Krohg had no interest in painting Svolvær, the “capital” of Lofoten. In his opinion, the town did not fit with the landscape; it seemed out of place. Its brown color was too abrasive, without a consistent nuance or mood. In any case, it lacked all sense of harmony with the light and with nature.
—
If Krohg had known what exists down in the deep, he might have become the first surrealist painter. On land, life is lived horizontally. Almost everything takes place on the ground, or at most on a level with the tallest trees. Of course birds can fly higher, but even they spend the majority of their time near the ground. The sea, on the other hand, is vertical, an interconnected column of water with an average depth of approximately 12,000 feet. And there is life from top to bottom. The vast majority of living space on earth, so to speak, can be found in the sea.12 All other landscapes, including the rain forests, pale in comparison.
If we combine what we know about the ocean’s depths, from a purely logical point of view we can conclude that everything found on land—all the mountains, ridges, fields, forests, deserts, even the cities and other man-made phenomena—all this could easily fit into the sea. The average elevation on land is only 2,700 feet. Even if we dumped the whole Himalayan range into the deepest part of the ocean, it would make only a big splash before the mountain chain sank and disappeared without a trace. There is so much water in the ocean that if we imagined the entire seafloor rising up to what is now the surface, all the continents would be totally covered under many miles of salt water. Only the tops of the tallest mountains would stick up out of the ocean.
—
We find ourselves on a surface of dazzling bright sunshine and mirrorlike water. In Lofoten the local word for this is transtilla (a term derived from the Norwegian word for cod liver oil), meaning those rare occasions of perfect calm. Up ahead the sea is 1,600 feet deep. We have no idea what is going on beneath the almost white surface membrane. Well, that’s not quite true. Living in the kelp right below us are coalfish, haddock, cod, pollock, and many other species. Under the kelp forests, at a depth of 500 to 650 feet, almost all light is absorbed by the water, no matter how clear and pure it might be. A distant grayish glow, like the light from a dying old TV, is all that’s visible. Photosynthesis ceases; it’s over and out for all plants. At these depths and farther down, remarkable species live in a darkness that is constantly patrolled by the Greenland shark.
What goes on in the vast depths of the ocean has always been a mystery to us. Only in the past hundred and fifty years or so have we known anything at all about it. During this period our understanding has made halting progress, with new knowledge completely replacing most of the old. In 1841, after an expedition to the Aegean Sea, the leading British naturalist Edward Forbes concluded that no life existed in the great dark deep. And yet several other expeditions—including John Ross’s to the North Pole in 1818—had plumbed depths of almost 6,500 feet and delivered proof of a rich and varied animal life below.
—
A man on a small windswept island off Vestlandet, the southwest coast of Norway, also proved that Forbes was full of shit. Michael Sars and his son Georg Ossian Sars were among the first in the world to prove with scientific certainty that the ocean depths are not lifeless underwater deserts. They are two of the most formidable scientists Norway has ever produced. Their efforts are no less impressive when you consider where they started. Michael Sars came from modest circumstances in the west coast town of Bergen. It was out of the question for him to set his sights on a career in the field that was his true passion, which was life in the sea.13 Instead, he went to Oslo, became a theologian, and married Maren Welhaven, the sister of the famed Norwegian author Johann Sebastian Welhaven. In 1831, he was appointed pastor on the island of Kinn, which lies on the northwest coast, just outside Førdefjorden. There Sars devoted all his free time to studying marine life. By 1835 he made a breakthrough with his work Beskrivelser og iagttagelser over nogle mærkelige eller nye i havet ved den bergenske kyst levende dyr (Descriptions and Observations of Some Strange or New Animals Living in the Sea off the Coast of Bergen). In recognition of the rare talent possessed by Sars, the Norwegian parliament, the Stortinget, awarded him a stipend. This allowed him to travel throughout Europe and enabled him to make contact with the foremost naturalists at the universities in Paris, Bonn, Frankfurt, Leipzig, Dresden, Prague, and Copenhagen. In the early 1850s, using a rowboat and scraper, Sars studied the vast depths of the Mediterranean. He found life as far down as twenty-six hundred feet. That was as deep as he got.
