Ecotourism In-Depth: Planting Coral in the South Pacific

It's easy to miss Coral Gardeners on Moorea's single main road. The instructions I have are that it's on Cook's Bay between Kaveka Resort and Allo Pizza on the oceanfront side of the road. Looking closely, one might notice the small black-and-white logo sign, and there's some parking just on the inside of the wall.

This one-story oceanfront house with a spectacular view (really, any view on Moorea is spectacular, but this one is particularly lurid) is the headquarters of Coral Gardeners, an NGO founded by a young waterman from the atoll of Ahe, in the Tuamotus. Growing up here, and being in the water every day, he saw over the space of a few short years the effects of coral bleaching in French Polynesia and decided to help.

You might have heard about the importance of coral. It comprises less than 0.1 percent of the world's oceans, but is to oceans like the rainforest is to the skies-literally the lungs of the ocean-and the supporter of a quarter of all marine species.

Most of the atolls and islands in French Polynesia are surrounded by coral reefs, and coral is what makes the oceans around each island abundant with life. Polynesians have known for millennia that corals were the literal building blocks of their lives, so it makes sense that Polynesia is today leading the charge to advocate for healthy coral.

The outlook isn't exactly rosy. Coral is a symbiosis between the animal coral polyps and the algae that live in their tissues and provide sustenance to the organism. Coral around the world is under stress from warming, acidifying oceans, which causes the algae to leave the coral polyps, causing them to slowly starve and die. This is known as coral bleaching, and it threatens coral reefs worldwide.

The evidence is apparent here on Moorea. At my resort, just a few miles away, there are some healthy corals alongside other coral beds that have long since bleached and grown covered in muck. It's far from an abstraction to residents of French Polynesia.

"Thirty years ago, this bay was full of fish," explains my guide Taumata, who alongside childhood best friend Titouan, nurtures the NGO Coral Gardeners. "When the coral goes, so do the fish." He explains the symbiosis of the coral and why it's so fragile before explaining what Coral Gardeners does to help.

Moorea is surrounded by a fringing reef, meaning that the surf breaks far from the shoreline directly onto a coral bed. The surf tends to break off pieces of coral. (Incidentally, the coral reef protects the island from the forces of the ocean, preventing the surf from eroding the soil.) Coral won't survive long term free-floating, and exoskeletons grow slowly, so they need to be artificially anchored to continue growing if they've broken off.

That's where Coral Gardeners steps in. Pieces of coral are collected from the surf break, and then attached to a bamboo anchor a little thicker than a drinking straw using ocean-safe biodegradable adhesive. The pieces are attached to an underwater table in an optimal location and depth for coral growth for several months, then dropped into holes drilled in a "potato" or underwater rock selected for transplantation.

Anchored by the bamboo stem, the coral buds now have an anchor to attach themselves to the rock, and the stem and glue eventually dissolve. As the coral reefs are restored, the marine life that inhabits coral ecosystems returns, and the result is healthier, better oxygenated oceans that help regulate temperatures and pull carbon from the atmosphere and water (colder oceans are more effective at storing carbon).

After the insightful lesson, it's into the water to plant some coral. We don snorkel masks and Taumata grabs an underwater camera and floats a short way into the bay to pick out a coral bud. "Try not to step on the sea cucumbers," Taumata warns. The black organisms are scattered across the sand on the floor of the bay, making it appear rather akin to an untidy litter box.

The shallow water of Cook's Bay felt almost like a bathtub, almost as if to reinforce the notion that the oceans are warming, and I wondered if it was more comfortable in the pre-industrial era when Captain James Cook spent several months anchored off these islands in the late 18th Century.

The coral buds come in a variety of colors, some bright pink, others a rich brown; some shaped like starfish or flower buds, while others look like clusters of cauliflower. I chose a large, handsomely brown bud that reminded me of the monkeypod trees I grew up around in Hawaii. We floated another few yards to the potato, which already had a few buds planted. Taumata pointed out where I was to drop in the coral, and started filming. I was just about to place the bud when a little orange fish stuck its head out of the hole.

I stood up, and Taumata stopped filming. He assures me it's not a problem-the fish will swim out of the way. Sure enough, the hole is empty when I submerge again, and the coral is planted. The water has gotten comfortable, so we spend a few minutes chatting about French Polynesia, then we float back to the house to name the coral and log it in the database.

There was a freshwater shower at water's edge, shaded by a large tree, so I could wash away the saltwater and sand while my coral was logged. The color, shape, type, size, and GPS coordinates all go into a spreadsheet-all I needed to provide was a name. Many folks on the ecotour like to choose a name that's meaningful to them, and they must also choose one that's unique.

"'Onipa'a." I said.

Taumata typed it in, then asked what it means. I explained that it has layered meanings in Hawaiian, relevant to planting: "Stand firm; fixed" like the literal planting of the coral bud to a solid base to rejuvenate. It also means "determined; resolute" in the figurative stance toward climate change.

In the coming days on Moorea, I'd often think back to that potato lying just under the surface in Cook's Bay. I began to picture the glue and bamboo beginning to dissolve, and my coral beginning to grip the rock and grow, oxygenating the water and drawing the return of aquatic life. I'd wonder what types and colors of coral buds would become its neighbors, what schools of baby fishes would find refuge between its polyps.

Some weeks later, I received an adoption certificate via e-mail, containing the name, coordinates, and a photo of the coral I'd planted, and all I wanted to do was plant more. I too am now a Coral Gardener.

The Details

Tours operate on Mondays and Thursdays from 9:30 to noon. The cost is a donation of 5,000 Pacific Francs ($50 USD). The coral planted can be adopted for 3,000 Francs ($30 USD). Transportation is not provided, and visitors should bring a bathing suit, snorkel mask, dry clothes, and water shoes.

Web visitors can also adopt corals on the Coral Gardeners website.

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