Guest guest Posted July 30, 2006 Report Share Posted July 30, 2006 (http://www.latimes.com/news/local/oceans/la-me-ocean30jul30,0,6670018,full.stor\ y) > > > (http://www.latimes.com/) > > > > A Primeval Tide of Toxins > > Runoff from modern life is feeding an explosion of primitive > organisms. This 'rise of slime,' as one scientist calls it, is > killing larger species and sickening people. > > By Kenneth R. Weiss > Times Staff Writer > > July 30, 2006 > > Moreton Bay, Australia - The fireweed began each spring as tufts > of hairy growth and spread across the seafloor fast enough to > cover a football field in an hour. > > When fishermen touched it, their skin broke out in searing > welts. Their lips blistered and peeled. Their eyes burned and > swelled shut. Water that > > splashed from their nets spread the inflammation to their legs > and torsos. > > " It comes up like little boils, " said Randolph Van Dyk, a > fisherman whose powerful legs are pocked with scars. " At > nighttime, you can feel them burning. I tried everything to get > rid of them. Nothing worked. " > > As the weed blanketed miles of the bay over the last decade, it > stained fishing nets a dark purple and left them coated with a > powdery residue. When fishermen tried to shake it off the > webbing, their throats constricted and they gasped for air. > > After one man bit a fishing line in two, his mouth and tongue > swelled so badly that he couldn't eat solid food for a week. > Others made an even more painful mistake, neglecting to wash the > residue from their hands before relieving themselves over the > sides of their boats. > > For a time, embarrassment kept them from talking publicly about > their condition. When they finally did speak up, authorities > dismissed their complaints - until a bucket of the hairy weed > made it to the University of Queensland's marine botany lab. > > Samples placed in a drying oven gave off fumes so strong that > professors and students ran out of the building and into the > street, choking and coughing. > > Scientist Judith O'Neil put a tiny sample under a microscope and > peered at the long black filaments. Consulting a botanical > reference, she identified the weed as a strain of cyanobacteria, > an ancestor of modern-day bacteria and algae that flourished 2.7 > billion years ago. > > O'Neil, a biological oceanographer, was familiar with these > ancient life forms, but had never seen this particular kind > before. What was it doing in Moreton Bay? Why was it so toxic? > Why was it growing so fast? > > The venomous weed, known to scientists as Lyngbya majuscula, has > appeared in at least a dozen other places around the globe. It > is one of many symptoms of a virulent pox on the world's oceans. > > In many places - the atolls of the Pacific, the shrimp beds of > the Eastern Seaboard, the fiords of Norway - some of the most > advanced forms of ocean life are struggling to survive while the > most primitive are thriving and spreading. > > Fish, corals and marine mammals are dying while algae, bacteria > and jellyfish are growing unchecked. > > Where this pattern is most pronounced, scientists evoke a > scenario of evolution running in reverse, returning to the > primeval seas of hundreds of millions of years ago. > > Jeremy B.C. Jackson, a marine ecologist and paleontologist at the > Scripps Institution of Oceanography in La Jolla, says we are > witnessing " the rise of slime. " > > For many years, it was assumed that the oceans were too vast for > humanity to damage in any lasting way. " Man marks the Earth with > ruin, " wrote the 19th century poet Lord Byron. " His control > stops with the shore. " > > Even in modern times, when oil spills, chemical discharges and > other > > industrial accidents heightened awareness of man's capacity to > injure sea life, the damage was often regarded as temporary. > > But over time, the accumulation of environmental pressures has > altered the basic chemistry of the seas. > > The causes are varied, but collectively they have made the ocean > more hospitable to primitive organisms by putting too much food > into the water. > > Industrial society is overdosing the oceans with basic nutrients > - the nitrogen, carbon, iron and phosphorous compounds that curl > out of smokestacks and tailpipes, wash into the sea from > fertilized lawns and cropland, seep out of septic tanks and gush > from sewer pipes. > > Modern industry and agriculture produce more fixed nitrogen - > fertilizer, essentially - than all the Earth's natural > processes. Million of tons of carbon dioxide and nitrogen oxide, > produced by burning fossil fuels, enter the ocean every day. > > These pollutants feed excessive growth of harmful algae and > bacteria. > > At the same time, overfishing and destruction of wetlands have > diminished the competing sea life and natural buffers that once > held the microbes and weeds in check. > > The consequences are evident worldwide. > > Off the coast of Sweden each summer, blooms of