The MLML-MBARI Library

By Sheila Baldridge, Joan Parker, and Jim Harvey (27 April 2016)

The periodical shelves in the old library on the second floor of the Beaudette Building.

Every good educational or research institution has an excellent library. And it is not just the books, periodicals, maps, records, tables, chairs, and connection to information that make it excellent, more importantly it is the librarian. MLML has been fortunate to have three excellent librarians: Doris Baron, Sheila Baldridge, and Joan Parker. These three have provided a level of service that has served our faculty, researchers, and students well. In fact, probably every M.S. thesis in the MLML-MBARI library has an acknowledgement to the library staff, and most every thesis defense includes a final slide that thanks the assistance the student received from the library. Science cannot function anymore without electronic access to information. Scientists can now write manuscripts in the Antarctic, on a plane, from an office, or almost anywhere because journal articles or references are now attainable with a few pushes of a button. But that happens seamlessly because there is a librarian making the right moves behind the scenes (often with some help from IT services too). But the librarians also are the lifesavers when the system cannot find or does not have the needed document. It has become legend the ability of the MLML librarian to find these needed documents, whether hidden on our own shelves, in a distant library, or somewhere in a distant location.

Doris Baron (MLML's first librarian) in the old library, upstairs above the shop.

One of my favorite stories regarding the library service at MLML was the system we had when Sheila Baldridge was the MLML librarian and her husband Alan Baldridge was the librarian at Hopkins Marine Station. If someone at MLML needed a document that Hopkins had, then Sheila would call Alan, the document would be brought home that night, and the next morning it would be delivered to MLML. Best inter-library loan system in the world.

Sheila Baldridge joined the MLML staff as librarian in September 1978 and retired in September 1994. She replaced Doris Baron who took early retirement. As Doris had already left when Sheila arrived, Sheila was eternally grateful for the help of students Susan Chinburg and Steve Locy who had worked in the library with Doris and who knew the ins and out of working with San Jose State, etc.

Alan and Sheila Baldridge standing next to the R/V Sheila B, named after one of our outstanding librarians.

Sheila Baldridge remembers:

When I arrived the library was in its original location on the inland side of the Labs, upstairs above the shop. One of the highlights each year was having the Open House Puppet Show in the library with me praying mightily that the floor would not collapse under the weight of all the extra people.

Moving the library.

On November 29/30 1984 as part of the remodeling of the Labs., the library moved downstairs to new space at the front of the building. Books and journals were passed hand-to-hand down the stairs along the hallway up more stairs to the new space with Sandi O’Neil, library assistant, taking them one by one from the old shelves and Sheila putting them in place on the new. What could have been a huge chore turned out to be remarkably easy. Faculty, staff, ship’s crew, shop staff all helped and we had a BBQ party in the evening as a “thank you” for everyone’s hard work. [Andrew DeVogelaere wrote a blog about this event, entitled: "Library move demonstrated community spirit"]

 

Part of the new space was in Palmer Beaudette’s old office. It was a large room, wood paneled with a sailfish on one of the walls and a view out over the beach to the Bay. A comfortable and interesting place to study especially in the summer when clouds of shearwaters often swirled offshore in the late afternoon.

The library in the seaward side of the Beaudette building.

Sheila’s memories of the Big One:

And there we happily stayed until at 5:04 on October 17th 1989 when the Loma Prieta earthquake hit. It seemed like the whole world was shaking. Windows broke, the lights went out, books came off the shelves and there was an unbelievable gap of about a foot between the floor and the wall on the Bay side of the library. I could look down and see the sand. After the shaking stopped, those of us in the library climbed out of the window in the librarian’s office as none of the doors would open. Some of us gathered at the Blue House and as the sun went down on a beautiful evening, the light, with all the dust in the air, was strangely surreal. Someone played a guitar and we all sat in silence and shock as the impact of what had happened began to sink in. It was a traumatic time for us all. The island was cordoned off and the next day we stood at the far end of the bridge and looked at our broken home not being sure if we would even be allowed in to remove equipment, research notes, library books and journals. One of the heroes of that time was Jon Raggett, a structural engineer, who after a careful survey, and some shoring up, took the responsibility of letting us go in when no one else would. [Previous blog on the earthquake was called The Day of the Quake]

MLML building after the 1989 earthquake. Notice the space between building and the deck.

And then they came, students past and present, with their families and friends, an army of people together with a fleet of U-Haul trucks and hundreds of boxes and we did indeed get everything out . The library was boxed up and each box was handed out through a window onto a truck and hauled off to Salinas down the old dirt road behind the dunes - the bridge having been declared unsafe. And there the library stayed for ten long years. First in two classrooms on the San Jose State satellite campus and then, moving for the third time, across the parking lot into two trailers.

Emptying MLML after the earthquake. The far windows were part of the library.

Between these two moves some of the book/journal collection was housed in an disused brick building at the Sugar Plant in Spreckles. Going there was always “interesting” – with clouds of pigeons overhead and the thought hovering in the back of my mind –“what if there is another earthquake??” Running a marine lab from trailers twenty miles inland was not by any means ideal but as always the spirit of Moss Landing shone bright and clear. We managed and somehow students studied, did research, and graduated just like they always had done.

 

For nearly 10 years MLML was in trailers in Salinas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Joan Parker joined the MLML faculty in 1994, coming here from CSU Long Beach.

Joan Parker standing in front of one of our Salinas trailers, the library a far cry from the ocean and its next reincarnation.

 

Joan Parker has listed a number of highlights for her time as the MLML librarian (1994  - 2015):

  1. Acquisition of the marine library from California Department of Fish and Game (now CDFW) with support from the Packard Foundation. Books and journals were boxed, put on pallets and shipped via trucking company to CSUMB where they were staged for distribution to MLML, MBARI, Hopkins, UCSC, MBA, NPS and UCSC.
  1. Agreement between MLML and MBARI to share library services. The MOU was signed by Gary Greene and Marcia McNutt before MLML moved back to Moss Landing.

 

  1. Moving into the new facility was obviously a highlight but also a lot of hard work. Volunteers from MBARI and MLML took books and journals off the shelves in Salinas, put them on rented book carts and wrapped in plastic for the move. Boxed material on pallets from storage in Salinas was added to the CDFG pallets. Over 400 boxes were waiting to be unpacked.
MLML library in the new building. Salinas River and Monterey Bay in distance looking out the windows.
  1. Somewhere in the library workroom is a wooden memento put together by Aldo after he completed putting shelves in the wooden casing in the rotunda. Every single one was different so he was frustrated and amused that each had to be individually measured and cut.
  1. My best memory is the scores of students over the years that raised money for the library (winetasting!), valued the resource, and occasionally moved in.
(Photo by Patrick Campbell/University of Colorado)

With Joan Parker's recent retirement, we have hired a new faculty member and librarian, Katie Lage. Katie comes to us from the University of Colorado Boulder where she was associate professor, map librarian, and head of the Earth Sciences & Map Library. At CU Boulder, she directed a branch library that serves students and faculty in the disciplines of geological sciences, physical and human geography, and environmental studies, and atmospheric and oceanic sciences. She received her Master of Library Science degree from San José State University. Katie’s research in the field of library and information science concentrates on the organization of and access to digital geospatial data. Katie is eager to join the Moss Landing Marine Labs and MBARI communities as our librarian and excited to continue to expand the Library's integral role in marine sciences scholarship.

 

 

 

 

A Plea by Jim: In the photos below you can see the old and new library side by side. The thing to notice is that the tables and chairs are identical.

The old library (circa 1985) and the new library (circa 2005).

One of my pet peeves (OK, I have a few), is that we have such a spectacular library but some of the furniture is from the old building and some even from a penitentiary. Now, I know you are thinking, penitentiary furniture might go well with being a graduate student but I think we need to change this image. So we have started a fund-raising campaign to buy new furniture for the library, just go to this website. Please donate what you can, and hopefully you can see your endowed chair when you come for the 50th Anniversary celebration. Thanks.

