Our Saltwater Pool

October 6, 2011

At 6 in the morning, the sun is barely starting to emerge from the horizon and the first glimpse of pre-dawn allows the South Eleutheran landscape to escape from the grips of darkness.  A strong northerly whips across Rock Sound and builds waves to a point where the wave break fails to provide any refuge from the whitecaps.  This does not sound like ideal weather for an ocean swim.  The rolling of the waves could make a dolphin seasick, while novice swimmers would be left choking on whitecaps cresting during a breath to windward.  In other locations, this might result in a lost training day, or a dry-land workout, especially if the swimmers do not have access to an alternate site for training.

Luckily for The Island School, out in Cape Eleuthera, there is a man-made channel connecting the protected harbor and the adjacent waters of Rock Sound.  The original intention of this narrow passage was to provide a release point for excess water that would surge into the marina during significant swells and storms.  This concept has proven to be effective, most recently during Hurricane Irene in late August of 2011 when the storm surge battered the western entrance yet the surge did not submerge pilings farther into the marina.  In this instance, water rose up nearly four feet, yet did not crest above the ridge along the sides.

Rock Sound is known for swift currents that manipulate ooid sandbars with such frequency that by the time the nautical chart has been printed, it has become obsolete.  When that large amount of water is forced through an artificial passage it creates a torrent that rips downstream, pulling strands of sea grass out of their beds and forcing fish to swim furiously in order to maintain position.

Affectionately known as “The Cut” by Island School students and faculty, the channel is only two-tenths of a mile long, or a bit more than 350 yards, and provides a safe haven on windy or choppy days.  Rather than being exposed to the raw elements of Rock Sound, we can train in a flat water, wind-free area.  Factoring in the strong current against the swimmers, those 350 yards feel like a half-mile or even more.  The water moving through the cut is deceptive.  At one end, the only tell-tale signs are bubbles which have been stirred up as water moves over shallower areas sliding from right to left.  On the marina side, eddies are visible when water moves past the support beams of the footbridge connecting Eleuthera to the island created when the cut was dug. 

Different areas of the channel pose different hazards and challenges.  Along the sides, although easier to navigate the current and make progress against land, sea urchins poke out from crevices in the limestone.  Swimming right down the middle exposes you to the full brunt of the current.  Simply put, there is no easy way to swim from one end to the other.  Sheer heart and determination is the only way to forge ahead in the endless pursuit of the exit ramp on the other end. 

Stroke by stroke and inch by inch, the goal of finishing one lap goes from impossible task to a certainty.  Being tossed around from left to right actually helps move forward as the body gets pushed into an area of least resistance.  Every once in a while, particularly around corners, one can find a nice back eddy.  Swirling around points and curves in the cut allow for miniature vacuums to form, sucking water up to fill in.  If you can find these magical pockets, it allows you to move effortlessly forward and is a huge confidence boost after being pounded back again and again.  Upon reaching the Holy Grail of the exit ramp, an easy swim with the current is in store. 

While on the way back to the starting point to pick up shoes, the sun finally pokes its rays out from behind the clouds which are already forming in the rainy season.  Visibility in the water begins to rise and small fish, for which the cut acts as an estuary, flit about between mangrove roots.  A few elementary backstroke pulls lowers the heart rate while also giving tired bodies a chance to bask in the warmth of a new day.  There are no flip-turns and no lane lines, but this saltwater pool provides a great work out in a location that cannot be beaten.

Lionfish: A Problem You Can Eat

Lionfish is a generic term used to describe numerous species within the Pterois genus of fish.  Although native to the Indo-Pacific region, lionfish, and in particular the species Pterois volitans or “red lionfish” have infiltrated the waters of the Caribbean and the East Coast of the USA.  One theory suggests that these fish were introduced into the Atlantic via aquariums that were smashed in Hurricane Andrew during the fall of 1992.  Other reports indicate that lionfish were present in the region earlier than that and may have come in the ballast of a ship in transit from the Pacific Ocean.  Despite the uncertain beginnings, the fact is that lionfish have become an invasive species causing harm to the native marine populations. 

An interesting feature of the lionfish, and one that likely enhances its ability to proliferate in this new region, is the venomous spines that protrude from the body.  Along the top there are thirteen dorsal spines, followed by spines along the pectoral fins and three anal spines.  When poked by one of the spines, most people get a swelling around the area of contact similar to a bad bee sting.  When working with a fish, it is best to use sturdy gloves that cannot be penetrated because there is still active venom even after the fish has been killed.  

The question that has been asked of many is what can be done to keep these invasive lionfish at bay?  A first solution is to learn more about them.  Here at The Island School, and in conjunction with the research team at Cape Eleuthera Institute, we are attempting to learn more about lionfish.  Some recent research topics include their mating habits and migration via patch reefs and currents.  These studies have been great and have been able to shine some light onto the behaviors of lionfish.  The second solution is that we have been able to capture a number of lionfish and eat them.  Despite their appearance as a tough fish with too many spines for safe handling, when proper precautions are taken, the potential for harm is dramatically decreased. 

Furthermore, the meat itself is incredibly succulent.  It has been compared to grouper, a fish with historical and cultural ties to The Bahamas, which has seen an increased stress on its population due to overfishing.  The New York Times even wrote an article detailing the increased demand for the fish. http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/10/science/earth/10fish.html?_r=1&scp=2&sq=lionfish&st=cse

Within The Bahamas fishermen have noticed that with a declining stock of grouper and corresponding rise in lionfish on patch reefs, a switch in which species to target can result in a more fruitful harvest.  The market for lionfish is growing both locally and in the US.  With a seemingly endless supply, fishermen here can be providing for their families while helping to contain the spread of this invasive species.  

Just last night, I had lionfish filets as part of my dinner.  Not only were the fish breaded and fried in an incredible fashion by our sustainable chef Emery, but the taste and consistency were unparalleled, in my opinion.  Should lionfish be present on a menu in your area, be adventurous and give it a chance and know that you are doing a small part to control an invasive species while also protecting  native species the lionfish is usurping.  

