“We used to seek out areas where the kelp created better habitat and growing conditions for abalone,” says Polly. “Now, it's much harder to find strong abalone habitat. The landscape has changed, and that makes our work more challenging.” Photo Nick Green
JAMES POLANOWSKI
How long have you been diving and working along this coastline?
I started deck-handing as a young boy during the school holidays with my father. One of my earliest significant memories is from when I was about 13 and began working with him. So, I’ve been diving and working along this coastline for over 30 years. As soon as I left school, I started full-time work with my father, and I began commercial diving at 17 – the earliest age I was legally allowed to. I may have even started a little earlier, informally.
From your perspective, what are the biggest changes you’ve noticed in the marine environment down here over the years?
The two biggest changes I’ve noticed are in the seaweed species. Some types have become more dominant, while others, such as the macrocystis (giant kelp), have declined significantly. There’s been a major shift in balance.
When did you start noticing the kelp forests disappearing? Was there a particular moment or time period where it really hit home?
Old-time divers and fishermen used to say the kelp went through a natural seven-year cycle. For the first 15 years of my career, I believed that – it really did feel like a cycle, where the kelp would be thick towards the end of those seven years. But more recently, that cycle just stopped. The decline has been especially noticeable over the last 15 years – and even more so in the last 10. It’s been a significant and steady deterioration.
How does the absence of kelp impact your work and how you approach abalone diving today?
It’s definitely had an impact. We used to seek out areas where the kelp created better habitat and growing conditions for abalone. Now, it's much harder to find strong abalone habitat. The landscape has changed, and that makes our work more challenging.
What does it feel like personally to see places you’ve known for so long change like this?
It’s deeply saddening. The habitat does not feel as vibrant and wild as we would ordinarily expect from the waters of Tasmania. From what I’ve observed, this is mostly due to extreme marine heatwaves and global warming. While many people – including scientists – blame long-spined sea urchins for the destruction of kelp beds, I don’t believe they’re the main cause. In my opinion, less than 2 per cent of the damage is due to the urchins. They don’t generally inhabit the same sheltered bays as macrocystis – they tend to live in the more exposed waters.
Do you think there’s a way back for the kelp in places like Fortescue?
After a recent dive and seeing firsthand that reseeding efforts haven’t worked, I sadly don’t think there is a way back – unless we can dramatically cool the planet. Unfortunately, that seems unlikely to happen within my lifetime.
Are there any stories or moments from your time diving down here that stand out as a reminder of how things used to be?
I remember times when it would take 20 minutes just to get across the kelp beds to reach the back of the bays. The kelp was so thick, you could almost get out and walk on it. Deckhanding for abalone in those areas was extremely tough. Deckhands would spend the whole day untangling weed from the props and compressor hoses. It was challenging work for divers also as whilst those were the very best grounds when the kelp was there, the divers had to work hard amongst the kelp forest. The best abalone lived beneath these thick kelp beds as they were most suited to this habitat.
"People who once viewed the ocean as inexhaustible and infinite,” offers Tim Cunningham, “now see the changes that have happened, now see its fragility and the fine balance it hangs in, and have changed the way they do things and the way they interact with the ocean as a resource. That is the key in mind." Photo Nick Green
TIM CUNNINGHAM
Where did you grow up, and how did the ocean and coastline shape your early years?
I grew up in Eaglehawk Neck and have lived there ever since. The ocean was my playground and still is. My father was a commercial scale fisherman, so l lived and breathed it from before I can remember. I’d spend every opportunity out there with him. My life has revolved around the ocean, swimming surfing, diving, exploring. It has made me who I am today, and I have a deep passion for it.
What’s your current work on/around the ocean, and how did you get into it?
