Wildcoast - In Conversation with Zach Plopper
On our last full day in the states, I met with Zach Plopper, Conservation Director at Wildcoast. But before I did so, I walked out onto the pier, which is directly across the street from their Imperial Beach office. On the pier, I watched the surfers bob up and down waiting for a good break, the evening beachgoers shaking out their towels, a few folks fishing off the pier and if I wasn't mistaken, a seal poke its head out and dive quickly under. Wildcoast had scheduled thier 16th Annual Dempsey Holder Ocean Festival and Surf Competition for the week before, an event designed to draw attention to trans-border ocean pollution, but ironically had to postpone it to the following Saturday because of a sewage spill from Tijuana. Wildcoast itself spans both borders with offices and staff from Oaxaca to La Paz, Ensenada to San Diego. Poised to enter Mexico the following day, I was curious to know more about this dynamic and their efforts to protect marine life and coastline that exists irrespective of international boundaries.
I found their office tucked between a convenience store and an apartment complex and they offered me a glass of water (I must've looked like I needed it). Zach took some time from his day and sat with me on a couch in the office. I learned he's been with Wildcoast since 2008, but volunteered for them before that, being passionate about thier mission. As a grad student at UCLA studying urban planning, he did his senior thesis on land conservation in a remote region in central Baja called Valle de los Cirios (which I would later spend several days biking through). His project turned into guiding document for Wildcoast and a full time job for him, so he hit the ground running managing 51,000 acres of protected land.
Since 2012, he's moved away from that area and as Conservation Director, helps California manage a half million acres of Marine Protected Areas (MPAs), one of the world's largest networks of interconnected MPAs. These 124 offshore "parks" are in place to protect fisheries, restore ecosystem health and enhance recreational value of some of California's most inconic coastal places.
I've been observing the MPA structure as I've been riding, but often only realize when I see it on Google Maps, or see the islands offshore, such as the Channel islands off of Santa Barbara. Wildlife sightings in those areas were noticably higher, thinking back to the porpoises we saw at Gaviota or the elephant seals in Big Sur. Many of their benefits to overall ecosystem health went unnoticed by me I'm sure, and probably even the most observant coastal dweller.
Zach was frank here: "Marine protected areas work. Especially when they're efficively managed." His example was Cabo Pulmo in southern Baja. There was a community driven effort there when the local fishing community realized that the fisheries were decimated and something needed to happen. So they, working with multiple partners, established a protected area and within 10 years, "fishery biomass recovered almost 500% and now it's one of the world's most important ecotourism sites, where people come from around the planet to kayak, scuba dive, and see the incredible wildlife that's there-- and it still produces all those fishery benefits to the rest of the Gulf of California."
That's the kind of functional cooperation between preservation and conservation that made me want to reach out and high-five Zach. Relax, maintain professional composure, Finley.
Still, the idea of an offshore "park" for marine animals with no visible boundaries from the water's surface can be hard for some to wrap their heads around. How does one manage a park for fish with no fences that's 20 or more miles offshore? Not easily, is the answer. Management agencies (Like California Department of Fish and Wildlife) have limited capacity to be everywhere all the time, and outreach material is limited so public knowledge and compliance can be low. Established in 2012, the parks are up for a 10 year review in 2022 and Wildcoast is full systems go to make sure the result is positive. "We need more help from allied agencies like lifeguards and park rangers and even the Coast Guard and sheriff to stop poaching, (because that can undermine the whole operation), and then getting the public involved, aware, and proud of these places. That takes a lot of outreach."
I was curious about their approach to the poaching problem, and I was surprised to find how data driven it was. Obviously, California Fish and Wildlife cannot patrol all of their parks effectively with the resources they have, so poaching happens, and with protected areas, the temptation is even greater. So, Wildcoast provides them data on poaching behavior so they can better know the trends. Two radar units constantly monitor human acticity within the MPAs, and from that they can identify poaching behavior and notify CDFW in real time. Over 6 months of observing, they discovered that most poaching occured during regular periods, Tuesday through Thursday, 12pm-2pm for example. CDFW can now orient thier operations and patrol during those hours.