Hurricane Irene

August 24^th
2 PM – Depart Island School campus.  A full morning of hurricane prep, plus an entire day on Tuesday helped to put the Island School in a safe position going into the storm.  Wind generator taken down, and the blades pulled off.  The tower got cranked back up after stress fractures were found in two of the blades.  On the ride home, the first band of rain hits.  Near torrential levels.  This lasts for about 20 minutes at which point everyone runs for the cover of their assigned houses.

5 PM – Internet, cable, and electricity are all still working.  A new forecast from the NOAA Hurricane Center gives a projection of Irene intensifying to a category 4 level right over Eleuthera.  Two models put the eye of the storm directly over the Cape and Deep Creek, while 3 others have it 15 miles to the east over Rock Sound. (It actually moves farther east than that) 

5 – 7 PM – Hanging outside at the Farm, on the porch.  Watching the wind pick up.  A few loose limbs come down, but they are small and do not pose a hazard to walking or driving.  A few beers and getting ready for dinner.  Dinner is a crockpot beef stew, carrots, peas, and anything else that might go bad in the next 24 hours.  Electricity is on, but a news report from the Nassau Guardian states that electricity to the Family Islands will be cut when the sustained winds reach 45 mph. 

8 PM – A new weather report comes in.  Everyone looks at the new projections and speculates what it means for the house.  How fast will the winds be?  How much rain?  Will the eye hit us?

8:07 PM – Power shut off on purpose.  Residents quickly move from an environment of full light to dimly lit headlamps and candles.  Winds pick up with gusts creating a shrieking sound.  Wind currently out of the North, Northwest.

830-930 PM – Drinking on the porch.  Ron and Karen come over to hang out.  We spell out IRENE with our bodies.  Lots of nervous anticipation of what will come

930 PM – I make my first attempt at going to bed.  Winds pick up to sustained 70+, i.e. hurricane force.

11 PM – Radio check-in with ManTown.  Last update for the night, until 8 AM.

August 25^th
1 AM – The freight train is coming.  Everyone says that the sound of a hurricane is like that of a freight train.  From what Irene produced, it also has a hint of a revving jet engine at takeoff.

3-315 AM – Wind is probably at 110 to 120+ with gusts even higher.  At times, the house shakes and the pressure inside changes.  It makes me feel as though the roof will tear off at any moment.  By this time, I am lying in bed, waiting for the air conditioning unit to break out of the window.  Rain is being blown through the cracks in the window between the board and the frame.  Water may also be coming in through the actual AC.  A steady stream is coming down, creating a small pool of water.  The house begins to vibrate on each gust.  I move back to the main room with my backpack in my arms as to not get anything inside wet from the floor.  At this point, everyone is awake, looking at each other and thinking that it is the craziest and most intense experience we’ve ever been in.

430-530 AM – Eye of the storm.  It’s too dark to see anything so I get some rest.

7AM – First light.  Tin roofs blown off.  Trees down.  Power lines down.

8 AM – Morning check in, no emergencies.

830 AM – Gas gets hooked up and breakfast begins.  Winds still at 60+ gusts to 80 or over.  Had to go outside to get the plunger from the porch, and the rain felt like acupuncture.  Safe enough to take pictures from the back door.  Still boarded up.

9 AM – The gusts no longer whistle through the boards.  Wind has shifted to coming in from the southwest after the eye went through.  More tin comes off the roof, might have hit the house or propane tank.

915 AM – Dark ‘n Stormy

930 AM – Breakfast: Hash Browns, Furtado, Mango, Cantaloupe, Kalik

1030 AM – First adventure outside of the house.  See palm trees down.  Check on the house.  Some shingles have ripped off.  Some water.

11 AM – Begin unboarding the farm.  Start sightseeing.

1130 AM – Play Scrabble and Trivial Pursuit.

Afternoon – Still gusty. Return to the house.  No damage.  Some water came in through my AC unit and a pool on the floor.  Mopped it up.

730 PM – Ron and Karen’s house for a meat party.  Can’t let the good meats spoil.  All CEF members in Deep Creek bring their meat and we grill it up on an open flame.  The clouds start clearing and a sunset of pink and golden hues dominates the sky.

830 PM – Sleep.  No ventilation as the boards are still up.  Feels like a sweat box.

Deep Wound

Tuesday 26^th of April, 2011

I saw something that most people never see, and if you see it on yourself, something is seriously wrong.  The subcutaneous fat layer of my thigh saw the light of day briefly before being flooded by blood and wrapped in a towel.  Arriving at the dock with intentions of an afternoon sail during my day off, I sat down and relaxed while observing a game of backgammon.  In due time, the host returned home and we prepared for our departure.  Being the last one on the dock, I made sure to get my belongings securely over the rail before attempting to climb aboard. 

With the high tide resulting in a step up over the rail and the pitching boat creating a moving deck, I grabbed the hand of another passenger to help myself onto the boat.  Once my right foot was securely planted on the deck, I stepped off the dock on and swung my left leg out and over.  Be it a different pitch, or a lower trajectory, my knee came into contact with an unfinished stanchion.  Relatively hard. 

Immediately I knew something was wrong, but was not concerned until is saw that subcutaneous fat layer exposed.  As I learned from an EMT, this part of the body lies below both the epidermis and the dermis.  It is the last layer before muscle and all of the accompanying parts like veins, arteries, tendons, etc.  I saw a globule of what I can only imagine as fat.  Luckily, the bow of the boat had been pulled so close to the dock that I went directly back onto the dock, never coming close to falling into the water.

If that were to have happened, I am sure that the nurse sharks that just finished circling a cleaning station would have come after me with vigor.

Back on the dock, safely, I whimpered for help.  According to people who were there, I was the most passive exclamation for help that anyone had ever heard.  It did not start to bleed immediately, so people were confused as to why I was laying down with my leg elevated.  Seconds later the blood came and people realized it was serious.  A second boater retrieved a towel from his boat and applied pressure.  Others from my group carried me inside. 

I took one look at the wound during this time and knew for certain that it was bad news.  Not only was it wide, it was deep too, and there were definitely going to be stitches coming.  Being on Cape Eleuthera, the nearest clinic was 15 minutes away, and there is no guarantee that the doctor would be there, or that they would have the supplies needed to sufficiently handle my wound.  The medical team went into action, getting sterile gauze pads, wraps, and tape to attempt to stem the bleeding.  As I got into the car, I asked my roommate to collect my passport and wallet, because who knows where I might have to go to get this thing fixed.

