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Leonie (left) and Najwa (right) in front of the CEMACS jetty (© Izzat).

Selamat Datang and welcome to the hot and sweaty country of Malaysia! Ever since we, Leonie and Najwa, have arrived in Penang, the northwestern island of Malaysia, in April this year, it has been a constant 30 degrees with an average humidity of 70%. However, it feels both hotter and more humid than that. Unfortunately, the weather will not change much during our stay as Malaysia lies very close to the equator (at latitude 5°N). Thus, it has no seasons, but a nearly constant temperature and day/night rhythm of 12 hours.

Beginning to adapt

The sun is just peaking above the sea when I (Leonie) have to leave my house. The bus leaves (more or less) always at the perfect time to watch the sun slowly rise over the ocean. I use the 30 min bus ride, which costs me about 2 Ringitt (or ~20 cent), to wake up and prepare for the day ahead at the Centre for Marine and Coastal Studies (CEMACS). During the bus ride beaches, restaurants, cafés and small towns pass by in the window. Especially, one secluded beach and its beach house, which is for sale, make the bus ride go by fast – thanks to daydreaming about living there. When I arrives at 8 am at the entrance to the National park, in which the institute is located, Najwa is already waiting for me. She only needs a 5 minute car ride to get there from home, since she found an apartment close by. Now we just have to wait for the boat to take us to the institute within the national park. Technically, a 40 min hike through the park would also do the trick, but both of us are not ready for such a sporty activity at 8 in the morning and a daily boat ride is so much more fun anyways.

CEMACS lies in the heart of the Taman Negara Pulau Pinang, the national park of the island of Penang in northwestern Malaysia. Because of that, it’s quite a way to the big city of Georgetown and thus sources of noise, disturbances and pollution are far away. This is especially important for this year’s GAME project as we aim to find out whether underwater soundscapes influence the formation of hard-bottom communities.

Leonie taking a nap on the beach during lunch break (left, © Najwa).
The sunset by the institute (right, © Leonie).

We are trying to find answers to this question in the warm and salty ocean right in front of the gates of CEMACS. For that we deploy large metal frames that carry settlement panels into the sea. Two of those frames will additionally be equipped with an underwater speaker with which we can playback – in principle – any kind of sound we like (trust me, it was tested and it was a good day). To distinguish between the experiments that the two of us will conduct, we will use different soundscapes. One will focus on anthropogenic noise, i.e. the sound that is emitted by either a fishing or a container vessel. The noise will be played back at random times during the day, but will accumulate to a total of 30 minutes every hour. The other team member will focus on a natural soundscape that will be recorded at a healthy underwater location close by. The settlement panels will be retrieved regularly in order to find out how and if the playbacks are affecting the composition of the establishing hard-bottom communities.

The set-up of our ambient frame without (left) and with the dummy speaker (right, ©Leonie).

Sounds easy enough, yea? Technically it is, but the nature can be treacherous around here. Jellyfish, like the Ribbon Jellyfish (Chrysaora chinensis), are daily visitors and as pretty as they are, as much does it hurt to get stung by them. After some painful incidents, we now wear full body coverage whenever we are in the water to minimize the skin contact. One person, who stands on land, is always watching the water surface to give a warning in case one of us comes too close to one of the jellies. It’s important to always have someone watching, since we don’t see a lot when we are in the water ourselves. The visibility can be so poor that you cannot even see your hand in front of you. Which is why we struggle to detect the up to 50 cm long tentacles that can sting us. The jellies drift with the currents and like to hang around the jetty, where our frames are deployed.

Leonie and Najwa successfully retrieving all the HydroMoths (hydrophones) (top left, ©Izzat). Buoys that mark the position of one experimental frame near the jetty on a calm day (top right, ©Leonie). Najwa and Leonie attaching PVC settlement panels to the frames in the water (bottom left/right, ©Izzat).

But even on the land, it’s not entirely safe. Since CEMACS is in the middle of the national park, it is not uncommon to see animals around the institute. The cats and even the lizards are rather cute to look at but the monkeys and the mosquitos? A nightmare! Before the morning boat even leaves at 08:10 both of us already have 5 mosquito bites, a constant buzzing in the ear and are always itchy. Want to have your lunch by the water on the beach? Think twice because monkeys can and will steal your food. Even the laboratory is not safe and has to be locked up monkey-proof.

A ribbon jellyfish (left) and our technical equipment box locked to keep it safe from the monkeys (right, ©Leonie).

