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.