Herbicide use near Emily, Slaughter and Cemetery Bays raises questions about inshore reef health, heritage land management, and environmental protection on Norfolk Island.

I took these photographs this morning, Monday, 8 December 2025. A few warm days of settled weather, little cloud cover and low tides in the hottest part of the day have led to some early bleaching on our reef. Bleaching doesn’t always mean death for our corals, but it is concerning to have this so early in the summer season. Fingers crossed the conditions don’t last and the reef can recover.

This is a thank-you note. Five years after my first Out on a swim post – written with zero marine science quals and a head full of questions – I’m still in the water, now as a PhD candidate, because an extraordinary mix of locals, volunteers, researchers and public servants decided to share what they knew. This is the story of how nature – and a very patient community – became my teachers.

From Miami to Fiji, from Dubai to tiny village harbours on atolls, dredging near coral reefs has left a long trail of scars – even on ‘small’ projects. This follow-up to last week’s Kingston post walks through real examples of what happened elsewhere, and what that should make us think about before we dig up our own reef.

How much risk are we really taking with the planned dredging at Kingston Pier – and how much protection do our corals actually have on paper? This piece walks through what the federal approval does and doesn’t guarantee, explains why sediment and light matter so much to the reef, and asks the hard questions we need answered before we trade a deeper channel for a shallower future.

After the long dry spell, the lagoon was crystal clear and full of life. But with the return of the rains, something else has returned too – the brown, filamentous mats of Lyngbya. It’s not seaweed, it’s a cyanobacterium, and when it takes hold it smothers coral and rubble alike. The reef’s way of showing us that every drop of water, from tank to tide, is connected.

Ever seen a sea urchin that seems to glow blue from the shadows? That’s Diadema savignyi showing off its reef shimmer. Beautiful, a little spiky, and definitely not to be messed with.

If ever a sea slug was channeling the 1970s, it’s Halgerda willeyi. With its groovy orange lines and chocolate-brown bumps, it looks straight out of a vintage lounge suite – the kind with shag pile carpet and bold floral cushions. Proof that nature was nailing retro design long before humans caught on.

This Haddon’s anemone has been quietly living in the middle of Norfolk Island’s Emily Bay for years, bleaching and recovering with the seasons. Like corals, sea anemones host microscopic algae that provide most of their food. When stressed by heat or rainfall changes, they lose colour – and tell a story about seasonal changes to the weather.

September is Biodiversity Month – the perfect time to celebrate the astonishing variety of life on Norfolk Island’s reef. From new fish sightings to coral mosaics, every observation is a reminder of how much there is still to learn and protect.

Read more about why biodiversity matters, globally and right here in our lagoon.

I’ve tracked one plating Acropora coral from 2021 to 2025. In just a few weeks, white syndrome wiped it out. Nearly four years years on, it’s still smothered in algae and sea squirts, with only the tiniest hint of new growth. It’s a stark reminder: without tackling the root cause, we’re just watching the same sad story repeat itself.

Candy-cane stripes, long white feelers, and a reef spa on offer – the banded coral shrimp waves its antennae to advertise cleaning services to passing fish.

Meet Mr Lemonhead – our lagoon’s teeny yellow boxfish with a big design legacy. He inspired a Mercedes Benz concept car, proving how nature is full of surprises. And he shares the lagoon with other critters whose tricks have also shaped real-world inventions.

Some corals wear more than one colour for a reason. When Paragoniastrea australensis colonies fuse early in life, they form living mosaics. A beautiful reminder of coral cooperation on Norfolk Island’s reef.

Today, 28 July, is World Nature Conservation Day. After the dry 2024, Norfolk Island’s reef is looking healthier – a brief reprieve as less water - laden with nutrients - flowed into the lagoon. These photos show what’s possible. It’s a reminder that recovery is within reach – though renewed runoff could quickly undo the gains.

Over five and a half years of snorkelling Norfolk’s lagoon, we’ve documented 23 fish species not previously recorded in this area. Some are local ghosts, others climate migrants. These observations help us understand and protect what makes our reef so special.

Not all poop on a reef is bad poop. In fact some kinds of poop can be a reef’s most important invisible engine. Fish poop, bird poop – even poop that gets eaten again by other fish – all of it keeps the ecosystem ticking over in a way that’s nothing short of extraordinary.

Day 6 of this photo series from Norfolk Island coincides with the final day of the UN Ocean Conference in Nice. After a week of documenting decline, today’s post offers a different view – what reef recovery can look like when conditions improve. Drought in 2024 gave the reef a break, and the results were unmistakable: healthier corals, lower disease, and more fish. This is what’s possible if we act.

Day 5 of my blog series for the UN Ocean Conference: two long-lived coral colonies in Norfolk’s lagoon died quietly from disease. No drama – just slow collapse and overgrowth by algae. A reminder that not all reef losses are loud, but they are happening.

Day 4 of a week-long photo series from Norfolk Island, shared during the UN Ocean Conference in Nice. Today’s post spotlights a Hydnophora pilosa colony where white syndrome appeared suddenly and spread quickly, taking out around a quarter of the coral. In the months that followed, algae quietly filled the gap – a subtle but telling shift from coral to algae that’s happening across the reef.

In Day 3 of this blog post series, published while leaders gather at the UN Ocean Conference in Nice, we see Norfolk Island’s coral reef lagoon quietly delivering a stark warning: recurrent land-based pollution, coral disease, and delayed decisions are dismantling this ecosystem in real time.

Day 2’s post coinciding with the UN Ocean Conference looks at coral growth anomalies – sometimes called coral ‘cancers’. These slow-moving diseases quietly weaken coral colonies, making them far more vulnerable to storm damage and algal takeover. On Norfolk Island’s reef, I’ve watched this exact process play out over several years. This is how chronic stress silently dismantles coral ecosystems.

Today is World Ocean Day — a timely moment to launch my week-long blog series on Norfolk Island’s reef. Each day this week, I’ll be sharing photo essays that document the slow but steady pressures reshaping this fragile reef. Today: how shifting baselines make us blind to what we’ve already lost.

A personal reflection on Norfolk Island’s coral reef environment, political denial, and what John Wyndham’s The Kraken Wakes can still teach us about slow-moving disasters — and why this election matters more than ever.

Astrea curta corals are ‘small, moderately plocoid [flattened], distinct, and almost circular’ . Normally grey-green in colour, you can see from the images here, ours are often beautiful rich gold, although they do vary. They have a neat growth habit and button-like corallites, which can grow in columns, spherically or flattened. Large colonies of these can form gorgeous undulating bumps.

Last week, the chance of coral bleaching in Norfolk Island’s inshore lagoons was raised from ‘Watch’ to ‘Warning’ and will more than likely rise to Alert levels one and two in coming weeks. So why do I worry about water quality all the time when bleaching seems inevitable these days and so the reef is probably doomed anyway? Read on to find out.

Small numbers of different fish species is not an unusual phenomenon on Norfolk Island’s reef, but it does demonstrate what a tiny, precious, coral reef ecosystem we have, when we can count individuals on one hand and watch each of them grow, like these little blackeye thicklips, a member of the wrasse family.

It is five years since I began wielding a camera underwater in Norfolk Island’s lagoons and my third ‘year in review’ for this ‘Out on a swim’ blog. And what a journey it has been. At least this year I have some great news to report, but – a bit like a curate’s egg (partly bad and partly good) – there are also some downers. Find out what 2024 has meant for Norfolk Island’s reef.