I currently drive tourist boats along the coastline where I live as a day job; showing people the mind-blowing coast and incredible diversity of animals we see here, from albatross to blue whales and orcas chasing dolphins. I also do short contracts with the Australian Antarctic Division driving boats during resupply of the stations, particularly Macquarie Island. I’m also at the beginning of a long thought-out project to collect marine debris from the most remote parts of our planet. All these jobs have come from being immersed in the ocean from a young age and gaining experience in a wide range of areas
You’ve spent years exploring this part of the coast – how have you seen the marine environment change over your lifetime?
I’ve seen the fishing industry all but collapse. As a kid 12-to-15 boats worked permanently out of Pirates Bay, now only two cray boats work out of there, three months of the year. A few scalefish trailer boats and urchin boats through the winter and that’s it. I’ve seen the giant kelp disappear before my eyes. From vast forests as far as you could see; so thick you could drive a boat through it, you couldn’t work in it, entire bays full of it, and now a few straggly strands and that’s it. I’ve seen the long spine sea urchin turn up. I’ve seen entire species of pelagic fish disappear. I’ve seen the water consistently get warmer and stay warmer. But I’ve also witnessed the rebound of the humpback whales. We now see humpbacks every month of the year. We see them feeding, we see breeding behaviour, we’ve seen newborn calves. It’s been unbelievable to see. It gives so much hope for such a complex creature to rebound so quickly. The other thing I’ve seen is what really give me hope… I’ve seen people change the way they view the ocean. People who once viewed the ocean as inexhaustible and infinite now see the changes that have happened, now see its fragility and the fine balance it hangs in, and have changed the way they do things and the way they interact with the ocean as a resource. That is the key in my mind.
When did you first notice the kelp forests starting to disappear? Was it a slow change or did it seem to happen quickly?
The kelp has been slowing declining since the early 2000s, but it wasn’t really noticeable until 2012, 2014. The kelp would come and go with big swell events then be back a month later. Initially we would think, oh, it’ll be back next week, but slowly it wouldn’t come back. After these big swell events, patches were left without the giant kelp, and it just never returned. Twenty-sixteen was the tipping point, a “one-in-a-hundred-year’ swell event occurred ripping the last remaining significant forest on our coast out. All gone and it didn’t come back. That’s when it really hit home.
“If you can imagine visiting the giant sequoia forests in California or the epic eucalypt forests of southwestern Tassie but the all the trees are gone,” suggests Tim of the loss of Tasmania’s giant kelp. “The undergrowth is there but the trees are gone completely.” Photo Nick Green
What do you think is driving the decline in kelp along this coastline?
It’s without question a combination of lots of things which all stem from a warming climate. Warmer water means less nutrients available, which are required for the rapid growth of the kelp in response to large swell events. Warmer water allows invasive species like the long spine sea urchin to occur in larger numbers which eat the kelp. Not getting those two-to-three months of the year where the water temp is sub-12 degrees. What happens now is a big swell comes through, rips the kelp off the bottom and because the conditions aren’t right (water temp, nutrient load etc) other kelp out competes the giant kelp and covers the sea floor, so when the conditions are right the giant kelp can’t break through the canopy and that’s the end of it for that area. The kelp forests become more susceptible and vulnerable as they get smaller. The original forests were so vast that they provided protection from large swell events within the forest; within the forest even during these events it would be relatively calm. The kelp also acted as a buffer for the coastline and the creatures and plants. It also meant we could surf when the wind was onshore. No matter how windy it was, it would be glassy on the inside of the kelp. It’s a vicious cycle.
From your perspective, what can be done to help restore or protect these kelp forests?
I think we’re working against a very broad global issue here. The kelp is a bit like the canary in the coal mine. It shows a much deeper issue facing our oceans, but there’s hope. There’s always hope… the humpbacks have shown us that. People like Mick and Karen (Baron and Gowlett-Holmes) from the dive centre have pioneered a replanting method and have made it happen off their own backs, through pure passion and love of the place. They have shown it can be done, and even if some small forest can be re-established who knows what could happen.
You mentioned wanting to live life on your own terms, spending time with your family and adventuring. How important is this environment to that lifestyle?