When we are not blasting ABBA or LinkinPark while setting-up our experiment or trying not to get stung by jellyfish during maintenance work in the water, we can actually enjoy Georgetown. The city is about 1 hour by bus from our living quarters and offers the exact opposite of CEMACS. It is loud, full, bright and brimming with life (humans, not animals). Due to its rich mix of Malay, Chinese, Indian and indigenous cultures clashing together, you can find every kind of food downtown. From delicious savoury food over sticky fruits and drinks to sweet desserts. You can find these tasty items all over the island often in hawker stalls or cute restaurants. Of course, you can also go shopping wonderfully (much to the dismay of Leonie and her limited baggage weight for the flight back home) or just walk around the town and get swept up by the street murals, salty breeze and picturesque buildings.

A traditional dish – Roti Kari, very tasty! (top left). The bottom left and right picture show Love Lane and Umbrella Lane within downtown Georgetown, which are popular for going out and shopping (©Leonie).

Do we have to restart?

The deployment of our frames went smoothly, attaching and retrieving the HydroMoths (i.e. hydrophones) went smoothly, and the preparation for the sampling week went smoothly. Probably, everything went a bit too smooth in hindsight, because when the sampling week arrived, nothing went smoothly.

We seemingly lost our entire control frame (i.e. frame without sound playbacks).

During our daily boat ride towards CEMACS we have normally perfect view to see the white buoys of our control frame floating in the distance. Except on that Tuesday. The weather was a bit rough over the weekend and it was still windy and wavy, so we tried to argue that the glare of the sun plus the waves are messing with our eyesight. Surely, we would see it once we get out there to take off and analyse our panels. But when our boat reached the exact coordinates, at which we deployed the frame, there was nothing. No buoy. No rope. No frame. No hint whatsoever. Immediately, we got into the water and were searching the area with the help of two colleagues. But still, we found nothing. The visibility was not in our favour and Najwa got stung by a jelly, what didn’t make the situation better.

After we had to realize that the possibilities were high that our frame got either stolen by someone or it got washed away during the storms, we accepted defeat. Over the next couple of days, we were analysing the panels from the frame with sound playback (aka speaker frame) and discussed options with our supervisors. Upon agreement we started one more search and rescue mission. This time we were dragging an anchor across the seabed for quite some time. Clammy hands, shallow breath and elevated heartbeat. Everyone on the boat was on edge after 30 min of searching. Our colleague held up his hand. The boat stopped. He got something. To everybody’s surprise he pulled up our control frame!! It was completely covered with barnacles, so that the frames and panels were barely distinguishable but we got it back. It obviously became to heavy for the buouys that we attached to it and sank to the seafloor. Immediately, we got to work: Pulling the frame onto the boat, cutting off each panel to inspect it in the lab and cleaning the frame (which was equally stinky, disgusting and difficult).

Finding the ambient frame and pulling it out of the water (top left, ©Najwa). Najwa is cleaning the barnacles off of the frame (top right, ©Leonie). Our ambient frame on the boat after we pulled it out (bottom left) and the cleaned-up frame shortly before we deployed it again (bottom right, ©Leonie).

Now the hard work began: analysing the panels. We first weighed and photographed them to estimate the biomass and the degree of coverage on them. Then each and every panel needed to be inspected through a stereomicroscope to identify as many organisms as possible. Most of the panels were covered with barnacles, to be precise it was Amphibalanus amphritite. But apart from that we also found some worms that built themselves tubes on our panels (probably individuals from the family Sepulidae and Spionidae) and were thus sessile too, some bryozoans, colourful tunicates and a lot of small shrimps, crabs and flatworms that were roaming around. Just within four weeks, the sad-looking grey PVC panels have become a location for the smaller animals of the ocean to settle and start their lives.

A juvenile crab found on our panels in between the barnacles (top left), some Ascidiacea on the panels (bottom left) and the barnacle Amphibalanus sp. next to some bryozoans (right, ©Leonie).

Before we deployed the frame again, we attached a total of 13 buoys and have now a little buoy party in the water which never fails to make us giggle. They are supposed to prevent the frame from sinking again.

Leonie deploying the ambient frame after the first sampling event with the newly added buoys (©Haziq).

The natural soundscape dilemma

Now that Leonies experiment is running (more or less smoothly) it is time to concentrate on the preparation for Najwas experiment which will focus on the natural soundscape.

At first, CEMACS and Penang seemed like the perfect place to begin collecting natural soundscape recordings. We believed it would provide a healthy, natural, and undisturbed underwater acoustic environment. However, despite being located in the national park with little human activity per se, Penang is one of Malaysia’s busiest coastal regions. The constant movement of ferries, fishing boats, tourist vessels, and commercial shipping creates a persistent layer of anthropogenic noise beneath the water. Instead of capturing the quiet rhythms of marine life, many of the recordings that we made were dominated by human activity. It became clear that Penang was not the ideal location for getting an undisturbed soundscape on tape. But where can we find that?