Type of chair we would like to get for the MLML-MBARI Library

The Good Pirate John Martin Seizes the R/V Cape Florida

By Kenneth Coale (20 April 2016)

(An expanded excerpt from the John Martin biography1)

John Martin

John Martin was the lab’s third director, but in many ways, its first oceanographer. He arrived at a time when there wasn’t a proper oceanographic research vessel and this posed something of a glaring deficiency.   John applied himself to remedy this institutional shortcoming in much the same way he tackled other problems in his life: with brilliance, patient determination, and a knack for turning its resolution into a solution for somebody else’s problem. John himself would become such a problem.

Bill Broenkow, Jim Nybakken, and John Martin.

John Martin’s ability to view problems from multiple perspectives was a great asset to not only his science, but also to Moss Landing Marine Laboratories. But a research vessel is a big thing and a pirate of the 70s and 80s had to be sophisticated. The first step was to get himself elected, and ultimately chair the Advisory Council of the University National Oceanographic Laboratory System (UNOLS), the multi-institutional governance body that advises the National Science Foundation (NSF), Navy and other Federal Agencies on the use, improvement, and scheduling of the nation’s fleet of research vessels. At the time, there was a huge gap in the coverage of the Nation’s fleet of research vessels as coordinated by UNOLS. Only a few, large R-1 universities (doctoral universities with highest research activity) with oceanographic programs, operated the majority of the UNOLS vessels. These included Woods Hole/MIT, Scripps Institution of Oceanography, and the University of Washington, to name a few. Yet, from Martin's position on the UNOLS Council, he had a bird’s eye view of the research fleet and the efficiency with which each vessel was operated and maintained.

The second step was to acquire a discarded UNOLS vessel from a large R-1 university and show NSF that MLML could

R/V Cayuse

operate it and maintain it. The R/V Cayuse was transferred from Oregon State to MLML and was operated from Moss Landing for several years. Yet the Cayuse was small and bouncy, and not up to task of a larger vessel (see Flaming Heads blog). At the same time, the Naval Postgraduate School (NPS) had recently retired their R/V Acania and were in need of a vessel to support their Oceanography and Meteorology students. John, with the help of his friend, former student and colleague Bruce Robison at UCSB and the Chair of the NPS Oceanography Department, showed that the majority of requests for ship time came from scientists who didn’t have access to the larger ships, not the big R-1 operating universities who ran them. This grated against Martin's sense of fairness, yet buttressed a righteous cause. John and Bruce conspired, then lobbied hard for a more equitable distribution of these vessels where they were most needed.

John Martin always did his homework and presented a compelling argument to NSF for Monterey’s need for a research vessel. The Monterey Bay was becoming a powerhouse of oceanography. John argued the importance of MLML’s location, its proximity to other marine institutions including those of the CENCAL Consortium (UC Santa Barbara, USC, NPS, Hopkins Marine Laboratory, USGS, and UCSC). At the time, the closest UNOLS vessels were located at Scripps Institution of Oceanography and Oregon State University, both a two-day steam from Monterey. MLML’s recent track record of important oceanographic research (including VERTEX), and success operating the R/V Cayuse made it an ideal institution to operate a regional class vessel. Martin didn’t stop there; he also wrote a very detailed description of the boat he wanted. The University of Miami, one of the largest UNOLS operators, ran three research vessels and was having trouble maintaining all of them. Together, Martin and Robison lobbied NSF through the UNOLS Council, arguing that the R/V Cape Florida was a national resource and should be deployed where it was needed most. Remarkably (or by design) the R/V Cape Florida fit Martin’s research vessel description to a tee. They eventually persuaded NSF to reallocate the vessel to Moss Landing.

R/V Point Sur in Moss Landing Harbor.

One problem that stood in the way was the Moss Landing Harbor Master, James Stillwell. Stillwell convinced his board of directors that since Moss Landing Harbor was relatively small and the Federal Channel was relatively narrow, that he would allow the new vessel berthing at K-dock, only if the vessel had a bow thruster. The Cape Florida had no bow thruster, but it did have controllable pitch propellers. Mike Prince sailed the Cape Florida from Miami, through the Panama Canal and up to Moss Landing. By this time, he had a fairly good feel for the controls. The ship steamed into the harbor and stopped 10 yards parallel from the dock. Mike then, in front of a crowd of spectators and board members “walked” the ship straight sideways until she gently kissed the dock. It was a sight to behold. Upon witnessing this, Harbormaster Stillwell remarked, “Well, I’m glad to see you got that bow thruster”. Shortly thereafter the Cape Florida was renamed the R/V Point Sur.

John Martin had an exceptional ability to go into situations as an underdog and challenge the status quo. By thinking logically and making detailed arguments, Martin was able to take on deep-seated traditions in both

R/V Point Sur in Antarctica. Photo by Reny Tyson

oceanography and in programs like UNOLS and change them. Never before had a perfectly good research vessel been taken from one institution and reassigned to another. Perhaps Martin was so convincing because he had overcome such impossible personal adversity that he exuded credibility, even for the incredible. Who was NSF to say that this could not be done?

The R/V Point Sur went on to be what many consider the most effective and efficiently utilized UNOLS vessel in the fleet. It was used in the later VERTEX cruises and for early testing of the IRONEX cruises and served not only scientists from across the nation, but an estimated 10,000 oceanography students put to sea on her decks. The R/V Point Sur made headlines recently for its hugely successful 5-month trip to Palmer Station in the Antarctic Peninsula and for her forays into the Aleutian Islands and Bering Sea. The R/V Point Sur was “the little vessel that could” and in many ways emulated the qualities of the little institution John was helping to build. He had taken possession of a fumble from a much more powerful team and was steaming to the end zone at 10 kts. The pirate John Martin had seized a bountiful prize that enriched not just his institution, faculty and students, but the central coast and scientists from around the nation.

1) ­­John Holland Martin. From picograms to pedagrams and copepods to climate. 2015. The Class of MS 280, Moss Landing Marine Laboratories. MS 280, Scientific Writing. Instructor: Kenneth Coale, Students: Alicia Bitondo, Suzanne Christensen, Catherine Drake, Will Fennie, Stephen Loiacono, Gabriela Navas, Gillian Rhett, Kristin Walovich, April Woods and Sara Worden. Association for the Science of Limnology and Oceanography, Bulletin, November, 2015. 19 pp.

And Just Who are Mother Nature’s Brightest Crayons?

By Roger Helm (14 April 2016)

It was a typical cold and foggy spring morning as Jim and I loaded the fishing gear on the M/V Orca, MLML's smallish open deck work boat. The year was 1978 and Jim was working on his Master’s thesis concerning the life history of blue sharks in Monterey Bay. Always wanting to spend more time out on the bay, I eagerly agreed to help him catch a few specimens for his research.

The mighty motor vessel Orca

Happily for my typically sea queasy stomach, the tide was near slack and the rollers flowing into Moss Landing’s harbor were gentle and widely spaced. With little breeze, the fog shrouded us as we chugged offshore in remarkably flat calm seas. After a couple hours we found ourselves over brilliant azure blue pelagic waters. Along most coasts, pelagic waters and the critters that abide there can only be reached after traveling tens of miles offshore. In Monterey Bay, which is incised by a mile-plus deep submarine canyon, these deep waters are accessible only a few miles offshore.

Jim figured we had gone far enough offshore to attract some blues and had me start chumming, periodically tossing fish carcasses, blood, and entrails into the water. As we idled along chumming, the fog started to clear and soon we could see Santa Cruz some miles to the north and make out Pacific Grove far to the south. It was turning out to be an absolutely gorgeous day on the bay, the kind of day that reminded both of us why we felt so blessed being graduate students at the lab.