cyanobacteria > turn the Baltic Sea into a stinking, yellow-brown slush that > locals call " rhubarb soup. " Dead fish bob in the surf. If people > get too close, their eyes burn and they have trouble breathing. > > On the southern coast of Maui in the Hawaiian Islands, high tide > leaves piles of green-brown algae that smell so foul condominium > owners have hired a tractor driver to scrape them off the beach > every morning. > > On Florida's Gulf Coast, residents complain that harmful algae > blooms have become bigger, more frequent and longer-lasting. > Toxins from these red tides have killed hundreds of sea mammals > and caused emergency rooms to fill up with coastal residents > suffering respiratory distress. > > North of Venice, Italy, a sticky mixture of algae and bacteria > collects on the Adriatic Sea in spring and summer. This white > mucus washes ashore, fouling beaches, or congeals into submerged > blobs, some bigger than a person. > > Along the Spanish coast, jellyfish swarm so thick that nets are > strung to protect swimmers from their sting. > > Organisms such as the fireweed that torments the fishermen of > Moreton Bay have been around for eons. They emerged from the > primordial ooze and came to dominate ancient oceans that were > mostly lifeless. Over time, higher forms of life gained > supremacy. Now they are under siege. > > Like other scientists, Jackson, 63, was slow to perceive how this > latest shift in the biological order was being reversed. He has > spent a good part of his professional life underwater. Though he > had seen firsthand that ocean habitats were deteriorating, he > believed in the resilience of the seas, in their inexhaustible > capacity to heal themselves. > > Then came the hurricane season of 1980. A Category 5 storm > ripped through waters off the north coast of Jamaica, where > Jackson had been studying corals since the late 1960s. A majestic > stand of staghorn corals, known as " the Haystacks, " was turned > into rubble. > > Scientists gathered from around the world to examine the damage. > They wrote a paper predicting that the corals would rebound > quickly, as they had for thousands of years. > > " We were the best ecologists, working on what was the > best-studied coral reef in the world, and we got it 100% wrong, " > Jackson recalled. > > The vividly colored reef, which had nurtured a wealth of fish > species, never recovered. > > " Why did I get it wrong? " Jackson asked. He now sees that the > quiet creep of environmental decay, occurring largely unnoticed > over many years, has drastically altered the ocean. > > As tourist resorts sprouted along the Jamaican coast, sewage, > fertilizer and other nutrients washed into the sea. Overfishing > removed most of the grazing fish that kept algae under control. > Warmer waters encouraged bacterial growth and further stressed > the corals. > > For a time, these changes were masked by algae-eating sea > urchins. But when disease greatly reduced their numbers, the > reef was left defenseless. The corals were soon smothered by a > carpet of algae and bacteria. Today, the reef is largely a > boneyard of coral skeletons. > > Many of the same forces have wiped out 80% of the corals in the > Caribbean, despoiled two-thirds of the estuaries in the United > States and destroyed 75% of California's kelp forests, once > prime habitat for fish. > > Jackson uses a homespun analogy to illustrate what is happening. > The world's 6 billion inhabitants, he says, have failed to > follow a homeowner's rule of thumb: Be careful what you dump in > the swimming pool, and make sure the filter is working. > > " We're pushing the oceans back to the dawn of evolution, " > Jackson said, " a half-billion years ago when the oceans were > ruled by jellyfish and bacteria. " > > The 55-foot commercial trawler working the Georgia coast sagged > under the burden of a hefty catch. The cables pinged and groaned > as if about to snap. > > Working the power winch, ropes and pulleys, Grovea Simpson > hoisted the net and its dripping catch over the rear deck. With a > tug on the trip-rope, the bulging sack unleashed its massive > load. > > Plop. Splat. Whoosh. About 2,000 pounds of cannonball jellyfish > slopped onto the deck. The jiggling, cantaloupe-size blobs > ricocheted around the stern and slid down an opening into the > boat's ice-filled hold. > > The deck was streaked with purple-brown contrails of slimy > residue; a stinging, ammonia-like odor filled the air. > > " That's the smell of money, " Simpson said, all smiles at the > haul. " Jellyballs are thick today. Seven cents a pound. Yes, sir, > we're making money. " > > Simpson would never eat a jellyfish. But shrimp have grown scarce > in these waters after decades of intensive trawling. So during > the winter months when jellyfish swarm, he makes his living > catching what he used to consider a messy nuisance clogging his > nets. > > It's simple math. He can spend a week at sea scraping the ocean > bottom for shrimp and