When storms rearrange the reef — Norfolk Island's Reef

Out on A Swim

‘Out on a swim’ is a coral reef blog that tells the stories of the characters who live under the waves and what has caught my eye when ‘out on a swim’ in the lagoons of Norfolk Island. It is also a record of the difficulties Norfolk Island’s reef faces, like many others around the world, as a result of the poor water quality that has been allowed to flow onto it.

This page shows the most recent blog posts. For the complete catalogue, visit the ‘Out on a swim index’ page.

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In the first article of this series, The neighbours – six years of watching the same reef, I explained how I came to photograph the same coral colonies over and over again, quite unintentionally building a record of their changing fortunes.

In the second, When the reef fights back – growth and recovery, I shared some of the more encouraging stories – corals that have grown spectacularly, survived considerable setbacks or managed to recover. But not all changes happen gradually. Sometimes the sea comes along and rearranges everything in a matter of hours!

Norfolk Island’s reef is no stranger to heavy seas and powerful storm surges. Corals may be firmly attached to the reef, but they aren’t indestructible. Large colonies can be broken, overturned or swept away altogether, sometimes taking their neighbours with them. Of course, storms are a natural part of reef life. They’ve been shaping coral reefs for thousands of years. And although the damage can be quite spectacular, it doesn’t necessarily mean the end of the story for every affected colony.

I’ve selected five examples from my photographic archive showing some rather different outcomes.

Three months in Cemetery Bay

I’d barely begun taking underwater photographs when I captured this extraordinary change in Cemetery Bay. The first photograph was taken on 12 January 2020, and the second just over three months later, on 20 April. Look at those beautiful, overlapping plates in the first image, and then what remains in the second.

From memory, we had a huge swell come through during that period, which may explain the extensive breakage. Much of the magnificent structure had collapsed, leaving broken plates scattered across the reef.

I had no idea at the time that I was beginning a photographic record of just how dramatically our reef could change.

Stairway reef – white syndrome and two storms

This was one of the most magnificent tabling Acropora colonies in the lagoon. With its wonderful arrangement of overlapping plates, it reminded me of a staircase, which is exactly how I filed it! Under ‘Stairway Reef’.

Unfortunately, it was already in trouble before the storms arrived. In February 2022, I photographed the beginnings of white syndrome, a disease involving the loss of living coral tissue, leaving the white skeleton exposed. Then, in late November 2023, a powerful storm came through. When I returned, there was considerable damage, although much of that extraordinary tiered structure was still standing.

A couple of weeks later, another storm arrived. This time the destruction was far more extensive. The final photograph, taken in January 2026, shows what remains of the colony’s base.

It’s a rather sad sequence, particularly when you compare that magnificent original structure with what is left today. The coral had already suffered disease-related tissue loss, but it was the physical damage from the storms that destroyed much of its architecture.

Now you see it, now you don’t

This beautiful, bushy Acropora was another familiar landmark on my swims.

In July 2024, it was a substantial colony, with layer upon layer of intricate branches. Then a strong surge came through and wiped it out. Look carefully at the second photograph. The surrounding corals are still recognisable, but the large branching colony in the foreground has completely disappeared.

It’s astonishing to think how long it must have taken to grow into such an elaborate structure, only to be removed by the force of the sea. Without that earlier photograph, someone swimming over this patch of reef today would have no idea it had ever been there.

Collateral damage – the criss-crossing Acropora

I particularly liked the beautiful criss-crossing Acropora branches in this part of Slaughter Bay, which is why I first photographed them in April 2021.

By June 2022, something rather dramatic had happened. A large, pale coral plate was lying across part of the area, apparently having broken away and fallen onto the corals below. Some of those lovely criss-crossing branches were still visible alongside it.

This is one of my favourite areas to video fish, particularly butterflyfish and pencil surgeonfish, mainly because of the structural complexity of the reef there. I wrote about this in a post called Pulling the rugosity from out of the reef. While still a good hot spot, much of that intricate branching structure has disappeared, and the fallen plate was becoming colonised by algae.

I didn’t actually witness the collapse, so I can’t say exactly when or how it happened. But the photographs illustrate another way physical damage can affect a reef. When a large coral plate breaks away, it isn’t necessarily just that colony that suffers. Anything beneath it can be crushed or broken in the process.

And those delicate Acropora branches would have been particularly vulnerable.

Making the best of being upside down

To finish, something rather more encouraging.

I’ve already included this colony in my article about growth and recovery, but I think it also deserves a place here because it illustrates a very different possible outcome from physical damage.

When I first photographed it in September 2020, this Acropora structure was upside down. Whether it had been overturned by a storm surge or particularly heavy seas, I don’t know. But it certainly wasn’t the end of its story. By May 2023, new growth had begun. And by November 2024, living coral had developed extensively around the overturned structure. Fast forward to October 2026, and there is the makings of a great fish-friendly habitat.