Our first stop was the Wemyss Bight clinic where I waited alone for 45 minutes before the nurse and doctor realized that they did not have the appropriate stitches to handle my case.  Because the cut was so deep, they needed to have dissolvable stitches.  We moved on to the Rock Sound clinic, another 10 minutes away by car.  Compounding my frustration and pain, I was not given a pain killer or aspirin because it thins the blood.  In Rock Sound, my stitches were overtaken by a woman with chest problems who was having trouble breathing, and a baby whose coughing had not allowed her to sleep for three days. 

Finally, at 6:45, a full 3 hours after the incident, the doctor went to work on getting me sewn up.  Once the wound was cleaned through basically dumping an alcohol mixture on my knee, the first step was a painful injection of lidocaine.  Then two more shots were administered after the anesthetic had set in.  Four carefully placed stitches went deep into the tissue.  An additional 10 stitches went on the surface.  After four hours I got back in the car and got to chow down on a conch burger with macaroni and cheese and some french fries. 

Back on the Cape, I went to a reception that was supposed to be followed by a movie.  The movie could not be broadcast due to a faulty internet connection, so instead, my injury was the main attraction.  I heard stories of how ghostly my face had been and how no one believed I was injured initially. 

In total, there are 14 stitches in my leg right now.  There will be a wonderful scar when this heals.  And I cannot be in the water (including boat support and showering), for 2-3 weeks.  Luckily though, I should be able to participate in the 4-mile Super Swim at the end of May.

WARNING: Picture........

Sextant Readings at the Schooner Cays

Yesterday the Math Department took 24 students out to the Schooner Cays for an afternoon.  Due to the shifting sandbars in the vicinity, it is impossible to take a direct route, meaning the 5 mile trip becomes 8 miles.  You might ask yourself, what does riding in a motorboat out to a distant island have to do with mathematics?  The purpose of our trip was to expose students to the ancient maritime navigational aid of the sextant.  By using a combination of mirrors, angles, and eyepieces, sextant users  are able to take measurements of the sun at 3 very important times during the day; sunrise, noon, and sunset.

With the advent of standardized timing and time zones, plus technology such as GPS, the need to use a sextant has diminished considerably, but it can still be a valuable tool for any ocean-going vessel.  Despite being in the same time zone, Boston and Detroit do not have the same time of sunrise.  Despite having the same time of noon on a watch, the sun is not in the same position in the sky.  To compensate for this discrepancy, there is a term called the Local Apparent Noon.  This is a time of day where the sun is at it's peak in the sky.

The students began taking readings at or around 12:45 PM, after taking into account certain errors.  The dip error (eye height above the horizon) and the index error (when the calibration of the lenses is off) are important pieces of information that will allow you to have more precise readings.  We encouraged the students to take readings every minute.  At 1:04 PM questions came pouring in wondering why the numbers were going down.  Without having a true Celestial Navigation background, the concept of Local Apparent Noon had been glossed over and had to be experienced before it could be understood.

Continuing through the early afternoon, students took readings at intervals of either 30 seconds or a minute.  One group was so adventurous as to take a reading every 10 seconds.  Without every actually paying attention to the movements of the sun, students were amazed at how fast the Earth rotates and the difference each minute resulted in.  This appreciation of the world we live in and having it tangibly connect with mathematics is something that a traditional classroom cannot provide on a regular basis.

Biodigestion - A Bahamas First!

On the 13^th of April, 2011, The Cape Eleuthera Island School created the first recorded experiment of Biodigestion in The Commonwealth of the Bahamas.  Biodigestion is a way for the energy within animal waste to be harnessed and made into usable forms.  This concept has been around for thousands of years, but has recently gained popularity as the population exploded and significant issues with untreated human waste became apparent.  Currently, The Island School has a “blackwater” filtration system on campus known as the “Poo-Poo Garden” from which plants can draw nutrients.  This system does not remove all of the pathogens nor can it deal with the waste from nearly 100 people.

The campus has been actively searching for a solution to this problem and arrived at biodigestion due in part to the favorable conditions that The Bahamas provides, but more so the availability of glycerol.  Glycerol is a by-product of the bio-diesel production and was considered a waste product because of its inability to be used in large quantities.

After reading numerous articles on construction methods and types of digesters, our 6 students built scale models of the system in order to run tests on how different amount of glycerol affect the production of methane.  Methane, as known as natural gas, is a gas that when unused does about 20 times more damage to the atmosphere than the equivalent amount of carbon dioxide.  Therefore, it is important to harness this energy source and greenhouse gas before it enters the atmosphere.

Our primary input is pig waste, weighing on kilogram, mixed with water to create a viscous slurry.  When inoculated, the slurry will begin a stage called hydrolysis.  Moving through the stages of breakdown, called acetogenesis and acidogenesis, the slurry begins methanogensis.  At this point, methane begins to produce, changing the pressure within the first container.  A tube connects the first container to the second, and similarly the second to the third.  The second container has water in it, which becomes displaced into the third as gas pressure increases.

Once the process is completed, the methane can be captured from the second container and collected or burned outright.  As mentioned earlier, at upwards of 20 times more dangerous than carbon dioxide, the free release of methane into the atmosphere poses a great danger to the Earth.  When burned, methane changes into on CO₂ molecule and a water molecule in the form of steam.  Also, trace compounds have been found but none as harmful as pure methane. 

As you might imagine, the amount of gas that can be harnessed from one kilogram of waste can be considerable.  When mixed with glycerol, an agent which increases the rate of production, this amount is increased over a shorter period of time.  Two of our trial run digesters failed after the pressure inside the containers caused the caulking to fail.  After 5 days, we still had enough gas in our remaining two digesters from the 8 pigs on campus to get a sustained burn of 20 seconds. 

Currently, we are running a second trial using what we learned in the first trial to figure out the best ratio of glycerol to waste to maximize our output.  In a large scale production, this technique has the ability to power all of the cooking needs for a village of 50-75 people, roughly the size of our on-campus community.  As a benefit to the community, we reduce the amount of glycerol that goes unused, reduce septic waste, and get a nice pathogen-free fertilizer which helps plants grow faster.