The search led us to Langkawi, an archipelago of 99 islands located just 100 km north of Penang near the border with Thailand. Renowned for its clear waters, rich marine biodiversity, and relatively low levels of coastal development in certain areas, Langkawi offered a far more promising environment for natural underwater acoustic recordings.

Within Langkawi, our attention turned to Pulau Anak Datai, a small island situated off the northwestern coast of the main Langkawi Island. It’s surrounded by coral reefs, rocky shorelines, and lush tropical rainforest. Compared to many of the more popular tourist destinations in Langkawi, Pulau Anak Datai experiences considerably less boat traffic, allowing its underwater environment to retain a more natural acoustic character. These conditions make it an ideal site for our needs.

With the study site finally selected, the next challenge was deploying the HydroMoths.

Concrete blocks with metal poles (left). Najwa on the way to Anak Datai Island together with Izzat (left) and Mr Suhardi (right, ©Najwa).

The recordings were scheduled over five consecutive days, with two HydroMoths deployed simultaneously to maximize the number of sites we could survey. To secure the HydroMoths underwater, we brought along two concrete blocks fitted with metal poles from CEMACS. These were previously used by another GAME team, and at the time, they seemed like the perfect solution. The concrete blocks were heavy, stable, and, most importantly, gave us peace of mind. We were worried about the HydroMoths moving with waves and currents, creating unwanted handling noise in the recordings. We were also concerned about the possibility of losing the devices whether due to storms, strong currents, or even someone discovering and taking them. But due to the seabed at Pulau Anak Datai being covered in rocks, corals and just life, it was difficult to position the blocks securely. The handling became a struggle, above and underwater.

No, we needed to adapt. Field work has a funny way of destroying the illusion of a thought through plan and pointing out every little flaw. We thought the original plan was fool proof. Turns out, it was not.

Giant clamps, soft corals, anemones and clown fish that we found in Anak Datai Island during the HydroMoth deployment for natural sound recording (©Najwa).

After surveying the area more closely and brainstorming some ideas, we purchased ~100 cm long metal poles, which we would simply hammer down into the ground between the corals. We then could attach the HydroMoths onto them. Fool proof, for real.

The new setup was lighter, easier to transport, quicker to deploy, and required only a fraction of the energy needed for the concrete blocks. What initially felt like a major setback showed us that flexibility and adaptability are the most important qualities during field work. And keeping a cool head, which can be the most difficult part.

Najwa is now owner of hours on end of the natural underwater soundscape in Langkawi. In order to actually use it as a playback, though, she has to listen, filter, crop and edit the recordings.

A HydroMoth attached to metal pole that was anchored in a concrete block (top left). Hydromoth attached to a 100 cm metal pole (top right). Najwa inserting a metal pole with a HydroMoth for recording (bottom left). Najwa with two HydroMoths on the last day of a natural sound recording trip in Langkawi (bottom right, ©Najwa).

Every obstacle from searching for a truly natural soundscape to redesigning our deployment method became a lesson that no classroom could have taught. In the midst of our experiment, we are still learning to adapt, be patient with ourselves and stay curious about the processes and solutions that fieldwork demand. The ocean rarely follows our plans, but perhaps that is exactly what makes studying it so rewarding. Jumpa lagi! (See y’all!)

Barnacles, buoys and boat engines: researching the effects of underwater sound in Malaysia

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Ocean Acidification

The Mysteries of the Mariana Trench

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Our ocean is an incredibly vast and mysterious place. And there is no place where that is more evident than the deepest ocean area in the world: the legendary Mariana Trench. Located east of the Philippines, the Mariana Trench lies in the Mariana Archipelago in the western portion of the North Pacific. The greater area of the Mariana Trench Marine National Monument is made up of more than 95,000 square miles of ocean. Beneath these waters lie incredibly complex aggregations of submerged islands and volcanoes … and of course, an astoundingly massive trench.

Dive in with us to have your biggest questions answered about the famed Mariana Trench.

How deep is the Mariana Trench?

The deepest part of the Mariana Trench, known as Challenger Deep, is almost 36,000 feet below the ocean’s surface. For context, Mount Everest is about 29,000 feet above sea level, so the Mariana Trench is about 7,000 feet deeper than Mount Everest is tall. For one more comparison, the RMS Titanic lies at a depth of about 12,500 feet below sea level. The Challenger Deep is in waters nearly three times deeper than this ship’s final resting place.

Due to its enormous size, the Mariana Trench has at times been affectionately nicknamed the Grand Canyon of the ocean. This is certainly a picturesque image, but don’t let the mammoth size of this U.S. national terrestrial park fool you into thinking the Mariana Trench matches its size. The trench’s footprint is estimated to be 120 times larger than the Grand Canyon’s, and to reach the bottom of Challenger Deep, you’d need to descend through almost six Grand Canyons stacked on top of each other before you’d reach the seafloor.

