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いらっしゃいませ – welcome!

Greetings

GAME is back in Japan! Once again, an international two-person team, made up of a German and a Japanese student, is based at the Akkeshi Marine Station on Hokkaido, Japan, to contribute to this year’s pioneering research on the effect of artificial light at night on marine macroalgae.

Team Japan 2024: Hikari and Martin at the Akkeshi Marine Station. Photo: Team Japan 2024.

GAME

GAME projects have constituted an important part in global oceanic research for well over two decades. Sophisticated experimental set ups, which are replicated over a broad range of climatic and geographic areas around the globe do not only provide valuable scientific data for single systems, but also enable a global comparison of the results between latitudes, climate zones and biogeographic regions. In times in which we face universal environmental issues like climate change and the loss of biodiversity, it is becoming increasingly important to conduct experiments on a bigger scale.

ALAN and macroalgae

Just as in the last three years, this year’s GAME teams will investigate an anthropogenic influence on marine ecosystems that so far has not received the attention which it deserves – light pollution. Although, it is not a field that is of interest for many people, including even marine biologists and oceanographers, light pollution is by now regarded as one of the fastest growing human impacts on coastal ecosystems of the last twenty years.

Almost unnoticed, artificial light at night (ALAN) became a constant companion of modern life and this also applies to coastlines, of which some are among the most densely populated regions on earth. In these areas, seeing the milky way when walking alongside a beach has become practically impossible. Direct illumination by coastal infrastructures like houses, streetlights, and harbors as well as indirect enlightening of the coast through the so-called “skyglow”, i.e. artificial light reflected by clouds, have deprived us of this beautiful experience. However, although, we can directly experience the consequences of this change in night-time lightscapes, so far little is known about the consequences for underwater life. This is particularly true for the potential influence of ALAN on macroalgae, which are very important marine photoautotroph organisms. Almost no research has so far been conducted on this topic. GAME 2024 investigates the impact of ALAN on different species of macroalgae and its possible interplay with another important stressors for aquatic plants – grazing.

Macroalgae are aquatic photoautotrophs that can form extensive stands in shallow waters. The large-growing brown macroalgae are also called kelps. Martin in front of the Akkeshi Marine Station with an example of a kelp species: Costaria costata. Photo: Team Japan 2024

Why could artificial light at night affect macroalgae? As photoautotrophic organisms, just like terrestrial vascular plants, they need periodical light-dark rhythms to maintain their growth and vitality. The latter ensures the stability of macroalgae populations, and this not only relevant for the integrity of coastal ecosystems. Macroalgae provide multiple important ecosystem services to us such as coastal protection, carbon fixation and food supply. Therefore, it is crucial to understand how nightly illumination could impact the performance of these organisms.

Akkeshi

Akkeshi-chō (Akkeshi town) is a perfect locality regarding ALAN research as we can find areas with varying levels of light pollution in the close surroundings. Areas heavily lit throughout the night like the Akkeshi harbor can be found as well as the Aikappu cape, where basically no artificial light at night can be measured. Especially in this project year, with its focus laying on macroalgae, Japan’s northern coast constitutes a perfect place for this kind of research. The cold temperate climate and the nutrient rich waters support a huge variety of macroalgae, which are also important for the economy of the region as well as for the above mentioned ecosystem services.

Aikappu Cape is a place that is free of light pollution. Photo: Team Japan 2024.

But also besides being a fantastic place for our research, this area has a lot to offer. The Akkeshi Sakura (Cherry blossom) & Oyster Festival is just around the corner of the marine station, and it is supposed to be one of the highlights of the year! The oyster culture can be experienced here at every corner. There are multiple izakaya in Akkeshi, which serve delicious oysters – many of them are still run by the local oyster farmers themselves.

During longer trips around Hokkaido you can visit the world-famous Shiretoko National Park or the beautiful cities of Hakodate and Sapporo. Furthermore, there are multiple beautiful lakes and a variety of natural shitsugen (wetlands) worth visiting

Akkeshi Marine Station

The Akkeshi Marine Station is an external research unit of the University of Hokkaido in Sapporo located at the east coast of Japan’s northernmost main island. It has been a valuable site for applied research to the GAME projects for many years. Apart from its exquisite location for macroalgae, it is an outstandingly well-equipped facility with a great team of fellow Japanese master and PhD students as well as renowned scientist in various field of marine research (seagrass, phytoplankton, marine mammals, microplastic, peracarid crustaceans, etc.).

