Off Santa Barbara’s bluff-lined coast, suspended below the surface, an aquatic environment unlike any other hangs on. Bright orange Garibaldi swim unhurriedly, curious sea lions twist their way through kelp acrobatically, sea stars crawl slowly across the ocean floor and sea otters dive for spiky urchins. Amongst this activity, enveloping, protecting and defining California’s coastal environment, forests of kelp rise to the surface quietly, sinking incredible amounts of carbon as they reach skyward.

Not too far away, a barren wasteland covers the ocean floor. Silent and devoid of activity, water pulses over jagged rocks, veritable tombstones of what may have once been a thriving ecosystem. To the untrained eye, the deep blue that extends in every direction is little more than open ocean. For those who know what was once here, the emptiness is haunting. No Garibaldi, no sea lions, no sea stars, no sea otters and no kelp.

In a state famed for its ancient groves of redwoods, sequoias and bristlecone pines, kelp forests play an equally crucial, if less understood, role in underpinning ecosystems and keeping the planet in balance. Yet the disappearance of kelp from our coastlines has largely flown under the radar. As news of burning sequoias made national headlines last summer, kelp forests continued their long, slow march towards extinction.

While the degradation of the aquatic landscape can be attributed to a host of problems, including water temperature fluctuations, habitat loss and pollution, there is one culprit that embodies the destruction. Pacific Purple Sea Urchins, sometimes referred to as “Zombie” urchins, carpet much of California’s ocean floor, devouring any and all kelp within sight. The spiny creatures’ population has boomed as temperatures rise and natural predators like sea otters and sea stars struggle. As this imbalance intensifies, purple urchins multiply and trudge forth to destroy their own environment, sometimes going dormant for years after they have eaten all of the kelp around them. The feast has resulted in a loss of more than 95% of California’s kelp forests.

But Californians are fighting back. Until recently, purple sea urchins provided little in the way of commercial value. Unlike red urchins, which are prized in culinary circles for their uni, many of the spiny purple creatures lie in a starved dormant state for years and often have little to offer in terms of roe. However, a small farm in Goleta has pioneered a method to transform the emaciated purple urchins into plump, sushi grade products. At The Cultured Abalone, freshly harvested urchins are placed in tanks and fed until their roe is sellable. The practice, though not yet high volume enough to impact the purple urchin boom, is an example of one of the ways in which concerned Californians are attempting to steward their coastal ecosystems.

I propose an article that discusses the impact of kelp forests on our coastal environments as well as the ways in which interested parties are trying to slow the loss of these crucial habitats.

Please let me know if Sierra Magazine is interested in this story.