Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Port Douglas – Part 2

A couple days after catching a cold, I felt good enough to go for a hike, so we drove up to Mossman Gorge (link, link) in the southern section of the Daintree National Park, another “must-see” attraction north of Port Douglas. The Mossman River spills down the Main Coast Range of mountains winding its way through weathered granite boulders the size of small cars. It’s hard to comprehend the amount of energy it took to move these massive boulders down the mountains, and the time it took for the water to wear them smooth.
Mossman River in Mossman Gorge

We paid our entrance fees ($19 AUS) at the visitor’s center and caught a shuttle-bus to the trailhead. The 2.4-km (1.5-mi) trail starts on a short elevated boardwalk through the lower canopy of the rainforest, then follows the river upstream and eventually becomes a dirt loop trail through the rainforest.
Mossman River in Mossman Gorge

Stream in Mossman Gorge from the elevated boardwalk
We passed several tour groups on the Mossman Gorge trail. We overheard one guide tell his group that the rainforest “packages” nutrients and carbon for the Great Barrier Reef, which the rivers transport to the sea. He said that the reef protects the land from big swells generated by Pacific storms. He didn’t mention that the tropical rains wash sediments from lands cleared for sugar cane and cattle grazing, and nutrients from poor agricultural practices, into the rivers and out to sea where they choke the estuaries, smother seagrass beds and stimulate algal growth on the reef.
Forest in Mossman Gorge
Forest in Mossman Gorge
Candle vine growing on a large spurwood tree
Mossman Gorge is beautiful, but is a small fraction of the 565-sq km (218 sq-mi) southern unit of Daintree National Park. Here, like in the northern section, public access to the “bush” (backcountry) is limited. We were glad that we arrived at the gorge early because, on our hike back to the visitor center, the deeper sections of the river were full of screaming kids and bossy adults. Must not be any salties up here.
Mossman River
Noah Beach near Cape Tribulation
Just about every place we stopped along the Queensland coast between Yeppoon and Port Douglas, a distance of 1,000 km (620 mi), I was warned not to dive from shore because of salties (saltwater crocodiles). I met a middle-aged spearfisherman in Port Douglas who, over the years, had two incidents where salties approached him from behind while he was freediving near the shore. He wasn’t attacked, but it had to be unnerving to see the largest reptile in the world (link) that has a reputation for attacking humans (link).

Four Mile Beach at low tide
Corals and algae at Four Mile Beach
Colony of anemones
Large anemone
While shallow-water habitats like sandy bays, seagrass beds and low-relief, rocky reefs are not as glamorous as the Great Barrier Reef, I never know what I’m going to see (link). And diving from shore or out of a kayak, I’m not dependent on dive boats and their schedules; I determine when and where I go, and how long I stay in the water. I finally got a chance to explore these shallow-water habitats off Port Douglas, but not the way that I thought I would.
Tidepools on Four Mile Beach
Decorated sandgoby (Gobiidae)
Horned sea star
Swimmer crab (their last pair of legs is shaped like paddles)
Who dug this 50-cm (20-in) diameter hole? A stingray searching for food?
Four Mile Beach at Port Douglas lies along the edge of a wide bay with a slight offshore slope. On a low tide, you can walk a couple hundred meters offshore through sand-bottom channels, low-relief rocky reefs, isolated coral heads and patches of algae and seagrasses. The manager of our condo complex told us about the low tides at Four Mile Beach, but rarely have I seen a tide recede this far on an open coast. I followed the tide out and back, and spent half the day wandering around with my camera.
Well camouflaged octopus 
Octopus on the move
Sandfish (sea cucumber) decorated with bits of shells
Spotted worm sea cucumber
Another way to get around at low tide
A couple days later, we got up early and headed back to Cape Tribulation to hike the Mount Sorrow trail (link). It’s the only public-accessible trail from the highway that goes deep into Daintree National Park. The trail is 7 km (4 mi) round-trip and the summit lookout is 678 m (2,225 ft) above sea level. Our tourist map described it as a “difficult walk,” “very steep” and for “fit walkers only.” In bold letters, the sign at the trailhead said: “Only experienced bushwalkers with above average fitness should attempt this trail.” I thought they were being overly dramatic to dissuade casual, unprepared hikers, but they weren’t.
Mount Sorrow sign at the trailhead
Rande in the lowland rainforest
The trail begins in a lowland rainforest valley and ascends steeply through an upland tropical rainforest populated by several species of palms. The forest was dense and surprisingly quiet. I stepped over a fallen log off the trail to take a picture and a 75-cm (30-in) dark brown snake long slithered away. Was it one of the infamous brown snakes, among the most venomous in Australia? Probably not (they prefer drier habitats); but it gave me pause. There are distance markers nailed to the trees every kilometer. A trail runner in his 30s passed us coming down. After about 2 km (1.2 mi), the trail climbed steeply up a ridge dominated by low wattles (acacias). One particularly steep section had two fixed ropes that we used going up and coming down. The canopy opened up as we approached the summit. For the rest of the hike, we saw two couples and two women from Germany, all in their 20s.
Palm trees in the rainforest
Trail marker at 3 km (2 mi)


