressure area, pulling the monsoonal air in over northern Australia. 

So, during the week 18-24 January, the Bureau of Meteorology reported that 'an active monsoon trough, as well as other low pressure troughs, resulted in high rainfall totals in parts of northern Australia… Large-area rainfall totals of greater than 50mm were reported in much of central Queensland and the southeast Queenland coast'. 

And the following week 'an active monsoon trough across the north, along with surface troughs throughout the centre and east of the continent, resulted in heavy rainfall and flooding in many parts of northern Australia, southern Queensland and on the east coast between Rockhampton and north NSW. Areas with rainfall totals exceeding 400mm were in south-east Queensland.' 

A trough, by the way, is an elongated area where pressure is lower than in the surrounding area. 

So, now you know why the cityscape has often looked like this lately.

* According to the Australian Meteorological and Oceanographic Society (AMOS), what was to become a 'super strong' La Niña event began in April 2010