黑料正能量

Beneath the waves, beneath the radar

鈥�Out of sight, out of mind鈥�. It鈥檚 a phrase which keeps coming up when people talk about the vast, rich beds of kelp that once lay along the Sussex shoreline. By their very nature, they鈥檙e largely invisible, just offshore, beneath the waves. As Sussex Wildlife Trust鈥檚 Henri Brocklebank (pictured above) puts it: 鈥�鈥�Many people weren鈥檛 even aware that the kelp was there鈥夆�斺�塭ven when, suddenly, it wasn鈥檛.鈥�

Invisible, perhaps, but incredibly valuable. When kelp washes up on the beaches, it鈥檚 a limp, brown splodge. At home on the seabed, it鈥檚 a different story: a rich, waving array of plants, sometimes described as a 鈥�鈥�marine forest鈥� whose canopy is at the heart of one of the richest, most productive ecosystems in Britain, on or offshore. Kelp forests provide food and shelter for numerous fish, mammals and birds. A single plant can support a whole host of marine creatures.

They鈥檙e fishermen鈥檚 friends, too: vital nurseries and foraging grounds for a whole range of commercially lucrative stock, from crabs and lobsters to cuttlefish, bass and sea bream. They also act as a buffer against storm surges and coastal erosion, and they could be a vital sink to soak up CO2.

So when it became clear in the late-teens that a shocking 96% of Sussex鈥檚 kelp beds had been wiped out since the 1980s, says Henri, 鈥�鈥�jaws just hit the floor鈥�. She鈥檚 now leading the (SKRP), and was earlier a key figure in promoting the Help Our Kelp campaign, which successfully backed calls for a new local byelaw excluding bottom trawling from the areas where the kelp had once flourished.

Such a dramatic loss can鈥檛 be explained by fishing alone, though. Rather, it鈥檚 the result of an unfortunate鈥夆�斺�塧nd for the kelp, deadly鈥夆�斺�塩oincidence. Dr Chris Yesson, a senior research fellow and seabed specialist at the Zoological Society of London (ZSL), which is helping lead research into the kelp鈥檚 history and recovery, explains what happened. Kelp beds are sporadically broken up by storms, he says, and when the Great Storm of 1987 hit the Sussex shoreline, it did exactly that鈥夆�斺�塧lbeit with particularly damaging effects, given its severity. Normally, the kelp would gradually recover. But with desperately bad timing, the aftermath of the storm coincided with a rapid expansion of bottom trawling in the area. 

Usually, says Chris, trawlers avoid thick, established kelp beds, 鈥�鈥�because all the kelp gets tangled in your nets, and it鈥檚 a massive pain to get it out, and you don鈥檛 get a catch, basically.鈥� But with the kelp beds only recently broken up, they didn鈥檛 have a chance to recover before the trawlers were in place. The result? With no kelp to impede their progress, the boats could drag their nets clean along the seabed, usually in pairs, with the weighted nets being towed between them. Wherever they passed, they ripped up virtually every living thing on the seabed, leaving a wasteland in its place.

Raising the alarm

Beneath the waves, beneath the radar, maybe 鈥� but the impacts of wiping out the heart of a whole ecosystem were making themselves felt, nonetheless. Its destruction doesn鈥檛 just damage wildlife; it affects the local Sussex fishing boats too 鈥� most of which don鈥檛 practise bottom trawling. Catches were taking a hit. Partly as a result, says Henri, some fishers were giving up. Among them was Clive Mills, from Bognor. His family have lived and fished off this coast for generations 鈥� 鈥�鈥�My wife鈥檚 lot supplied lobsters to Charles the Second鈥�, he says. But by the end of the 90s, he was facing a grim reality check. 鈥�鈥�I loved fishing, it鈥檚 in the blood鈥夆�斺�塨ut I had no money. I had young kids and I had nothing.鈥� For Clive, that meant reluctantly turning his back on the sea and starting a haulage business.

Yet for years, even while the effects were starting to bite, the extent of the kelp destruction went largely unseen. 鈥�鈥�Almost nobody realised it was missing鈥�, says Henri. 鈥�鈥�People who lived right next to the beach didn鈥檛 notice it was gone.鈥� A very few, though, spotted that things were amiss, she says, 鈥�鈥�and none more so than Eric鈥�. 