The environment is fundamental to that lifestyle. It’s everything. I took our three-year-old snorkelling in autumn to show him the little kelp forest, then we turn up a few months later and it’s gone. I’m devastated, but there’s always hope and we’ve all gotta do a bit and my hope is that one day our boys will be telling the opposite story to mine. I’ve seen the collapse of the fishing industry and the disappearance of the kelp. How good would it be if they saw it all come back and the fish return, better than I ever saw it. And I believe it could happen.
How much of a role do you think sea urchins are playing in the kelp decline down here?
The urchins definitely have a localised effect on all the kelp. They create barrens. But if the water wasn’t so warm they wouldn’t be an issue, as they wouldn’t be able to establish in such numbers and the kelp would be able to grow back more quickly. It’s the combination. It’s worth mentioning the urchins are a major problem and cause catastrophic damage to all the different types of kelp. An urchin barren is a harrowing site. The management of the urchin numbers by commercial fishing is a tricky one; the divers want and need there to be urchins in good numbers so they can make a living, but if they leave too many urchins, they create barrens, and the urchins are poor quality for market. If they ‘take all’ it could mean a lean couple of years ahead for the divers and potentially make it unviable for the processors, so the divers can’t work, and the urchin population explodes. It’s about a very fine balance in terms of the management.
Have you noticed an increase in sea urchin numbers over the years? Is there a particular area or time when you first saw them becoming a problem?
Yeah, I’ve definitely seen a huge increase in the urchins. We see barrens from the surface now, just bare rock. Nothing living on it except the urchins. I first noticed them about 2012.
Having grown up on the water in Tasmania, Tim is occasionally despondent but ultimately hopeful about its future. "I'm devastated, but there's always hope and we've all gotta do a bit and my hope is that one day our boys will be telling the opposite story to mine." Photo Nick Green
Have you seen examples of certain areas where the kelp is managing to hold on despite the sea urchins? What’s different about those spots?
Often, it’s areas that have a nutrient load that is able to support the growth of the kelp and so has enough energy/growth rate to outdo the urchins. Sometimes big predators like southern rock lobster of certain size (over 2kg) can keep the urchins at bay.
How do you think the loss of kelp is affecting the wider marine ecosystem in this region? Are you seeing changes in fish life, abalone or other species?
If you can imagine visiting the giant sequoia forests in California or the epic eucalypt forests of southwestern Tassie but the all the trees are gone. The undergrowth is there but the trees are gone completely. Those giant kelp forests underpinned the whole marine ecosystem. Everything in these environments relied on them; everything has evolved to have them there. They acted as a physical barrier too; you couldn’t physically get a boat in there to fish. The abs, crays and scalefish were safe. It was a big sanctuary from us and their natural predators.
What’s the general feeling among local fishers and divers about the state of the kelp forests?
I think a lot of people are fairly unaware of how widespread the loss of the kelp is. Because initially it was so gradual, I guess. But like any environmental issue there are people who are keen to inform themselves, and others who would prefer to just keep their head in the sand.
If you could send a message about why this matters, what would you want people to understand about what’s happening underwater here?
I’d suggest we need a plan. Just as the ecosystem is incredibly complex so too is the plan to help it. We need a plan that addresses the challenges the environment is now facing and will face into the future. We can't rely on band aid fixes or shortsightedness. We need a state marine plan that includes the introduction of marine protected areas, more funding for grassroots projects like the giant kelp planting initiated by the Eaglehawk Dive Centre, more funding to manage the long spine sea urchins and other projects that can help bolster the local environment. Outside of this we're dealing with a global issue, and I have seen first-hand in less than my lifetime the direct effects of the changing climate. The most important thing though is we maintain positivity. There is always hope… there is no question in my mind we can turn the tide.
This story features in Roaring Journals, Edition Two: order your copy here.
Opening image: ‘Polly’ has spent over three decades diving and surfing in Tasmanian waters. There are few people better placed to offer an assessment of what’s going on below the surface. Photo Nick Green