be lucky to pocket $600 after paying for > fuel, food, wages for crew and the boat owner's cut. > > Or, in a few hours of trawling for jellyfish, he can fill up the > hold, be back in port the same day and clear twice as much. The > jellyfish are processed at the dock in Darien, Ga., and exported > to China and Japan, where spicy jellyfish salad and soup are > delicacies. > > " Easy money, " Simpson said. " They get so thick you can walk on > them. " > > Jellyfish populations are growing because they can. The fish > that used to compete with them for food have become scarce > because of overfishing. The sea turtles that once preyed on them > are nearly gone. And the plankton they love to eat are growing > explosively. > > As their traditional catch declines, fishermen around the world > now haul in 450,000 tons of jellyfish per year, more than twice > as much as a decade ago. > > This is a logical step in a process that Daniel Pauly , a > fisheries scientist at the University of British Columbia, calls > " fishing down the food web. " Fishermen first went after the > largest and most popular fish, such as tuna, swordfish, cod and > grouper. When those stocks were depleted, they pursued other > prey, often smaller and lower on the food chain. > > " We are eating bait and moving on to jellyfish and plankton, " > Pauly said. > > In California waters, for instance, three of the top five > commercial catches are not even fish. They are squid, crabs and > sea urchins. > > This is what remains of California's historic fishing industry, > once known for the sardine fishery attached to Monterey's Cannery > Row and the world's largest tuna fleet, based in San Diego, which > brought American kitchens StarKist, Bumble Bee and Chicken of > the Sea. > > Overfishing began centuries ago but accelerated dramatically > after World War II, when new technologies armed industrial > fleets with sonar, satellite data and global positioning systems, > allowing them to track schools of fish and find their most remote > habitats. > > The result is that the population of big fish has declined by > 90% over the last 50 years. > > It's reached the point that the world's fishermen, though more > numerous, working harder and sailing farther than ever, are > catching fewer fish. The global catch has been declining since > the late 1980s, an analysis by Pauly and colleague Reg Watson > showed. > > The reduction isn't readily apparent in the fish markets of > wealthy countries, where people are willing to pay high prices > for exotic fare from distant oceans - slimeheads caught off New > Zealand and marketed as orange roughy, or Patagonian toothfish, > renamed Chilean sea bass. Now, both of those fish are becoming > scarce. > > Fish farming also exacts a toll. The farmed stocks are fed tons > of processed pellets made from ground-up menhaden, sardines and > anchovies, which are harvested in great quantities. > > Dense schools of these small fish once swam the world's > estuaries and coastal waters, inhaling plankton like swarming > clouds of silvery vacuum cleaners. Maryland's Chesapeake Bay, the > nation's largest estuary, used to be clear, its waters filtered > every three days by piles of oysters so numerous that their > reefs posed a hazard to navigation. All this has changed. > > There and in many other places, bacteria and algae run wild in > the absence of the many mouths that once ate them. As the > depletion of fish allows the lowest forms of life to run rampant, > said Pauly, it is " transforming the oceans into a microbial > soup. " > > Jellyfish are flourishing in the soup, demonstrating their > ability to adapt to wholesale changes - including the growing > human appetite for them. Jellyfish have been around, after all, > at least 500 million years, longer than most marine animals. > > In the Black Sea, an Atlantic comb jelly carried in the ballast > water of a ship from the East Coast of the United States took > over waters saturated with farm runoff. Free of predators, the > jellies gorged on plankton and fish larvae, depleting the > fisheries on which the Russian and Turkish fleets depend. The > plague subsided only with the accidental importation of another > predatory jellyfish that ate the comb jellies. > > Federal scientists tallied a tenfold increase in jellies in the > Bering Sea in the 1990s. They were so thick off the Alaskan > Peninsula that fishermen nicknamed it the Slime Bank. Researchers > have found teeming swarms of jellyfish off Georges Bank in New > England and the coast of Namibia, in the fiords of Norway and in > the Gulf of Mexico. Also proliferating is the giant nomurai found > off Japan, a jellyfish the size of a washing machine. > > Most jellies are smaller than a fist, but their sheer numbers > have gummed up fishing nets, forced the shutdown of power plants > by clogging intake pipes, stranded cruise liners and disrupted > operations of the world's largest aircraft carrier, the Ronald > Reagan. > > Of the 2,000 or so identified