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Daily Mail
4 days ago
- Business
- Daily Mail
The California region where 5 million residents face growing health risk
One of America's richest farming hubs is facing a hidden threat that could jeopardize the health of local residents and the future existence of the land. California 's Central Valley and its neighboring drylands grow a third of the country's crops and power a multibillion-dollar economy. But scientists say the region is now confronting the escalating danger of dust storms driven by climate change, unchecked development, and vast swaths of idle farmland. A major study published in Communications Earth and Environment in April found that 88 percent of dust storms caused by human activity — so-called 'anthropogenic dust events' — were linked to fallowed farmland between 2008 and 2022. With hundreds of thousands more acres expected to sit idle by 2040, researchers warn the crisis is only beginning. 'Dust events are a big problem, especially in the Central Valley, and have not gotten enough attention,' said UC Merced professor Adeyemi Adebiyi in a May 2025 university report. The phenomenon is hitting five major regions: the San Joaquin Valley, Salton Trough, Sonora Desert, Mojave Desert, and Owens-Mono Lake area — home to roughly 5 million Californians. Experts at UC Dust, a multi-university research initiative focused on the issue, say the relationship between degraded land and dust is dangerously self-perpetuating. 'There is a two-way linkage between dust emission and landscape degradation, with one reinforcing the other, leading to potentially irreversible shifts in California's dryland ecosystems,' the group wrote in its latest update. While some dust-control efforts exist, scientists say they're not enough—and warn that without more intervention, the storms will only increase (Pictured: Aerial shot of suburban residential streets in Bakersfield, California) Dust has always been part of life in inland California, but human activity is making it more frequent—and more hazardous. The storms have already caused massive disruptions, ranging from serious health impacts to deadly crashes. In 1991, an agricultural dust storm led to a 164-car pileup that killed 17 people in the San Joaquin Valley. And in 1977, wind gusts nearing 200 mph in Kern County triggered a destructive storm that killed five and caused $34 million in damages, according to KVPR-FM. Today, many storms are so large they can be seen from space. One of the most serious concerns is Valley fever—a potentially fatal infection caused by fungal spores that live in the soil and spread through the air during dust events. The illness causes symptoms like coughing, chest pain, and shortness of breath. Cases are rising fast: California logged 12,637 cases in 2024, the highest on record. The first four months of 2025 have already surpassed the same period the year before. A Nature study cited in the new report found Valley fever cases jumped 800 per cent in the state between 2000 and 2018. 'Valley fever risk increases as the amount of dust increases,' said Katrina Hoyer, an immunology professor at UC Merced. Central California — where much of the state's fallowed land is located — is now considered a hotspot for the disease. And while some dust control efforts are in place, they've been limited and costly, according to UC Dust. 'The future of dust in California is still uncertain,' Adebiyi said. 'But our report suggests dust storms will likely increase.'
Los Angeles Times
27-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
In Vietnam, an unlikely outpost for Chicano culture
HO CHI MINH CITY — When Nguyen Phuoc Loc first started dabbling in Chicano culture eight years ago, it was simply because he liked the way that the loose clothing offset his large head. Today, he considers himself Chicano through and through. The 30-year-old Vietnamese barber has never been to the United States. Yet he has filled his life and work with tributes to Mexican American identity and culture. The back of the barbershop he manages features a mural of the Virgen de Guadalupe, a cactus plant and a Mexican flag. Sneakers hang by their laces from barbed wire, dangling above two motorbikes. Even his shaved head is covered in the Gothic black letters long popular in Chicano culture that spell out: Family, Loyalty, L.A. The ink on his crown — a large number 6 — signifies his status as the sixth member of a small but increasingly visible community: a local band of barbers and tattoo artists who call themselves Viet Chicanos. 'In the beginning, I was just copying the older guys, their style and all,' said Loc, 30. 'But over time, I started to feel that it really fit who I am. It happened gradually, like it seeped into me.' Fashion aside, the culture has given Loc a sense of belonging, and motivation to work harder at his craft. He began watching movies steeped in Chicano culture, such as 'American Me' and 'Blood In Blood Out,' while using his limited English and translation apps to read about the movement online. He also started learning Spanish on Duolingo, but said that the language has been more difficult to pick up. 'If someone comes in from L.A., I'll ask them everything I can about Chicano culture,' he said. 