Oh … and did we mention it’s five times wider than it is deep? It’s about 43 miles wide!

What is Challenger Deep, and how long would it take to reach it?

Challenger Deep is the deepest point of the Mariana Trench. Fewer than 30 people have ever journeyed to this area. The trek below the surface is long, dark and time-consuming, and it’s not an expedition considered lightly by scientists and explorers.

The first people to descend into the depths of this area in 1960 were oceanographers Jacques Piccard and Don Walsh, and it took them close to five hours to reach Challenger Deep. Since then, more advanced submersibles have been created, but it still takes two to four hours for modern vessels to reach such depths. For example, explorer and filmmaker James Cameron reached the seafloor in a little more than 2.5 hours in the first documented solo submarine dive to the area, and it took oceanographer Dr. Dawn Wright about four hours in 2022. It is crucial that these submersibles descend slowly and steadily beneath the surface, as the immense water pressure compounds with every mile a submersible descends. Speaking of pressure …

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What is the water pressure at the bottom of the Mariana Trench?

If you thought the depth of the Mariana Trench was its only jaw-dropping feature, think again. Water pressure is one of the most important factors affecting deep-sea life. In the ocean, pressure increases by one atmosphere for every 33 feet (10 meters) of depth. One atmosphere (a unit of measurement for pressure equivalent to average air pressure at sea level) is equal to about 14.7 pounds per square inch (PSI), which is the approximate standard atmospheric pressure at sea level. If you were to convert atmospheric pressure into weight, one atmosphere is about the weight of a bowling ball. Stay with me, friends.

If a vessel were to dive 2,000 feet below the surface, the pressure would equal that of 60 bowling balls stacked atop every square inch of that submersible. But 60 bowling balls is simply nothing compared to the pressure in the Mariana Trench. The atmospheric pressure at the depths of Challenger Deep is equal to about 16,000 PSI. That pressure is about the same as the weight of an entire full-grown elephant on every square inch of a submersible!

Need a more extreme comparison? If a human were to be placed at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, the pressure would be equal to that of 50 jumbo jets piled on top of a person!

Do any animals live in the Mariana Trench?

The depths of the Mariana Trench come with immense pressure and extreme darkness, but somehow, life finds a way to survive. Organisms that live at an extreme depth, like that of Challenger Deep, have to be highly adapted to low temperatures (typically just above freezing), high pressure and virtually no light at all.

Species found in the depths of the Mariana Trench might look vastly different from animals from other ocean depths because their anatomy has been refined to thrive in harsh conditions. At such great depths, these animals typically depend on chemosynthesis (using nutrient-rich waters being pumped out of hydrothermal vents) or descending detritus (dead matter that has fallen from higher parts of the ocean) for food, such as whale falls. Just a handful of these animals include species of octopuses and squids, sea cucumbers, amphipods, sea jellies, shrimp, sea worms and some wild-looking fish!

In 2025, more than 7,000 new species were discovered in the Mariana Trench, including the hadal snailfish (Pseudoliparis swirei). This is the deepest-dwelling fish currently known to science. Now, the fish has been dubbed “the Mariana snailfish.”

This ghost fish, of the family Aphyonidae, was filmed alive for the first time during a deep-sea dive. Observations like this are critical to understanding an organism’s life. We now have the first evidence of where these fish live!

How was the Mariana Trench formed?

The process by which the Mariana Trench was created is a geologically fascinating one known as subduction. On the Earth’s surface, there are thin plates that cover the planet’s mantle, which is made of molten rock. If two of these plates collide, one pushes down into the Earth’s mantle while the other is pushed over the bottom plate. When this happens, a trench is formed from the drag of the bottom plate. This process can sometimes create incredibly strong earthquakes. The plates that forged the Mariana Trench’s creation are estimated to be up to approximately 180 million years old.

This trench was unknown to scientists until 1875. It was then that a team of explorers on the HMS Challenger measured the depth of the sea by simply lowering a weighted rope into the water. They were baffled when they measured that first portion of the seafloor to be five miles below the surface. And so was born the origin of some of the most daring deep-sea explorations known to mankind to date.

Is the Mariana Trench protected?

The Mariana Trench is in waters off Guam and the Mariana Islands. The region is protected from some human activities under its status as a marine monument. The creation of the Mariana Trench Marine National Monument signified that international, national and local leaders all recognize the importance of protecting this area.