After a time, our chumming efforts were having the desired effect. A few blue sharks were lazily swimming around our boat and in the flat calm seas we could see the dorsal and caudal fins of several more blues slowly making their way up our chum line. We watched in a state of awe as more and more of these slender blue-backed man-eating sharks peered up at us with their large coal-black eyes as they gracefully knifed their sinewy bodies through the

water with lazy strokes of their powerful upswept tails[1]. With the bright sun overhead we could easily see into the crystal clear pelagic waters and discern at least a couple dozen blue sharks crowded around and under our little Orca, enjoying the fruits of our chumming.

[1] Blues are known to eat just about anything they can find in the upper reaches of the pelagic waters where they roam, including survivors and not from ship and plane wrecks.

 

Blue shark.

Having fully achieved our first aim, attracting a bunch of blue sharks, we now moved to phase two, getting several of these man-eaters out of the water and into our boat[2].   Blue sharks, like most fish, are not the brightest crayons in Mother Nature’s coloring kit. To catch a shark all we had to do was reach over the side of the boat and dip a sardine skewered with a large hook into the water; almost immediately a shark would inhale the sardine. As one of us pulled hard on the thin steel cable attached to the hook, the other gaffed the shark and together we swung the shark up and over the side and into the open deck of the Orca. Once on board the sharks would powerfully thrash around trying to sink our boat or their teeth into anything close by until one of us was able to reason with it, typically by employing a spiked baseball bat.

[2] How dumb is that? But, wait it gets even dummer!

 

With so many sharks around the boat we were having quite a time hooking and landing one shark after another. Pretty soon sharks were lying all over the Orca’s small deck and we were approaching the upper limit of what Jim would be able to process upon our return.   Since his research question called for a range of ages, which we assumed would correlate well with the size of the sharks, we started being more selective in our hooking attempts, particularly trying to entice the biggest shark in this sedate feeding frenzy to grab one of our baited hooks. Each time this big gal (3+ meters and no claspers) swam under the boat we tried to put the sardine directly in her predicted path on the other side and each time a little shark would shoot out from underneath the boat and snarf the hook. With the limited open deck space on the Orca now littered with flopping or dead sharks, and very slippery from all the blood, we decide to stop catching.

Roger pulling in a blue shark with a gaff.

For an oft-seasick marine biologist, it was near nirvana hanging out in the calm, clear, sparkling waters of the bay under a warm sun and being surrounded by dozens of man-eating sharks. The long and slender blue shark is elegant and graceful in the water and quite distinctive with its long pectoral fins, narrow caudal peduncle, and tall falcate caudal fin. After idly watching many blues rub up against the side of the boat I started reaching over the side and touching their silky smooth backs and occasionally briefly holding onto their dorsal or caudal fins as they cruised by. Since the sharks did not react to my initial overtures I got a little bolder and began lightly grabbing and pulling on their dorsal fins and sometimes partially lifting up the smallest sharks. I soon found myself lightly sliding my hands down the back of a shark and briefly closing them around the caudal peduncle and giving a slight tug that disrupted the shark’s forward motion. Each time the shark would spasm its body and rapidly shoot forward away from the boat. Jim was watching with mild interest and we both were amused by this new sport.

 

Roger Helm with a recently caught blue shark, Jim Harvey on the right.

For reasons I cannot explain, I suddenly decided to see what would happen if I firmly latched onto the caudal peduncle and tried to drag a shark into the boat. As the next shark cruised by I slid my hands down his back, tightly gripped them around his caudal peduncle, and gave a mighty heave. Much to my surprise and delight I actually lifted much of the shark out of the water. The shark was equally surprised, but not at all delighted. She started threshing her powerful body back and forth in a frantic effort to swim away. With considerable difficulty I continued to hold on as with each powerful sinuous movement of her body I was being thrown wildly side to side. For a couple of moments Jim just sat there mesmerized by what he was seeing and then he burst into hysterical laughter watching me being beat to a pulp. Finally, I yelled at him to help me and together we pulled the shark free of the water, although the shark was now tossing both of us back and forth. We pulled and pulled and almost got the shark in the boat, but her long pectoral fins caught on the gunwale railing and we couldn’t seem to dislodge them. Finally, we coordinated a huge heave ho and her pectoral fins popped free as did our feet on the slippery deck. We land on our backs on the deck, among all the other sharks and after flying through the air the shark we just captured by hand landed across our legs. And boy was she upset! We quickly scrambled to our feet and jumped up on the narrow gunwale railing as our latest acquisition proceeded to thrash and gnash and flop and bite at us. Rapidly moving all over the deck, this 2-meter long female succeeded in stirring up several of the other sharks, which apparently had been faking their death.

Our catch for the day. [Jim's note: Current students will notice that the cart in the picture still exists and is still in service at MLML].
Soon, led by their healthy and very angry leader, we had a whole platoon of sharks gnashing their teeth and wiggling and thrashing their bodies around on the small deck below us. When after several minutes this mosh pit was still vigorously sloshing around and slamming their tails and jaws into our little boat, I could see Jim looking over at me and calculating ways to somehow slip the knucklehead he brought along into the middle of this melee. I was thinking if I ended up in this mosh there was a pretty low probability the sharks would reach up and pass me around to safety. Fortunately for me, our new arrival finally began calming down and the previously dead sharks stopped doing their zombie thing and returned to being dead. Much to the dismay of the many hungry sharks still swimming around the Orca we were finally able to jump down into the boat from our precarious perch on the railing, rather than slipping overboard into their pitiless eyes. After finally subduing our latest guest, we fired up the engines and chugged back to the lab. Jim was not very talkative on the ride back, but at least by the time we tied up he had stopped glowering at me. Although Jim conducted several more collecting trips he never seemed to require the assistance of his most experienced knucklehead … er… um, I mean bare-handed shark catcher.

The 2-meter long 60 pound blue shark Roger and Jim caught bare-handed and hauled aboard the M/V Orca.

 

 

 

 

 

Moss Landing: a poem

By Ed Stark (MLML student in 1969)  [8 April 2016]

Moss Landing life ring

One day the cosmic chef

Looked into an empty freezer.

A few odds and ends remained:

Sand and water, dead kelp and fog.

He made the beaches of Moss Landing

As an afterthought to an orgasm of creation.

Who could love

A place of infinite beaches

Wreathed in fog,

That makes the sun a celebrity

In an endless troup of gray days,

And the wind

That whips the sea

In patterns of white lace

When the fog burns away.

There is so much to see and feel.

In constant flux

The mosaic of the offerings on the beach

Through a backdrop

Of kelp, driftwood, and dead sea creatures,

Shore birds pirouette and weave

Before the waves;

A ballet of nature,

In which there is no conscious repetition,

Only change.

In an area so small,

With no supermarkets or suburbs,

Whose only claim to fame

Is being on the outskirts

Of the artichoke capital of the world,

My mind is stretched thin

By the complexity

Of the many forms of life

That inhabit Moss Landing,

Tenuously nestled under the foreboding shadows

Of the P. G. & E. stacks.

Moss Landing from the water.

 

[Note: This poem was sent to us by Chuck Versaggi who stated that Ed Stark was a cohort in the 1969 MLML class. Chuck wrote: " Ed was as an avid surfer who enjoyed the waves and beaches of Moss Landing. Both he and his male dog (I forgot his name — it was probably “Thor” or something supremely masculine) were fearless in the face of nature. One day there was a young California Gray Whale that ventured into the Moss Landing Harbor mouth. I happened to be nearby (I think I was in a study group laying an intertidal transect for an ecological study) and witnessed an amazing moment: Wearing his neoprene suit from an afternoon of surfing, Ed and his dog jumped from the jetty rocks into the harbor water in attempt to swim up to the whale. I couldn’t believe my eyes! The whale appeared to be oblivious to its terrestrial visitors as it continued to swim up the under the Hi 1 overpass with Ed and his dog struggling to keep up..."

