Save Baja's Cabo Pulmo Reef from Developers

Please protect Baja's only coral reef from being destroyed by developers in Cabo del San Jose. Sign the petition and pass it on.

Pulmo means lung—and this unique northern reef is literally the lung of the Sea of Cortez. It's a singularity. There isn't another reef like it anywhere.

It's a protected marine sanctuary but massive resort development on land will also certainly destroy the reef.

I have snorkeled and swum with whalesharks there and it is a beautiful garden. Coral reefs slowly evolve over millions of years, often with unique species, they're temperature specific.

Raise the water temperature by a degree or two, and the reef dies. Add siltation or pollution—even freshwater runoff to the mix, and it's certain death for the reefs.

The southern regions of the Great Barrier Reef in Australia is dying from the plumes of cloudy, nutrient-laden, pesticide-polluted freshwater runoff and siltation from the recent Queensland floods. It could eventually stress and bleach all the coral and thus jeopardize the health of the entire reef but this will take years for the saga to play out. A slow death punctuated by the unchecked invasion of crown-of-thorns starfish—real reef killers—three years' hence.

By way of example of what can go wrong with tourism and reefs, Hanamua Bay in Hawaii was completely destroyed by tourists tenderly loving it to death while wearing sunscreen (toxic to reefs).

I snorkeled in Hanamua Bay before it was killed with too much affection in the 1970s and 1980s. I revisited it again when it was bleached bone white barren wilderness pounded to death by 3 million loving visitors per year in the 1990s.

I revisited Hanamua Bay again in 2010. After 20 years' protection and vigilant management, Hanamua Bay is only now just BARELY recovering—even with limited access and patrolling park rangers—constantly blowing whistles like referees at snorkelers standing on the reef (touching it kills the reef too). It's still a shade of its former self with only about 10 percent of its original fish and reef population.

This too will be the fate of Cabo Pulmo if the area is developed on a massive scale. That kind of vigilance and protection that brought Hanamua Bay back from the brink of extinction won't happen in Cabo Pulmo if the resort complex is built. And the reef will surely die from overexposure as well as runoff and pollution. Cabo San Lucas already has been destroyed by unchecked development and rampant tourism. Don't let this happen to Cabo Pulmo.

So, sign the petition.
http://www.cabopulmopark.com/thereef.html

• On June 15, 1995, President Zedillo Ponce de Leon declared the 7,111 hectares and waters surrounding Cabo Pulmo, a National Marine Park.
• Cabo Pulmo region was nearly destroyed due to excessive overfishing until 1995 when the area was declared a marine park. The fish populations are returning to a healthy status after 20 years' protection.
• Cabo Pulmo Reef has eight fingers of unusual hard coral reef
• Home to nearly 800 species of marine animals found in the Sea of Cortez, Cabo Pulmo Reef's rich biodiversity is unparalleled 
• Federal enforcement and financial aid is almost non existent and the quest to protect Cabo Pulmo National Park is a burden on the shoulders of the local community—barely 100 residents—who sorely need our help and support.
• Large-scale tourist complexes (like Cabo San Lucas) will cause irreversible damage, especially because of runoff and excessive use of the area

Pearl Harbor, Hanamua Bay, Hawaii Journal, 7/5/91

Early this morning we snorkeled in Hanamua Bay, in order to recover from the Fourth of July. Waikiki was jammed. Fireworks like I’ve never seen before, so many people all in one place. The sunset was a maroon fire. Fireworks against the backdrop were spectacular, if short lived.

Later in the afternoon we head out to Pearl Harbor, we’re waiting for the tour boat. I never thought I’d come to this place, but I am desperate for some alone time to write. I am semi-brooding, incubating material, but there’s so little time to write. I’m trying not to get frustrated with time issues.

Traveling with someone is always a compromise. I feel like I’m being railroaded. For example, the day we rented the car, I wanted to go back and get my camera since we were going around the island. But she didn’t want to. Yesterday, after Hanamua Bay, I wanted to stop at the blowhole, since I had a camera on me. She didn’t want to. I still haven’t had my Waikiki shopping fix because Marilyn didn’t want to go. Anyway other than that, it’s going well, in spite of it all.

I found a lei while waiting for the tour to the USS Arizona. A World War II survivor describes how the ship burned for 2 1/2 days, and there are 105 unmarked graves. A few years ago, I refused to go to the memorial because I am so anti-war. Now, I am ready to visit this place, though I dislike anything that commemorates war. It’s my job as a writer to record everything—both good and bad.

Pikaki and magenta carnations on my lei, the heady scent of the islands. There are few Japanese tourists visiting Pearl Harbor. Marilyn says it is similar to the Germans not visiting Auschwitz. Yesterday’s headlines, revolution in Slovenia. It was quiet for so long, revolution and war erupting in the Eastern Bloc countries. What will come of it other than more senseless death?