jellyfish species, only about 10 > are commercially harvested. The largest fisheries are off China > and other Asian nations. New ones are springing up in Australia, > the United States, England, Namibia, Turkey and Canada as > fishermen look for ways to stay in business. > > Pauly, 60, predicts that future generations will see nothing odd > or unappetizing about a plateful of these gelatinous blobs. > > " My kids, " Pauly said, " will tell their children: Eat your > jellyfish. " > > The dark water spun to the surface like an undersea cyclone. > > From 80 feet below, the swirling mixture of partially treated > sewage spewed from a 5-foot-wide pipe off the coast of > Hollywood, Fla., dubbed the " poop chute " by divers and > fishermen. > > Fish swarmed at the mouth - blue tangs and chubs competing for > particles in the wastewater. > > Marine ecologist Brian Lapointe and research assistant Rex > " Chip " Baumberger, wearing wetsuits and breathing air from scuba > tanks, swam to the base of the murky funnel cloud to collect > samples. The effluent meets state and federal standards but is > still rich in nitrogen, phosphorous and other nutrients. > > By Lapointe's calculations, every day about a billion gallons of > sewage in South Florida are pumped offshore or into underground > aquifers that seep into the ocean. The wastewater feeds a green > tide of algae and bacteria that is helping to wipe out the > remnants of Florida's 220 miles of coral, the world's third > largest barrier reef. > > In addition, fertilizer washes off sugar cane fields, livestock > compounds and citrus farms into Florida Bay. > > " You can see the murky green water, the green pea soup loaded > with organic matter, " said Lapointe, a marine biologist at > Harbor Branch Oceanographic Institution in Fort Pierce, Fla. " All > that stuff feeds the algae and bacterial diseases that are > attacking corals. " > > Government officials thought they were helping in the early > 1990s when they released fresh water that had been held back by > dikes and pumps for years. They were responding to the > recommendations of scientists who, at the time, blamed the > decline of ocean habitats on hypersalinity - excessively salty > seawater. > > The fresh water, laced with farm runoff rich in nitrogen and > other nutrients, turned Florida's gin-clear waters cloudy. > Seaweed grew fat and bushy. > > It was a fatal blow for many struggling corals, delicate animals > that evolved to thrive in clear, nutrient-poor saltwater. So many > have been lost that federal officials in May added what were > once the two most dominant types - elkhorn and staghorn corals - > to the list of species threatened with extinction. Officials > estimate that 97% of them are gone. > > Sewage and farm runoff kill corals in various ways. > > Algae blooms deny them sunlight essential for their survival. > > The nutrients in sewage and fertilizer make bacteria grow wildly > atop corals, consuming oxygen and suffocating the animals > within. > > A strain of bacteria found in human intestines, Serratia > marcescens, has been linked to white pox disease, one of a host > of infectious ailments that have swept through coral reefs in > the Florida Keys and elsewhere. > > The germ appears to come from leaky septic tanks, cesspits and > other sources of sewage that have multiplied as the Keys have > grown from a collection of fishing villages to a stretch of > bustling communities with 80,000 year-round residents and 4 > million visitors a year. > > Scientists discovered the link by knocking on doors of Keys > residents' homes, asking to use their bathrooms. They flushed > bacteria marked with tracers down toilets and found them in > nearby ocean waters in as little as three hours. > > Nearly everything in the Keys seems to be sprouting green > growths, even an underwater sculpture known as Christ of the > Abyss, placed in the waters off Key Largo in the mid-1960s as an > attraction for divers and snorkelers. Dive-shop operators scrub > the bronze statue with wire brushes from time to time, but they > have trouble keeping up with the growth. > > Lapointe began monitoring algae at Looe Key in 1982. He picked > the spot, a 90-minute drive south of Key Largo, because its clear > waters, colorful reef and abundance of fish made it a favorite > site for scuba divers. Today, the corals are in ruins, smothered > by mats of algae. > > Although coral reefs cover less than 1% of the ocean floor, they > are home to at least 2 million species, or about 25% of all > marine life. They provide nurseries for fish and protect > oceanfront homes from waves and storm surges. > > Looe Key was once a sandy shoal fringed by coral. The Key has > now slipped below the water's surface, a disappearing act likely > to be repeated elsewhere in these waters as pounding waves > breach dying reefs. Scientists predict that the Keys ultimately > will have to be surrounded by sea walls as ocean levels rise. > > With a gentle kick of his fins through