Aerial shot of the Elkhorn Slough

 

Bill VanPeeters remembrance:

I remember Ed Stark.  The guy was large and strong and his dog… it was one of the largest black Labs I had seen (more than 120lb) with a tendency to jump over board whenever the boat stopped.  I remember how difficult it was to deadlift a wet 120lb dog up and over the gunwales of the boat.

Well one day we got  a call into the lab that a Whale Shark had been seen off the beach near the Lab.  So Gregg Briggs, Myself and Ed Stark and probably either Chuck Versaggi or Dave Lewis decide we are going to look for it in the school boat the Orca.  As I recall, a boat Dave Lewis referred to as a 30ft. round bottom, singularly screwed research vessel in one of his research papers.  Ones of us called Dr. Morejohn and reported the sighting.  Dr. Morejohn asked us to try to bring it in for research purposes….in other words harpoon it and tow it in.

So we load the boat with a harpoons. A rifle or two, and floats.  Greg Briggs, myself, Ed stark (probably his dog) and either Dave Lewis or perhaps Chuck at the helm.  The idea being if we spotted the shark, Greg would stand on the bow, harpoon the shark and I would kick the floats over the side and no one was certain what would happen next.  That was the plan.  Out of the harbor we went and sure enough just a little south of the harbor was a beautiful whale shark as long as the boat, and almost awash on the surface, just outside of the breakers.  I am assuming it was Dave Lewis at the helm, but whoever it was they went south of the whale and came up from  outside of the whale shark putting the shark on our port side and outside the surf zone.  Gregg got ready with the Harpoon, and I behind him ready to kick over the coiled line and floats once the harpoon was set. As we came up on the shark, and I think the helmsman put the boat in neutral.   I could see the beautiful pattern of white spots and checks on the indigo back of the shark, as we coasted up on the shark.  I was not sure, and I’m not sure any of us were, of the ethics or morality of what we were about to do.  Just as we were getting within range to set the harpoon the engine coughed a couple of times and quit. We watched with mixed feelings as the shark swam off, I think a little disappointed in missing the “adventure” and also grateful to have missed it.

Now we were just outside surf zone, the motor down, the deck fouled with harpoon gear, floats and line and slowly drifting into the surf.  We hadn’t bothered to check the anchors when we left, they weren’t rigged.  What to do?

Ed Stark without a word, grabs the boats painter, jumps over board and starts swimming the boat out of the surf zone with the painter in his teeth.  It gave us enough time to rig and set the anchor, and restart the engine.  Just another day at the lab.

 

 

The Open House t shirts

By Many Artists, and comments from Jim Harvey (31 March 2016)

Anyone that has come through MLML probably has one or two MLML t shirts. Most were designed for the annual MLML Open House, and have become collector's items for some. In this blog I thought I would just place them in chronological order. I am missing many, so if you have a photo of the shirt or you have an image of the artwork, send it to me and I will place it into the blog. I also need the year of the shirt and the artist for anything you send me or for any of the designs in the blog where I don't have the year or artist.

 

 

And the t shirt for the 50th Open House is below. Designed by Laurel Lam, check out the take off on the wave design with the ML stacks in the background (see the similarities by reading The Great Wave blog by Lloyd Kitazano).

 

The MLML quilt group is actually making a quilt using some of the Open House t shirts (I assume they are clean ones). There will be a raffle for the quilt  at the 50th Anniversary weekend to help raise money for student scholarships. Bid often and big.

 

The MLML Softball Teams

By Lloyd Kitazono (1975-1978)

1977 MLML Softball team. Top row from left: Steve Fitzwater, Lloyd Kitazono (Captain), Charlie Phillips, Jim Harvey, Steve Rushkin, Jim Oakden; Bottom row from left: Roger Helm, Frank Storti, Steve Locy, and Mike Gordon (Paul Reilly, not in picture).

Lloyd Kitazono: In the spring of 1977, MLML put together a men's softball team that played in Monterey's Slow-Pitch Softball league.  The team practiced, at least a couple of times, at Moss Landing Elementary School.  What the team may have lacked in softball experience and talent, it made up for it  with enthusiasm and energy.  The team won some and lost some and were quick to share a pizza and beer to toast their victory or drown the sorrows of a loss.  A good time and good memories were had by all.

Jim Harvey: One particular moment stands out for me, and is retold at family events. My brother-in-law, Jerry (who played professional baseball in the Expos organization and pitched and coached at Santa Clara University) was in the stands for one of our games with his wife (Patricia - Mary Yoklavich's sister) and some of Jerry's college players. No pressure on the marine scientists pretending to be ball players. I was playing left field and there was a single hit to left with a player on second. The guy on second rounded third as I came up throwing weakly into home. It was close but the umpire called the player safe at home. From left field I could hear my sister-in-law yell to the umpire, "YOU LIAR!. Gets a laugh out of the family every time we tell the story.

 

MLML Softball: The Gobie Sox years (2004 to 2016)

By Brent Hughes (Founding Member, Gobie Sox Softball Club)

For nearly a quarter century the bats went silent at MLML. That was until a ragtag group of MLML grad students founded the Gobie Sox Softball Club in 2004. Since then the Gobie Sox have become a fixture in the Co-Ed B/C Division of the Capitola Slowpitch Softball League. That first ragtag group eventually morphed into a championship softball team, much to the admiration of those who walked the hallowed ground of Jade Street Park.

Gobie Sox softball team (photo by Jasmine Ruvalcaba)

A group of MLML students organized the Gobie Sox as a way to build camaraderie, especially after realizing that “we are MLML students and might be here for a while so we better learn to like each other”. Led by the Godfather of the Gobie Sox, Jon Walsh and Allison Meyers Crimmins, we founded the MLML softball team v. 2.0. When deciding a team name, we wanted one that would reflect both the sport and our MLML connection. So we chose a genera of fish, specifically the clingfish, Gobiesox spp., which is found in both freshwater and marine habitats across the Americas. The naming of the team was clearly an Ichthyology Lab decision or else we would have been named the Macrocystises, Sea Otters, Polychaetes, Mercury, Coriolis Effect, or Santa Cruz Mudstones, for example. Luckily the name stuck.

The early years of the team were defined by quick runners and good fielding. We seldom hit home runs, and if we did they were in the park. The key to the team’s success was that we had a combination of really good men and women players. And through the years every lab has had a player on the team, even the Marine Pollution Studies Lab (the people who work at Norte). In our inaugural season we made it to the finals of the championship and in the second year we won! This was followed by a celebration at the 10th hole house (a very large house on the Seascape golf course inhabited by 5 MLMLers), but that is a story best not saved for a respectable public blog like the MLML 50th Anniversary blog.

The 2005 championship was followed by another one in 2007 (we think). This sparked all sorts of enthusiasm in the public community including a sponsorship by the highly respected One Double Oh Seven Club where we often congregated after games, a requirement of our agreement. Given our beer intake after games, this was a good financial decision for the 007. When we all finally graduated 6 years later the team more or less disbanded. The torch was picked up by a younger group of students led by Cori Gibble and later Brynn Kauffman and her husband Zach Kauffman. This was also a period that represented a big shift in Gobie Sox softball philosophy from one that was driven by speed and good defense to one driven by power. Especially with the addition of the bash brothers: Will “the Thrill” Fennie, “Big” Steve Martenuk and “Long Gone” John Negrey. All of who are not too nimble on their feet (besides maybe Will), but can bash the ball over the fence.

The formation of the Gobie Sox Softball Club has been a big part of recent MLML culture and is now engrained in its heritage. A heritage, which promotes teambuilding, sportsmanship, and fun. It has been great to be a part of it.