The World War II survivor rolls off a litany of ships damaged during the war, beginning with the ships named after states. They are always she. The USS Missouri, Mighty Mo. My namesake. Then he adds those ships named after cities, mythical creatures, and extinct Indian tribes: Phoenix, Oglala. They say you can still see the fuel rising to the surface from the USS Arizona even after all these years. Rainbows on the water. God’s promise of peace.

Yesterday, while I was snorkeling on the outer reef, a large moray eel followed me, lazily swimming unafraid in the open water. I had to keep reminding myself that he was only opening and closing his jaws like that in order to force oxygen into his gills. But it was alarming to see all those teeth up close. Fish have altered their behavior due to so much hand-feeding. One young parrot fish nipped my finger. Peas make them hyper aggressive, a naturalist says. All that sugar.

Finally they’re trying to save Hanamua Bay, now that they know that the coral is really dead. Too much human love, people standing on the coral reef, not understanding that it is a living entity. And sunscreen leaves oil slicks on the surface of the water. The bay is dying. I am appalled by its demise. Requiem for a bay.

Still, on the outside reef, I saw many more fish, a school of manini grazing on the reef. As the surging waves tumbled above us, the fish tumbled and turned, their mouths attached to the reef like stems of golden leaves in a windy sea. Something about the coming fall, golden birch trees—manini means leaves Hawaiian, I once read somewhere.

I am haunted by the thought of all those men entombed beneath the bay, their bones like bleached coral. Japanese doves circle at my feet. This place of pearls. What was it like before the military destroyed this shallow bay? A tiny Japanese girl chases the doves, shrieking in proverbial delight. Did the dying men even have time to scream I wonder? I want to cry, disliking these tears of pity, of sorrow, and distrusting the sentiment behind it.

My body is approaching 40, and I am uneasy with my reflective surface, feeling the loss of a mate, I’m lonely, having little to show for my life except for obscure deeds done. Bone tired, I no longer know how to slow down, even now. Death approaches in sleep, occluding the day.

The beauty of tropical fish, rare birds of the sea, as they swarm around me, is almost timeless. I am mesmerized, and never want to return to land. A man who pointed out a fish to me earlier underwater, recognizes me at the Save Hanamua Bay table. Smiles in recognition. It must be because I am the only one diving in a T-shirt and purple leggings. No sunburn here. I like his smile, but his face is indistinguishable from the others.

The other night walking along the beach at sunset, another dark-haired man smiled at me. I smiled back, smiling only because he smiled at me. It was expected of me to smile back. I acknowledge you without having to speak. Nothing else was implied. No pick up motions. I get so hostile when this happens, not that it does much anymore I thought to myself—then I was busy correcting that statement. Never did happen much to begin with—not because I’m old, or ugly, but because I make myself unavailable to most people. It’s a self protection mechanism.

I feel particularly unflattering right now. I could lose a few pounds but MarIlyn likes to eat all of her meals—like Oleg—and my will is weak. I need more control over my diet, I need more exercise, but my calves hurt from the Waikiki shuffle. I fell asleep at noon yesterday. I never fall asleep during the day. I am continually tired. The tropics drains it out of you. Mynah birds, twice the size of sparrows, and redheaded cardinals at my feet like Christmas ornaments.

The World War II veteran drones on, his voice drops an octave as he tells a story of a Japanese man who came here, with tears in his eyes, saying, I am so sorry this happened. Auschwitz is ensconced in a white glass bottom boat over the USS Arizona, and its name is Pearl Harbor. The only pearls left are the teeth of the dead. Even the palm trees wear yellow ribbons. We are all weeping for the dead. On the memorial wall I find my last name in black and wonder if we were related.

Overweight American women sprout sequins flags on their ample bosoms. I am an anti-sentimental American. An Asian kid wears a shirt saying, Proud to be American, is indistinguishable from the Japanese tourists swarming in indiscriminate formations, like pulsing flocks of starlings into the sky. It is all group mind.

At Hanamua Bay I was surrounded by Japanese tourists who have little sense of American body space. I do something considered to be rude. I push back. My ticket says number 17, with a message, Aloha. Take pride in America. Can I take pride without liking the hyperbole associated with patriotism?

The guide tells us, At 7:55 AM on December 7th, 1941, the USS Arizona sank in less than nine minutes—on a Sunday morning. What prayers were offered up?

MANINI

MANINI

How does the current level wave

capture that luminescence from the sky?

Tiny transparent fish in the surf 

schools of manini grazing on the coral 

as the wave changes, they suddenly shift 

as if they were fall leaves blowing in the wind.

The shifting wave swings the aspen leaf 

bodies of the fish about, as if a sudden dance 

of fall stirred them to madness.

Pale rainbow fish, zebra-striped eels, blue string worms.

How can one describe the hundreds of fish in the reef?

May 20-22? 1983

Added 9/15/2016