'It's like they're tuned in to the exact frequency I've been on.' Once a derogatory name for Mexican Americans, the term 'Chicano' was reclaimed as a political identity during the 1960s, born out of their fight for civil rights in the American Southwest. Since then, symbols of Chicano identity, such as oversized streetwear, elaborate tattoos and lowrider cars, have permeated mainstream culture. Subcultures influenced by Chicano imagery have cropped up in other parts of Asia, such as Thailand, the Philippines and most notably Japan, where a local love of lowriders emerged as early as the 1990s. Within conservative Asian cultures, the adventurous clothing and accessories of Chicano culture are a large part of the appeal, said Ignacio Lopez Calvo, a professor at UC Merced who has studied the spread of lowrider culture in Japan. 'It's a way of defying traditional societal norms,' he said. 'They see Chicano culture, this rebelliousness, resilience, independence, and it's a way to express themselves, find an identity and create community.' Berta Delgado Melgosa, a Spanish writer who has studied Chicano literature written by veterans of the Vietnam War, says Chicano soldiers there identified with certain parts of Vietnamese culture, while Chicano activists protested the racial inequality of the draft at home. 'When the Mexican American soldiers arrived in Vietnam, they saw people that resembled them: their facial features, their clothes, even their hats. They were poor, worked in the fields, and they also had a great sense of community, and more importantly, they were also fighting for their lives against U.S. imperialism,' she said. Vietnam's own Chicano 'movement' began 10 years ago, when Nguyen Huynh Thanh Liem opened a barbershop dedicated to Chicano culture in Ho Chi Minh City. Now, the 38-year-old runs about 20 barbershops across the country, including three Chicano-style shops, and trains barbers such as Loc. Tran Quoc Viet, a 37-year-old used car salesman, became a regular customer of Liem's Barber Shop shortly after the first one opened in 2015. Back then, he was intrigued by the unusual aesthetic. While he never adopted the style of baggy clothing or tattoos, he was impressed with how the barbers pulled it off. 'At the time it could be called rebellious,' he said. 'There was something bold and edgy about it, which made me curious.' Many of the Vietnamese attracted to Chicano culture attribute their initial admiration to the bright colors and bold contrasts that Liem showcases in his signature shops. The unconventional flair of the barbershops gives them a unique charm, and in the last few years, social media has helped the community boost its profile and gain a wider audience beyond Vietnam. Liem has more than 680,000 followers on TikTok, where he posts about Chicanos in Vietnam. Loc has 1.2 million TikTok followers; his most popular videos each have about 30 million views. However, that attention hasn't all been positive, particularly among older generations of Vietnamese, who are inclined to associate tattoos with gangs and violence. 'In Vietnam, when people see something new or unfamiliar, especially from another culture, they don't always welcome it,' said Nguyen Van Thao, a 35-year-old tattoo artist who works at another one of Liem's shops. 'People often mock or even insult us on social media, saying things like, 'You're Vietnamese, why don't you just be Vietnamese? Why do you have to be like that?'' Thao began exploring Chicano-style tattoos with Liem when the two of them met 10 years ago. At that time, their frame of reference came mostly from online images. As they delved deeper into Chicano culture, Thao found that many other aspects resonated with him, such as the emphasis on family, resilience and respect. 'People often ask me why I chose this culture, but the truth is, I didn't choose it. I discovered it, and it felt more like it chose me,' Thao said. 'People come here, they hang out, they get inked, they support what we do. They helped me turn my life around.' The stigma associated with tattoos and streetwear in Vietnam has played a role in keeping the core community small. While information about Chicano culture has increased, those who are steadfast enough to withstand the stares and learn about the underlying values are the ones who last, Thao said. He speculated that such social scrutiny puts undue pressure on women who have explored the Chicano community and decided not to stay. 'There are actually a lot of people who do like the culture — I know many who really do — but they're hesitant,' he said. 'They're afraid of being stared at, judged, talked about, attacked. They can't handle the criticism, so they give up.' About 10 dedicated members of the community and their families often cycle in and out of Liem's flagship salon, Viet Monster Hood, to work and socialize. The Viet Chicanos are wary of attracting the wrong type of followers as well, who may be in pursuit of a different kind of lifestyle. Despite their fierce appearances, many of the barbers who work at Liem's shops are soft-spoken and humble and reject any perceptions of violence and crime. They say they want to perpetuate cultural appreciation, rather than appropriation. 'We're just inheriting this culture from a distance. And in doing so, we choose to carry on the beautiful parts,' Thao said. 