Swimming with Sharks

16th April, 2011

“I need you to keep watch and if any sharks come close, punch them in the nose,” said Chris Maxey, moments before we entered the shark-filled waters of the Cape Eleuthera Resort and Marina at Powell Point.  The MoonShadow, an Island School boat that can be used for advisory trips or an afternoon at sea, was in desperate need of a bottom cleaning.  Since I generally jump at the chance to try something new, and especially when it involves swimming in the ocean, I volunteered to accompany him.

According to the Island School handbook, no one is allowed to swim in the marina at any time.  The primary reason is that boats come in from a day out packed with fish.  Red snapper and grouper are the more common catches.  There are filleting stations located around the perimeter overlooking the water.  As each fish is being gutted, cleaned, and filleted, the scraps are tossed into the water, creating a feeding frenzy among the sharks which have pooled in the area in anticipation of an easy meal. 

The MoonShadow is only 30 feet from one of these stations and anything hitting the water immediately draws the curiosity of the waiting sharks.  After the bubbles cleared it only took 30 seconds before a strong, sleek nurse shark came cruising by.  My best guess would be 7 feet long, weighing in at over 500 pounds.  This shark was followed soon after by two remoras, a species similar to a dolphin, but much smaller and with more of a bluish hue than grey.  After the initial trepidation of having a shark appear out of nowhere and come bother me, I set about completing the task at hand.  I did a number of spins underneath the water to make sure that I was aware of everything that was swimming by.

With a blue bottom, it was tough to see the algae growth along the bottom of the MoonShadow.  Taking the scrub brush to the underside of the hull resulted in a plume of blue paint exploding forth and creating a murky haze which drifted easterly along with the flooding current.  Becoming more comfortable, both with the concept of sharks in the vicinity and the job of diving below the surface to clean a keel with a draft of 5 feet, I began taking extended trips underneath the waves.  At one point, out of the green light made cloudy by paint, I could identify 4 nurse sharks ranging anywhere from 12 feet away up to 30 feet out.

One shark became so curious as to rub along the underside of the keel.  Moving at a leisurely pace where Chris and I could watch the approach, Chris reached down and grabbed the tail fin of the passing nurse shark.  At that point, the shark become so rattled it sped off into the deep.  I too became rattled as I would never have thought to toy with a 600 pound unpredictable creature in its natural habitat.  We quickly finished the hull and I began working on the boot stripe as Chris powered his way through cleaning the propeller and rudder section at the stern. 

While focusing at one spot along the bow, I noticed three curious sharks approaching with menacing looks on their faces.  I could not tell if they were hungry, just cruising, moving with the tide, or actually coming in for a meal.  Luckily, we both were able to clamber aboard using the step ladder attached to the stern before either of use became feed.  Also, fortunate for our purposes of minimizing risk, a large fishing vessel came into the marina and began unloading its fresh catch not 10 minutes after we had emerged from the water.  We were able to get out of the water before the scene got active with chum.

As I mentioned to some of the on-lookers who were taking pictures, it was a once in a lifetime experience, and I’m glad it is over now.

Lobstering

After two miles of bike riding, the last thing I wanted to do was to walk for and extra quarter mile over sharp, stabbing limestone with poisonwood on my left and an ocean blasting spray up over my head on the right.  Numerous blowholes rumbled underfoot, surging and draining with each wave.  This area is tricky to navigate under the best circumstances, but adding to the difficulty was a bag of dive gear and two spears.  Each step had to be carefully placed to avoid an off-balance landing that would certainly result in a puncture. 

Actually entering the water proved to as challenging as getting to the point of departure.  Timing the waves in such a way that the force pushing towards the rock occurs while in the air, so the ebb away will draw you into the ocean current took a few moments to become acquainted with.  Not knowing how deep it was also proved to be a factor in the jumping process.  And finally, controlling the spear and goggles made hitting the water a frightening experience.

Our spot is about 200 meters offshore, which is perfect, since Bahamian law stipulates that all fishing must be conducted at the distance or greater from the coastline.  Swimming out there with a decent swell and strong current was difficult.  Since I didn’t have fins or a snorkel, I had to frog kick out with one arm doing a freestyle pull.  It was the easiest way I could find to make progress, but it was by no means fast. 

The Caribbean Spiny Lobster doesn’t look a lot like their counterparts from Maine.  They have extremely long antennae and no front claws.  Most of the meat comes from the tail, and if you have eaten at Red Lobster in the past 5 years, there is a pretty good chance that those tails came from Eleuthera.  Another interesting feature of the lobster is that the antennae can rub against the skull to create a clicking sound.  This warns off potential predators and is very interesting to hear in person.

Setting up on top of the rock, I let Matt show me what to look for and the proper way to spear.  By moving up current from the target, energy can be saved that would better be used searching for prey.  Coming into the shot, draw back the spear against the rubber holder to increase tension, aim, and fire.  Aiming underwater is difficult as many factors can affect the accuracy.  Wave action overhead, current, breath control, and the animal itself all determine if the shot will be a success.

Matt began the session by finding a target and chasing him around the rock.  The lobster went into a crevice that could only be accessed by one opening from above.  The spear could fit through, and the lobster could make it, but together, they could not.  After Matt got his shot in and hooked it on, I came around to make sure that if the lobster wriggled off the end of his spear, I would be there to recapture it.  As Matt forced the lobster up and out of its hole, it slid off the end of the spear, but not before separating the carapace from the tail.  We went down to pick up the tail and Matt cleaned it out, putting it into the mesh bag we were using as storage.

After a few minutes of regaining composure and basking in the thrill of the chase, it was my turn to find a lobster and take it home.  At first, I thought that the long protruding antenna coming out from underneath the rock was a stingray.  When I dove the 5 feet to the bottom to inspect, I had the wonderful surprise of seeing a lobster staring me in the face.  Matt dove down to take a look, but he said that this one was all mine.  Setting up so that I could float in with the current and draw my spear, I took a deep breath and made for the overhang.  My first attempt missed, but the adrenaline was pumping through my veins.  I stayed directly above the spot where the lobster lay hiding, took a quick breath, and made my way down again.  This time, the spear hit with precision, however it did not go all the way through the body.  As I pulled the spear out of the hole and back towards the surface, the lobster came out into the open and fell to the floor of the ocean.  Lying on its back and completely vulnerable, the lobster had no chance as I went in for the final kill.  