Rather than disappearing or becoming completely overgrown by algae, the structure has become part of a complex living habitat once again, with overlapping plates, branches and plenty of little hidey-holes for reef animals.

It hasn’t returned to its original position, but it’s certainly made the best of its new hood!

Picking up the pieces

Storms and powerful surges are part of the natural processes that shape coral reefs. Some corals survive the damage and recover, others continue growing in a different form, and some disappear altogether.

But the loss of a large colony also means the loss of much of the shelter and habitat its structure provided, at least until something grows to replace it. And that can take a very long time, particularly where algae have colonised the dead coral and become established. I’m seeing more and more examples of this in the areas of Norfolk Island’s inshore reef that I’ve been following.

I find these photographs particularly interesting because they show just how different the outcomes can be. Two colonies may experience substantial physical damage, yet one disappears while another continues growing for years afterwards. Quite extraordinary!

October 28, 2026

When storms rearrange the reef

Sometimes the sea rearranges a reef in a matter of hours! In the third article of my six-part photographic series, I revisit corals broken, overturned or swept away by powerful swells and storm surges. Some disappeared altogether, while others found surprising ways to survive. Five photographic sequences reveal just how dramatically Norfolk Island's reef can change.

October 26, 2026

When the reef fights back – coral growth and recovery

Not every coral story ends badly! Among six years of underwater photographs are some wonderful examples of growth, survival and recovery. From corals that have grown spectacularly to others that have survived bleaching, breakage or even being turned upside down, this second article in my photographic series celebrates some of the reef's more encouraging stories.

October 24, 2026

The neighbours – six years of watching the same reef

When I began photographing Norfolk Island's reef in 2020, I simply recorded whatever caught my eye. Six years later, those photographs have become a record of individual corals and their changing fortunes – growth, competition, survival and loss. This is the first of six articles looking back at what I've seen, and sometimes what I wish I hadn't.

October 10, 2026

Pulling the rugosity from out of the reef

What do ‘rugosity’, structural complexity and channeling your inner fish have in common? Quite a lot, as it turns out. This week I’m looking at how all the lumps, bumps, branches, holes and ledges on a reef create habitat – with a brief detour into one of my long-standing tricks for navigating tertiary study: write down the jargon until it starts to make sense.

September 27, 2026

How does a sea slug smell?

It started with a close-up of a little Elysia and two rhinophores that looked like tiny rolled-up scrolls. Once I noticed them, I started going back through years of sea-slug photos and realised just how wildly different these sensory organs can be – ridged, rolled, curled, tubular and, in sea hares, distinctly rabbit-eared. So this week’s rabbit hole is all about how sea slugs ‘smell’ underwater, and why their noses come in so many different shapes.

September 19, 2026

The Elite Fleet sails in

Nearly six years ago, my very first blog post was about the strange blue and violet creatures that live at the ocean’s surface – a group I christened Norfolk Island’s ‘Elite Fleet’. Since then I’ve seen plenty of bluebottles and the occasional violet sea snail, but never a by-the-wind sailor. Until this morning. Velella velella is not a true jellyfish, but a colonial hydrozoan with a transparent sail that lets the wind help carry it across the ocean. So what exactly is this extraordinary little creature, how does it ‘sail’, and what connects it to the rest of the fleet?

September 18, 2026

In a nutshell – where I stand on the proposed Norfolk Island Marine Park

I support the proposed expansion of Norfolk Marine Park and its renaming as Norfolk Island Marine Park. There is much to welcome – strong offshore protection, no mining, and recognition of the importance of sustainable local fishing. But I also have some reservations. Why does Cascade need to be removed from the Marine Park at all? How will more than 430,000 km² actually be monitored and enforced? How do we make sure Norfolk people have a genuine role in management? And, above all, how do we ensure that the enormous new park does not draw attention away from the small, stressed reef immediately beside us?

September 13, 2026

No seagrass, but plenty of turtles

Norfolk Island does not have seagrass, although one of our most conspicuous green algae is often mistaken for it. Feather and grape Caulerpa can both form striking patches across the lagoon. I take a closer look at what Caulerpa actually is, why it is so easily confused with seagrass, and where our green turtles fit into the story.

September 6, 2026

Watching El Niño from Norfolk Island

El Niño is strengthening across the Pacific, but that does not tell us exactly what the coming months will bring to Norfolk Island. After a long wet spell, I am watching our rainfall and water supplies more closely again – and, underwater, keeping an eye on sea temperature, algae, coral recruits and the fish that turn up on the reef.

September 2, 2026

What the world’s reefs are telling Norfolk Island

Two major new coral reef reports carry a clear message for Norfolk Island: reefs can recover when pressures ease, but the time available for recovery is shrinking. Norfolk Islanders were raising concerns about water quality, runoff and the health of Emily and Slaughter Bays nearly forty years ago. Today we have much better science, a changing climate and a far clearer understanding of how closely the catchment and reef are connected. This article looks at what that means for water quality, long-term monitoring, dredging and how we manage Kingston from land to sea.