In coastal South Carolina, the sea gave rise to an industry that would define the early history of the state and leave a lasting cultural impression. That industry was rice.

By 1700, colonists in the South Carolina “Lowcountry” found that rice could thrive in low-lying areas that had been dammed to catch rainwater. But what made rice production possible on a much grander scale was the move to tidal cultivation. When the tide began its twice-a-day rise, fresh water in coastal rivers would be pushed upstream and could be diverted onto farmers’ lands, creating an ideal environment for the crop. Simple but ingenious wooden “trunks” designed by slaves and built at strategic locations regulated water entry and exit, allowing fairly precise control of water levels on the fields. Tidal cultivation of rice allowed for greater productivity on much more acreage, making South Carolina the colonial king of this profitable staple.

Even with the power of the tides, producing rice required a tremendous workforce. The growth of the slave population in South Carolina paralleled the growth of the rice industry, and black slaves from West Africa and the Caribbean outnumbered white Europeans in the state through much of the 1700s. Slave labor was used for every aspect of rice cultivation: the dangerous and backbreaking work of “reclaiming” swamps to use as fields, weeding and hoeing fields during dry periods, building and tending the trunks, and of course harvesting the product. Slaves taken from West Africa brought knowledge of tidal rice cultivation and were critical in adapting it to the Lowcountry.

The seas again shaped South Carolina’s rice industry when rice production began to outpace the processing of the product. Traditionally, rice was milled by hand, using a mortar and pestle to remove the outer layers from the grains and produce a polished, white product. This painstaking method could not keep pace with the farmers’ production, so colonial innovators also harnessed the power of the tides to mill the rice. Tidal power was used to automate several aspects of rice processing, from lifting and driving the pestles to powering grain elevators and packing machines, saving tremendous amounts of labor.

The Civil War forever changed the rice industry in South Carolina, abolishing slavery and laying waste to most of the state’s rice plantations. Fortunately, federal and state agencies, along with environmental and private interests, have been successful in protecting and restoring many of these coastal lands for waterfowl and other wildlife, historical interpretation, aesthetics, recreation, and environmental quality. Artifacts of rice culture abound in the Lowcountry, and the period lives on as one of many ways that the seas have shaped South Carolina’s history and culture.

Zac Hart is an environmental professional who works for the I.M. Systems Group, Inc. at The Coastal Services Center, an office of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). At NOAA, Zac is a writer, outreach specialist, and regularly delivers training on project design and evaluation. 

For centuries the people who lived on the south coast of Oregon have relied on the ocean to sustain their way of life. No place has the salty Pacific been more a part of life than Port Orford. It has supported a commercial economy for everything from seafood and trade to transportation since the 1800s.

The sea continues to define this town—acknowledged as one of the windiest, roughest places on the west coast. Thirty percent of local jobs are connected to commercial fishing and people relocate here from all over the United States to make this fishing town—with remote beaches and abundant high relief rocky reefs—their home. The unique port is located on the open ocean. This is far different than other Oregon ports, which are located in a river system that provides marina facilities for moorage. Port Orford is home-base to 40 small commercial fishing vessels all under 40-feet that hoist in and out of the water each day with large cranes. All fishing vessels are family owned and operated—you’ll find no corporate fishing at Port Orford and no net fishing. All 40 boats fish hook and line and traps.

On days when other Oregon fishermen are stuck in port because high winds close the river bar access to the ocean, Port Orford fishermen hoist directly into the ocean and venture out to fish the rough Pacific waters with their small boats. In summer months the small boats head out 100 miles to fishing grounds on the open ocean, competing with 80-foot vessels for albacore tuna. The lifestyle isn’t easy—these Port Orford fishermen must overcome many things including constantly changing fisheries regulations that favor large boat fishing businesses, the increasing price of fuel and bait, little or no federal dredging to keep the port access open, and limited fishing opportunities as stocks decline. Why choose tradition over other more industrial commercial fishing methods?