View from the guest house of the Akkeshi Marine Station towards the laboratory. Photo: Team Japan 2024.
A seagras meadow near the Akkeshi Marine Station. Photo: Team Japan 2024.

The station lies within the Akkeshi-Kiritappu-Konbumori Quasi-National Park, where daytrips can lead you from the tidal flats of the Akkeshi-ko (Lake Akkeshi) and the oak and maple forests to the bamboo-covered scarps of the Namida-misaki cape (Cape of Tears – but don’t worry, it will be tears of joy), where herds of Sika deer are bearingly grazing. With a little bit of luck, you can also see the local rakko (sea otters) from there. Outdoorsiness will therefore definitely pay off… 😉

Martin

My name is Martin (29) and I represent the “German” part of this year’s GAME team in Akkeshi, Japan. I was born and raised in the very west of the Austrian Alps and started my biological career more or less far away from the ocean in Styria, the so-called “Austrian Tuscany”. Through acquaintances with the GAME participants at the study site in Croatia back in 2021 I first got to know about this program and was immediately fascinated by it. Though back then I didn’t think that I will participate in it myself one day. When I started my master course in marine biology at the University of Rostock in northern Germany it became clear to me very soon that this is the kind of scientific consortium that I wanted to be a part of.

This is my first visit to Japan, and it has been very fascinating so far. Although it is still very cold – spring season seems to start very late around here – I was already able to experience some of the natural beauties in this area. The Bekambeushi-shitsugen is a Ramsar-registered wetland area around Akkeshi town and the second biggest in all of Japan. It has a unique waterfowl diversity (especially the famous red-crowned crane, Grus japonensis) and is supposed to be beautiful for kayak trips (let’s hope it will get warmer soon 😊).

Another great experience so far was the rocky shore just in front of the station with its countless tidepools. A huge variety of all kinds of organisms (macroalgae, crustaceans, echinoderms, molluscs, etc.) can be found there, which are vastly different and much bigger than what I am used to from the Baltic and North Sea. The local seagrass meadows grow up to two meters tall and the kelp forests (brown algae) can even reach five to six meters in length. The variety of occurring algae is also mindblowing. Altogether more than 200 macroalgae species can be found around this area, of which we choose some of the most dominant and important species to conduct our experiments with.

A short walk away from the station also lies the Akkeshi National History Museum, which our team’s supervisor, Masahiro Nakaoka, is the curator of and which is definitely worth a visit.

Hikari

Hi, I’m Hikari (22) and I am studying in the master program “Aquatic biology” at Hokkaido University. My hometown is far from any coastline, which made me longing to live near the sea and to study about the ocean for a long time. I visited the Akkeshi Marine Station for the first time for a practical training two years ago and I was completely captivated by the beautiful scenery. Therefore, I permanently relocated to Akkeshi last year. My motivation for this project is to obtain profound knowledge and gain as much experience on macroalgae research as possible.

Hikari and Martin. Photo: Team Japan 2024.

Site specific work

By now, we’re about to start the main experiments. In the beginning, we checked our material and devices and conducted some light measurements on different light sources, spectra and intensities. As my (Martin 😊) Japanese is not that fluent so far, I have encountered some minor communication problems with the in-house technicians (unfortunately they’re not so fluent in English), but with the help of Hikari we still managed to communicate our wishes and concerns. Thanks a lot at this point to the technicians, Hamano-san and Hide-san, for their great help! ありがとうございます – arigatou gozaimasu!

During the past weeks we worked on setting up our shelves, on which we will expose macroalgae from the nearby sea to different night time light regimes. The main tasks for us so far were the installation of the water flow-through system and the mounting of the LED lights in the laboratory. It was a lot of fuzzy work to get everything exactly at the spot we want it to be but in the end we managed to do so. Hopefully everything stays at its place for the next 5 months – fingers crossed… Besides the area, where we will conduct our experiments, the laboratory contains multiple other aquariums of all sorts and sizes where simultaneously other scientists and student are working on their experiments. The station and its aquarium room literally are a stone’s throw away from the intertidal area of Akkeshi Bay, which makes the collection and the transport of algae and grazers to the laboratory very fast and keeps the impact to the organisms to a minimum. 