Cloud forest below Mount Sorrow
 Clouds sliding down the mountain and mists drifting up the valley turning the upper part of the trail into a cloud forest. Everything was wet; algae growing on the rocks and exposed tree roots made the steep trail muddy and slippery. Going up was easier than coming down (it always is). I was getting over a cold and found myself gasping for air at the top of the steepest sections. The lookout was a 2 m x 2 m (7 ft x 7 ft) steel grate with guard rails on a narrow ridge. One couple was heading down as we arrived at the lookout. Clouds obscured the view to the coast and, after all the work of climbing to the summit, they didn’t see anything. While we were having lunch on the platform, there was a break in the clouds. We could see the ocean and beach to the north, and developed areas to the south. After lunch we headed back down. We were spent by the time we got back to the car.
View to the north from Mount Sorrow lookout
Rande rappelling (abseiling) down a steep section of the Mount Sorrow Trail
We stopped at Daintree Tea (link) farm on our way to the ferry. A woman pulled into the small dirt parking lot right after us. She was the wife of the farmer who owns Daintree Tea and was replenishing a bin with boxes of tea for sale and an “honesty box” for the money. His parents started the 80-acre farm in 1978 and “he’s been here since the beginning.” Her husband designed and built the harvesting machine because there was nothing available to buy. The tea plants are less than 1 m (3 ft) high and closely spaced. The machine trims off the top few centimeters and collects the cuttings, which are processed into tea bags and loose tea. On average, they get 4 m (13 ft) of rain annually, and can get up to 6 m (20 ft). The combination of rain, sunshine, warm weather and rich soils make it ideal for tea plants. I told her we had their black tea in the places we rented in Cairns and Port Douglas. She was glad that they supported a local business and asked if we were from America. They ship their tea around the world, including the U.S.  She thanked us for stopping.
Daintree Tea plantation
I became a tea drinker in Australia. Every boat I was on had an electric kettle with near-boiling water and a choice of powdered coffee or tea. The coffee was freeze dried and terrible, so I drank black tea. My mother was a tea drinker (her father was from England). I tried various teas over the years, but always went back to coffee. Like the British, Australians are tea drinkers. Grocery stores have more kinds of teas than coffees. Every apartment and condo we rented had an electric kettle, powdered coffee and tea bags, but no coffee pot. In the morning, we drank “real” coffee that we made in our “plunger” (French press) with water heated in a kettle. One Aussie told me that he was “shocked” that American hotels didn’t have electric kettles in the rooms, much like we were shocked that none of our rentals came with a coffee pot. 
Poseidon at the marina dock in Port Douglas