As far as public knowledge goes, the challenges are very different from North to South. California is a big state (I can attest), and although it makes no difference to the fish, the social differences are vast, especially when it comes to population; whereas in the North you could find yourself on a beach and not see another soul all day, "In the summer in La Jolla (one of the MPAs), there's tens of thousands of tourists a day. How do you make sure that every one of them gets the message that this is a marine protected area? And also you cannot take any resources out of it whatsoever?"
Outreach means more than awareness of a place's beauty or ecological signifigance; It means connection, interaction, and responsibility. Zach noted how MPAs can be a vehicle for this enriched relationship, especially for communities that have been disenfranchised from the ocean: "We engage about 500 students from local tribes every year in San Diego County in MPA stewardship: collecting ecological data, human use data, leter writing campaigns, visiting Sacremento when there's clear legislative actions that needs to be taken." The hope is that these kids will be the seeds of thought in the communities they inhabit to inspire a more proactive and integrated relationship with the ocean.
I asked Zach about his personal relationship with the ocean and what kinds of action he hopes Wilcoast can inspire in the communities in which they work. "The ocean means to me what it means to Earth: it's vital... It wouldn't be a livable planet without it and so we have to take care of it. It's that black and white to me. But I love it, I ride it's waves... it has a depper spiritual sense to me than pure survival."
I'm sure the sentiment is shared by anyone who is reading this, but it takes something more to translate that feeling into an ethic. Zach shared an experience he had in Ecuador the previous Summer. He described seeing "4 scales of fishing from the primitive artisanal fisherman that's been doing the same thing for thousands of years to the motorized ponga, to the small commercial vessel, to the mega fish factory, all within eyesight." It was apparent to him then just how much fish comes out of the water. "You could see how easily the scale could be imbalanced when you tack on ocean acidification, habitat destruction, and a warming ocean."
This kind of visibility of the seafood industry is rare for the average person in the states. Even as someone who's spent 50+ days riding the coastline, if I weren't looking for it, I wouldn't believe there's all that much fishing going on at all, certainly not enough to provide a basis for a sense of urgency around protecting fisheries. "Overfishing is just out of reach, people don't really see it. As long as there's fresh seafood at the market, people don't think about it very much." And yet, the world's single largest source of protein comes from the ocean: more people eat fish around the planet than just about anything else. So how does the change occur to bring one from consumer to participant in the sea-food system? Zach gave his perspective: "I do like fish. Eating sustainable fish I knew was important, but it wasn't a practice of mine. I wouldn't think about it or make conscious purchases until just recently, when the more I recognized that overfishing is arguably the biggest threat to our ocean. So, I'll spend a little more money to eat fish now than I would in the past, just to know where it comes from."
Thinking about my own experience, I remember eating grilled salmon from Pike's Place off cedar planks, or steaming clams we dug at the beach. These things were an event-- a special occasion. They had added meaning because we knew where they came from and it connected us to place, for us, the Puget Sound. As I've gotten older and started cooking for myself (and budgeting for myself) it became clear how these things are hard to find. Local, fair, sustainable seafood is not the first option when someone goes looking for fish. Even when it is an option, it's certainly not the cheapest. I realize then how much of a priviledge it is to be educated about sustainable seafood in the first place, and also to be able to afford it. Zach agreed, "sustainable options are far out of reach. It's just not available affordably. I don't forsee any market changes that are going to impact that any time soon."
With the market against us, is it a lost cause? Can sustainable fishery management have anything to do with a more food secure world? Not all was lost to Zach: "Absolutely, it just has to happen at a global scale. It can't happen just locally. We can have a effective and enforced network of MPAs here in California and that will help, but as long as there's a fish factory ship from... somewhere there's less regulation, it can be undermined (both ecologically with fish population and financially for fish vendors)."
Hence the importance of groups like Wildcoast working explicitely internationally. "We're right on the border here, so we need to be working with partners in Baja to align our offshore protected areas that are safehavens for the same fish, literally." And it's paying off. With California's protected islands and other MPAs along with the islands off the Baja Penninsula (whch are all protected under Mexican law), there is a functioning network of protected areas along one of the world's more important marine corridors. But even this roughly 2,000 mile landmark chain of protected habitats can't solve the problem on its own. The World Ocean and the challenges facing it are far bigger than that: "We can protect our region, but with climage change, it's all changing completely. With that in mind, marine protected areas have to be adaptively managed, and we need to work internationally."