One of the many people fascinated by Sars’s discoveries was Peter Christen Asbjørnsen, who would later become world famous as the collector of Norwegian folk tales, along with Jørgen Moe. While Asbjørnsen sought out isolated mountain valleys in search of old tales, his thoughts must have been elsewhere at least part of the time because he wanted to become a marine biologist. And his role model was Michael Sars. In 1853 Asbjørnsen published a treatise entitled Bidrag til Christianiafjordens litoralfauna (Contribution to the Littoral Fauna of Christiania Fjord). It dealt with various life-forms in the intertidal zone of what is today called the Oslo Fjord. But what really fascinated Asbjørnsen was life in the ocean deep.
In the same year that his treatise was published, and with a state-sponsored stipend in his pocket, Asbjørnsen traveled to Vestlandet to study the deep fjords in that area. He first went to visit Sars, who was then the pastor in Manger, on the island of Radøy in Nordhordland. Asbjørnsen had worked to establish a special professorship, which was actually intended for Sars. After convincing the pastor to apply for the position, Asbjørnsen started on his own marine biology investigations. The results attracted the attention of zoologists.
Asbjørnsen managed to bring up an eleven-armed starfish from a depth of thirteen hundred feet in Hardangerfjorden, using a bottom scraper of his own construction. The coral-red starfish, “shimmering like mother-of-pearl,” was a new discovery. As the person who had discovered the starfish, Asbjørnsen was entitled to give it a name. He called it Brisinga endecacnemos, after the Brísingamenet, the beautiful brooch that, according to Norse mythology, supposedly belonged to the goddess Freya. But it was the trickster and shape-shifter Loki who had brought it up from the bottom of the sea.
Asbjørnsen thought his jewel of a starfish was a unique species, but he bowed to the opinion of Michael Sars, who expressed doubts about this. Later it turned out that Asbjørnsen was correct, but he had been cheated out of the recognition for his discovery.14
In spite of his diligence, Asbjørnsen for the most part did not receive the stipends and positions he sought. His career as a marine biologist stagnated and finally came to a halt. He had to make new plans. Forests also held a strange attraction for him, so in 1856, he went to Germany to study at the Royal Saxon Academy of Forestry in Tharandt. He graduated with the highest marks in all subjects and became a progressive force within the administration of forests and wetlands in Norway.15
—
Yet sometimes people do receive the recognition they deserve. The great German evolutionary biologist Ernst Haeckel wrote of Michael Sars, “For all those who had the joy of knowing him personally, the liveliness of his spirit, the kindness of his disposition, the clarity of his mind, and the versatility of his knowledge will remain unforgettable.”16 The first Norwegian oceanographic ship was named after Sars. The newest ship used by today’s Norwegian oceanographers—which is brimming with advanced technology and extremely quiet so that the engine noise won’t disturb the acoustic instruments—was named after Sars’s son, Georg Ossian.
He carried on the work of his father, who, with great tenacity and thoroughness, had paved the way in Norway for the field of marine research. In 1864, Georg Ossian Sars was the first Norwegian to receive a government-sponsored salary, with the title of “marine researcher.” The same year he traveled to Lofoten, or more specifically to Skrova, which served as his base as he brought up great numbers of samples from the
deep waters of Vestfjorden.
In 1868, G. O. Sars published his results, which attracted the attention of the international scientific community.17 Of special interest was what became known as Sars’s sea lily (Rhizocrinus lofotensis Sars). The Lofoten sea lily was described by Sars as a “living fossil” at a time when scientists were combing the earth in search of such things in order to substantiate the theory of evolution and to date the age of both the earth and life itself.
Even so, it took a long time before the discoveries of complex life-forms in the ocean depths became generally accepted. When a telegraph cable was laid along the floor of the Atlantic Ocean in 1858, one engineer who worked on the project claimed that both starfish and globigerinae (a type of plankton that exists in great quantities on the seafloor) were attached to the plumb line when it was pulled up from depths where nothing could live, according to what was known at the time. Most scientists took a skeptical view of such claims. Some maintained that the animals must have become attached on the way up, even though many were clearly bottom dwellers. But the fuse had been lit, and some of the discoveries were impossible to ignore.
