One day, when I had moved to Tobago and was living in Goodwood, I looked out to the Atlantic and saw a massive spread of "something" floating on the water.
Undulating on distant wave swells, it had a striking appearance, reminiscent of the large sequinned wave costumes I had helped to construct one year in Minshall's mas camp. The costumes were blue, but this floating mass dancing on the oceanic stage was orangey-brown with tinges of yellow. At first I thought it was debris or garbage, but later learned that it was seaweed.
Recently, there has been a profusion of this seaweed (Sargassum) floating off the Atlantic coast. I see it in particular on Little Rockley Bay in Lambeau. As a result of the accumulation, the Little Rockley car park–usually populated with the vehicles of people who are exercising, walking their dogs, fishing, collecting driftwood, frolicking in the water or sitting at the wooden picnic tables chatting–has been virtually deserted.
The whitish brown, coral-dotted sand, usually flat and vast when the tide is out, now looks like an alien landscape. The darkened, decomposing seaweed, piled in thick, wide bands along the shore is, in some areas, deep enough to potentially swallow the average human leg to mid calf.Even if you don't see the Sargassum, you will smell its strong odour along the coastline from the fishing depot to the small estuary where people with torchlights often hunt for crabs.
A few days ago that quaint stench catapulted me, in a scent-induced memory, back to childhood holidays in St. Andrews, Scotland, where the air along the coastline by the ruined cathedral was infused with the trademark smell of abundant Bladderwrack (another kind of seaweed).
On the afternoon when I stopped to take the photo for this article, a few people were at Little Rockley–not indulging in any of the regular beachside activities, but standing on the sand (whatever was left of it), with cameras or camera phones in hand, photographing the seaweed.
The dark, heavy clouds, low roar of the ocean and the sci-fi-like effect of the seaweed-infested waves churning toward land like a massive aquatic predator gave the atmosphere a surreal "something has happened" mood.And yes, something has happened and continues to happen to our environment.
For those who wonder why there is so much more of the Sargassum this year, the answer is eutrophication: "The process by which a body of water acquires a high concentration of nutrients, especially phosphates and nitrates. These typically promote excessive growth of algae. As the algae die and decompose, high levels of organic matter and the decomposing organisms deplete the water of available oxygen, causing the death of other organisms, such as fish. Eutrophication is a natural, slow-aging process for a water body, but human activity greatly speeds up the process." (Art, 1993)'
Run-off from agricultural and urban sources, partially treated or untreated sewage discharge, inorganic fertilizers, detergents and the erosion of land caused by construction and improper land use are some of the human-induced factors contributing to conditions that enable eutrophication. In addition, phosphates brought down by South American rivers are being circulated in the ocean by changing pathways of the currents.
Mother Nature has many ways of letting us know when our actions are tipping the scales off balance. In addition to leading more eco-friendly lives, we can look at the extra seaweed as a natural windfall, and seek ways of putting it to use (as some already do in agriculture) instead of leaving it to decompose on our shorelines.