However, just because the region is protected does not mean it’s not vulnerable to modern threats to ocean health. Plastic bags have been spotted in the Mariana Trench during several expeditions, highlighting the far-reaching impact of the marine debris problem. No corner of our ocean is safe from the ever-present threat of plastic pollution. The reality of a changing climate makes the future well-being of wondrous places like the Mariana Trench uncertain. What’s more: More than 70% of the global ocean has yet to be mapped. And what we don’t yet know about, we cannot wisely work to protect.

It’s up to us to work together to defend our ocean, from the sandy shores of our favorite beaches to the deepest, darkest parts of the sea. Together, we can work to protect our ocean as a whole, which ultimately helps protect treasured places like Challenger Deep.

Find out how you can join Ocean Conservancy’s wave of momentum to secure a healthy ocean and a thriving planet, forever and for everyone!

The post The Mysteries of the Mariana Trench appeared first on Ocean Conservancy.

The Mysteries of the Mariana Trench

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Ocean Acidification

Soundscapes in the pearl of the orient seas: The Philippines!

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Intro

At the western tip of Luzon, which is the biggest island of the Philippines, lies the small coastal town of Bolinao. Tourists seldom find their way here as it takes around seven hours to get here by bus from Manila. Still, you can spot foreigners walking around every now and then, but they really stand out among the Filipinos. A reason for their presence is often that they study or work at the Bolinao Marine Laboratory (BML), which belongs to the University of the Philippines (UP). It is one of the seven research institutions participating in the GAME project 2026. Every year, GAME brings together Master’s students from all over the world to experience different cultures and conduct globally replicated experiments in marine ecology.

Konstantin buying veggies at the local market.

This year’s Team Philippines consists of Jona, a Filipino master student of Marine Biology at the University of the Philippines, and Konstantin, a German student who is enrolled in the Master programme „Ecology and Evolution“ at Freiburg University. As part of GAME 2026, we are currently staying at BML for 6 months to run experiments about the influence of underwater soundscapes on the colonization of marine hardbottoms.

Jona and Konstantin near the experimental sites.

Where are we?

At the BML, we live in a dormitory together with many other students and scientists mostly from the Philippines and a few international interns. At almost any time of the day there is someone in the kitchen to hang out with, eat together, or simply have a chat. It is easy to make friends in this little community. The way to work is just a short walk along a forest path, where we can pick mangos for a snack and spot butterflies, birds, or even wild macaques climbing through the trees. After crossing a street, we reach the institute. But instead of enjoying the cool temperatures of the laboratories, we spend most of our working days outside, doing fieldwork in or near the water.

The way from the dormitory to the institute.
The kitchen of the dormitory is always crowded with people cooking and laughing together.

On Fridays, Konstantin experiences real Filipino culture during an almost weekly party at the institute with karaoke and lots of food and drinks. And Jona even brought some German culture to the Philippines by baking German bread for everyone.

On Friday evenings the workplace changes to a party place with karaoke and Filipino food.

What do we do?

Even though Bolinao is a remote place, it can get quite loud. Tricycles and jeepneys pass by, children play basketball in the streets, and karaoke can be heard almost everywhere and at any time. But just a few meters offshore, the soundscape changes. Beneath the surface of the ocean, you enter a world filled with sounds that are not so familiar to humans. When you dive down, alongside the rhythm of your own breathing, you might hear the crackling snaps of shrimp, the grunts of fish, or the rumble of waves rolling overhead. Together, these sounds form a natural underwater symphony which, however, can easily be interrupted by the noise of passing boats.

The ocean in front of the institute is often full of boats.

Marine organisms use sounds to communicate and to gather information about their environment, and there is growing evidence that this also applies to the larvae of sessile invertebrates such as mussels, barnacles and tunicates. During their pelagic life they are presumably able to use sounds for finding their way to suitable habitats, in which the sessile adult life stage can survive and reproduce. But what happens when these natural soundscapes are disturbed by anthropogenic noise? And what is the effect when the soundscape in a degraded reef gets enriched with sounds of a healthy coral reef?

In our experiments, which we just finished a few days ago, we investigated how different underwater soundscapes influence the colonization of hard substrata by the larvae of marine invertebrates. For this, we placed PVC settlement panels in the water and exposed them to playbacks of either boat noise, or amplified recordings from healthy coral reefs. A further group of panels was not exposed to any playbacks. By comparing the communities that establish under these different acoustic conditions, we can determine whether soundscapes affect the settlement of larvae.

Challenges

In contrast to the other GAME teams of this year’s project, we don’t have a jetty at BML. So, our first challenge was to build a setup that could carry an MP3 player for the soundscape playbacks, an amplifier, and an underwater speaker, which all need electricity supply, and position it about 30 to 50 meters away from the beach.