Martin equipping a shelf in the laboratory with the LED strips for the main experiments. Photo: Team Japan 2024.

After having covered the whole shelf with light impermeable foil, we started to set up the scene for our pilot studies, during which we gained additional knowledge about the interaction of the algae and grazer species we work with. To gain the most valuable information about the effects of ALAN, we decided to work with the most abundant and important species of the local coastal ecosystem. Our choice for the algal target species fell on Saccharina japonica (a local brown algae species of kombu, which is also very important economically), Chondrus yendoi (a very abundant red algae, which is very important as a food resource for most of the intertidal species) and Fucus distichus (a habitat building brown algae crucial for the vitality of the coastal area). To feed on our algae we decided to work with Idotea ochotensis, a regional species of marine isopod, which is inconspicuous to the eye at first, but due to its abundance and voracity plays an essential role in the coastal food web and the remineralization process of organic material. For obtaining more detailed information on the interaction of these species with each other, we will assess the consumption rates of the isopods on our algae as well as if they prefer to graze during the day or during the night.

A beached specimen of the brown macroalga Saccharina japonica. Photo: Team Japan 2024.
This is the grazer species we are using for the main experiments. The marine isopod Idotea ochotensis. Photo: Team Japan 2024.

In the next days, after having accomplished several test runs on the experimental set up as well as having practiced to conduct measurements with the laboratory equipment, we will start our main experiments.

お疲れ様です – thanks for your hard work!

Enlightenment in Japan – how artificial light at night influences local kelp forests.

Ocean Acidification

Between Cádiz and the Sea: Our GAME Adventure in Spain

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Welcome to Cádiz

When we arrived in Cádiz in April, we knew that we would be spending the next months working on an experiment about underwater soundscapes. What we did not yet know was how much of our time would be spent carrying equipment through the city, rebuilding experimental frames, solving technical problems and trying to convince various pieces of equipment not to end up at the bottom of the Atlantic.

Cádiz itself was a pretty good and beautiful place to start.

The city is located at the very tip of a narrow peninsula and is surrounded by the Atlantic on almost all sides. There are beaches almost everywhere, small streets leading through the old town, the harbour with its many boats and plenty of places where you can simply sit down and watch the sea. It did not take us long to understand why Cádiz is sometimes called La Tacita de Plata, the Silver Cup.

Our first evening was still fairly relaxed. After arriving and settling in, we went out together for a drink and explored a little bit of the city. It was a good introduction to our new home. The next morning, however, the relaxed part was over and GAME 2026 officially began for us.

A few impressions of Cádiz, from its historic cityscape to its beaches and coastline. Left: Sunset over La Caleta beach. Upper right: Cádiz Cathedral (Catedral de Santa Cruz sobre el Mar). Lower right: Monument to Gades at Paseo Almirante Pascual Pery Junquera. © Liam Stübbecke.

Our project focuses on how underwater soundscapes may influence the colonization of hard surfaces by marine sessile organisms. To investigate this, we used standardized PVC settlement panels mounted on experimental frames and exposed them to different underwater soundscapes.

Over the course of the experiment, we monitored which organisms settle on the panels and checked whether the developing communities differ between the different acoustic conditions. The panels themselves were only 15 x 15 cm in size, but the frames, which were holding them while they were underwater, were much larger and required quite a bit of construction and preparation.

So, before we could investigate anything, however, we had to build everything.

Building the experiment

The first weeks in Cádiz were all about getting the experiment ready. Before the panels could go into the water, we had to prepare the equipment, rebuild the experimental frames and organize everything needed for the different parts of the experiment. Our setup consisted of large rectangular frames made from PVC pipes that carried the 15 x 15 cm settlement panels while they were in the water. In addition to this, we had speakers for the sound playbacks and ropes, buoys and weights that kept everything in position.