The following morning I rode out of Imperial Beach and into Tijuana, past the Tijuana Slough, the outlet of the Tijuana river. Though the cities could not be more different, Tijuana and San Diego could not exist without each other; they are in fact the same place. Similarly, 2/3 of the Tijuana River watershed is in Mexico and it drains onto American soil and into the ocean; it would not be complete without both sides. Caring for this shared ecoregion takes both parties. The parralel to the World Ocean became vividly clear looking at those murky waters, and I thought of something Zach had said: "It's not a Mexican problem; it's not an American problem; it's both our problems."
I found their office tucked between a convenience store and an apartment complex and they offered me a glass of water (I must've looked like I needed it). Zach took some time from his day and sat with me on a couch in the office. I learned he's been with Wildcoast since 2008, but volunteered for them before that, being passionate about thier mission. As a grad student at UCLA studying urban planning, he did his senior thesis on land conservation in a remote region in central Baja called Valle de los Cirios (which I would later spend several days biking through). His project turned into guiding document for Wildcoast and a full time job for him, so he hit the ground running managing 51,000 acres of protected land.
Since 2012, he's moved away from that area and as Conservation Director, helps California manage a half million acres of Marine Protected Areas (MPAs), one of the world's largest networks of interconnected MPAs. These 124 offshore "parks" are in place to protect fisheries, restore ecosystem health and enhance recreational value of some of California's most inconic coastal places.
I've been observing the MPA structure as I've been riding, but often only realize when I see it on Google Maps, or see the islands offshore, such as the Channel islands off of Santa Barbara. Wildlife sightings in those areas were noticably higher, thinking back to the porpoises we saw at Gaviota or the elephant seals in Big Sur. Many of their benefits to overall ecosystem health went unnoticed by me I'm sure, and probably even the most observant coastal dweller.
Zach was frank here: "Marine protected areas work. Especially when they're efficively managed." His example was Cabo Pulmo in southern Baja. There was a community driven effort there when the local fishing community realized that the fisheries were decimated and something needed to happen. So they, working with multiple partners, established a protected area and within 10 years, "fishery biomass recovered almost 500% and now it's one of the world's most important ecotourism sites, where people come from around the planet to kayak, scuba dive, and see the incredible wildlife that's there-- and it still produces all those fishery benefits to the rest of the Gulf of California."
That's the kind of functional cooperation between preservation and conservation that made me want to reach out and high-five Zach. Relax, maintain professional composure, Finley.
Still, the idea of an offshore "park" for marine animals with no visible boundaries from the water's surface can be hard for some to wrap their heads around. How does one manage a park for fish with no fences that's 20 or more miles offshore? Not easily, is the answer. Management agencies (Like California Department of Fish and Wildlife) have limited capacity to be everywhere all the time, and outreach material is limited so public knowledge and compliance can be low. Established in 2012, the parks are up for a 10 year review in 2022 and Wildcoast is full systems go to make sure the result is positive. "We need more help from allied agencies like lifeguards and park rangers and even the Coast Guard and sheriff to stop poaching, (because that can undermine the whole operation), and then getting the public involved, aware, and proud of these places. That takes a lot of outreach."
I was curious about their approach to the poaching problem, and I was surprised to find how data driven it was. Obviously, California Fish and Wildlife cannot patrol all of their parks effectively with the resources they have, so poaching happens, and with protected areas, the temptation is even greater. So, Wildcoast provides them data on poaching behavior so they can better know the trends. Two radar units constantly monitor human acticity within the MPAs, and from that they can identify poaching behavior and notify CDFW in real time. Over 6 months of observing, they discovered that most poaching occured during regular periods, Tuesday through Thursday, 12pm-2pm for example. CDFW can now orient thier operations and patrol during those hours.
As far as public knowledge goes, the challenges are very different from North to South. California is a big state (I can attest), and although it makes no difference to the fish, the social differences are vast, especially when it comes to population; whereas in the North you could find yourself on a beach and not see another soul all day, "In the summer in La Jolla (one of the MPAs), there's tens of thousands of tourists a day. How do you make sure that every one of them gets the message that this is a marine protected area? And also you cannot take any resources out of it whatsoever?"