We ended up building a floating frame that carries the settlement panels as well as the underwater speaker, and combined it with a waterproof box, which was above the waterline and contained all the sensitive technical equipment. The box was firmly sealed so that it withstood waves and heavy monsoon rains, while its interior remained dry. At the same time, it was protected with a reflective car cover to prevent the technical equipment from overheating, as the box was constantly exposed to the burning tropical sun. To supply the set up with electricity, we – with the help of technicians and divers – rammed long bamboo poles into the seafloor and attached a cable to them that was connected to an electrical outlet on land.

Transformation of loose PVC pipes into a floating frame, which then held the technical equipment and the underwater speakers.

As a consequence of this particular set up, every time we want accessed it, we either went snorkeling or took a boat. Hence, we had to plan our work according to the tides. We also needed to avoid the hottest hours of the day, and sometimes we needed to hurry because a storm was approaching. In the end, you could say that we learned to live in the rhythm of Mother Nature.

Jona and Konstantin visiting the experimental set up.
The Kuyas (uncles, technicians) always helped us to bring us to the set up by boat.

After some test runs, everything was ready and we could finally start the experiments. From that moment on, we regularly inspected the frames to check whether everything was still in place and whether there were any damages or malfunctions. So, we still had to go into the water almost every day. It was beautiful to make a small detour while working to see some nudibranchs, octopus or pufferfish and get to know the local underwater environment better every day. Once a month we took all the settlement panels out of the water to collect data about the abundance of single species and to document the community composition. Already after a few weeks in the water, many barnacles had settled on the panels. At a later stage, they dominated the artificial substrates together with macroalgae and black mussels. Furthermore, we could detect different species of ascidians, polychaetas, and hydrozoans, which, however, only occurred in very low abundances.

For species identification and abundance measurements we moved the settlement panels from the water to the laboratory.
After work there is often enough time to enjoy beaches, visit nearby waterfalls or simply take a walk in the town of Bolinao.

Alongside with the preparations of the experimental set up, every few weeks, Konstantin was able to join the coral research group during their fieldwork and went diving with them. This how we got our recordings of sounds from nearby healthy coral reefs. He deployed underwater microphones (hydrophones) while diving and since this task took only some minutes of the dive, he often still had enough air and time to enjoy the underwater world of the Philippines more closely.

After deploying the hydrophones for underwater sound recordings, Konstantin could observe the fieldwork of other research groups or just enjoy the coral reefs and their colorful nudibranchs.
We did the analysis of the sound recordings from coral reefs while having a beautiful view and enjoying snacks like pancit (Filipino stir-fry noodles) and lumpia (fried wrapped banana).

Life in Bolinao

To put it in a nutshell, life here is a mix of relaxing beach vibes, lively markets in the city center and a wonderful community in and around the institute. A foundational value embedded in Filipino communities is Bayanihan, which embodies unity, cooperation, and collective volunteerism, where individuals work together toward a common goal without expecting personal gain or reward. This is something we feel and experience at the institute, as any individual is willing to provide help without asking for anything in return.

We experienced Bayanihan during the open house event of the institute, where everyone in Bolinao was invited to visit and learn about the work that is done here.

Science has a very strong application-oriented status here. Within the working groups at the institute, people often discuss the benefit of their research to the community. We also talked to local fishermen. They were very curious about our work and told us how they could already make use of previous research by the institute and increase their income at mussel farms.

Our experiment also could help these fishermen in the future. If we gain a better understanding of how soundscapes affect marine life, we could use that knowledge to prevent the decline of biodiversity in these waters. This would enable the community to secure stable access to the natural marine resources that serve as an important source of food and income here.

A big part of the local communities are fisherfolk and they depend on natural resources from the ocean, which are an important source of food and income.

The end of our experiments

The Philippines experience 20 typhoons in a year on average and most of them hit the country during the northwest monsoon between July through October, which is overlapping with the last phase of our experiments. The frames we deployed were built to go along with the waves, but strong waves with heavy rains inflicted some damage on them. Because of that and since further storms were about to come, we decided to terminate the experiments some weeks earlier than planned.

We didn’t do much analysis of the data that we collected yet, but the first results are already fascinating. When comparing the communities that established under the influence of boat noise with those that developed in the absence of playbacks, it seems that the noise decreased the communities‘ biomass and biodiversity while it also altered their composition.

For assessing the dry weight of the organisms that colonized the panels, we scraped off everything that grew on their surfaces and dried this material in an electric dryer. After this work, the whole laboratory building smelled like a fish market. On the next day, we could already see that people took notice as many fans appeared on the hallway to blow away that smell. Luckily, everyone has been very kind and patient, helping us with ventilation and cleaning and simply putting up with the smell. Soon, our time here will come to an end, and we will head back to Kiel, Germany, to work on our data. We will be sad to say goodbye to all our colleagues and friends here, and we hope that the smell of fish will not be the only impression we leave behind!