After a week, my cold broke and I felt up to diving. I called ABC Scuba on Friday, but they didn’t have any trips over the weekend, so I called the Poseidon (link), a 24-m (80-ft) catamaran that carries 15 divers (and more snorkelers) and got on the boat the next day. There were nine certified divers on my trip, four taking an introductory course and 15 snorkelers. The weather was warm, there was no wind and the sea was flat calm, the calmest I’d seen on the Great Barrier Reef. During the briefing, Ethan, one of the guides, asked if there was anything in particular that we wanted to see. I said cuttlefish and Ethan said he’d see what he could do. We went to Agincourt Reef on the outer Great Barrier Reef about 1.5 hours northeast of Port Douglas. We left at 8:30 AM and I was in the water taking my first picture at 10:14.
Divers descending from the Poseidon at Agincourt Reef 3
The first dive was on the southwest side of Agincourt Reef 3 at New Stonehenge. Cyclones had lifted large blocks of coral and deposited them on the reef crest where they rose out of the water like truncated pillars at low tide. The certified divers were split into two groups based on experience; I was in Ethan’s group of six. The visibility was over 20 m (66 ft). Ethan said that he would swim slowly along the reef at 16-18 m (53-59 ft) until we got to 100 bar and then return to the boat in shallower water. As long as we could see him, he said we could do our own thing. Working five days a week on the Poseidon, Ethan had made over 2,500 dives at 25 sites in three years, so he knew every meter of Agincourt.
Divers among the bommies
Bleaching of a staghorn coral
Snorkelers off the stern of the Poseidon
The second dive was at Barracuda Bommie on the northwest end of Agincourt Reef 2a, and, true to its name, dozens of small barracuda were swimming above the bommie. We dove down to 20 m (66 ft) and circled the coral pinnacle twice; it dropped off to more than 30 m (100 ft) on the outside. Schools of fusiliers and larger barracudas were hanging out around the pinnacle. Strong currents make this a good place to see cruising pelagic (water column) fishes. I saw pompanos with swept back medial and caudal fins that make them appear to be swimming faster than they are; Aussies call them darts.
Pickhandle barracuda (Sphyraenidae) at Barracuda Bommie
Snubnose dart (Carangidae)
Lunartail bigeye being cleaned by a small wrasse (Labridae)
Spotted sweetlips (Haemulidae)
Clown triggerfish (Balistidae)
We left the bommie and swam back to the boat through a maze of patch reefs. Ethan found a tasselled wobbegong, a harmless shark, resting in a small coral cave. The place was really fishy – my favorite dive of the day.
Tasselled wobbegong (Orectolobidae)
Mixed school of snappers (Lutjanidae), including blackspot, bluestriped and fiveline
We made a third dive on the south end of Agincourt Reef 4 at a place called The Point. Ethan found a small lionfish hanging under a ledge on the pinnacle; it was a species that I hadn’t seen before. 
Common lionfish (Scorpaenidae)
Doublebar goatfish (Mullidae)
Male Bleeker's parrotfish (Scaridae) grazing on corals
Fifteen minutes into the dive, Ethan swam over to me and motioned for me to follow him. We swam about 10 m (33 ft) and he pointed to a cuttlefish the size of an American football. It was hovering about a meter (3 ft) above the sand and began swimming slowly as I approached changing colors and texture several times to match its background. Its color patterns ranged from a smooth, homogeneous tan matching sand, to dark, blotchy and spiky matching coral rubble. Cuttlefish are the masters of camouflage; here's how they do it. 