“Because this is where we live, and we do not want to leave,” explains fisherman Lyle Keeler. “We have to hoist into the ocean and the hoists can only lift a boat under 40 feet. If you want to fish out of Port Orford you have to stay small. Our families are here, our friends are here. We raised our sons and daughters here and they played in the woods and on the beaches here and learned to appreciate the ocean, rivers, and forests. This is our home and the ocean is where we work.”

For these fishermen, small family businesses are viewed as the core of this country’s economy while large corporate fishing vessels provide few jobs and contribute little to the local coastal economies. The profits go to corporations with shareholders around the world. Profits for fishermen in Port Orford, rather, stay in the community and go to buy groceries at the local supermarket and fuel at the dock.

“The local economy depends on our fishermen going out and catching fish,” says fisherman Aaron Longton. “Without the fishermen, this town would dry up.”

Leesa Cobb has been working as Port Orford Ocean Resource Team’s (POORT) Director for ten years. POORT is a community-initiated and inclusive ecosystem based management organization founded in 2001. It focuses on maintaining a sustainable fishery and healthy marine ecosystem in local nearshore waters and healthy upland watersheds. POORT combines science, local knowledge, education and conservation to make management decisions that: 1) sustain/improve the habitat and population base of fish; 2) provide high quality, high value seafood products to consumers; and 3) support the economic viability of Port Orford, Oregon. 

Most often when people hear “fishing” they think of sport and commercial fishing. Both activities are known to generate high economic gains for coastal economies. There is an entirely different type of activity—subsistence and ceremonial fishing—that extends far beyond economic gains.

Subsistence fisheries represent the relationship between Native populations and the resources of the sea. My work and research on salmon fisheries of the Pacific Northwest and Alaska underscores the importance and range of values that these fisheries and harvests create.

While subsistence fish have significant nutritional and economic value as food, they are also used in other ways. They can be fashioned into a variety of products:  the skins of salmon and whitefish have been used to make lightweight parkas, boots and arrow quivers; fish fat has been used as glue; and smoked skins are used for teething babies.

But of even greater importance, I believe, is the role of these subsistence and ceremonial fisheries and fish in sustaining and transmitting cultural practices and values. Subsistence fishing often occurs at fish camps located near fishing areas, which provide a focus for family activity in the summers and for the transmission of knowledge and skills passed down by older family members to younger generations. The production and consumption of traditional foods are central components of cultural identity among Pacific Northwest and Alaskan Natives. Their consumption is perceived to be essential to well-being and health.

The worldview of many indigenous peoples holds that fish, like other organisms, have spirits and must be treated with care and respect. Many rules guide human interactions with fish and there are strong prohibitions against wastage. Subsistence fish are presented as gifts, shared, or bartered. These exchanges connect individuals and communities often in remote and dispersed regions, creating an expansive social network.

Among some Pacific Northwest Indians and Native Alaskans it is a custom to give the first fish caught at the beginning of the fishing season to relations and neighbors, promoting good will and creating community. In some areas of the Pacific Northwest, tribes celebrate the season’s first salmon catch, with events such as the First Salmon Ceremony. The ceremony is a modern reflection of traditional beliefs in the appropriate treatment and use of the salmon to ensure their return and continued abundance. These days, members of the surrounding non-Native community are invited to observe the ceremony and share in the feast, a means of conveying the importance of the salmon in Native culture and livelihood.

The knowledge and values associated with fishing are critical to forming an identity as a Pacific Northwest or Alaskan Native and essential to being a full member of one’s community. Although the economic value of these small-scale subsistence and ceremonial fisheries may seem minor compared with the prodigious estimates generated for sport and commercial fisheries, the aggregation of diverse uses and facets of meaning and their overwhelming significance to Native individuals and cultures is so great as to be invaluable.

Syma Ebbin is the Research Coordinator at Connecticut Sea Grant as well as faculty member in the Department of Agricultural and Resource Economics at the University of Connecticut. Ebbin is the Co-Chair of the Long Island Sound Assembly, appointed as a member of the eastern council by the Governor in 2008. Her research focuses on the cooperative management of fisheries and climate change adaptation in coastal areas.