Talk to anyone involved in the Sussex kelp saga, and it鈥檚 not long before the name Eric Smith鈥夆�斺�塷ne of the Sussex shoreline鈥檚 most indomitable characters鈥夆�斺�塱s on their lips. Now 75, Eric has spent his life free diving, ever since, as a boy, he fell in love with spear fishing. Sitting in a Shoreham pub with his daughter, also a keen diver, Eric recalls how he used to have to swim out a mile 鈥�鈥�just to get past the kelp鈥�. By the early 2000s, he says, it was clear that things had changed. There was a lot less kelp, and fewer fish too. And he had no doubt as to the cause: trawling. 鈥�鈥�I had a dive one day in 2008, that was a real eye opener. I鈥檇 been in recently and it was beautiful 鈥� there were bream everywhere, pollock, bass, rays鈥夆�斺�墆ou name it. But a couple of trawlers had gone through and everything got smashed to pieces. The bream had gone, the kelp, everything had gone.鈥� He鈥檚 even seen white marks on the trawlers鈥夆�斺�塧 sign that they鈥檇 been stripping the seas right down to their chalky beds.

Incensed by the destruction in the waters he knew so well, Eric took action, writing letters and articles for fishery magazines about the destruction he was seeing on the seabed. But he also reached out to a body which, to most people, was as little known as the kelp itself: the (IFCA). It鈥檚 one of 10 such IFCAs in the UK鈥夆�斺�塻tatutory authorities charged with managing fisheries and the marine environment from the high water mark to six nautical miles offshore. Each has a governing committee drawn from Natural England, the Environment Agency, local councillors and stakeholders. Crucially, the IFCAs are allowed to write and enforce byelaws鈥夆�斺�塻ubject to these being signed off by the Defra Secretary of State, and only following an extensive public consultation.

Eric鈥檚 evidence helped confirm what IFCA was already suspecting: that the declining fish stocks they鈥檇 been observing for some time was in large part due to the bottom trawling. 鈥�鈥�IFCA dug out a kelp survey from the 1980s commissioned by Worthing Council鈥�, says Henri, and that showed just how much kelp had been lost since then. It was clear to IFCA that only a trawling exclusion could give the kelp a chance to recover, and so allow the fish stocks it supported to do so too. But that meant building enough stakeholder and public support for a new byelaw, which necessarily follows a statutory consultation process. 

IFCA itself couldn鈥檛 campaign for this, explains its current Chief Fisheries and Conservation Officer, Rob Pearson: 鈥�鈥�We have to be strictly neutral鈥�. It can only do its work by balancing the interests of different groups of fishermen, conservationists, scientists and so on: 鈥�鈥�As someone told me when I started this job, you鈥檒l know you鈥檙e doing about right when everybody鈥檚 a little bit annoyed with you. If you鈥檝e got one side really annoyed, and the other incredibly happy, then you probably haven鈥檛 balanced things quite right.鈥�

David Attenborough鈥夆�斺�塩ampaign gold 

Others had no such constraints鈥夆�斺�塶ot least wildlife filmmaker Sarah Cunliffe and her appropriately named Big Wave production company. Like Henri, Sarah had grown up in Sussex. She鈥檇 studied the wildlife off Selsey, and remembered the vast kelp forests which once thrived there. And like Henri, she had no idea that they鈥檇 vanished. 鈥�鈥�In 2019, I was having a coffee with Sean Ashworth [then Deputy Chief at IFCA], and moaning about how IFCA should do more about illegal shellfish collection鈥� and he mentioned that he was working on a byelaw linked to the loss of the former kelp habitat鈥� I was completely horrified when I realised that the kelp had essentially gone in my lifetime, on my watch 鈥� an entire habitat disappearing!鈥�

鈥�I said to Sean 鈥�鈥�No one will know what kelp is, let alone why they need to care about it鈥�.鈥� There and then, she resolved to make a film to raise public awareness of the IFCA consultation. She struck campaign gold when she persuaded . With the film in the bag, Sarah turned her attention to how best to bolster the case for the byelaw. She convened a meeting of representatives from the Sussex Wildlife Trust (SWT), the Blue Marine Foundation and Portsmouth University 鈥� as well as statutory authority IFCA. 

