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First published in Ngā Ākau ki te Tonga Southern Bays number 19 2004
In February 2023, the society’s regular public meeting heard from Margaret Elliot of Houghton Bay: scientist, artist and local snorkeler, about the changes she has seen since the marine reserve was established in 2008. This article is drawn from the presentation
Beneath Taputeranga Island – Margaret Elliot
I sit on the rock pulling on my flippers after shoe-horning myself into my wet suit, throwing a few rocks into my plastic bin so it doesn't blow out to sea with the towels on board (not good for the environment). Waddling down the beach like a geriatric penguin I launch myself into the channel leading to the Island Bay Snorkel trail, the cold water percolating down my neck and up the sleeves .
The view from my face mask reveals a forest world with a superficial similarity to the native bush above but on closer examination quite alien. A profusion of deciduous forest colours red , yellow and orange but weird stalks and leaf shapes crawling and swirling in the current . The light is different, blue green and darker with distance, the colour rapidly reducing to greens then blue only.
Suddenly I see a fish swimming through the forest or reclining on a kelp frond instead of a bird hopping from branch to branch. Something will catch my eye, a combination of seaweed colours, a cluster of tiny sponges and jewel anemones or orange legs poking from a crevice, out comes the camera and I am off into the zone.
I began snorkelling the south coast regularly when I acquired a wetsuit back in 2000, a game changer, and so the cold water was no longer an obstacle to exploration. At that stage the Taputeranga Marine Reserve had not been established and sighting a pāua of edible size was a noteworthy event.
Large fish such as butterfish or blue moki were occasionally seen, ghostly transient presences retreating into the sea weed forest at my approach. Once or twice I surprised an octopus which jetted off. Another time I came face to face with a stingray but I never saw a crayfish. Over the years, after work, I would regularly escape to this cheap exotic location for a quick summer break.
The Taputeranga Marine Reserve was established in September 2008 and a couple of years later a snorkel trail was added in a rocky area east side of the Bait Shed, a line of brightly coloured buoys marking a path around rocky out crops and a sign promising a profusion of marine life to be sighted. The first obvious change I noticed was a dramatic increase in pāua. Within a couple of years they were visible in large numbers grazing on the upper surface of the rocks. Sightings of blue moki and butterfish increased with a flourishing of spotties and wrasse.
In 2013 I acquired a camera with an underwater housing and took up documenting marine life of the Taputeranga Marine Reserve in earnest. My favourite sites are the snorkel trail, the bay on the east side of the bait shed, a sheltered area of water on the shore side of the Sirens Rocks, west of Ōwhiro Bay near the wreck of the Yung Pen and the eastern border of the reserve near Princess Bay.
As a practicing artist I have always had an awareness of colour and texture and look for interesting combinations of these elements when I take a photo. It is fascinating to explore the rock surfaces beneath the seaweed cover gently parting the fronds to reveal intricate tiny gardens of sea squirts and jewel anemones masquerading as flowers and sponges. Bright pink coraline algae sprout from the rocks; some mimicking the larger forms of corals. Over the years I have observed an increase in the number of species of nudibranch (a mollusc without a shell). Maybe, undisturbed by foraging, they are able to flourish.
Returning to my favourite sites over the years I have observed the growth in variety of species and the number of individuals within a species. It used to be really exciting to see a crayfish in the shallows but now I often visit a site I've called crayfish alley where it is possible to see at least 10 crayfish clustered together in a rocky crevice, a zig zag of orange legs.
In a rocky underwater canyon near the Bait Shed I saw five large blue moki clustered together looking like they were holding a staff meeting. Octopus sightings are much more frequent and I was able to film one successfully hunting a crayfish. I have been able to observe them changing to match their surroundings and crawling through the seaweed in search of prey. One even reached out to explore my camera with its tentacles. There is a rock wall near the bait shed covered in clusters of jewel anemones in a variety colours from bright green to peach. I call it the wall of pretty things.
Most other snorkelers I meet are really enthusiastic about what they are seeing and we often compare notes about sightings. I once had someone shout out from the rocks "have you seen any crays?...give you 20 bucks!". I didn't bother to take my snorkel out of my mouth shook my head and continued my observations. I hope they were joking!
Every time I launch myself into the ocean I always find something to photograph, sea life I have not seen before or rarely sighted. One such surprise was bright blue jewel like dots amongst the seaweed which turned out to be marine algae that glowed intense blue in the sunlight.
There are always small discoveries to draw me back to this alien world just down the road . Beneath the rugged and fractured rocky outcrops lies a fluid world of swirling fronds and unexpected flashes of colour that continues to surprise and entrance.
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