Although, there were frames left from a previous GAME project that was done in Cádiz, we decided to build new ones, which meant sourcing new material, cutting and assembling PVC pipes, preparing the panels and putting the different parts of the setup together. Some materials were bought locally, while others had to be ordered. This also resulted in one of our first small fieldwork adventures: transporting several metres of PVC pipes in a public transport bus through Cádiz was not exactly an everyday activity. We did not have a car at the time, and the large hardware store, where we bought some of the material, was quite far away, so getting everything back to Cádiz meant taking several buses while carrying long PVC pipes through crowded streets and vehicles. We bumped into things more than once, attracted a fair amount of attention and quickly realized that carrying several metres of PVC through a busy city is not as easy as it sounds. At one point, the combination of researchers, long PVC pipes and a local hardware store became what we jokingly refer to as the “Bus Hardware Store” episode.

Building the frames also taught us quite quickly that fieldwork rarely goes exactly according to plan. Some parts required a bit of improvisation and technical problem-solving, and when we reached a particularly stubborn technical issue, we even called Liam’s father in Germany for some additional advice. Although he was not directly involved in the project, his background in mechanical engineering and his experience with practical technical problems made him a useful person to call when we needed another perspective. A video call across Europe was not exactly part of the original plan, but it turned out to be a useful addition to our fieldwork toolkit.

Building and preparing the experimental setup, from assembling the frames to preparing the technical equipment. © Liam Stübbecke and Ignacio Gestoso.

At the same time as we worked on the set up, we were preparing the recordings of natural underwater soundscapes that would later be used for the experiment. For this, we built a deployment system consisting of a concrete-filled bucket, a wooden pole and a HydroMoth attached to the pole. The idea was simple: the heavy bucket keeps the structure stable on the seafloor, while the hydrophone records the surrounding natural soundscape above it. The practical part was considerably less simple. Several heavy loads of concrete had to be transported through Cádiz, and once the equipment reached the beach, getting the concrete-filled bucket into position was another workout altogether. We used a two-wheeled hand truck to move the heavy bucket across the beach and then into the shallow water. From there, we worked our way out by snorkeling and swimming, carrying and guiding the setup into position. The water was no more than about two metres deep, so there was no need for a boat.

Preparing and deploying the equipment for recording natural underwater soundscapes, including the construction of the recording setup and transporting the heavy equipment to the water. © Liam Stübbecke and Carlos de Luis Suarez.

The setup may have looked a little unconventional, but it was based on the plans we deleoped for recording natural soundscapes during the preparative course in March. After plenty of cutting, drilling, tying, carrying and assembling, the first major pieces of the project were finally ready. The frames were taking shape, the equipment was coming together and our first soundscape recordings were underway.

With the construction phase coming to an end, there was only one major question left: where exactly will we put everything?

When the plan changed

Finding a suitable experimental site turned out to be one of the more complicated parts of the project.

Our original plans involved a site in a nearby marina, but the situation changed when we were informed that construction work was planned close to the site. The associated noise would have interfered with the acoustic conditions required for our experiment, making the location unsuitable for our setup. We therefore had to move the experiment to a different location at relatively short notice. This meant adapting the setup and transporting the frames again. In the end, we found our new home at Puerto América, at the north-eastern tip of the city.

The change was a good example of how fieldwork can sometimes require a little flexibility. You can spend weeks discussing the experimental design, the set up and the site selection, but once you actually arrive at the water, there are always things that you could not have predicted from a map.

The new location gave us enough space for the experimental setup and allowed us to continue with the project. Hence, the frames were finally transported to Puerto América, weighted and installed.

Getting the frames into the water was actually much easier than building them in the first place. Once we had transported the frames to the harbour, we were able to get them into position and secure them relatively smoothly. The real challenge had been the preparation on beforehand: assembling the large PVC structures, attaching all the necessary components and making sure that everything was ready for deployment.

Deploying the experimental frame at Puerto América. The frame is transported into position, lowered into the water and secured at the jetty before the experiment begins. © Liam Stübbecke and Carlos de Luis Suarez.

After weeks of preparation, the frames were finally in the water. The structures that we had spent so much time building on land were now ready to become the basis of our experiment.

From this point on, the focus shifted from building the experiment to monitoring what was happening around it.

Hydrophones, boats and one very expensive swim

Once the experiment was running, the HydroMoths became an important part of our regular monitoring. These small underwater recorders allowed us to record the acoustic conditions around our experimental frames and to measure the sound levels reaching the area of the experiment. This helped us to keep track of the underwater soundscape throughout the experimental period and to verify in hindcast what acoustic conditions the organisms on the settlement panels were actually exposed to.