Outreach means more than awareness of a place's beauty or ecological signifigance; It means connection, interaction, and responsibility. Zach noted how MPAs can be a vehicle for this enriched relationship, especially for communities that have been disenfranchised from the ocean: "We engage about 500 students from local tribes every year in San Diego County in MPA stewardship: collecting ecological data, human use data, leter writing campaigns, visiting Sacremento when there's clear legislative actions that needs to be taken." The hope is that these kids will be the seeds of thought in the communities they inhabit to inspire a more proactive and integrated relationship with the ocean.
I asked Zach about his personal relationship with the ocean and what kinds of action he hopes Wilcoast can inspire in the communities in which they work. "The ocean means to me what it means to Earth: it's vital... It wouldn't be a livable planet without it and so we have to take care of it. It's that black and white to me. But I love it, I ride it's waves... it has a depper spiritual sense to me than pure survival."
I'm sure the sentiment is shared by anyone who is reading this, but it takes something more to translate that feeling into an ethic. Zach shared an experience he had in Ecuador the previous Summer. He described seeing "4 scales of fishing from the primitive artisanal fisherman that's been doing the same thing for thousands of years to the motorized ponga, to the small commercial vessel, to the mega fish factory, all within eyesight." It was apparent to him then just how much fish comes out of the water. "You could see how easily the scale could be imbalanced when you tack on ocean acidification, habitat destruction, and a warming ocean."
This kind of visibility of the seafood industry is rare for the average person in the states. Even as someone who's spent 50+ days riding the coastline, if I weren't looking for it, I wouldn't believe there's all that much fishing going on at all, certainly not enough to provide a basis for a sense of urgency around protecting fisheries. "Overfishing is just out of reach, people don't really see it. As long as there's fresh seafood at the market, people don't think about it very much." And yet, the world's single largest source of protein comes from the ocean: more people eat fish around the planet than just about anything else. So how does the change occur to bring one from consumer to participant in the sea-food system? Zach gave his perspective: "I do like fish. Eating sustainable fish I knew was important, but it wasn't a practice of mine. I wouldn't think about it or make conscious purchases until just recently, when the more I recognized that overfishing is arguably the biggest threat to our ocean. So, I'll spend a little more money to eat fish now than I would in the past, just to know where it comes from."
Thinking about my own experience, I remember eating grilled salmon from Pike's Place off cedar planks, or steaming clams we dug at the beach. These things were an event-- a special occasion. They had added meaning because we knew where they came from and it connected us to place, for us, the Puget Sound. As I've gotten older and started cooking for myself (and budgeting for myself) it became clear how these things are hard to find. Local, fair, sustainable seafood is not the first option when someone goes looking for fish. Even when it is an option, it's certainly not the cheapest. I realize then how much of a priviledge it is to be educated about sustainable seafood in the first place, and also to be able to afford it. Zach agreed, "sustainable options are far out of reach. It's just not available affordably. I don't forsee any market changes that are going to impact that any time soon."
With the market against us, is it a lost cause? Can sustainable fishery management have anything to do with a more food secure world? Not all was lost to Zach: "Absolutely, it just has to happen at a global scale. It can't happen just locally. We can have a effective and enforced network of MPAs here in California and that will help, but as long as there's a fish factory ship from... somewhere there's less regulation, it can be undermined (both ecologically with fish population and financially for fish vendors)."
Hence the importance of groups like Wildcoast working explicitely internationally. "We're right on the border here, so we need to be working with partners in Baja to align our offshore protected areas that are safehavens for the same fish, literally." And it's paying off. With California's protected islands and other MPAs along with the islands off the Baja Penninsula (whch are all protected under Mexican law), there is a functioning network of protected areas along one of the world's more important marine corridors. But even this roughly 2,000 mile landmark chain of protected habitats can't solve the problem on its own. The World Ocean and the challenges facing it are far bigger than that: "We can protect our region, but with climage change, it's all changing completely. With that in mind, marine protected areas have to be adaptively managed, and we need to work internationally."
The following morning I rode out of Imperial Beach and into Tijuana, past the Tijuana Slough, the outlet of the Tijuana river. Though the cities could not be more different, Tijuana and San Diego could not exist without each other; they are in fact the same place. Similarly, 2/3 of the Tijuana River watershed is in Mexico and it drains onto American soil and into the ocean; it would not be complete without both sides. Caring for this shared ecoregion takes both parties. The parralel to the World Ocean became vividly clear looking at those murky waters, and I thought of something Zach had said: "It's not a Mexican problem; it's not an American problem; it's both our problems."
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