murky green water, > Lapointe maneuvered around a coral mound that resembled the > intricate, folded pattern of a brain. Except that this brain was > being eroded by the coralline equivalent of flesh-eating > disease. > > " It rips my heart out, " Lapointe said. " It's like coming home > and seeing burglars have ransacked your house, and everything you > cherished is gone. " > > The ancient seas contained large areas with little or no oxygen > - anoxic and hypoxic zones that could never have supported sea > life as we know it. It was a time when bacteria and jellyfish > ruled. > > Nancy Rabalais, executive director of the Louisiana Universities > Marine Consortium, has spent most of her career peering into > waters that resemble those of the distant past. > > On research dives off the Louisiana coast, she has seen cottony > white bacteria coating the seafloor. The sulfurous smell of > rotten eggs, from a gas produced by the microbes, has seeped into > her mask. The bottom is littered with the ghostly silhouettes of > dead crabs, sea stars and other animals. > > The cause of death is decaying algae. Fed by millions of tons of > fertilizer, human and animal waste, and other farm runoff racing > down the Mississippi River, tiny marine plants run riot, die and > drift to the bottom. Bacteria then take over. In the process of > breaking down the plant matter, they suck the oxygen out of > seawater, leaving little or none for fish or other marine life. > > Years ago, Rabalais popularized a term for this broad area off > the Louisiana coast: the " dead zone. " In fact, dead zones aren't > really dead. They are teeming with life - most of it bacteria and > other ancient creatures that evolved in an ocean without oxygen > and that need little to survive. > > " There are tons and tons of bacteria that live in dead zones, " > Rabalais said. " You see this white snot-looking stuff all over > the bottom. " > > Other primitive life thrives too. A few worms do well, and > jellyfish feast on the banquet of algae and microbes. > > The dead zone off Louisiana, the second largest after one in the > Baltic Sea, is a testament to the unintended consequences of > manufacturing nitrogen fertilizer on a giant scale to support > American agriculture. The runoff from Midwestern farms is part of > a slurry of wastewater that flows down the Mississippi, which > drains 40% of the continental United States. > > The same forces at work in the mouth of the Mississippi have > helped create 150 dead zones around the world, including parts > of the Chesapeake Bay and waters off the Oregon coast. > > About half of the Earth's landscape has been altered by > deforestation, farming and development, which has increased the > volume of runoff and nutrient-rich sediment. > > Most of the planet's salt marshes and mangrove forests, which > serve as a filter between land and sea, have vanished with > coastal development. Half of the world's population lives in > coastal regions, which add an average of 2,000 homes each day. > > Global warming adds to the stress. A reduced snowpack from > higher temperatures is accelerating river discharges and thus > plankton blooms. The oceans have warmed slightly - 1 degree on > average in the last century. Warmer waters speed microbial > growth. > > Robert Diaz, a professor at the Virginia Institute of Marine > Science, has been tracking the spread of low-oxygen zones. He > has determined that the number is doubling every decade, fed by a > worldwide cascade of nutrients - or as he puts it, energy. We > stoke the ocean with energy streaming off the land, he said, and > with no clear pathways up the food chain, this energy fuels an > explosion of microbial growth. > > These microbes have been barely noticeable for millions of > years, tucked away like the pilot light on a gas stove. > > " Now, " Diaz said, " the stove has been turned on. " > > In Australia, fishermen noticed the fireweed around the time much > of Moreton Bay started turning a dirty, tea-water brown after > every rain. The wild growth smothered the bay's northern > sea-grass beds, once full of fish and shellfish, under a blanket > a yard thick. > > The older, bottom layers of weed turned grayish-white and > started to decay. Bacteria, feeding on the rot, sucked all of > the oxygen from beneath this woolly layer at night. Most sea life > swam or scuttled away; some suffocated. Fishermen's catches > plummeted. > > Most disturbing were the rashes, an outbreak often met with > scoffs from local authorities. > > After suffering painful skin lesions, fisherman Greg Savige took > a sealed bag of the weed in 2000 to Barry Carbon, then > director-general of the Queensland Environmental Protection > Agency. He warned Carbon to be careful with it, as it was " toxic > stuff. " Carbon replied that he knew all about cyanobacteria from > western Australian waters and that there was nothing to worry > about. > > Then he opened the bag and held it close to his face for a > sniff. > > " It