Of course, regular monitorings also meant regularly getting the equipment in and out of the water. And this was when one of our more memorable fieldwork incidents happened. One day, Liam was alone at the harbour and had a fairly straightforward task: retrieve a HydroMoth, download the data and put it back into the water. Everything went well until the moment when the HydroMoth decided to make the last part of the procedure considerably easier for itself.

It slipped out of his hands and disappeared into the water.

We tried to retrieve it by diving down, but the visibility was extremely poor. Finding a relatively small piece of equipment underwater turned out to be much harder than expected, and despite our efforts, we could not recover it. It was certainly not part of the original plan, but fortunately, the experiment could continue. The lost HydroMoth has since become one of those fieldwork stories that is much easier to laugh about afterwards.

Hydrophone measurements at the experimental setup. Upper: Acoustic isolation measurements with the HydroMoth positioned at the frame. Lower: Hydrophone monitoring of the experimental frame underwater. Shortly before one of these HydroMoths took an unexpected swim into the depths of the harbour, it was still doing exactly what it was supposed to do. © Liam Stübbecke and Carlos de Luis Suarez.

The regular monitorings also revealed how quickly conditions around the experimental site can change. One day, for example, we arrived at the harbour and found a boat parked remarkably close to our experimental setup, almost directly next to our buoys. Luckily, nothing was damaged and the boat did not cause any problems for the frames, but it was certainly an unexpected sight when we arrived.

An unexpected visitor at the experimental site. A boat ended up unusually close to our experimental frame, leaving Carlos to inspect the situation with some understandable confusion. Apparently, our frame was not the only thing claiming this spot in the harbour. © Liam Stübbecke.

Working in a harbour means that we are sharing the space with many other users, and sometimes the surroundings have a few surprises in store for us. Fortunately, most of them have been harmless so far.

From PVC panels to marine communities

The most interesting changes, however, did not happen above the water.

They happened on the settlement panels.

At the beginning of the experiment, the panels were simply pieces of PVC. We sanded their surfaces and standardized them so that they would provide suitable settlement substrates for marine sessile organisms. After deployment, there was not much to see.

Then the first organisms started to arrive.

During the first sampling events, we began to see the panels changing. Small organisms had settled on the surfaces, and the communities became increasingly diverse. Ascidians and bryozoans were among those colonizers that became particularly noticeable, together with worms, crustaceans and algae.

Suddenly, the panels that we had spent weeks preparing were becoming real pieces of habitat.

A settlement panel after several weeks in the water, harbouring a developing marine hard-bottom community. The panel is already covered by a diverse assemblage of organisms, including ascidians, bryozoans, algae and numerous small polychaetes such as spirorbid tubeworms (Spirorbis). © Liam Stübbecke.

That was probably one of the most rewarding moments of the project. You knew exactly what a panel looked like before it went into the water. Then you retrieve it a few weeks later and had to figure out what has colonized it.

Some organisms were relatively easy to recognize. Others required a microscope, identification guides and considerably more patience.

Our supervisor was a huge help with this part of the project, especially when it came to identifying organisms that were less obvious at first glance. What initially looked like a small patch of something growing on a panel, could turn out to be an entirely different taxonomic group once you took a closer look.

And sometimes the organisms were simply fascinating to look at.

Despite the fauna and flora on the panels, we encountered small crustaceans, fish and other animals using the experimental structures as a habitat. One particularly photogenic shrimp even ended up on Liam’s hand during sampling.

Sampling in the field at our experimental site. Upper: Settlement panels were kept in water-filled containers during sampling and documentation. Lower: Our temporary field laboratory, with the microscope, laptops and equipment set up directly at the harbour. © Liam Stübbecke.

The panels were therefore becoming more than just experimental units. They were small snapshots of the underwater world and the marine biodiversity around Cádiz.

The scientific question remained whether the different acoustic conditions influence the development of the communities. But before we could answer that, we had to document what was actually there.

And that meant sampling.

Sampling in the field

Our first sampling event made another aspect of fieldwork very clear: sometimes there is no perfect laboratory waiting for you at the harbour.

Since our experimental site was relatively far from the university facilities, we transported the equipment we needed directly to the field site by car. This included the microscope and the other equipment needed to examine, photograph and document the settlement panels.