Editor’s Note: This is the second post in the Sea Shapes Us Series, focused on how humans depend on the living and non-living bounty of the sea and the policies that help balance these uses. In it, guest blogger and marine ecologist Gary E. Davis looks at his love of the ocean and how others can better engage with the sea.

Many of us, it seems, have lost our emotional connection to the sea. At times the ocean’s vastness and plight may seem too great to comprehend or change, but there are still special places in the sea where authentic involvement allows people to rediscover their connections to nature and heritage through profound personal experiences—the most powerful and enduring kind of learning and engagement. Up-close encounters with sea life can forge powerful bonds that last a lifetime and provide the foundation for developing a “sea ethic” that includes diverse human values for healthy oceans.

I personally remember drifting along in a small aluminum skiff listening, watching, and sharing a little patch of ocean with a family of bubble-net feeding humpback whales as they repeatedly lunged up like synchronized swimmers through the sea surface, gorging on herring and krill in preparation for their annual fast during the arduous trans-oceanic journey they make to calve and mate. These experiences stay with you forever, reminding you of our ocean heritage and encouraging you to pass your love of the ocean on to future generations unimpaired.

I have many of these memories as I’ve lived my entire life in, on, or by the ocean: first as an explorer of tide pools, then fisherman, diver, park ranger, aquanaut, scientist, and now grandfather. From the Atlantic, Caribbean, and Gulf of Mexico to the broad Pacific and narrow Red Sea, I’ve watched human actions negatively alter the sea so that today I am challenged to find and share with my grandchildren the joy and excitement of discovery that I first found in the ocean.

Such life-changing encounters with nature are still possible in more than 1,500 special protected areas along the nation’s coast in parks, refuges, reserves and sanctuaries. From riding bikes along barrier island beaches in the Carolinas to diving trips in Hawaii and the Virgin Islands, in a constantly changing world, people can find nature at its finest in these special places. Here, they can share with fellow explorers their personal discoveries of nature’s integrity, resilience, and beauty as touchstones and benchmarks of what is possible for the future if we have healthy oceans.

Gary E. Davis is a marine ecologist who explores the ocean and seeks ways to better engage people with nature through science and art. Formerly, for more than four decades, he conducted research and practiced stewardship in coastal national parks from the Virgin Islands and Florida to California’s Channel Islands for the U. S. National Park Service and Geological Survey. Currently, he chairs the SeaDoc Society, a public-private partnership that supports the Wildlife Health Center at the University of California, Davis, School of Veterinary Medicine, and he serves on the Marine Protected Area Federal Advisory Committee for the Federal Departments of Commerce and Interior.

Editor’s Note: This is the first post in the Sea Shapes Us Series, focused on how humans depend on the living and non-living bounty of the sea and the policies that help balance these uses. In it, guest blogger Chad Nelsen looks at the economic value of surfing in one California town. 

As a life-long surfer and the Environmental Director at the Surfrider Foundation, I am keenly interested in how coastal communities think about surfing areas and their contribution to the local economy.

Not too surprisingly, coastal communities recognize that ocean-based activities such as fishing and tourism contribute to their economic prosperity. Surfing, a recreational activity that takes place entirely in the sea, is often poorly understood even though many coastal cities in the United States are defined by surfing—some even engaging in heated legal battles over the title “Surf City USA.”

San Clemente is one such city that has largely been defined by surfing. Recent research I conducted with Linwood Pendleton, director of the Ocean and Coastal Policy Program at the Nicholas Institute for Environmental Policy Solutions, shows surfing is very much a contributor to economic well-being. Our analysis found that just one surfing area in San Clemente contributes $8-$13 million annually to the local economy.

Listen to audio for more about this surfing research.

Chad Nelsen is the Environmental Director at the Surfrider Foundation where he oversees environmental programs focused on water quality, coastal preservation as well as surf and ocean ecosystem protection. He’s held the post since 1998. Prior to joining Surfrider, Chad was a NOAA Coastal Zone Management Fellow working with Oregon’s state coastal zone management program. He recently completed doctoral research focused on the economic value of surfing. 