Cuttlefish over sand
Unlike bony fishes, cuttlefish do not have swim bladders and have developed a unique mechanism to maintain buoyancy. The cuttlebone of the cuttlefish is a rigid, calcium carbonate structure that functions as a skeletal element and in regulating buoyancy. It's chambered, foam-like structure contains gas at nearly constant pressure. The cuttlefish adjusts its buoyancy by varying the amount water in the cuttlebone (link).
Cuttlefish changes the texture of its skin and its outline on coral rubble
Chromatophores in the skin contain sacs of pigmentringed with tiny muscles that pull the sac open expanding the pigmented area; the elastic membrane around the pigment granules pull them closed. The cuttlefish's brain controls opening and closing of the chromatophores, so cuttlefish (along with squids and octopi) can change color and pattern in milliseconds. Cuttlefish also have specialized reflective cells (iridophores and leucophores) that can reflect light back at different frequencies (iridophores) or "scatter full spectrum light [leucophores] so that they appear white in a similar way that a polar bear's fur appears white." Further, cuttlefish can change the texture of their skin by deforming through pressure areas known as papillae, which can change the outline of the body. And if that's not enough, cuttlefish are believed to be colorblind (link). 
Cuttlefish
There are over 30 species of cuttlefish (all in the genus Sepia) in Australian waters; most are small (less than 10 cm, 4 in). The giant cuttlefish occurs in South Australian waters; it grows to about 50 cm and is the largest cuttlefish in the world (link)Swimming with the cuttlefish was the highlight of my day.
Cuttlefish
The ride back to Port Douglas was flat calm. I took my last picture at 2:46 and we were back at the dock at 4:45. On the ride back, I sat on the stern by myself watching the Great Barrier Reef disappear in the distance and thinking about the places that we’d been for the last three months. We covered 2,000 km (1,200 mi) of Queensland’s coast and I’d driven over 5,000 km (3,100 mi). A young woman, one of the dive crew, walked over and asked me if I was “happy where I was.” I said that I was, but didn’t try to explain why I was sitting alone staring out to sea. These would be my last dives on the Great Barrier Reef for some time.
Leaving the Great Barrier Reef
Australia doesn’t end at Port Douglas. There’s a four-wheel drive track from the end of the paved road to Cooktown, a town of about 2,400 people in the far north of Queensland. That will have to wait for another trip because in three days we’re leaving for New Zealand.
Port Douglas estuary
Postscript
In the last two decades, the Great Barrier Reef (GBR) suffered three major coral bleaching events (1998, 2002 and 2016) that, when combined, span the entire 2,300 km (1,426 mi) of the GBR. Corals provide shelter for algae, which, through photosynthesis, provide food for the corals. Rising water temperatures disrupt the association between corals and their algae, which they expel, leading to bleaching. Prolonged bleaching results in increased coral mortalities. In 2016, the proportion of reefs with extreme bleaching (>60% of corals) was four times higher, and the proportion of reefs with no bleaching was five times lower, than in 1998 or 2002. The severity of the 2016 bleaching was greater in the northern half of the GBR. Of the 171 reefs surveyed during each of the major bleaching events, only 9% had never bleached, and most of those were offshore at the southern end of the GBR where waters are generally cooler (link). Estimates of coral mortality ranged from 22% over the entire GBR to 35% in the central and northern sections (link, see also link).
Goldband fusiliers (Caesionidae)
The number of days with elevated water temperatures explained the recurrence of bleaching at local reefs and across the GBR. Water quality, prior bleaching (acclimation/adaptation) and management zoning (e.g., protected reefs) were not correlated with lower bleaching severity. At lightly affected (<10% of corals affected) and moderately affected (10-30% affected), many of the more robust coral species escaped with little or no bleaching. These reefs occurred primarily at the southern end of the GBR. At extremely affected (60->80%) reefs, there were few lightly bleached species.
Bigscale soldierfish (Holocentridae)
Corals that are good colonizers and fast growers take 10-15 years to recover from bleaching events, so when corals die, the recovery of severely affected coral reefs takes decades. The recovery of long-lived species requires decades without additional severe bleaching events. The key concern is the return time of severe bleaching events – will there be enough time for mature coral assemblages to develop between events? “The chances of the northern Great Barrier Reef returning to its pre-bleaching assemblage structure are slim given the scale of damage that occurred in 2016 and the likelihood of a fourth bleaching event occurring within the next decade or two as global temperatures continue to rise” (link).
Shadowfin soldierfish (Holocentridae)




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