Run/Swim

When there is land: run.  When you hit water: swim.  It’s that simple.  It’s the Run/Swim. 

A staple of the Island School experience, the Run/Swim is an exercise that challenges you physically and mentally.  After a mass start just north of the boathouse docks limbs become tangled and it is difficult to gain traction through the water due to intense kicking aerating the water.  Faces have been kicked, ankles grabbed, and water swallowed in the first frenetic seconds of the event. 

Normally during morning exercise, the group stops to wait for all participants and we move between each obstacle in unity and with a swim buddy.  On this occasion, due to the fact that it was a timed Run/Swim, we had support along the entire course allowing each person to strive for a personal best.  Moving swiftly through the tiny trails on each spit of land poses significant hazards.  On the first overland traverse, concrete blocks are piled in the middle of the goat path creating an obstruction. 

Running at full speed over a beach whose rocky shores are a mix of coral, stone, and conch shells proves to be an interesting challenge.  Gauging when to begin the dive is critical.  A slip or wobble can cost precious distance or even roll an ankle.  Going too soon means a belly flop into knee-deep water, while too late results in a complete loss of momentum equivalent to hitting a wall.

Snaking through the paths past Triangle Cut becomes tricky as two parallel paths merge right at the beach, resulting in a gracious exchange between two rivals as one allows the other to proceed.  A 50 meter swim through choppy water brings all participants to The Wall.  A reinforcement wall about 7 feet above the seafloor can be cleared alone or with the help of the support team.  If the support team is ready and trained, scaling The Wall takes mere seconds. 

Making the turn back towards campus brings you to the cliff jump.  Depending on the tide this jump can be anywhere from 12-15 feet, possibly more.  More than anything, this feature of the Run/Swim course is the ultimate mental challenge.  Some students will pause at this point and compose themselves before taking the plunge but the sting of falling will only last for a brief moment while the accomplishment of jumping into the unknown and coming out ok will last much longer. 

A few more swim cuts and overland runs bring participants back to the Girl’s Dorm Cut.  Casuarina trees and their foliage litter the landscape.  Hurdling that concrete barrier one final time allows everyone to lift their heads, if only temporarily.  A blazing sunrise coming up over the campus inspires even the most tired participant to dig deep and push through to the end.  Soon enough, despite the pain, it will be over.  Not only is there a desire to finish, but deep down inside, there is the competitive desire to improve on personal best times.

Exiting the water and moving onto solid ground for that last sprint to the flagpole results in that endorphin rush known as Runner’s High.  No amount of pain, fatigue, blood, sweat, or tears can derail the desire to finish.  Entering the circle in a full on sprint, holding nothing back and fighting for every second on the stopwatch results in a scene more akin to bulls charging down the streets of Pamplona.  Upon hitting that flagpole and stopping the clock, nothing matters, it’s over.  Only then will the blood be noticed.  Or the nose blown.  Or the shoe be retied. 

It is an Island School pillar of morning exercise.  Later in the semester all students and faculty will compete again, searching for ways to make up lost seconds through more efficient transitions or a new entrance technique.  In the meantime, the cuts, bruises, and blisters will heal and everyone will be stronger because of their accomplishments.

Energy

While standing in line for breakfast, I noticed that our energy usage had spiked to 197kWh.  All of our campus energy harnessing systems only managed to capture 122 kWh.  Compared to the last reading of only 4kWh greater usage than capture, this spike was dramatic.  A likely reason for this fluctuation is that students had just come to campus and were not yet used to living in an environment where all resources are precious and nothing goes to waste.

A large reason for the need for energy came from the weather.  A stifling hot and humid day, with temperatures in the mid-80s, yielded conditions that prompted fans to be used constantly.  One fan can use as much energy per hour as 15 compact fluorescent light-bulbs.  Two dorms housing the 48 students on campus have a total of 24 fans.  Despite being set to a timer, it does not ensure that the fans will go off when no one is present.  These were on all day, even during dinner when no one was occupying the dorm. 

Our limited energy is harnessed in both solar and wind forms.  On a calm day, the energy production is diminished.  Additional wasteful energy practices continued throughout the day as numerous students kept their laptops or iPods plugged in all day even though they were fully charged.  When The Island School is producing power that exceeds the on-campus needs, it can send the power out to the grid and the national energy company purchases that energy.  Conversely, when the school uses more energy than is being created, we draw in from the grid. 

As students settle into the dorms in the evening, naturally they will have to use power.  Recharging the computer is a necessary draw on energy.  Leaving a fully charged laptop connected into the wall overnight is not.  By eliminating these wasteful practices of unnecessary energy use, we can potentially get to a point where we are consistently selling energy to the grid.  Even on an individual level, these small and simple steps can have a noticeable impact.  When expanded to include the entire community, the actions taken to reduce our energy draws will get the campus on track towards energy sustainability.

Spotted Eagle Rays at Current Cut

On the “Down Island” faculty trip, a group of four set off to explore Eleuthera.  Led by Remo, we drove up to Spanish Wells, a group of two islands off the northern tip of the island.  A seven dollar ferry ride got us through the narrow channel and over to St. George’s Cay; the hub of Spanish Wells.  A Saturday morning brunch beckoned and we slipped into a harbor-side diner called The Anchor Shack. 

For the first time in three weeks, I had a hearty, American-style meal.  I ordered the Super Breakfast which consisted of scrambled eggs, hash browns, crispy bacon, toast, and the puffiest pancakes I have ever seen.  This meal more than made up for the mistake of an order I had at The Beach House restaurant near Governor’s Harbor the night before.  Though succulent, the braised duck was smaller than my fist and I consumed it in only two bites. 