In the spring of 2012, more than 20 coastal enthusiasts shared their stories with us in a project called The Sea Shapes Us—part of a series of presentations given at Capitol Hill Ocean Week. Over the next year, we will feature these stories, images, and videos in a series of blog posts, appearing monthly. August 1, we’ll start with the story of Trestle’s beach and how surfing gave rise to a thriving community of activists, outdoor enthusiasts, and non-profits in San Clemente, California. In other posts, our guest bloggers will explore the ways slaves used tidal power to make rice growing possible in South Carolina, how Chinese immigrants tapped large resources of abalone, shrimp, and seaweed to make a living selling these “undesirable” organisms to their countrymen in China, and more stories of hunting, volleyball, fishing, and even piracy.

The Sea Shapes Us series will be part of a new effort to bring you more facts, updates, and information about how humans depend on the living and non-living bounty of the sea and the policies that help balance these uses. Stay tuned.

At next week’s Ecosystem Services Partnership meeting, Duke and UNEP GRID (from Arendal, Norway) will host a working group on a new TEEB for the Oceans initiative (organized by UNEP GRID and Duke’s Nicholas Institute).  This is an opportunity to help shape the course of the new TEEB effort to provide data and methods to improve ocean and coastal decision-making.

An agenda for the working group is here.

Capitol Hill Oceans Week 2012

Tomorrow, I’ll give the first talk at Capitol Hill Ocean’s Week (following Secretary Bryson’s introduction and lunch) and you can watch it live at this link!  The talk is a crowd-sourced presentation that tells the story of coastal and ocean uses in the U.S. starting in the early 1600s.  We explore ways the coast has influenced American culture and the economy with an emphasis on things you probably don’t know.

The contributions to this presentation were amazing and included more photos and narrative than I can include in my talk.  So, we will have our contributors share their perspectives with you over the course of the next year through a series of guest blogs.  More on that later.

For now, I wanted to thank, in advance, the people who contributed directly to my talk (and they had help too):

Sean Anderson
Rick Allen and Cindy Burnham
Todd Braje and Linda Bentz
Leesa Cobb
Kristen Crossett
Don Davis
Gary Davis
Michael DeLapa, Jon Lee
Dismal Swamp Canal Welcome Center
Syma Ebbin
Elizabeth City Area Convention & Visitors Bureau
Christine Feurt
Mike Gerken
Joelle Gore
Porter Hoagland
Katie Latanich
Lewie Lawrence
Michelle Lotker
Susan Lovelace, Tricia Ryan, Brian Smith
Chad Nelson
Don Pendergraft (Museum of the Albemarle)
Capt. James Rosemond
Heather Triezenberg
Shannon Yee

Best,

Linwood

Unfortunately, many have come to view ocean acidification as an important but largely intractable problem.  For these folks, the only way to address OA is to reduce atmospheric CO2 – a prospect that seems increasingly less likely.

A study we are about to undertake with the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution (WHOI) and the Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC), however, will seek to find new opportunities to identify areas where OA will have the most acute affect on coastal communities.  We will also identify ways in which these communities can begin to mitigate the potential impacts of OA by addressing other environmental stresses that make OA worse – for instance, water pollution, low-oxygen dead zones, and overfishing.  We also hope to identify places where coastal businesses and communities need to begin a transition away from vulnerable species to more resilient and resistant commercial and food species.

The new research, a joint collaboration of scientists and policy professionals from around the world is funded as one of the initial projects of the National Science Foundation’s new National Socio-Environmental Synthesis Center (SESYNC).

Understanding where regional impacts will occur is the first step in preparing for a more acidic ocean. Furthermore, we already have good science and policies that help us understand how to reduce other environmental problems. Policy makers who understand where effects of OA are likely to be acute can take extra steps to reduce the negative effects of these other “actionable” regional environmental factors. A better knowledge of the spatial impacts of OA will make proposed and existing plans for marine and coastal areas, as well as other types of marine management, more effective.

Linwood