 

 

Teeth, Mud, and Nets

By Dion Oxman (17 March 2016)

My MLML tenure started on probation and in transition. I initially came to the Lab to work with the Bernd Wursig on marine mammals. To be blunt, however, my undergraduate GPA sucked. My GRE scores were not much better. In University terms, that put me on immediate academic probation. Great start. Bernd was willing to give me a chance, but I had to prove my intellectual capability before he accepted me into the fold. I got lucky, did well, and Bernd rewarded me with a place in his lab. Then he promptly left for a position in Galveston, Texas. I stayed – Brooklyn boys do not belong in Texas. Jim Harvey arrived to take Bernd’s place. Jim, it turned out, would also make me prove myself before accepting me into his lab, but in a significantly different, more physical way.

When Jim arrived at / returned to MLML as a newly minted professor, he brought his passion for harbor seal research along for the ride. After all, he was about to get numerous indentured servants willing to carry out his every whim and desire. Risk free, as I would soon discover. Jim and I discussed project ideas and came up with one that involved studying the movements and food habits of harbor seals in Monterey Bay. It would involve catching, tagging, and radio tracking numerous seals around the Bay. National Geographic channel stuff – “count me in” I thought. Soon thereafter, I was in the quad discussing project plans with other students, when a newbie by the name of Steve Trumble insinuated himself into the discussion . . .

“Dude, You can’t do that – it’s my project” he said.

"Oh yeah? Let’s dance!” – Though in all honesty, those were not the words I used.

Harbor seals on Elkhorn Slough mud.

First rule of the Fight Club that is graduate school – don’t tell a student she/he can’t do something. Colorful metaphors were thrown, stare-downs and posturing ensued. We took our fight to Harvey, who admitted he screwed up and gave us both the same idea for a thesis project. It must have been early onset Alzheimer’s. His solution: “You guys go figure it out”. It was the beginning of a long-standing professional and personal friendship. Steve would focus on seals along the open coast and I would wrestle with those residing in Elkhorn Slough. Literally, wrestle.

Before radio tracking a seal, you must first catch a seal. This involves deploying a large glorified beach seine in waters adjacent to a haul-out site using two fast and agile Boston Whalers. The Lead Boat deploys the net in an arc in front of the resting seals while the second “capture” boat retrieves the leading end of the net and brings it ashore. These activities would disturb the resting seals (don’t worry law enforcement types – we had a permit for that) who would enter the water to escape and – if all went well – find themselves ensnared in our nets.

[An aside: "Vlad" in the picture above is Dr. Valdimir Burkanov, who is Russian and now works at the NMFS Marine Mammal Lab in Seattle]

Our training and initiation took place in South San Francisco Bay. If memory serves, most of those who would

From left to right: Sal Cerhio, Doreen Moser, the capture net, Jim Harvey, and a visiting secret agent from Russia (“Vlad”).

become the usual suspects in seal tagging operations were there: Steve Trumble, Mike Torok, Meg Lamont, John Mason, Matt Byrd, Tom Norris, Sal Cerchio and myself. Other mainstays like Tomo Eguchi, Rob and Kim Suryan, Tony Orr, Doreen Moser, and Michelle Lander would join up later to great effect. Jim issued orders like a drill sergeant sending troops to their demise. He would drive the Lead Boat himself. Steve, being an excellent boat driver, would drive the Capture Boat. I drew the short straw – if members of the second boat could not reach the leading end of the net, it was my responsibility to recover it. Sounded simple enough. It was not. The immediate stampede of seals that occurred as we approached the haul-out site forced us to increase our speed in order to deploy the net in time. As I crouched on the bow, it became immediately clear to Steve and I that the net would come nowhere near the students in the Capture Boat and we were at risk of fouling the propeller on the netting. By way of solution, Steve made an abrupt, sharp, high-speed turn. My body dutifully obeyed the laws of physics – I was catapulted out of the boat, into the water, and onto the net. I was told it was very graceful if not intentional. I grabbed and swam, or at least I tried to against the tide, towing a net that I was sure held over 1,000 seals. Lots of yelling to hurry ensued from those who were still safe and dry aboard the boats as escaping seals whizzed past me and between my legs (thankfully with their mouths closed). My less-than-professional responses encouraged some of my compatriots to join me in my water-bound tug-of-war, while others like Jim and Steve sat warm and dry suppressing their laughter and expressing their derision. In the hundreds of subsequent expeditions, our roles remained unchanged and the leading end of the net never made it into the retrieval boat.

Once ashore, our haul was far less than I had anticipated. Two individuals out of at least 250 seals. I will let you do the math. Jim pointed at me and then at the 250 lb male at my feet. “Dion – get on him. Hold him still”. Wha? There were plenty of others to pick on. I mean from. John Mason was a head taller than I and twice as broad. Steve was as strong as semi-truck on ‘roids and as stubborn as Donald Trump. So, sure. There are sharp teeth involved, but sure. It was like sitting on a greased up squirming sausage of fat and muscle. I got on the animal too slow and the seal immediately rolled onto its back while between my legs. At that point, the seal decided it would be prudent to bite me in the face. He lunged. I dodged – backwards and ass-first into the mud to the amusement of all. Seal included – I recall it looking quite self-satisfied. “Don’t let him do that” was Jim’s simple and sage advice. “Get back on but be quick about it this time”. That is when I started to consider switching to invertebrates. Less teeth and less attitude. And Professor Nybakken wasn’t this sadistic.

After securing the animal, the others dove in to do various and sundry things to our captive. Blood was drawn. Tissues sampled. Flipper tags secured. While all this was going on, I had to restrain the head with both hands and constrain the body between my legs. Now, as you well know, there are important appendages down there to be concerned about (Steve can attest to that in a later blog) and that is a fabulous incentive when you are stuck in such a position for 45 minutes. That is how long it took the epoxy Jim was using to secure a radio transmitter on the seal’s head to set. Slough mud may look soft and slimy. After lengthy exposure, it is not. Anyone who has wrestled seals under such conditions can tell you it is a great exfoliator. It rubs off callouses and fingerprints (I could have become a career criminal), not to mention the damage it does in unmentionable areas after hours of chaffing. And one last tid-bit regarding this first foray into seal tagging: once the epoxy had dried, I discovered that our esteemed mentor had glued my hands to the seal. They had to cut me off. I had hairy palms for days. Insert your own tawdry comments here . . .

The indignity suffered at the hands of graduate students.

The seals were ultimately released and so began several years of such activity. The result of these shared experiences of enjoyment and misery has created bonds between us all that remain to this day. As we packed up to head home, Jim suggested we stop for pizza. He, however, could not join us as he was meeting his wife in San Francisco. Being poor grad students, Jim offered up some cash by way of support. A 20-spot to be precise, but I grabbed the Benjamin that was sticking out of his wallet instead. Compensation for emotional duress. We kept the change. I figure we still owe Jim about $50, but considering the experiences and opportunities he provided us, we most likely owe him a whole lot more.

 

 

 

What’s the Worst Thing that Could Happen? : Reflections on a Shark and Ray Fishery Project in the Gulf of California

By Joe Bizzarro and Wade Smith (10 March 2016)

Baja California peninsula from space.

Yipi rumbled down the narrow, craggy road at a speed that seemed unsustainable. “One More Cup of Coffee” by Dylan played loudly on the Jeep’s stereo. Sunset was looming and setting up camp before nightfall was important…but maybe not this important. MLML ichthyology lab students, Joe Bizzarro and Wade Smith, were rattling in their seats. This was the type of ride where the vehicle occupants seemed more like bobblehead dolls than passengers – a ride that causes the fillings in your teeth to vibrate…because the road was carved out of the side of a dormant volcano, with jagged rocks protruding through a thin layer of sediment. The road conditions demanded a crawling pace that Joe felt they couldn’t afford. And even though Joe and Wade were driving “fast,” it would still take about an hour to cover the twenty miles to camp. Wade seemed a bit tense in the passenger seat, so Joe – seeking to defuse the situation and typically delusional - postulated “What’s the worst thing that could happen, we blow a tire?” Um, no…not hardly. There are much worse things that could happen. After all, this is Baja.