There was no perfect laboratory waiting for us at the harbour. So, we built one.

We set up a small temporary workspace close to the experimental site and arranged everything we needed for the sampling. With the microscope, cameras, laptops, sampling equipment and the panels themselves, we quickly had our own little field laboratory ready to go.

Once everything was set up, the panels came out of the water. One by one, they were photographed, examined and assessed for the organisms that had settled on their surfaces. Some could be identified relatively easily, while others required a closer look under the microscope and a little more time.

The same basic procedure was repeated during the following sampling event, allowing us to compare how the panels had changed over time and which organisms had newly appeared or become more abundant.

Working directly at the field site also had its advantages. Instead of transporting the panels back and forth, we could examine and document them close to where the experiment was running and get an immediate impression of how the communities were developing.

Of course, the conditions were not always perfectly calm. Strong winds can make working at the harbour considerably more challenging, and this is where we really began to appreciate the Levante, the strong easterly wind that regularly affects the Cádiz area. By “appreciate”, we mean learning very quickly how much more complicated even a routine sampling day can become when the wind picks up. Even simple tasks require more coordination, especially when working with equipment and panels close to the water.

Nevertheless, the sampling days became one of the most interesting parts of the experiment so far. Every time we brought a panel out of the water, there was something new to discover.

The youngest member of the GAME team

There was also one very important member of the team who deserves a special mention.

During one of our most recent monitoring days, we had some unexpected assistance from a four-year-old.

While we were reading out the equipment, working on the frames and dealing with the usual collection of sampling tasks, our youngest helper decided that watching from the side was not enough. He wanted to participate.

So he did.

For a short time, we had officially found the youngest member of the GAME team. He may not have been able to explain the experimental design or tell us anything about sound pressure levels, but he was very enthusiastic about helping with the work. It was a small moment, but it was also a nice reminder that fieldwork is rarely as isolated as it can sound when described in a scientific paper. People around us had become part of the experience, whether they were helping with equipment, giving advice, asking questions or simply were curious about what two researchers are doing at the harbour with a collection of PVC pipes.

And occasionally, they became part of the team.

Life outside the frames

Of course, our time in Cádiz did not consist entirely of PVC, HydroMoths and sampling.

Living in Cádiz for several months also meant getting to know the city and the surrounding region outside the harbour. We spent a lot of our free time near the sea, whether that means going to the beach, playing sport or simply enjoying the city after a long day of fieldwork. With beaches, the old town and the harbour all within easy reach, there was usually no shortage of places to spend a few hours away from the experiment.

We have also used our time here to explore more of Andalusia. We visited Sevilla, where we could experience one of the region’s larger and more historic cities, and travelled to Tarifa, where we joined a whale watching trip and got to see some of the marine wildlife of the area from a completely different perspective.

Life outside the frames. A glimpse of our trips beyond Cádiz: the iconic Plaza de España in Seville, designed by Aníbal González for the 1929 Ibero-American Exposition, and a group of long-finned pilot whales (Globicephala melas) observed during whale watching in the Strait of Gibraltar from Tarifa. © Liam Stübbecke.

Other trips took us to places such as Zahara de la Sierra, a small mountain town overlooking the reservoir, and Ronda, famous for its spectacular location above the deep El Tajo gorge.

Exploring Andalusia beyond Cádiz. The famous Puente Nuevo spans the Tajo gorge in Ronda (left), while the view from Zahara de la Sierra (right) overlooks the surrounding mountains and the Zahara-El Gastor reservoir. © Liam Stübbecke.

These trips were a welcome change from our usual routine and gave us the opportunity to see a little more of the region we called home for the duration of the project.

The weather had certainly helped. Temperatures were regularly around 30 degrees, although the strong winds could make the conditions feel very different. After spending a day working at the harbour, a few hours at the beach were therefore not the worst way to finish the day.

Andalusia has also experienced some major environmental events while we had been here. Large wildfires affected parts of the region during the summer, although Cádiz itself was not directly affected.

Then there was the solar eclipse.

Cádiz experienced a partial solar eclipse, which gave us the opportunity to witness something very different from our usual fieldwork. For a short time, the attention of the two marine biologists was directed away from the water and towards the sky.

A different kind of fieldwork. The partial solar eclipse observed from Cádiz (upper picture) and the same eclipse as seen fro