Soundscapes in the pearl of the orient seas: The Philippines!

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Ocean Acidification

Team Madeira – At least one of us is thinking

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It all started with a bang – several million years ago. Beneath the Atlantic, successive eruptions raised an enormous volcanic mountain from the ocean floor, and its very tip now forms rugged cliffsides, deep red canyons and fertile ground for hotel chains. How land was formed here, in the middle of the ocean, is still plainly evident in the red and black banded mountainsides of Madeira, in pools of volcanic rock frozen mid-flow and in cliffs sculpted by magma, wind and water. Life clings to this volcanic ground with stubbornness: Cacti climb sheer ridges, while sage-green, brown and vibrant yellow shrubs crouch against the rugged terrain.

Today, Madeira is known as the Island of Flowers, an image that echoes across postcards, signs and souvenirs. Indeed, many of the winding mountain roads are lined by eucalyptus trees from Australia, tall white and lilac lilies from South Africa, and hydrangeas from Asia. Fitting for an island that lives from tourism, while also beginning to buckle under its strain.

Panaroma from the eastern most tip of Madeira, a few kilometers from the experimental site in the marina of Quinta do Lorde (Photo: Jana Firus)

Our own project looks, at least partly, at another, less visible invader: human-made sound. Beneath the ocean’s surface, boat engines add to the island’s natural underwater soundscape, and during the six months we spend here we want to find out whether sound changes where the larvae of marine sessile animals, such as bryozoans, tunicates or polychaetes, choose to settle. Those animals are sessile in their adult life, but as larvae they are free floating. In this stadium, they are influenced by a wide variety of environmental factors—including noise—while they seek out a suitable habitat in which they could settle and survive.

And with that “Óla” from Team Madeira. We are Elin and Jana, two German students who have come to Madeira for half a year to take part in this year’s GAME (Global Approach in Marine Ecology) project.

Jana studies biology at the Ruhr-University in Bochum. “I was always interested in marine biology and had already worked in this field for my bachelor’s thesis. When I decided that I didn’t want to move away from Bochum for my Masters, I was a little bit sad, deep down, thinking that I couldn’t continue to pursue marine biology. So, I was thrilled to return to the ocean and to fieldwork when I got accepted for GAME”.

Jana and Elin exploring the island on one of their first days in Madeira in April. (Photo: Niklas Firus)

Elin studies biological oceanography in Kiel “This year’s GAME topic of The influence of soundscapes on hard bottom community colonization seemed made for me, since I had already written my bachelors thesis about the colonization of hard substrates and if I could’ve picked any field, sound would have been it.”

This year is the first time that GAMIEs are working with sound, which made the planning phase in Kiel in March extra exciting for us. We tested underwater microphones, so called hydrophones, tried out speakers and had many, many, many discussions about scientific literature and the experimental setup. In the end all teams agreed on one basic concept: One student in each country would analyze the effects of boat noise and the other the influence of natural soundscapes on the formation of invertebrate communities. Natural soundscapes will be captured by deploying thydrophones in underwater habitats that are typical for the marine region a team is working in. In Madeira, the underwater world is strongly shaped by the past volcanic activity, and features steeply sloping rock faces and rocky areas that are overgrown with algae and sessile animals. These form the most typical habitat of the region. Furthermore, here and there they give way to sandy bottoms at greater depths.

We are investigating the settlement under the influence of natural sounds, because more and more marine habitats have been destroyed by human activity. In the past, several studies have been conducted on marine mammals, fish, shellfish and coral species, which found that when sound was used to simulate healthy habitats in otherwise disturbed environments, it led to the successful re-establishment of populations. A concept that is known as acoustic restoration.

In our experiments, both, the natural sounds and the boat noise, will be played back from speakers and will be directed onto plastic plates hanging in the water, to which the larvae of sessile animals can attach.

So much for the theory.

After arriving on Madeira in early April, we got to work and realized quickly that reality is lots of planning, glue, trips to the hardware store and starting over. Luckily, we have kind and helpful supervisors at MARE, the research institute here in Madeira, many of which are former GAMIEs. They contributed their experience, advice and occasional emotional first aid. But most of the time we’re trying to do as much as we can on our own – with special support from Jana’s electronics-technician-husband, Niklas, who also came along to Madeira and is of great help with all the equipment. Even though we had many long and a few frustrating days, it was nice to plan and build everything on our own. Actually, it’s incredibly rewarding to see the finished results of our work running smoothly while the experiments are going on.