—
Both Asbjørnsen’s starfish and Sars’s sea lily were cited when the leading Scottish zoologist Charles Wyville Thomson applied to the Royal Society in London for funding for his expedition on board the Lightning in 1868. The purpose was to explore the deep sea areas off of Scotland. The expedition confirmed and expanded upon the discoveries made by the Norwegians. Extremely interesting life-forms were found as far down as four thousand feet.
In 1872, C. W. Thomson was an obvious choice to participate when the British prepared for the first major, modern sea expedition. With a crew of 270 (including officers and scientists), the HMS Challenger sailed the oceans of the world for four consecutive years, the whole time plumbing the depths, mapping the currents, and measuring the temperatures. Open waters were trawled at varying depths, and samples were brought up using the same method Michael Sars had developed.
The results of the Challenger expedition formed the basis for modern oceanography. No one could continue to insist that the vast ocean depths were lifeless zones now that even the most renowned (and British) scientists claimed the opposite. Exactly what existed on the seafloor was hotly discussed, also in the media and by means of articles popularizing the topic. For instance, Skildringer af Naturvidenskaberne for alle (Depictions of the Natural Sciences for Everyone)18 from 1882 contains translated articles by leading European scientists and experts. The ocean depths, in particular, are given great attention. The Englishman Philip Herbert Carpenter, who was an expert on sea lilies and who also took part in the Challenger expedition, begins like this: “For most of us, the deep sea floor is a completely unknown territory because its location makes it impossible for us to ever undertake a direct and personal exploration of its marvels.” Carpenter was a talented but tormented man. Chronic insomnia drove him insane, and in 1891 he used chloroform to take his own life. But Carpenter managed better than most others before him to see for himself the underwater landscapes. “Our investigations have taught us that in many ways the sea floor, with its enormous expanses, offers a resemblance to the surface of the earth. Similarly, it has its mountains, valleys, and vast undulating plains. Its components vary greatly in different places; it has its deserts and its fertile regions, its forests and its cliffs, and like the earth’s surface, it is inhabited by various animals and plants in the different areas and climates.”19
For close to a hundred years after Carpenter wrote this, the prevailing opinion was that there was very little variety of life on the seafloor, that it consisted mainly of sea cucumbers, worms, and smaller animals. Even today only a few underwater submersibles can reach the deepest depths. With every new expedition they discover not only new species but also life-forms previously unknown. The same thing happens each time scientists lower nets or scrape the bottom at great depths that haven’t been explored. In fact, the majority of the species they bring up have never been described before.
—
The deep, which until recently was thought to be dead, is actually teeming with life. It’s pitch-dark, but most of the species produce their own light, in every imaginable color and variation, in order to lure or entice others. The deep is constantly flashing and glowing. More species live down there in the dark than on land, making their language of light the most widespread means of communication on earth. Thousands of feet below the surface, the most absurd creatures exist. For example, the humpback anglerfish, or blackdevil, which has an illicium, or “fishing lure,” arcing from the top of its head (or from the lower jaw), with a light at the end that dangles in front of its eyes. The fish floats motionless in the water column with its huge, open jaws, from which protrude long, sharp teeth. Its body is covered with hundreds of long antennae, which allow the fish to sense the slightest movement in the water. If anything comes close, the fish lunges for it.
