Ever wonder where lost fishing line ends up? I don’t. I see it all the time, wrapped around coral and rocks and docks and props. And the damage it does? I’ve seen that first hand, too.
Five years back I was snorkeling with a friend when we spotted a turtle, its head pointed straight up towards the surface at an unnatural angle. Kicking closer, we saw heavy test monofilament wrapped around a coral head. The turtle had swum between the two and lashed itself to the coral. It was stuck mere feet from the surface and lifegiving oxygen. Freeing it from a certain death trap, the reptile surprised me by swimming right back under the coral head. I swam down to see exactly how much energy it had left.
Without a struggle I took it from under the coral and up to the surface. It floated motionless. I lifted the creature’s head, hoping to give it some air. Pushing the turtle along, I looked for signs of life; I lifted its head again, but still it lay there. It must have been trapped for a while I told my friend, turtles can stay underwater for hours at a time. Then, wonderfully, the turtle lifted its head to take a gasping breath. I pushed it along some more, and saw another gasp, and a slight movement of the fins. We swam away to let it recover without having us to worry about. Returning to the spot later, our little turtle friend was gone, and I could only hope that it was to continue its life’s journey, hopefully a little wiser for the wear.
600 Years
Nicholas Mallos of the Washington, D.C.-based Ocean Conservancy says, “polymer scientists estimate that monofilament fishing line takes at least 600 years to break down mechanically, but actual degradation time may be thousands of years.” Meaning that line you broke off on last weekend’s fishing trip is going to be there when your grandkid’s, grandkid’s, grandkid’s, grandkid’s, grandkids are swimming in what’s left of the ocean.
Mallos continues, “At the moment, we do not know precisely how much line is in the ocean, but Ocean Conservancy is currently convening an academic working group to precisely answer these types of questions.”
Do some quick math on your own. Nylon monofilament was introduced in 1939, quickly following Dupont’s invention of nylon. It wasn’t widely used until it was improved a few years later, and is now used by your weekend-hacker fishermen, serious sports fishermen and commercial fishermen. Multiply that by 73 years and that’s…well, a whole lot of monofilament in our seas. I think the folks in D.C. will come up with a more specific figure. And F.Y.I., the fluorocarbon monofilament takes even longer to break down. So your grandkid’s, grandkid’s, grandkid’s…. okay, you get it.
Everywhere You Want To Be
So, monofilament is like those Visa commercials on TV; it’s everywhere you want to be, except the planet pays the interest rate and I’d guess it’s brutal. Sea birds, sea lions, whales and yes, turtles, pay a monofilament toll exacted in millions of deaths each year.
Click ‘search’ and shake your head at the numbers that flash up. Truth be told, commercial fishing nets (ghost fishing), long-liners and the like are largely responsible. But recreational fishermen can make a huge difference, especially since many of us fish the same spots over and over. It’s one of my main credos that everyone must take care of their own local area. If everyone around the planet just worried about their beach, or their favorite location on the GPS, and worked to keep it clean, it would add up to one drastic difference maker.
How About This Radical Idea?
Say you lose some line in the ocean, a fish breaks it off or whatever; you estimate the line you lost to be 50 yards. You penalize yourself and don’t fish again until you have taken the time to remove 50 yards of monofilament from the ocean.
Put on your goggles and dive it up, or walk the beaches and piers and pick it up. Better yet, unwrap it off a coral reef or make your own eco-warrior tale and watch for birds and sea life in distress. So that 50 yards that you lost might still be out there, but you’re square with the house and even ahead if you help out one of our fellow creatures. And, hey, count up those stray bits that fall in the water, too. You’ll be that much more careful if you know it’s going to delay your next fishing trip. Let it sit in a landfill (best case scenario unfortunately) for those 600 plus years; hopefully it remains out of the ocean, breaking down ‘in peace’.
You can reach Tom Glucksmann at tom@bahamasadventures.com.
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