Thirty-five years ago, I was a young marine returning from the carnages of war¨Da war which through use of napalm, Agent Orange, and high explosives had killed millions and defiled the flora and fauna of Southeast Asia. To have borne witness to this travesty against man and nature had laid my spirit low. And so, just as I had done as a kid, growing up with a surfboard on the beaches of Southern California, I turned to the ocean for renewal.

For three years I spent much of my time riding the wind, my soul nurtured by the power of the sea. For several months this sailing odyssey found me traversing the length and breadth of the Great Mesoamerican Barrier Reef.

Every day we would dive for dinner and each dive was a descent into a sacred place. I have seen the stained glass of Chartres Cathedral come alive in the late afternoon sun, paddled through the power of the Grand Canyon¡¯s lower rapids, explored the jungle-shrouded mystery of Cambodia¡¯s Angkor Wat, and watched the sunbeams stream laser-like through the giant redwood groves of the Pacific coast. I know the "feeling" of sacred places, and the Great Mesoamerican Barrier Reef was such a place, a thousand-kilometer-long cathedral in the sea.

As the years passed and my days filled with the important details and the minutiae of life, those months along the Yucat¨¢n coast became a fond but distant memory. Only in the past 10 years have I been able to return. This would usually be for a brief week in Akumal each winter, a respite from the Black Hills snowstorms, the place far from the ocean where I finally settled down. However, this past November, a month-long volunteer stretch with CEA (Say-ah) afforded me the opportunity to get intimately reacquainted with my old sailing grounds.

I stood in The CEA Environmental Center those first days, looking out windows that framed a dazzling tropical beauty. And yet, as the days passed, a sense of foreboding overcame me, a realization that all was not well beneath the waves.

The spectacular Mesoamerican Barrier Reef, exceeded in size and species diversity only by Australia¡¯s Great Barrier Reef, was dying! Research shows that 80% of all the hard coral has been lost in just the past 30 years; to me, this is not an abstract concept. Where in the ¡®70s I glided across endless kaleidoscopic gardens of coral, now only dull green algal reef remains. What had taken nature a millennium to create has been largely destroyed by the human follies of overdevelopment, overpopulation, excess consumption and greed. Here, before my eyes, was a classic example of the greatest threat to biodiversity: habitat destruction.

Coral reefs are the heart of global marine biodiversity so one might think that these developments on the Mesoamerican Barrier Reef would leave those of us concerned with the health of our planet, hopeless and despondent. Indeed, it is a daunting task to counter the actions of the developers, profiteers, entrepreneurs, and politicians who would betray such incredible beauty for a ¡°few pieces of silver,¡± but there is hope!

Hope for this ecosystem depends on the work of CEA, other environmental organizations in the four countries which it borders, and the ¡°greens¡± worldwide that support this work.

CEA has made a major paradigm shift in order to face these expanding challenges. For example, whereas before they encouraged the building of small constructed wetlands to keep the nutrients and pathogens from sewage out of the groundwater and off the reef, there are now plans to build modular wetlands to treat wastewater for 20,000 persons. This project will treat the outflow from the government sewage plant being built for Akumal pueblo, which, if left untreated, would find its way to the sea, adding to the destruction of the last of the coral.

CEA has recruited many new foot soldiers this past year to carry on the fight to save the reef. An environmental engineer is supervising wetland construction and a PR professional, with contacts in government and business, is presenting our case in those arenas. Two outstanding individuals run an outreach program that educates the flood of new workers (and their children) about being good stewards of this fragile environment. Finally, a Harvard-trained microbiologist will be supporting the ongoing scientific research necessary to document the ebb and flow of our battle to save the Great Mesoamerican Barrier Reef. I, too, volunteer to be one of those foot soldiers.

I¡¯m retired now, which will allow me to spend several months a year in Akumal helping the CEA staff and the other volunteers make the things that need to happen ¡­ happen! However, it will take all of our efforts to be successful. Assailed as it is from all sides, this is a pivotal time in the fight to protect our planet. Battle lines are being drawn. Volunteer in person if you can; send CEA supplies or funds if you can¡¯t; consume less regardless of where you are.

Edmund Burke once said, ¡°The only thing it takes for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing.¡± The men and women of CEA are doing something. Their motto can thus be summed up: ¡°We are CEA, dedicated to the protection of the majestic Mesoamerican Barrier Reef, and all the creatures, great and small, that live on and around it.¡± Join us in this bold undertaking! Great things are accomplished by many people, each doing small things ¡­ together.

Jim Petersen
The Black Hills, South Dakota
December 2003