Artisanal elasmobranch fisheries in the Gulf targeted large, pelagic sharks, like these silky sharks, when they entered the region to pup. Not a good recipe for a sustainable fishery.

An international collaborative shark and ray fishery project. Ah. Say it out loud - it seems rather majestic, no? Well, it did to Joe, Wade, and Erin Jones when Greg Cailliet proposed it as a two-year study from which they would (supposedly) generate thesis projects. Outgoing M.S. student and lab Mom, Julie Neer, would serve the role of Charlie to the grad student Angels, managing the project from the home base while the kids collected data in the field. The project was funded primarily by the Packard Foundation. Its objectives were ambitious - to locate all the artisanal fisheries camps in the Gulf of California, determine which camps targeted elasmobranchs, and document fisheries and biological information from landings at those camps. The Gulf had supported an intensive, but poorly documented shark fishery for years; however, anecdotal evidence suggested the serial depletion of many large, predatory sharks and a shift to smaller, coastal sharks and rays. Greg was partnering with highly respected elasmobranch researchers at Mote Marine Labs, the University Autonoma de Baja California Sur, and the Instituto Nacional de la Pesca, Mexico’s version of NMFS. What an opportunity! (By the way, Yipi was Greg Cailliet’s pet name for his Jeep Cherokee, which, when we left off with this story, was in the process of being destroyed).

Erin Jones identifies the species composition of the landings of a panga while Joe Bizzarro records the information.

Suddenly, things went dark for Joe and Wade. Literally. Dust was quickly filling the interior of the vehicle although the windows remained closed. How odd. Then the problem became readily apparent. All the shaking and banging from the road caused the lock mechanism to tear off the hatch back of the car. The lock remained fixed, but the hatch back, with a gaping hole where the lock used to be, pointed skyward. Even worse, the car was empty. All the supplies were gone. They could be seen dotting the road behind the car like a trail of breadcrumbs stretching into the distance. At the end of this trail was a small, white bus…stopping at each lost item to claim a road prize. Joe and Wade watched and waited…and when the bus pulled up, requested their stuff back. After a brief negotiation and some minor extortion, the supplies were reloaded into the vehicle and the back lashed down with rope. Getting to camp before dark wasn’t going to happen, and a more cautious approach seemed advisable…but when Joe turned the ignition, the oil light came on - and indicated that the car had none. A decision was made to pull the crippled vehicle into a roadside arroyo, set up a makeshift camp, and regroup in the morning.

The last remnants of our supplies, jettisoned from the Jeep after the lock mechanism "failed." Note - sundown (you better take care...).

The project was truly spectacular in many ways. The Gulf of California is a remarkable study site for an elasmobranch biologist. Because of the oceanography of the region and its physical location at a transition between biogeographic provinces, it is home to a great diversity of sharks and rays. In addition, the survey years, 1998 and 1999, reflected El Niño and La Niña conditions, further accentuating the regional diversity. The Gulf serves as a nursery area for many migratory sharks and rays, and species composition, therefore, is highly dynamic. Fieldwork was for about 2-4 weeks/each season to capture this dynamism. Most of the elasmobranch species in the Gulf of California were not common to California waters,  therefore, a book-borne knowledge of the local fauna, and a working understanding of Spanish, were project requisites. After sharpening up on these skills, Joe, Wade, and Erin were deployed to Baja California (Norte). One group (each) was responsible for surveying the other states that border on the Gulf (Baja California Sur, Sonora, Sinaloa). Erin did not participate in the trip being described, but was an integral part of the team. Not only as a field biologist, but because she is a fluent Spanish-speaker and charming and attractive gringa. She referred to herself as “Margarita” and ran wonderful interference with love-struck fishermen to facilitate our sampling efforts.

 

 

A small artisanal fishing camp located at Bahia Animas, south of Bahia de los Angeles. The type of terrain depicted is similar to that of the road we traveled while destroying Greg's Jeep.

While sleeping off the events of the day in Campo Arroyo, Joe and Wade were awakened by the high beams and rumble of an approaching vehicle. It was, inexplicably, a red Fiat, a car that

Wade Smith looks particularly dashing while measuring a California angel shark.

should never be able to navigate the volcanic road at any speed. The driver was a mustachioed Mexican man, and Modelo cans were strewn about the dashboard and interior of the vehicle. He was very drunk – probably blacked out. He staggered out of the vehicle and announced his intention, “Tienen aqua?” he asked? “Si…tiene aceite?,” Joe replied.” “Si.” Well, I’ll be – rather than a scorpion in your shoe, a true gift in the night seemed to present itself. A large bottle of water was produced and given to the borracho. He popped his hood to reveal a steaming radiator with no cap, and, while staggering about, managed to pour about half of the bottle into it. Then he got back in the car, fired it up, and started to back out of the arroyo. “Whoa…whoa? …what about the oil?!” The man replied….”I have oil. I only needed water.” Ack! Great googly moogly, you gotta be kidding me?! Buckled by a sour mixture of chagrin and frustration Wade sank to the dusty ground. Still no oil and we would likely need that water when the blazing sun rose. “Don’t worry, Wade.” Joe said. “He’s going to die on that road tonight. We’ll see that Fiat at the bottom of a canyon tomorrow morning when we walk back to town (Puertocitos) to look for help.” Wade was relieved - but once again…that’s not how it would play out.

This is a Fiat. It is generally an extremely poor choice for Baja driving because it has almost no clearance, consists of foreign parts, and handles poorly on uneven terrain.

When the sun came up, Wade and Joe left the crippled Jeep that Greg had loaned them and in an unadvisable act of desperation, began the 15 mile walk back to Puertocitos. Not much was said, but the roadside and chasms were eagerly scanned for a crashed Fiat. Nothing was discovered. Then, about 2 or 3 miles into the walk, a car approached from the south. And, as Wade and Joe stared incredulously, they were coated in dust by a passing mustachioed Mexican man in the red Fiat. And he was driving too fast, besides…and somehow making it all work. No justice (this is a common theme in Baja). Just then, however, two fishermen who were driving north in a truck with a panga strapped to the top stopped to urinate on the side of the road - and got to talking with us. They agreed to tow Yipi back to Puertocitos. The drive took about 4 hours and was rife with equal doses of danger and ridicularum, as was the rest of the two year survey, but that’s a story for another day.

 

 

Two fishermen agreed to tow Yipi to Puertocitos after they fortuitously stopped to urinate on the side of the road and got chatty (they had been drinking).
Sampling: After sawing off a dragging muffler (from a different trip), Joe makes light of the situation. Sorry, Greg.

Epilogue

It was quickly determined that the descriptive fishery information that we were collecting as research assistants on this project would not be sufficient for MLML theses. We expanded our work (and misadventures) onto the Pacific coast of Baja California Sur to develop directed studies on the biology and ecology of rays from well-established fisheries in the Magdalena Bay Lagoon Complex. Though the international collaborative project that initially brought us to Baja was underfunded and marked by an overly optimistic timeline, a final report to Packard was eventually completed, translated to Spanish, and disseminated to interested scientists and fishery managers in Mexico and the U.S. Four manuscripts were published that, for the first time, documented the characteristics and status of the artisanal shark fishery in the Gulf of California. Basic information such as species-specific catch data were largely unavailable prior to the release of these survey results. In all, 147 fishing camps were located, of which 86% targeted elasmobranchs during at least one season. Large sharks were rare in landings compared with small, coastal sharks and rays, and populations of several species appear badly overfished, including tiger, bull, and dusky sharks. The results of this study served as the basis for establishing the first national shark management plan in Mexico, and as foundational material for several subsequent publications on elasmobranchs and their fisheries in the Gulf of California. Sure, Greg’s Jeep was destroyed but we pulled it off in the end – as is typical of all the Baja projects that have been conducted through Greg’s ichthyology lab. Much like he is fond of saying “I don’t do salmon,” Greg often says “I don’t work in Baja” (right up until he does). It’s easy to understand his aversion to Baja as a study site. It was made for the Mike Foster types. Gregor is too Type A to deal with the lassitude, inefficiency, and unpredictability of desert life. You never know, for instance, when a guy in a Fiat is going to trade you nothing in exchange for your water.