The community of Spanish Wells, as it was described to us, is predominantly white but thoroughly Bahamian.  The original settlers from the west came south from Bermuda during the 1700s.  A huge economic boost is that the community has an almost exclusive contract with the restaurant chain Red Lobster.  Roughly 80% of all the lobster on the plates of a Red Lobster come from the waters surrounding Spanish Wells and North Eleuthera.

At the Current Cut, the western point on Eleuthera, a swift race of water slices through the porous limestone at close to 10 knots.  Starting on the Atlantic side, we jumped off a 8 foot ledge and quickly were whisked downstream towards the Exuma Sound.  It took me a few moments to gather myself and adjust to the speed.  Focusing in on the bottom, I began seeing shapes sluicing below.  Finding my breath, I began a free dive down towards the bottom.  Wearing swimming goggles as opposed to a snorkel and mask limited my depth, but I could still make out snapper.

Seemingly as soon as we had jumped in and gotten into the heavy current towards the middle of the channel we had to fight our way back to shore where a back eddy brought us safely into a small sandy beach.  Such a quick ride did not whet my appetite for exploration and we scurried out of the water and back up the path.  Luckily for us, this extra trip down the current was well worth it.

Upon re-entering the water, we stayed closer to shore.  A local fisherman had given up and his hand line was no longer a hazard.  By staying closer to the rocks, we found a back eddy.  I practiced my free diving, having traded my goggles for a mask.  Although leaking, I was able to get into the 25-30 foot range comfortably.  At this depth, I needed four arm pulls and coinciding dolphin-kicks to reach the surface.

While working my way down, I spotted a large shape in the distance, flapping majestically.  I pulled out of the dive and went horizontally towards the shape.  Before swimming up to the surface, I noticed white spots on the back along with an enormous tail barb.  Reaching the surface, I started yelling towards my swim partners imploring them to look down.  With the horizontal motion of my dive, I had exited the back eddy and starting moving again.  With my head below the water, I began counting spotted eagle rays.  6 in one pod and 7 in another.  13 spotted eagle rays in one trip down the Current Cut! What a day.

DCMS 10-Year Celebration

In conjunction with the DCMS 10-year anniversary, all of Cape Eleuthera Foundation was invited to a fundraising ball at InGraham’s Beach Inn down in Tarpum Bay.  Many alumni and former teachers returned to the island to support the cause.  Starting with a school bus ride from the Cape all the way out to Tarpum Bay, the night was filled with revelry.  There were multiple coolers packed with ice and refreshments which were consumed on the hour long ride to the event. 

Once the bus arrived at the school, we were treated with a wonderful live band called The Rum Runners, a cash bar, and a buffet table that stretched seemingly for miles.  On the menu was conch, salad, peas and rice, jerk chicken, and mac and cheese.  The guavaduff for dessert really hit the spot.  This local delicacy is made with dough, guava, and lots of sugar.  Once the guava is kneaded into the dough, it is boiled and a nice sugary glaze is drizzled on top of it. 

Once the plates were cleared, a dance party kicked off.  Awards were given out for best dancer, best dance move, and best dressed.  Although the injured ankle was still problematic, at that point in the night the pain had subsided and I proceeded to dance alongside colleagues from the Island School and CEI. 

Saturday morning came earlier than expected.  I had previously volunteered to be a support station for the 5 mile Run/Walk from campus to Deep Creek and could not back out of that commitment.  I set up my station with Jonny at the S-curve, about halfway down the course.  A trickle of runners came through, for which we were prepared to support with cups of water and orange slices.  Once the larger pack of joggers and walkers came through the station, we struggled to keep up with the demand. 

Our stations had strategically been placed about a mile apart from each other.  At this distance walkers could fill up their bottles at each station if necessary, while runners could alternate between drinking or splashing some on their face and continuing down the road.  My favorite moment of the morning came as a young Bahamian, possibly a DCMS alum, came through.  We offered him water, but he kept going saying, “No water. It’ll only slow me down.”  Only 15 seconds or so later, Gabe came through and it looked as though he was determined on passing the guy in front of him and moving into first place.

Jonny and I packed up once all of the participants had passed through.  The support van picked us up and we motored down to the finish line to cheer on all the participants as they came into the finish area.  This area was the “Street Fair” and looked like a carnival.  Food and craft vendors occupied stalls on a makeshift midway, with a large stage at one end.  Most of the food was similar to what I have become acquainted with as typical Bahamian fare, however later in the evening there was a lionfish cook-off.  These fish were caught during a lionfish reef cleanup and by all accounts are a tasty alternative to the endangered groupers. 

The Royal Bahamas Defence Force Band played popular local music as well as reggae covers of classic American songs.  The party did not stop until after 10 PM, having started at the completion of the walk nearly 11 hours earlier.  Street Fair, and the entire weekend celebration, served as a wonderful tribute to the achievements that DCMS has made in its first 10 years of existence.  Hopefully this school can continue towards its goal of providing an intermediate transitional point between primary and secondary school, and will develop environmentally conscious leaders for the future of the nation.

Busted Ankle: 48 Hours

Wow.  I never thought that busting an ankle could be so excruciating.  In all of my years playing sports, running up and down the field, I was fortunate to never have a serious foot injury.  Immediately after falling to the basketball court in Deep Creek in excruciating pain, I knew that something was wrong.  I heard a pop and couldn't put any pressure on that foot at all.  Swelling started up and within 5 minutes I had a nice double ankle on my left foot.

At the 24 hour mark, the swelling had increased to a point where I no longer had a double ankle, but rather an ankle twice the size it normally should be.  Bruising began to set in.  The entire foot took on a greenish-bluish hue that reminds me of the ocean outside my back deck.  Although mobility began recovering as it was propped up on the couch, the swelling and subsequent pain prohibited me from making any attempts at walking.

Common sense required the RICE method.  Rest, Ice, Compression, and Elevation.  I did my best to participate in all of the activities on the schedule, but morning exercise was off-limits.  Participation did include putting my feet on the table during semester prep meetings.  I iced for 20 minutes and then took a break, lowering my foot so that it didn't fall asleep, and then returning the leg to an elevated position many times throughout the meeting.  I also used a towel to stretch so that it would not become stiff.

