I
am looking at a map. It is large, several feet by several feet,
and hangs on the wall of the office of Rikk Kvitek, a professor
of science and environmental policy at Cal State University Monterey
Bay and director of CSUMB’s Seafloor Mapping Laboratory.
Vibrantly hued, the map depicts Elkhorn Slough, a vital 70-square-mile
wetland and watershed on the central coast. The colors represent
various land uses and habitat types—natural oak woodland,
acres of pickleweed, ranchland, agricultural fields, the built-up
areas of Moss Landing at the slough’s mouth, the Duke Energy
power plant. The depiction is more or less realistic: you can almost
see the dips of land into shaded valleys; the rise into pine groves
where, each spring, great egrets and blue herons raucously nest.
More remarkable than the depiction of the land,
however, is what the map shows of water features: the main channel
and dendritic fingers of the slough itself, the basin of Moss Landing
harbor, the nearshore waters that, for the most part, gently slope
away from the land—but then there’s the slash of the
Monterey Submarine Canyon, wending its way quickly to great depths.
These features don’t show up as the plain
blue of most maps—the water as seen from land, a flat surface
that hides whatever smooth, bumpy, or convoluted surfaces might lie
beneath. Instead, the subsurface land—the muddy bottom, sandy
seafloor, rocky reefs—is depicted in all its glory. Although
it’s covered with water, the land down there is just as rich
and interesting as the land up here.
And now we have the technology to depict it. It
is as if a set of golden gates has been unlocked and swung open,
allowing access to a realm hitherto accessible only in bits and pieces
to a select few who made the extra effort, with plumb lines, wetsuits,
and active imaginations.
The capacity to use maps as powerful predictive
tools is a real boon in the contentious, real-world business of setting
aside habitat for protection of dwindling species. Just as significantly,
the fact that maps can serve as accurate, and meaningful, pictures
of the undersea landscape will allow Marine Protected Area advocates
to present nonscientists with something they can easily relate to.
Both these qualities of the modern
“map” will no doubt change the way we use and view our
nearshore natural resources. It is no longer possible to say, “But
we don’t really know what’s down there.” We know
more and more all the time, and we can show what we know in a highly
scientific yet intuitively understandable way.
“I find it just stunningly beautiful to look
at some of these images,” says Kvitek, “especially when
you lay them out in big sheets showing the habitat. People are taken
aback by what’s out there. It’s been invisible.”
This article is greatly abridged. For the full text,
see the print edition of Coast & Ocean.
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