Elkhorn Slough is the Cosmic Center of the Universe (so says MLML Alumnus Mark Silberstein… and we concur)

By Mary Yoklavich and Greg Cailliet (3 March 2016)

Aerial photo of Elkhorn Slough winding eastward from Moss Landing Harbor. [1973]

MLML’s students and faculty have been up to their hip boots in the mud of Elkhorn Slough for over 40 years. In 1974, just a few years after the Lab’s establishment, professors Bill Broenkow, Jim Nybakken, and Greg Cailliet coordinated the first comprehensive cataloging and collection of the Slough’s flora and fauna. This effort resulted in the milestone MLML report on the hydrography and ecology of Elkhorn Slough, Moss Landing Harbor, and nearshore coastal waters, which now serves as an invaluable baseline from which to evaluate ongoing change occurring in the Slough and surrounding environs.

 

Professor Cailliet and ichthyology students gill-netting sharks in the Slough.

Winding seven miles inland from Moss Landing Harbor, the Elkhorn Slough provides refuge for more than 100 fish, 550 marine invertebrate, and 340 bird species. The Slough is a critical wintering and stopover site for birds migrating along the Pacific Flyway and has been recognized as a “Globally Important Bird Area” by the American Bird Conservancy and the National Audubon Society. Resident sea lions, harbor seals, and the greatest concentration of the endangered Southern sea otter on the West Coast also are all found in the Slough’s waters and on its shores. Spawning, feeding, nesting, and nurturing by a menagerie of organisms all take place within the Slough’s channels, mudflats, eelgrass beds, and salt marshes.

Mudflat sampling in the Slough.
MLML graduate student Brooke Antrim with 1.2 meter-long California halibut from the Slough [late 1970s].

Ecological studies conducted by MLML students and professors on the feeding habits, growth, and movements of fishes, birds, and mammals played a significant part in the Slough’s designation as a National Estuarine Research Reserve in 1979, affording it recognition as a field laboratory for scientific research and education. The Research Reserve’s establishment led to the formation of the Elkhorn Slough Foundation in 1982, which serves as a land trust and is actively involved in restoration of some of the Slough’s key habitats. The Foundation, directed by MLML alumnus Mark Silberstein for more than 30 years, has been widely recognized for its ecosystem-based watershed stewardship focused on land acquisition, education, science, and restoration.

Young Mark Silbermud in his natural habitat.

During the ‘80s, programs were established to monitor water quality and track non-point source pollution in the Slough. MLML supported the California State Mussel Watch Program, which measured the uptake of pesticides by these bivalves at several stations throughout the Slough. This program evolved into what is now the successful Marine Pollution Studies Laboratory at MLML, which was initiated by graduates of MLML and is now directed by MLML alums Rusty Fairey and Wes Heim.

MLML graduate student Jim Barry documented the use of shallow marsh habitats by juvenile fishes in Elkhorn Slough, 1983.

Also in the 1980s, students and former students of MLML started research on restoration of salt marsh communities in the Slough. These efforts also considered changes in Slough hydrology that had taken place after 1946 when the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers dredged a channel across the sand spit to create the present-day entrance to Moss Landing Harbor. A collection of aerial photos was used to evaluate changes in habitat and land use in the Slough’s watershed since 1931, including the effects of erosion, human trampling, cattle grazing, and marsh loss on habitats and associated floral and faunal communities. The Central Coast Wetlands Group at MLML, headed by alumnus Ross Clark, continues efforts to improve the condition of local wetlands such as the Slough.

Restoration efforts increased critical marsh and tidal creek habitats suitable for colonization by salt marsh species.

The pace of MLML student research in Elkhorn Slough continued into the new millennium. Professor Jim Harvey (a graduate student of Vic Morejohn’s in the 1970s and current Director of MLML) and his long list of students have studied many aspects of harbor seal ecology in the Slough. In addition, sea otters, leopard sharks, algae, seagrasses, and many other organisms have been the topics of graduate work at MLML. The health of the ecosystem remains an area of focus, and students have examined the effects of domoic acid, nutrient pollution, heavy metals, diseases, invasions, and erosion on the system.

Scott Hanson and MLML students handling a muddy harbor seal.
Dr. Ivano Aiello and students remove a piston core from Elkhorn Slough. The core was built by students in the fabrication class taught by Dr. Kenneth Coale.

In all, more than 55 graduate student theses have been completed on Elkhorn Slough, accounting for nearly one-tenth of all student research at MLML. In addition, data sets spanning more than 30 years have resulted from surveys of Slough communities conducted by students in MLML’s Ichthyology and Marine Ecology classes. These long-term data products are of high value to researchers interested in change occurring in California’s coastal ecosystems. As a recent example, alumnus Brent Hughes used MLML records in his doctoral work at UC Santa Cruz, connecting the increase in numbers of Southern Sea Otters to clams, crabs, and the overall health of eelgrass beds in Elkhorn Slough; Brett’s work was recently published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

MLML students, Linda Martin and Dave Kusher, dissect a bat ray during an annual Elkhorn Slough Shark Derby. These Derbies provided valuable biological information and long-term trends in shark populations of the Slough, dating from 1951 to 1996.

The history of MLML’s research in Elkhorn Slough and its watershed was chronicled in the 2002 book Changes in a California Estuary, A Profile of Elkhorn Slough. Our understanding of the physical properties and associated biota of this very special corner of Monterey Bay, and how it will be affected by local, regional, and global impacts, is founded on the studies conducted by the students and professors of MLML.

Changes in a California Estuary. Edited by Jane Caffrey, Martha Brown, W. Breck Tyler, and Mark Silberstein (2002).

MLML: A Career (and life) Stepping Stone

By Anonymous MLML graduate ( 25 February 2016)

This is a bit of a wandering and circuitous story, but it illustrates the role MLML can play in one’s professional and personal development and life.

I grew up in Philadelphia - I was an east coast city boy.

Philadelphia

In 1983, I was a 4.5 yr senior geology major at University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. Two factors during my undergraduate degree are worth mentioning (ignoring the partying!). First, although a huge amount of sediments and rocks are deposited underwater and in the oceans, I don’t think I ever really heard about oceanography or marine geology at Penn (sad, but I did eventually learn better!). Second, I had to take introductory biology as one of my last two classes so that I could get a BS instead of a BA. This doesn’t sound very significant, but ……

University of Pennsylvania.

A couple things about this biology course.... The class was very large and consisted of mostly very stressed freshmen – so I actually appeared somewhat more mature than some. The lab portion was TA’ed by a biology PhD student whose name I can’t remember. During the first lab, he had to console at least one student who broke down in tears (happened a few more times throughout the semester). Afterwards, I commiserated with the TA – who turns out was a gymnastics judge in his off time. One of my roommates was on the Penn gymnastics team. As the semester wore on I became friends with my TA and toward the end of the semester my roommates, TA, and I went on a road trip to see the NCAA gymnastic championships at Penn State (saw a number of athletes that went onto the Olympics a year later).

As I finished up my BS, I decided I wanted to continue onto grad school. I applied to a number of programs, but did not get accepted to any of them. Although I had done very well in my last few years, I was still quite immature. I wasn’t really sure what I would do next.