Many species are nearly as transparent as glass. Only the small digestive organ gives them away if caught in light. If they’re aware of danger, some are capable of pumping great quantities of seawater into their body in order to make themselves even more transparent. Some life-forms are round and lack a head. Others, belonging to the Siphonophorae, look like strings or ribbons of pulsing plasma dancing around, in a seemingly graceful and coordinated movement. A type of jellyfish colony, Praya dubia, can reach 130 feet in length and has three hundred stomachs. The Dana octopus squid (Taningia danae) has big light organs on all eight arms, and when it’s hunting, which it does in packs, all of the lights can flash at the same time. The prey must think it’s being attacked by huge Christmas ornaments. Another deep-sea squid (Heteroteuthis dispar), called the “fire shooter” by those who have nicknames for cephalopods, is able to shoot out clouds of light to confuse predators.20 If the jellyfish Atolla wyvillei is attacked, it flashes thousands of blue lights, like an emergency vehicle. The light show can blind or confuse the attacker or even attract bigger predators, which swallow up bewildered spectators and eliminate the danger to the jellyfish.
Most bioluminescence produced by various deep-sea species is blue, because blue is the color that penetrates farthest down in the water. That’s why the ocean looks blue. Blue light is the only type of light that most species in the deep are capable of seeing. The smalltooth dragonfish (Pachystomias microdon) has developed red lights in addition to blue. Using the red light, the fish can approach other animals that have no clue a spotlight is being directed at them. Another type of dragonfish is called the Malacosteus niger in Latin, but let’s call it the “wobblemouth.” Its lower jaw is as elastic as a slingshot, enabling it to fire its mouth at prey faster than the eye can see.
Many species use light to find a mate. It’s not the safest thing to do, because when they send out their signals, they also draw the attention of predators. Some have developed cunning mechanisms that resemble the mating signals of other species, so as to lure them close and devour them.
—
In the ocean, enemies can come from every direction, and at any time. That’s why many animals that live hundreds of feet down in the water column have camouflage lights on their belly, enabling them to blend in with the water, whether seen from above or below. This is a wily defense mechanism, but it’s also a contrivance that can give them away. The eyes of some species can differentiate the artificial, bacteria-formed light from the prey swimming above, so its silhouette is no longer invisible.
A sea cucumber that can live as deep as sixteen thousand feet sheds its own skin if attacked. The skin is sticky like double-sided tape and will keep the attacker occupied while the sea cucumber makes its escape. Others use poison or barbs. No one ever claimed that life in the deep is simple or pleasant.
More people have gone up into space than into the vast ocean depths. We are far more familiar with the surface of the moon, and even with the dried-up seas on Mars. But if we could swim around down there in the cold and dark, it would
be like floating in outer space, surrounded by twinkling stars. Brilliantly colored fish using arms to walk on the seafloor. Yeti crabs dressed in white fur. Hairy anglers (Caulophryne polynema) with fishing poles on their heads, swaying back and forth like the pendulum on a metronome, with a seductive light on the end. No fish shines brighter than the illuminated netdevil (Linophryne arborifera), which has a long antenna sticking up from its snout and a shrublike appendage called a barbel hanging from its lower jaw. In this case we’re talking about the female, because the male is merely a small parasite, which early in life attaches itself to the female’s belly. That’s how it spends the rest of its life, receiving nutrients from the female’s blood and in return regularly donating sperm.
The giant squid (Architeuthis) glides horizontally through the water at great speed, possibly only a few yards above the seafloor, with its arms gathered behind in an aquadynamic point and eyes as big as plates that never blink. It’s equipped with water-jet propulsion and camouflage systems that the U.S. Navy would love to imitate.
Organic material is constantly raining, or rather snowing, down through the entire water column. A dizzying number of specialized creatures make use of everything that drifts down to them.21 Over the last few years so many new species have been discovered in the deep just by taking random samples that some people believe this ecosystem alone could contain several million species. It’s true that the majority of life in the sea keeps to the uppermost layer of water. But for all we know there are more species in the depths, and almost all life down there possesses astonishing characteristics, as if belonging to a different planet or created in a distant past when other rules applied and any fantasy could be realized. Down in the deep, life is like a dream from which it takes a long time to awaken.
7
At the halfway point across Vestfjorden I ask Hugo to stop so I can take off my thermal suit. I’ve never before experienced heat as a problem in these waters. The Lofoten Wall is getting closer, but the haze makes it blurry, as if the mountains have grown soft and are starting to melt.
Shark Drunk Page 4