That was when the fantastically catchy and tweetable campaign slogan 鈥�#HelpOurKelp鈥� first came into being, which was boosted enormously by the splash made by the film. Released just as the consultation period got under way, it immediately sparked coverage in local and national media. 鈥�鈥�It was trending online, it was on the BBC, it was seen by millions鈥�. [The film] really did do what we set out to achieve, which was to put kelp on the map.鈥�

With that momentum accelerating, a second meeting, this time also including the Marine Conservation Society, firmed up plans for the campaign; SWT took on a co-ordinating role, with Henri as its chair. Key to its success was the way it built on the enthusiasm generated by Sarah鈥檚 film, to win local support for the byelaw. 鈥�鈥�The reaction from the general public was just incredible鈥�, recalls Sarah. 鈥�鈥�It felt like they were really excited at the possibility of doing something positive. It can feel so bleak out there, so just having the slightest inkling of positive news [was really motivating]鈥�. Eric agrees: 鈥�鈥�People are craving good news. Really craving it.鈥�

It was like no consultation IFCA had ever done before. 鈥�鈥�Normally there would be a handful of responses鈥�, says Sarah. 鈥�鈥�Suddenly there were thousands!鈥� From IFCA鈥檚 point of view, too, that was a result. Not only did they win the support they needed for the byelaw, says IFCA鈥檚 Rob Pearson, but 鈥�鈥�as a local regulator, we need engagement with our local stakeholders. And that鈥檚 not always easy to do. So when you get something like Help Our Kelp, which really gets the news out there, it鈥檚 massively beneficial.鈥�

Interestingly, the enthusiasm was in stark contrast to some past attitudes to kelp, says Chris Yesson. 鈥�鈥�If you look at local newspapers from the 1950s on, you鈥檒l see headlines like 鈥�鈥�The Scourge of Kelp is Back!鈥�.鈥� At the time, its vital role in the marine environment was barely understood; instead, locals worried that sporadic drifts of smelly seaweed washing onto the beaches might put off the tourists. 鈥�鈥�Forty years back, the local council saw it as a blight on the economy, and were considering dragging chains across the seabed to get rid of it. There was even a report that they were considering using explosives!鈥�

It鈥檚 a tribute to the progress in marine and fisheries science, the shift in attitudes to the environment, and not least the brilliance of campaigners like Sarah and Henri, along with the charisma of Sir David, that there was barely a whiff of opposition to the ban from the public.

But what about those in the fishing industry? As Clive himself says, they are by nature suspicious of regulation, and some recoiled at being told what to do 鈥�鈥�by a bunch of idiots with degrees who know nothing about the sea鈥�. But many were suffering from declining catches and, grudgingly or otherwise, accepted the need for some action.

So with massive public backing, it was no surprise when the Secretary of State duly did the necessary, and the Sussex Nearshore Trawling Byelaw came into force early in 2021.

A coalition for kelp

Anticipating the outcome, Henri and her colleagues at SWT had already been planning for the next step 鈥� how to maximise the conservation benefits that a ban would bring. 鈥�鈥�We were thinking 鈥�鈥�What does the world look like once we have a byelaw? What do we need to have ready? What relationships do we need to put in place?鈥� So we started quietly formulating some plans, gathering allies and putting in tentative funding bids.鈥�

Cheered by the way conservation groups had been inspired by Sarah to come together under the Help Our Kelp umbrella, Henri was keen to keep the collaboration going. And so once the byelaw was passed, and funding secured, Help Our Kelp transformed into the Sussex Kelp Recovery Project, with another local filmmaker鈥夆�斺�塧nd IFCA board member鈥夆�斺�塖ally Ashby as its first coordinator.

Compared to rewilding projects on land, says Sally, ones in 鈥�鈥�marine areas, which are effectively a commons, are hugely complex鈥夆�斺�塧nd expensive鈥夆�斺�塼o manage and monitor.鈥�

That complexity hit home when, in her first week in the job, she convened a meeting of relevant stakeholders鈥夆�斺�塧nd over 40 organisations turned up! To bring everything together, SWT convened on behalf of SKRP an expert Kelp Summit at the end of 2021. It featured a wide range of people who were part of the project, including experts like Dr Chris Yesson, and others from IFCA, universities including Sussex, Brighton and UCL, local authorities and campaign groups.

Since then, scientists have been gathering a huge amount of baseline data on the health (or otherwise) of the kelp and its associated ecosystem since the trawling exclusion. Among the work underway, Sussex IFCA鈥夆�斺�塻upported by ZSL and the Blue Marine Foundation鈥夆�斺�塱s doing video surveys, with a series of carefully planned transects using underwater cameras. University of Sussex researchers are monitoring just what species are present at the moment, using static cameras, acoustic surveys and sophisticated environmental DNA sampling techniques. 