This morning, after spending the entire night with the foot perched on top of a suitcase (a suggestion from Ron the Divemaster) I felt comfortable enough to take short steps without the crutches to get out of the bedroom.  The swelling has not noticeably dissipated, however by feeling stronger, less tender, and with greater range of motion, I feel like the situation is improving reasonably well.

After breakfast, Rachel and I went up to Rock Sound to see Doc Smith, the South Eleuthera doctor.  He was making house calls when we arrived at 9:15.  Rachel took out her Mac and started on a Sudoku puzzle, while I attempted a crossword from those 100 puzzle books you get at the airport.  Once we finished our respective puzzles, we switched and began anew.  By this time, word had reached the waiting room that the doctor would not be in until 11:30.

We set out for the market and ran errands to pass the time, but upon our return more people had shown up.  Assuming that because our name was on the list as second to arrive and thus second to be seen, all of the other people would respect that order.  Unfortunately, that order was not realized, and we continued sitting in the waiting area.  Luckily, the television was set to the Bahamian public news station.

Finally, after nearly 4 hours on the move, mostly in the hurry up and wait approach, I got in to see Doc Smith.  A quick observation and a few prudent pokes and prods yielded this diagnosis.  Based on the description of the incident (basketball with a twist and pop) and the concurrent swelling and bruising, I may have a fracture of the talus and torn ligaments.  It is definitely a Grade III sprain.

The next course of action will be to keep up the RICE treatment.  Hopefully the swelling will diminish.  Additionally, the two treatments that I was prescribed (a pill for inflammation and a gel/cream) will help this cause.  If continued improvement is halted or reversed, then it may be necessary to fly to Nassau for appropriate X-ray or MRI tests.  However, if all goes well and the treatment is successful, it may be possible for me to begin rehabilitation exercises by the weekend.

Pictures of the injury are coming, especially of the myriad of colors that are, and will be, present in the foot.

DCMS Basketball

Deep Creek Middle School (DCMS) is the site of the pick-up basketball game that Island School and CEI staff participate in.  Although not overly competitive, there is still a serious tone to the game and bragging rights for the winners.  I found myself in the middle of a 3-on-3 game and just tried to feel my way around the court and get used to the motions of a game I had not played since grade school.

Although we lost that first game, I found that moving, passing, dribbling, etc. all came back quickly.  I was feeling comfortable despite my rust and did my best to stay out of the way and to avoid contact.  In the process of avoiding contact and cutting to an open area of the court, I took a bad step and rolled my ankle.  Not only was there the intense searing pain from the roll, but I heard an additional pop that worried my greatly.

Immediately the game paused and the other players rushed in to help the best they could.  Sam ran down to his house and grabbed a cooler filled with frozen packs and some ice.  Ian got a towel to provide a soft place to rest the foot as I was still lying on the court clutching my lower leg.  Matt, my colleague in the math department, aided in getting me over to the picnic table at the side of the court.  Jake and Avery helped out with wrapping the ankle and getting me in a comfortable position.

Going into the dining hall with a busted ankle isn't much fun.  First, there are the 3 steps to climb before actually entering the facility.  Secondly, all eyes immediately turn to the crippled kid.  "What happened?" they all asked, and I proceeded to recount the details I could remember.  I showed off what looked like a third ankle bone, on the outside of the foot; below the ankle, but farther forward.  On a positive note, the most common response was, "Ouch, looks like it hurts, but I've seen worse."  This makes me feel good, but it's clearly a serious injury that will take time to heal properly.

Overall, it was a team effort.  I am grateful to everyone who helped out, and it is obvious that this is a community that takes care of their own under any circumstance.

Sea Turtle Rescue

Thursday began with a typical morning exercise routine that involved a 4 mile run, with a glorious jump off of High Rock to interrupt the tedious pounding of running.  Since this day was designed by David and Remo to be an exploratory trip through South Eleuthera, we needed to get on the road soon after breakfast.

In the van, we made a decision to spend some time exploring a blue hole.  This is a place where the limestone eroded away when the sea level was much lower and as the water level rose, they became underwater caves.  The ancient Lucayans believed that these were holy entrances into a different world.  In recent dive explorations, they have found ceremonial remains of Lucayans.  Additionally, the modern Bahamians have begun creating cemeteries on land closest to a blue hole in honor of the ancient traditions.

This hole was located about 300 yards off the beach and the entrance was 15 feet deep.  Jonny and Lyssa free dove down to the cave entrance and then explored a little deeper.  I got a few tips on free diving from Peter, who has experience working in the islands of the Pacific in addition to working in the Virgin Islands.  I could not get the hang of the breathing and recalibration of equilibrium at any depth, so my maximum depth was only 8 feet and I couldn't explore that area like I wanted to.

We continued "down island" which is actually moving north through Eleuthera.  We stopped at a cave where I spotted a 4 foot Bahamian boa constrictor.  I told Jonny, who in turn yelled at Remo to come have a look.  Remo grabbed the boa and as it began to wrap around his forearm, he launched into a speech on how when boas become scared or agitated they tend to urinate or defecate on the aggressor.  Well, that's exactly what happened moments later.

Exiting the cave system gave us the opportunity to have lunch at a place called Ocean Hole in Rock Sound.  I would compare this formation to an open pit quarry that was filled in, but it is actually the same as a blue hole, except the entrance is above ground.  Within the hole, Tiffany saw a green sea turtle.  According to the sign, local legend says that there is a hole which creatures swim in from the ocean.  Clearly there is a link between this hole and the ocean, because the water is brackish, however the likely explanation is that fishermen have brought in these animals and used it as a holding tank.

Tiffany, with her experience working in Fiji and Australia, was very comfortable handling the turtle.  Doing some additional research post-incident on the reputable website Wikipedia, gave me insight into the delicate relationship between green sea turtles and humans.  Local culture has considerable elements of turtle use, from soups to eating of the eggs, and using them in ceremonies like weddings or funerals.  Minor nesting spots have been found in the Bahamas and on Eleuthera but the expansion of tourism has caused stress on the local habitat and increased the possibility of accidentally treading on a nesting site.

