Beveridge Reef
The pre-dawn sky appeared as an expansive and dark canvas studded with glittering diamonds: the constellation Orion, along with Sirius the brightest of stars, and the striking megawatt luminosity of the planet Venus. The canvas lightened in short time, and the Sun, which had given us a rare glimpse of the green flash the evening before, broke abruptly through a low layer of wispy clouds. The clouds quickly weakened and dissipated under a tide of rising heat. As the sun rose higher into a clear field of burgeoning blue, a flood of wind ignited the sea around us into short, choppy swells. As the thermometer began to climb, the National Geographic Endeavour was beating a lonely, westerly course through a vast realm of seemingly-endless ocean. Its destination was an isolated location, Beveridge Reef, which only at low tide might break the water’s surface.
Around high noon the announcement came over the public address system from Expedition Leader Tim Soper that in front of the ship’s bow lay Beveridge Reef. To gaze upon it was a bit of a queer sight - a gorgeous patch of turquoise, stretching for approximately 3.5 miles and surrounded by a halo of white. It was a textbook example of a late stage in the Darwinian evolution of a volcanic island to an atoll and beyond. The reef had been reduced to a shallow bowl of sub-surface topography. Our vessel spent a bit of time steaming around the reef to what would hopefully be the lee side. The winds did not abate, though they helped cool the day. Off the northeast side we received a bit of a reprieve from the swells - here they were smaller and had a shorter fetch. Clearly, all activities at this location would be water-born. To this end the glass-bottom boat, snorkel platform, and dive boats were dispatched.
Beveridge Reef has few, if any, terrestrial visitors. Its nautical history is peppered with surprising and disastrous visits from unwitting sailors and fishermen. A few wrecks still dot its unforgiving, sub-aquatic shoals. One could only gaze at this remote patch of mid-ocean terrain and wonder what unspoiled and unexploited sights lay below. Slipping into the blue realm from the snorkel platform or gazing beneath the waves through the glass-bottom boat’s underwater viewer, we bore witness to a beaten and tortured reef, scoured virtually clean by storms. The reef is so exposed, so far from the possible protection of any other island or reef, so at the mercy of King Neptune, that it with nary a patch above water, possesses no defenses against the sea's timeless and unyielding onslaught. There were some fish: mostly surgeonfish and wrasses, along with the occasional triggerfish swimming in the shallows. A few species of blennies stayed close to the reef’s higher edge. Some coral heads, the size of baseballs and melons, were indicators that coral growth was once again trying to gain a foothold on this stark, but ripe-for-repopulation, foundation. The highlights, however, were the occasional sharks and rays patrolling this lonely seascape. A few white-tip reef sharks, a couple of gray reef sharks, and a spotted-eagle ray gave a sense of large-scale motion and life to this otherwise desolate realm. Beveridge Reef was by no means teeming with critters, but in its paucity of aquatic life was still a story – the tale of the lash of storms and life’s ever-moving penchant to rebuild and repopulate.
The pre-dawn sky appeared as an expansive and dark canvas studded with glittering diamonds: the constellation Orion, along with Sirius the brightest of stars, and the striking megawatt luminosity of the planet Venus. The canvas lightened in short time, and the Sun, which had given us a rare glimpse of the green flash the evening before, broke abruptly through a low layer of wispy clouds. The clouds quickly weakened and dissipated under a tide of rising heat. As the sun rose higher into a clear field of burgeoning blue, a flood of wind ignited the sea around us into short, choppy swells. As the thermometer began to climb, the National Geographic Endeavour was beating a lonely, westerly course through a vast realm of seemingly-endless ocean. Its destination was an isolated location, Beveridge Reef, which only at low tide might break the water’s surface.
Around high noon the announcement came over the public address system from Expedition Leader Tim Soper that in front of the ship’s bow lay Beveridge Reef. To gaze upon it was a bit of a queer sight - a gorgeous patch of turquoise, stretching for approximately 3.5 miles and surrounded by a halo of white. It was a textbook example of a late stage in the Darwinian evolution of a volcanic island to an atoll and beyond. The reef had been reduced to a shallow bowl of sub-surface topography. Our vessel spent a bit of time steaming around the reef to what would hopefully be the lee side. The winds did not abate, though they helped cool the day. Off the northeast side we received a bit of a reprieve from the swells - here they were smaller and had a shorter fetch. Clearly, all activities at this location would be water-born. To this end the glass-bottom boat, snorkel platform, and dive boats were dispatched.
Beveridge Reef has few, if any, terrestrial visitors. Its nautical history is peppered with surprising and disastrous visits from unwitting sailors and fishermen. A few wrecks still dot its unforgiving, sub-aquatic shoals. One could only gaze at this remote patch of mid-ocean terrain and wonder what unspoiled and unexploited sights lay below. Slipping into the blue realm from the snorkel platform or gazing beneath the waves through the glass-bottom boat’s underwater viewer, we bore witness to a beaten and tortured reef, scoured virtually clean by storms. The reef is so exposed, so far from the possible protection of any other island or reef, so at the mercy of King Neptune, that it with nary a patch above water, possesses no defenses against the sea's timeless and unyielding onslaught. There were some fish: mostly surgeonfish and wrasses, along with the occasional triggerfish swimming in the shallows. A few species of blennies stayed close to the reef’s higher edge. Some coral heads, the size of baseballs and melons, were indicators that coral growth was once again trying to gain a foothold on this stark, but ripe-for-repopulation, foundation. The highlights, however, were the occasional sharks and rays patrolling this lonely seascape. A few white-tip reef sharks, a couple of gray reef sharks, and a spotted-eagle ray gave a sense of large-scale motion and life to this otherwise desolate realm. Beveridge Reef was by no means teeming with critters, but in its paucity of aquatic life was still a story – the tale of the lash of storms and life’s ever-moving penchant to rebuild and repopulate.