The Blue Marine Foundation and the University of Sussex are applying baited underwater video techniques to monitor fish recovery, and working with fishers from Selsey to study crab and lobster populations. The University of Brighton and Queen Mary鈥檚 University of London are exploring the extent to which the kelp might act as a carbon store. And using innovation funding from 黑料正能量, the Sussex Kelp Recovery Project is leading stakeholder engagement to identify priority actions to reduce the impact of Sussex sediment in the water鈥夆�斺�塮rom activities further upstream in the region鈥檚 waterways to other marine activities鈥塼hat could be impacting the kelp鈥檚 re-establishment. 

Recovery takes root

So the million dollar question: now that trawling is out of the picture, is the kelp coming back? The short answer is yes鈥夆�斺�塴ocal divers, for example, are reporting new growths of kelp on wrecks offshore, and kelp is washing up on the beaches in quantities not seen in years鈥夆�斺�塨ut it鈥檚 happening piecemeal, here and there, and evidence remains anecdotal. As well as areas where kelp seems to be making a tentative return, there are intertidal areas where it is still being lost.

And that鈥檚 to be expected, says ZSL鈥檚 Chris Yesson. 鈥�鈥�It鈥檚 a slow process 鈥� we have to have patience. It鈥檚 not a one-to-two year recovery鈥夆�斺�塱t鈥檚 more like five-to-ten.鈥� Henri Brocklebank agrees: 鈥�鈥�Some people find it frustratingly slow, but I don鈥檛. Let鈥檚 take a terrestrial comparison. Take a field that鈥檚 been under the plough for 40 years, and you suddenly stop ploughing it. You鈥檙e not going to end up with an ancient woodland overnight. These things take time. And we鈥檝e only just left the seabed alone.鈥�

Leaving kelp aside though, it鈥檚 the speed with which the wider seabed ecosystem is recovering that has surprised and delighted everyone involved. Mussel beds, which can act as a solid substrate for the kelp, are expanding, dolphins reappearing in huge pods, and, says Eric, fish that haven鈥檛 been seen for years, like electric rays, are back. Others, like stingrays are there in force鈥夆�斺�塧nd so it goes on. The web of life is reweaving itself at a speed and scale that few dared anticipate. It鈥檚 a recovery that鈥檚 been gorgeously captured by Sarah Cunliffe in another film , featuring Eric, which has been recently shown on the BBC.

All this returning wildlife is good news for fishers too, says Clive. 鈥�鈥�There was a super pod of 100 or so dolphins off Brighton and Worthing just recently. Now, if dolphins are there in that number, there鈥檚 only one reason: they鈥檙e here to feed. And if they鈥檙e here to feed, that means there鈥檚 a good fish stock. It means the shoals aren鈥檛 getting broken up by the trawls.鈥�

After years in the haulage business, Clive has even been inspired to take up fishing again. Along with three friends, he鈥檚 injected new life into the Bognor Fishermen鈥檚 Association, transforming a derelict shed on the town beach into a fish stall, selling the day鈥檚 catch to local residents. Blue Marine Foundation tells his heartwarming story in .

Big picture thinking 

What鈥檚 really good news for kelp and the wider marine ecosystem off the Sussex coast is that several innovative new rewilding initiatives have now launched in the area, with a big picture vision for land and sea. Local farmer James Baird has co-founded , a wildlife corridor from the recovering kelp all the way to Ashdown Forest, via the Knepp Wildland. One sure benefit for kelp will be a reduction in the pollution and run-off that impedes its growth. And , a collaboration of over 200 groups, organisations, and partners, aims to create and deliver a pioneering seascape-scale vision for 100 miles of coastline from Selsey Bill to Camber Sands.

鈥�The landmark work of Sussex IFCA has inspired so many people and organisations. The level of engagement we鈥檝e had from different sectors is quite extraordinary鈥�, says Henri. The scale and the speed with which it鈥檚 taken shape is 鈥�鈥�above and beyond any project I鈥檝e worked on in my career鈥�, she adds. 鈥�鈥�We鈥檙e all learning, all the time, because nothing like this has ever been done before.鈥�

Published June 2024