A Day in the Life as a Coral Restoration Diver

September 2020. I was idling in Boulder, Colorado when the first wave of Covid-19 seemed to move past us. I had just moved back to my college home after waiting out the pandemic storm in my childhood home in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. It always feels weird to be back home. In many ways, it’s a keepsake of all the memories – good, bad, and not-so-pretty. The energy seems to be stagnant; a chapter locked in time. But regardless, Florida has been the catalyst for my affinity for ocean conservation and saving coral reefs. And for that, I am eternally grateful. Back in Boulder, my friends started to prepare for the next chapter. Whether that be applying to law school, moving in with their significant other, or working remotely and traveling abroad. The same phrase recycled in my mind. I needed to “get back to my roots.” I wasn’t in the headspace to settle into an engineering consulting role and start on that linear path.

I had a strong pull to get in the field, reconnect with my why, and make a tangible difference.

With that, I took a chance and applied to the Coral Conservation and Reef Restoration Internship with the Coral Restoration Foundation. I glided through two rounds of interviews, even when the intern coordinator attempted to scare me away with the rigors of the job. “Be prepared to carry 50 lbs. of materials, be in the sun for 8 hours, and dive 3 to 4 times a day.” Easy. Sign me up!

January 2021. I packed up my life into my Jeep Cherokee and drove 36 hours from Edwards, Colorado to Key Largo, Florida. I’d be remiss not to mention my sweet chocolate Labrador, Aspen, who joined me for the ride and the beginning of my journey. We made it to Avenue A in Key Largo, and I met my 3 other roommates. All avid divers and ocean conservationists who come from a range of backgrounds spread out across the continental U.S. It was easy to get close quickly; considering we spent all day together in intern orientation and scientific diver training, and nights spent making vegan meals together.

Most days, my dive team met at CRF Headquarters in Tavernier around 7:30 am. We loaded up the Dusky with dozens of tanks, hammers, monofilament lines, dive gear, crates, trees, and floats and headed out to one of our 7 coral nurseries. Each nursery holds nearly 60 “trees,” which are simply PVC pipes drilled and epoxied together to create a dynamic, floating structure. Like a Christmas tree, we ornament the branches with Acropora cervicornis or Acropora palmata – reef building branching corals – and wait 6 to 12 months until they are ready for outplanting. Most days in the nursery are dedicated to monitoring and maintenance. Surveying coral growth, spotting disease, and fragging to fill the tree up. Or, scrubbing bio foul, removing fire coral, and replacing dilapidated structures. On outplanting dives, we load up the crates with 500 to 1,000 corals and head out to the reef. It’s an organized frenzy once we’re submerged in the water. Divers move from crate to substrate, mixing epoxy, clearing algae, and positioning the coral perfectly for optimal growth. On average, each diver will outplant 150 corals. And trust me, it’s no easy feat. It requires perfect buoyancy, the ability to multitask, and spatial awareness. But if we get it right, we’re able to restore massive areas and help return the ecosystem to a state of vitality.

When we’re not on the water, we’re busy in the office logging dives, sorting through data, uploading photomosaics, and preparing for outreach events. But no day was ever mundane, and every day on the water was better than the last.

There were some memories during my CRF experience that I especially would like to recount. And they somehow all took place the last week I was there – as if to lure me in to stay there longer... It almost worked. One day during routine nursery maintenance, we had two manatees swim through our trees. It bewildered everyone, considering Tavernier nursery is 7 miles offshore and manatees tend to stay close in more brackish water. Later in the week, a small group of us went into the bay to take part in a coral exchange with FWC. The water was quite turbid, and we were all focused on our individual tasks. My colleague urgently tugged on one of my fins and I looked up to see a massive silhouette in the distance. Within seconds, a pod of bottlenose dolphins surrounded us, whistling their tune and eyeing every one of us. Time stood still in that moment while tears welled in my mask and I couldn’t help but place a hand on my heart, thanking the Universe for this incredible opportunity and life. And on one of my very last nights in Key Largo, I took part in a spawning dive with UM and CRF. Our hope was to capture the gametes released from broadcast spawning, but this is a tricky game considering corals only spawn once a year and during the full moon. Not to mention, the species we were after have never been documented in the wild… ever. Our first dive consisted of laying out transect lines and tagging the Diploria labyrinthius we spotted. We were topside for just a few minutes when a colleague in the water called out “THEY’RE SPAWNING!” So we quickly geared up, jumped in, and descended. Broadcast spawning is a natural phenomenon that is simply indescribable. Little white eggs released from their pockets, and we collected them by placing a net with a falcon tube attached over the top of the coral head. Ultimately, we were able to collect 16 parent colonies and take them back to the lab to promote sexual recruitment and genotypic resiliency. There was a heat storm on the boat ride back. Flashes of light danced on the water’s surface as we glided back to the dock.

I’m filled with gratitude for the countless dive days and long work hours spent in the sun. I’m grateful for the connections fostered and the memories made. I’m grateful that this experience shaped me into such a strong diver and restoration practitioner.

But I’m especially grateful for corals. They have taught me the power of resiliency and adaptability, the importance of having a strong foundation to build upon, the strength in symbiotic relationships, and the beauty of grasping opportunities – like polyps extended in the water column.