About a month before graduation, my biology TA and I were talking about my failed plans to get into grad school and that I was trying to figure out what to do. He mentioned that one of his biology PhD student friends was doing bird research on Midway Island and was looking for a field assistant for the summer. The TA mentioned me to his friend - turns out - this University of Pennsylvania grad student in bird physiology was Russ Shea (at the time I didn’t know he did his MS at MLML in Physical Oceanography with Broenkow; he did research on the role of internal tides in nutrient enrichment in Monterey Bay). Luckily, one of his field assistants backed out and the day before graduation I was on a plane to Hawaii (starting a long history of missing graduations - and some other significant life events - to do something amazing).

Midway Islands

I met his wife, Beverly (also a MLML grad, I believe) at Hickam Air Force Base, and boarded a Military Airlift Command C130 for a summer working on Midway Island. As a city boy, my bird experience was limited to surprising the ring-necked pheasants while waling though the forest behind our house (or more depressingly, watching the pigeons among the dirt and grime at the train station). More than a couple million breeding seabirds on that very small island in the Pacific was an incredible experience – more birds in the first hour than most people will see in a lifetime. This was Russ’ third field season doing physiology, growth, and mortality studies on sooty terns, red-tailed tropic birds, and fairy terns. I got to work with one of his other field assistants – outside, every day, commuting by whaler to the smaller of the two islands – the one with the old airbase that is now a bird sanctuary. We also did some work with Laysan Albatross and frigate birds. What an amazing experience.

 

Sooty Tern and chick

Over the course of the summer, I learned to become completely comfortable walking amongst the dense bird colonies with all stages of bird life around me, on me, as well as stepping in dead bird carcasses with only flip flops on – which no longer bothers me (this later part seems similar to some of the other stories on the MLML Anniv. blog! – also interesting as I did geology because I didn’t like digging through smelly animals!). I also became a bit more cautious about swimming when the sharks that prey on the fledging albatross’ chased me out of the water during one lunch time swim. Did a bunch of snorkeling, but unfortunately, didn’t get SCUBA certified until later during my MLML time. As the summer wore on, I had lots of time to talk with Russ during the fieldwork. When I told Russ about my interest in continuing to study geology in grad school, he said “You should check out Moss Landing, it’s a great place as a stepping stone”. He went on to relay a bit about his time there in Broenkow’s lab doing physical oceanography, and how his MLML experience allowed him to move onto his very cool PhD at Penn that we were doing fieldwork for!!!

Midway and albatrosses.

So, after the summer with Russ, Beverly, and the birds in Midway, and then a month backpacking in Hawaii (climbed Mauna Loa, hiked Kauai’s Na Pali coast), I returned to Philadelphia. I started to check out what MLML might have to offer. Not sure how I found out very much about it in the dark ages of pre-internet days…..but I applied and then arranged a meeting with MLMLs geology professor at that time - Mike Ledbetter. After getting in a car in Philadelphia with three of my friends who were in similar situations, we drove across the USA, dropped my engineering friend off in LA (got a job at Boeing or Hughes, I think), and drove up the coast to Monterey Bay. After the long drive up with my other friend, we camped out at Sunset Beach state park. I crawled out of the tent on a very cold morning, washed off with some water, put my suit, dress shirt, tie and shiny black shoes on (was still an east coast boy…..), and went to my meeting with Mike. I arrived at MLML - the “on the beach” version of MLML - which had just been finished the previous year. I’m sure I stood out (understatement). I think Mike might have said something about my clothes, but I don’t really remember. All I do remember is Mike saying – these are the several projects you could work on and I have money to pay you to do your MS research. I also remember how absolutely beautiful coastal California, Monterey Bay, and Moss Landing was. I started geology because I liked the field trips to the Appalachians, being outdoors, and not able to really believe that jobs existed that allow you to have such fun working outdoors and imagining what the earth was like in the past. Also, it was great to get out of west Philadelphia where there was lots of concrete and people who had to eat out of my trash to survive. Now Mike and MLML were offering me a great intellectual experience as well as an astounding place for me to have fun outdoors.

Dedication of the new wing of the "on the beach" version of MLML.

I moved to a house on Pinto Lake in Watsonville, did my MS in 2 years (on sedimentation and currents in the southwest south Atlantic; including a couple cruises down there – one out of Tierra del Fuego where Carolyn G and I almost didn’t make it back – a whole other story), learned how to scuba dive (including getting paid to scrub the algae off the bottom of the Pebble Beach Country Club pool with Don C; we got a very nice lunch in return), ate my first oysters (BBQ’d by Jim B), learned how to boogie board, started learning how to surf (getting pounded because I never asked anyone how to learn! Along with Dave A), learned to play underwater hockey (anaerobic exercise), got introduced to the Sierra Nevada (winter and summer), learned a bit about graphics, art, and donuts from Lynn M., and had many of the standard (but great) experiences that have been related on the MLML anniversary blogs (Halloween, Open House, helping to process foul-smelling, but interesting things from the slough and ocean, research cruises on Monterey Bay, etc), learn how to play beach volleyball as a short person with Jim O and others, and made lots of friends (including my wife). OK, I also learned a lot about marine geology and more specifically – paleoceanography from Mike and the other geology lab students.

For a year after my MS, I helped “run” the lab when Mike was on rotation at NSF (I did sediment grain size analyses and continued to learn how to get pounded while trying to surf). Near the end of my time at MLML, when I was deciding to go on to my PhD, Gary Greene had started spending more time at MLML. Once again, MLML people helped advise and guide me - and with both Mike and Gary support – I moved onto a PhD program at the University of Hawaii in Geophysics (where I overlapped a little with Kevin H). The preparation that MLML gave me allowed me to do quite well and I finished in 3.5 years (I also learned how to surf a bit better - although still got pounded). After a 1.5 year postdoc at the University of Tokyo, I have spent the last 23 years working for the Ocean Drilling Program at Texas A&M University. During this time, I’ve been fortunate to have participated in 18 expeditions (over 3 years at sea), did deep-sea coring, logging, and observatory installation in most major seas (except the Arctic), worked with lots (hundreds) of nice, diverse people, learned a lot about our planets history and changing climates, as well as seen lots of cool wildlife and places. In my most current role, it’s been my great pleasure to invite many hundreds of scientists to participate in our drilling expeditions – among which recently I’ve been able to invite the current MLML geologist Ivano Aiello to participate on his second drilling expedition.

So, MLML has served as a stepping stone for me. Not just a small step and not just the only one. However a very important one for me to grow, grow up, learn, and enjoy life.

I grew to appreciate very much the wide range of labs at MLML, and the people in them. I found nature and structure of MLML to be highly stimulating – having friends and colleagues in fields outside my own was wonderful – and much different than in a “normal” geology department (where my friends would all talk about the same geology things). At MLML, when I got tired of hearing about geology – I had people telling me about ichthyology, phys/chem oceanography, marine mammals, phycology, benthic fauna, eating some of the above, intertidal zones, asking for a hand in some of their fieldwork, or going down to Big Sur to see a beached blue whale. MLML turned me into a bit of an arm chair science junkie – that suits me well.

MLML students and volunteers working up a recently stranded blue whale.

I am no longer an east coast boy, MLML facilitated my love of the outdoors, I continue to love bird watching immensely, I continue to do fieldwork outside - on the open ocean, and I’ve continually returned to Monterey Bay for vacations, surfing, hanging out with friends, and a few meetings.

MLML is a great place for many reasons. I’d encourage everyone to convey what Russ said to me in 1983: “You should check out MLML, it can be a great stepping stone”.  I’ve seen this affect on many of the others who passed through MLML when I was there.

One sad note, I never stayed in touch with Russ following my Midway Island experience. Just recently, I thought I’d track him down and say thanks. Perhaps Bev and/or their kids will see this blog and know that I appreciated the life-changing opportunity Russ provided me and especially his life-changing words. My attending MLML brought me many joys and pleasures - and has had a tremendous impact on my life.

Lloyd Kitazono, Russ Shea (in middle), and unidentified student