Usually turtles will squirm and avoid being handled, but this guy was very placid.  It was assumed that the turtle had swallowed or chewed on some plastic detritus that fell into the Ocean Hole.  Because there is no natural vegetation in the hole, the turtles have a short life expectancy in that brackish water anyway, and the possibility to chewing on plastic makes the situation much more dire.

In a matter of two minutes, the lunch spread on the picnic table was put back into the van, and we were off to the races.  Remo drove and David gave directions, leading us to an amazing beach that from the road was obscured by a bluff.  Luckily, the turtle could survive for up to an hour on land and this trip only took minutes.  As Tiffany went out to guide the turtle into the water and toward a patch of seagrass, things did not look good.  Speculation ensued on whether the turtle was in a state of shock, or distress, or on the last breaths of life.  Once Tiffany had reached the patch, she released the turtle into the wild.  After moments of extreme trepidation, the turtle began swimming on its own and breathing.  Although clearly not strong enough to swim at great vigor, it had enough power to fight the current and at least maintain it's position laterally along the shore and at a distance equal to the shore.

Thoughtful reflection and discussion on the situation that led up to a trapped turtle and the need for a rescue keep us engrossed in conversation for long enough to lose sight of the green sea turtle.  It is assumed optimistically that this creature was just in shock and was playing dead for as long as it took for the humans to leave him alone.  No matter what the outcome, this individual turtle is now in a much better place and one that is more suitable for survival than what he was in when we found him.

New Faculty Orientation

The Island School and the Cape Eleuthera Institute (CEI) brought in eight new faculty or staff for this semester.  Outside of the four fellows, there is Ron the Divemaster and new head of the boathouse; Lissa, who is transitioning from CEI over to IS in the field of Human Ecology; Tiffany, who will run Visiting Programs through CEI; and Peter the new Marine Ecology teacher.

Starting on Monday morning with a rigorous snorkel exercise, this group has been together for all the daylight hours.  Currently, we are being guided by Remo, David, and Justin and eased into the way of life at the Cape Eleuthera campus.  A basic day entails a 630 morning exercise, followed by breakfast.  We then move into meetings which range in topic from risk management to how to reuse "resources" i.e. our garbage collection.  After lunch, we have been going on excursions which gradually expose us to the wider network of Eleuthera.  Finally, dinner has been in various spots around South Eleuthera and is then followed  by personal time.

Our morning exercise has been snorkeling, completing a run-swim, going for a run on the inner loop, and on Thursday a demanding run out to High Rock and back to campus.  For terminology sake, the inner loop is the interior of a golf course which was only operational for twenty years, and has since been reclaimed by nature.  The original cart paths and some fairways are intact and provide excellent running opportunities.  High Rock is a cliff overlooking Exuma Sound.  The limestone has been beaten away by years of wave action and rain erosion, creating a 15-20 foot (depending on the tide) cliff from which we can jump into the azure waters.

A run-swim is an exercise which begins at the girls dorm cut and goes in a straight line towards the marina, wraps back around and returns to the flagpole in the center of campus.  Every time a person comes to a change in terrain during their straight line movement, they are either swimming or running.  On the way back, there is a section of road running, followed by a cliff jump of about 8 feet, leading into a swim and return to the flagpole.

Over the course of our various exercises, I have found Tiffany to be an admirable training partner.  She was former swimmer, who like me, hates to run.  This leads to a perfect pairing on both land and in the water.  At this point, I would consider myself to be among the top swimmers, but the runners are by far superior to my current abilities.  The great thing is that we all know that we will improve on our weaknesses and have each other to give or receive needed support and encouragement.

I once again have to comment on the fabulous food that is being served in the dining hall.  Based on the limited  in season fruits and vegetables, these women are making wonderful dishes that provide the nutrition that we need so we can maintain active lifestyles in the heat of the Bahamas.  Our off-campus dining experiences were at Sherril's, in Deep Creek settlement, and Coco's in Rock Sound.  Both places specialize in conch, much like every other restaurant on the island.  Conch salad, conch fritters, conch burgers, it's all good.

Flying In

This is the mostly true story of 4 strangers, picked to live in an apartment, to work together and have their lives blogged, to find out what happens when people stop being polite and start being real.  The Real World: Eleuthera.

Welcome all to the blog of my experience at The Island School (IS) and in South Eleuthera as a whole.  If you want to figure out where in the world this place is, type in Eleuthera Island, Freetown, The Bahamas, and work your way back towards Florida.  Look for the symbol that says "Powell Point" and an Airplane.  Even though there is no working airport in the area, this is a good homing beacon towards the IS campus.

There are four Teaching Fellows in this apartment.  Jason Harris, from Needham, Mass and teaching in the Histories; Vanessa Emery, of Nantucket, Mass and a Human Ecology fellow; Ellie Moore, originally from Menlo Park, CA and working in the Literature department.  Then there is me, Dave Burnham, from Wilton, CT and a Math Fellow.

Flying from Nassau to Rock Sound was definitely an interesting experience.  First off, the plane was nowhere near on time for departure.  This clearly was the definition of "island time".  Things will get done when they are done, and there is no use in getting stressed by the delay.  Once on the plane, it felt like sitting inside a sauna.  No air flow, no ventilation, and a grumpy and distressed French-Canadian couple sitting directly behind me.  Additionally, we had an incident where a passenger went into diabetic shock and we had to return to the terminal so that they could receive medical attention.

Finally, nearly an hour late on arrival, the plane landed in Rock Sound.  Rock Sound is the closest working airport and also has the best market for groceries and supplies.  There is a branch of ScotiaBank on the corner of the plaza, with a hardware store, liquor store, and auto repair center occupying the other locations.  Rock Sound to IS takes approximately 30 minutes by car.  Pulling into campus at 6 gave me enough time to at least put my luggage into the apartment, fill up the water bottle and head over to dinner.

All of the meals on campus, except Sunday and Wednesday mornings, are prepared by a wonderful dining staff, headed up by Tiff.  She manages the food resources and looks to buy locally whenever she can in order to promote sustainability and to help the local economy.

In subsequent posts I will detail chronologically some of the highlights of new faculty orientation week.  Going forward, I hope that the blog can be updated weekly, but there are no guarantees so check back frequently for news and information on the intrepid four.