One man's reflection about the seas and what it means to our lives.
MOUNTAIN VIEW
A View of SeaKeepers at 10
 In the high Andes, life seems to move slower and more purposefully than at our sea-level homes in Seattle or Florida. From my rooftop deck at 3200 meters on the slopes of the ancient Mojanda volcano I take in a scene that could be from many centuries ago, roosters crowing out the start of the day, farmers leading their oxen to plow the steep, richly loamed hillsides and housewives setting their cows out to graze in verdant pastures. In the warming sun the fog slowly evaporates and the remaining clouds recede back to the Pacific. As the skies clear, the peaks of Cotacachi and Imbabura, towering 2000 meters above us, come into startling view.
 In this part of the Ecuadorian Andes there is no flat land. Perhaps the long, languid, vistas over sweeping green valleys are responsible for imparting such a strong compulsion to reflection. The views call out to be witnessed; nothing is hidden, even at great distances. Even the clouds are compelling. They pour in from the coast on many afternoons, spilling over ridges and, finally, the highest peaks like a massive tidal wave arriving in snail-crawl motion. The sailor in me takes great, awestruck joy in watching the clouds as they crash and break like enormous waves over the reefs of the cordillera. I am struck by the fact that we are surrounded, inundated by waves: the eternal waves of ocean tides and weather; the surging electromagnetic radiation that carries TV, cell, radio and internet signals into even the remotest parts of our planet. Even time is a wave, and watching as a cloud-top slowly curls over the summit of Imbabura I realize that given the right perspectives of time and space it is possible to see any natural force in its true wavelike form.
History and civilization also build, carry us and crash like waves. From my rooftop aerie on the eve of 2008, overlooking a seemingly timeless panorama of geography and culture, I have a new, acute, appreciation of the forces of man and nature and the extraordinary interaction between them. An interaction that has resulted in the profound changes now gripping our world and necessitated the creation of organizations like SeaKeepers, now poised to enter its 10th year of existence. Looking over a patchwork of fields first cultivated more than 2,000 years ago I realize that even in the remotest places it is no longer possible to separate man from nature, nor nature from man.
In the 10 short years since the first dozen SeaKeepers pooled their ideas and resources and funded the development of the Society’s first ocean-monitoring system, the entire scientific and cultural topography surrounding the sea and its resources has been transformed. In 1998, the jury was still out on global warming. In the last decade alone, ignoring every warning about overfishing and fish habitat destruction, we doubled the size of the world fishing fleet. The amount of coral reefs now dead or dying has doubled to 50% in the last 10 years. Shark and other apex fish populations are down to less than 10% of historical populations. It’s not just that there are fewer reefs and fish and more pollution. Scientists are now seeing basic changes in the fundamental chemistry of the ocean, changes that will likely have catastrophic impact on the sustainability of the marine food chain.
What was unique 10 years ago when SeaKeepers began is still relevant today - of more than 700 existing marine conservation charities SeaKeepers remains the only one whose mission is to lead, educate and inform. This original vision remains unchanged. What has changed is that the need for leadership, information and education is far more important today than just a decade ago. SeaKeepers has helped shine the scientific spotlight on the crisis of the seas, and what we are seeing is far, far more frightening than what motivated the birth of the organization.
 What’s a stake is as simple to define as it is difficult to achieve: We need the ocean – healthy and productive – far more than it needs us. Healthy, productive seas provide us both sustenance and livelihood, nourishing us with their bounty as well as their beauty. The real truth is, however, there’s no reason to worry about the ocean. It will be there, thriving in some form or another; long after man’s momentary dominance has passed. The ocean has cooled and warmed, risen and fallen since the world began. Its life has flourished and diminished and will continue for time beyond time. The question we face is this: While we are here, what kind of life will we live surrounded by an ocean that gives us neither oxygen, nor food, nor renewal?
Ten years into the adventure of SeaKeepers I have a new appreciation both of the changes transforming our oceans and our ability to positively shape our world. As I watch in slo-mo as another wave breaks over the top of the world I realize that SeaKeepers’ greatest and most lasting gift to the world is simply a new way of looking at a force of nature: Those who by virtue of their wealth, position and influence have shaped the world we know are those best positioned to lead the movement for healthy and productive seas. 
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