One of our four frames inside and outside of the water. These are the structures that hold the plates on which the communities we study grow on. Our experimental site is the the marina of Quinta do Lorde. (Photos: Elin Disse)

Our workplace here in Madeira is the marina in Quinta do Lorde, which is almost on the eastern tip of the island. It’s a beautiful workplace, because most days the water is calm and clear and we get to see sepias, triggerfishes and a school of barracudas swimming in the shallow waters. This makes it all the more frustrating that it is forbidden to go in, due to the ship traffic – you can imagine how hard it is for two marine scientists to follow this rule, and how often we stare into the water longingly.

Two sepias spotted in the marina on a working day (Photo: Elin Disse)

The ideal way for us to run the two experiments was conducting them both at the same time. But of course, the playbacks of the natural soundscape and the boat noise shouldn’t mask or overlay each other. And they should not reach those panels that we have to study invertebrate settlement in the absence of any playbacks. This prerequisite is called acoustic isolation: whatever happens near one speaker shouldn’t affect the other settlement plates. Since sound can travel far under water, we choose the two opposite ends of the marina and two jetties in between for the deployment of the settlement panels.

Unfortunately, our workplace is in a busy marina and to check if the play-backed boat noise doesn’t affect the other locations where we placed settlement plates, we need silence throughout the entire area. So, we had to stop and redo the measurements many, many times, because of incoming and departing boats, loud wind, cracking noise from the jetties or technical difficulties with our hydrophones.

We had one truly frustrating Friday afternoon when we wanted to test acoustic isolation but couldn’t get even five minutes of silence without a boat engine in the background for hours! And then, shortly before we had to catch the last bus home, we finally managed to do the test- and it was perfect. We had recordings without any disturbances and we had acoustic isolation- which meant we could run both experiments in parallel.

Then the wind blew the hydrophone from the jetty into the water, while we were packing up. Jana was over it and ready to give up, but Elin declared it the best thing that had happened that day. She had in the morning naively predicted a short workday with plenty of time to go snorkeling. Instead, she got special permission to go into the marina just this once – and gleefully fished out the hydrophone. Everything was done just in time before the last bus came and we decided never to test acoustic isolation on a Friday afternoon again.

Fishing out the hydrophone after it fell into the water, from Elin’s and from Jana’s point of view. (Photo: Elin Disse; Jana Firus)

Since Jana studies the effects of natural soundscapes on larvae settlement, she needs to record the marine ecosystems of Madeira. The team at MARE helped her to choose a few promising locations, which best reflect Madeira’s rocky underwater landscape. They are in protected areas and have little boat traffic.We built six hydrophone stands, of which one was placed at each location with the help of a technical diver. The stands were constructed in a way that the hydrophone could be attached and detached by freediving from the surface, and this allows us to work independently of the diver. And, of course, to have the opportunity to go snorkeling for work :). For the first month it was just Elin who could hold her breath long enough to reach the hydrophone stand, which was in 5 to 8 meters water depth, because she had years of experience. But after training freediving while snorkeling in beautiful locations all over the island, first Niklas and then Jana figured it out and now we can divide this very popular task among the three of us.

Hydrophone stand ready for recording and Elin testing if she can reach it while freediving. (Photos: Susanne Schäfer)

Even when the project is running smoothly, there are always a million little things to think of, to plan and to organize. Our motto became ‘at least one of us is thinking’ – because of how often one of us forgot something or didn’t think ahead and the other one caught it just in time. And there is something to it. Even though we will write separate Master theses, we share the work and the responsibility, and it is amazing to work in a team in which you can truly rely on the fact that the other person cares just as much and is right there with you.

Elin and Jana working on the colonization panels and their first sampling event. (Photos: Niklas Firus)

When we’re not in the workshop building our frames or glued to the binocular during long sampling days, we love to be in the water for snorkeling trips or go hiking in the beautiful mountains. The island’s nature is fascinatingly versatile, and after almost 5 months have passed now, we’re sure that we’ll never grow tired of the amazing views. There are so many Levada trails with waterfalls, hidden paths through the mountains and small towns to visit. Levadas are man-made irrigation channels on Madeira. They carry the water from the mountains from the north to the south. The network, which spans a total of 2,000 to 3,000 kilometers, is used today not only for agriculture but primarily as a world-famous hiking trail. We make a point to go exploring new places, but the joy of staying for half a year is that you get to find your favorites and come back to them.

Elin and Jana on different hiking trips around the island. We both frequently get visits from friends or family members, and it is possible this to integrate into our work life. Since the experiments are running, it’s much easier to take a day off or even show the workplace our loved ones. (Photos: Niklas Firus)

We are really happy to have worked and lived here on Madeira, and we can’t believe that half a year has almost come to an end; we’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Team Madeira – At least one of us is thinking

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