was like smearing hot mustard on the lips, " the chastened > official recalled. > > Aboriginal fishermen had spotted the weed in small patches years > earlier, but it had moved into new parts of the bay and was > growing like never before. > > Each spring, Lyngbya bursts forth from spores on the seafloor > and spreads in dark green-and-black dreadlocks. It flourishes > for months before retreating into the muck. Scientists say it > produces more than 100 toxins, probably as a defense mechanism. > > At its peak in summer, the weed now covers as much as 30 square > miles of Moreton Bay, an estuary roughly the size of San > Francisco Bay. In one seven-week period, its expansion was > measured at about 100 square meters a minute - a football field > in an hour. > > William Dennison, then director of the University of Queensland > botany lab, couldn't believe it at first. > > " We checked this 20 times. It was mind-boggling. It was like > 'The Blob,' " Dennison said, recalling the 1950s horror movie > about an alien life form that consumed everything in its path. > > Suspecting that nutrients from partially treated sewage might be > the > > culprit, another Queensland University scientist, Peter Bell, > collected some wastewater and put it in a beaker with a pinch of > Lyngbya. The weed bloomed happily. > > As Brisbane and the surrounding area became the fastest growing > region in Australia, millions of gallons of partially treated > sewage gushed from 30 wastewater treatment plants into the bay > and its tributary rivers. > > Officials upgraded the sewage plants to remove nitrogen from the > wastewater, but it did not stop the growth of the infernal weed. > > Researchers began looking for other sources of Lyngbya's > nutrients, and are now investigating whether iron and possibly > phosphorous are being freed from soil as forests of eucalyptus > and other native trees are cleared for farming and development. > > " We know the human factor is responsible. We just have to figure > out what it is, " Dennison said. > > Recently, Lyngbya has appeared up the coast from Moreton Bay, on > the Great Barrier Reef, where helicopters bring tourists to a > heart-shaped coral outcropping. When the helicopters depart, > seabirds roost on the landing platform, fertilizing the reef > with their droppings. Lyngbya now beards the surrounding corals. > > " Lyngbya has lots of tricks, " said scientist Judith O'Neil. > " That's why it's been around for 3 billion years. " > > It can pull nitrogen out of the air and make its own fertilizer. > It uses a different spectrum of sunlight than algae do, so it can > thrive even in murky waters. Perhaps its most diabolical trick > is its ability to feed on itself. When it dies and decays, it > releases its own nitrogen and phosphorous into the water, > spurring another generation of growth. > > " Once it gets going, it's able to sustain itself, " O'Neil said. > > Ron Johnstone, a University of Queensland researcher, recently > experienced Lyngbya's fire. He was studying whether iron and > phosphorous in bay sediments contribute to the blooms, and he > accidentally came in contact with bits of the weed. He broke out > in rashes and boils, and needed a cortisone shot to ease the > inflammation. > > " It covered my whole chest and neck, " he said. " We've just > ordered complete containment suits so we can roll in it. " > > Fishermen say they cannot afford such pricey equipment. Nor > would it be practical. For some, the only solution is to turn > away from the sea. > > Lifelong fisherman Mike Tanner, 50, stays off the water at least > four months each year to avoid contact with the weed. It's an > agreement he struck with his wife, who was appalled by his > blisters and worried about the long-term health consequences. > > " When he came home with rash all over his body, " Sandra Tanner > said, " I said, 'No, you are not going.' We didn't know what was > happening to him. " > > Tanner, a burly, bearded man, is frustrated that he cannot help > provide for his family. Gloves and other waterproof gear failed > to protect him. > > " It's like acid, " Tanner said. " I couldn't believe it. It kept > pulling the skin off. " > > Before the Lyngbya outbreak, 40 commercial shrimp trawlers and > crab boats worked these waters. Now there are six, and several of > them sit idle during fireweed blooms. > > " It's the only thing that can beat us, " Greg Savige said. " Wind > is nothing. Waves, nothing. It's the only thing that can make us > stop work. When you've got sores and the skin peels away, what > are you going to do? " > > Times staff writer Usha Lee McFarling contributed to this > report. > " To be nobody-but-myself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make me everybody else - means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting. " -e.e. cummings- -text portions of this message have been removed] Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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