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Diving Point Lobos Marine Reserve

By Marc Shargel


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It's a cold Sunday morning on the central California coast. My dive buddy Steve and I arrive at Point Lobos State Reserve as the gates open. Our tires crunch through ice-crusted puddles as we pull into the parking lot at Whalers Cove. By the time we're ready to launch our kayak, we've been joined by 14 pairs of divers, filling out the reserve's daily limit of diver admissions. Undeterred by the low temperatures, these divers, like us, are here to hover weightlessly beside dramatic underwater cliffs and peaks, see the colorful life festooning every rock, and visit the large and abundant fish that call this marine reserve home.

Point Lobos State Reserve was established in the 1970s. Its hiking trails offer vistas of sea-splashed cliffs, windswept Monterey cypress trees, and lush kelp beds where endangered sea otters frolic. Silvery harbor seals rest and give birth on the cove's small beach. Sea lions congregate on rocks offshore. The place is so spectacular both above and below the water line that the state of California prohibits removal of any natural resources on land or in the water.

It wasn't always so. From the 1850s to the 1930s, the very cove we're floating in played host to a series of industries: fishing, whaling, a granite quarry, a coal port and a large abalone fishing operation. Since the end of World War II, this land has been managed as a park, and in 1973 Point Lobos' protected lands were augmented to include a small marine reserve of 750 acres. Today, this reserve draws its full quota of divers every weekend.

After paddling out for 15 minutes, Steve and I secure the kayak above a favorite pinnacle. Donning drysuits and scuba tanks, we abandon the little boat, and the world, for a brief hour. We sink slowly toward the bottom alongside vertical kelp stalks, which guide us to the underwater peak. Pinnacles like this one, surrounded by monotonous sand, are islands of intense marine life. Golden-brown crabs cling to the kelp, matching its color perfectly. Several varieties of snails in colors from dark brown to vibrant purple and gold are there, too.

Steve and I hover beside the face of a sheer cliff, inspecting a riot of colorful invertebrates: round anemones of pink, orange, lavender and intense red; sponges of orange, gray and yellow; spidery crabs wearing some of these on their shells for disguise; and sea stars in purple and pink.

Tucked into a recess in the rock, I spot a treefish, readily identified by its black and yellow bars and lipstick-red lips. This one is big -- it probably hatched about the time fishing was excluded from the reserve. It has had 30 years to get this large without the risk of being hooked.

Swimming a slow circle around the peak, I spot a large cabezon, a member of the scorpionfish family, camouflaged against the rock. I pick out only eyes and an unnaturally symmetrical shape at first. Big cabezon like this are a rare find outside the reserve, but this one is fat and unconcerned by my close approach. Near a pile of boulders I spot the unmistakable rich red-orange of a vermillion rockfish. This is another slow-growing species, scarce where vulnerable to fishing. Point Lobos is by far the best place in the area to look for them. I take several pictures. With nothing to fear from divers, this fish is a willing model. It's almost time to surface, but I can't resist taking a few pictures of Steve and a big lingcod posing together. My film is now gone, and we're both getting low on air, so we head for the surface, passing through a dense school of blue rockfish.

After our dives, we compare notes with some of the other divers. One pair has come from the East Coast to verify this spot's national reputation. It takes more equipment and training to dive here than in the Caribbean reefs they often visit, but they can now attest that it's every bit as colorful. Many of the other visitors are locals who will be back soon for another trip beneath the waves.

Marine reserves like this one give fish and other sea creatures a safe haven to reproduce and grow. Tiny Point Lobos, while great for divers, is truly a drop in the ocean in terms of protecting marine life. But the reserve is set to expand greatly and become part of a network of California state marine reserves -- a strategy that scientists suggest can ensure the long-term survival of many threatened marine species. That's great news for fish and for divers.

Marc Shargel, a diver and photographer for almost 30 years, has been active in the campaign to establish a network of marine reserves in California, including an expanded Point Lobos. His website is LivingSeaImages.