'We believe we can succeed this way, so that when people look at this culture, they see it connected to real success. And they see that the people who follow it are decent people, and we don't have to be gangsters to be considered a true Chicano.' When tattoo artist Michael Phan, 25, moved from Munich, Germany, to work for Thao two years ago, his only thought about Chicano culture was the superficial notion that it is associated with gangs. But his time at Viet Monster Hood changed that. Now, he likes to cite a quote from 'Blood In Blood Out' that's framed on the wall at the salon: 'Chicano is not a color, but it's the way you think and the way you live.' 'I love that, because it means you don't have to be in America to embrace it,' he said. Learning from Thao has helped Phan grow his social media following and his business, though his clients are still mostly foreigners. While he's learned that Chicano and Vietnamese culture have a lot of similarities — such as prioritizing family — he believes that Vietnamese, including his relatives, may take longer to come around. For 60-year-old Nguyen Thi Bich, who was taught that people with tattoos are dangerous, stepping foot in Viet Monster Hood was intimidating at first. However, she relaxed after seeing how cheerful the barbers were when teasing her 7-year-old grandson. 'When we went to other barbershops where people were grumpy, my little grandson got scared and didn't want to go back,' she said. 'Now I have been around people with tattoos, getting to know them, I realized there are all kinds of people everywhere.' While she's still unfamiliar with what Chicano means, she's grown fond of the environment at Viet Monster Hood, where decals that say 'Vietnamese Gang,' are everywhere, hip-hop blares in the background and even the shop bulldog, Simba, has drawn-on tattoos. 'This shop feels like one of those places where young people go to rap,' she said. 'I've been watching rap on TV lately, and I quite enjoy it.'
Yahoo
27-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
US kids of divorce earn less, face more teen pregnancy and jail: study
The Brief Children of divorce before age 5 earn 13% less by age 27, according to a new study. Early childhood divorce is also linked to higher chances of teen pregnancy and incarceration. Researchers say income loss, neighborhood changes, and reduced parental access explain much of the impact. LOS ANGELES - Divorce in early childhood can shape a person's future in profound ways, a new study suggests. Children whose parents split before age 5 face significantly reduced earnings as adults—and an increased risk of teen pregnancy, incarceration, and even premature death. The research, released this month, highlights how a family breakup often triggers long-lasting economic and social ripple effects. The study, conducted by economists from UC Merced, the U.S. Census Bureau, and the University of Maryland, draws from a large data set linking federal tax records, census data, and Social Security information for children born between 1988 and 1993. Its findings offer one of the most detailed views yet of how early-life divorce shapes adult outcomes in America. By the numbers The study found that children whose parents divorced before they turned 5 had, on average, 13% lower income by age 27 compared to peers whose parents stayed together. If a divorce occurred after age 18, researchers saw little to no long-term financial impact. For those who experienced parental divorce before age 15: Teen pregnancy rates increased, but the effect faded by age 20. Incarceration rates rose, with the impact disappearing after age 20. Marriage likelihood by age 25 was unaffected. The study found no meaningful differences in outcomes by race or ethnicity. The backstory The researchers identified three major factors contributing to the impact of divorce: Household income loss – Divorce typically cuts household income in half as families split and attempt to rebuild separately. Worse neighborhoods – Post-divorce families often relocate to lower-income areas with fewer opportunities. Reduced parental access – Children are often farther from one parent or see them less due to increased work hours and logistical challenges. These factors explained 25% to 60% of the negative effects observed in children's lives, the study said. What they're saying "These changes in family life reveal that, rather than an isolated legal shock, divorce represents a bundle of treatments — including income loss, neighborhood changes, and family restructuring — each of which might affect children's outcomes," the study's authors wrote. Sociologist Philip Cohen, who was not involved in the research, noted that the study can't capture emotional impacts. Still, he emphasized that parents often weigh serious trade-offs. "I believe parents are aware divorce may have harmful consequences for their children," Cohen told the Associated Press. "They make difficult judgments about what's in their own best interest, as well as the interest of their children." One man who wasn't part of the study, Brandon Hellan of St. Louis, said his parents' divorce when he was in his early 20s made him wary of commitment for years. "I treated relationships like they were rentals," he said. Why you should care Nearly one-third of American children experience their parents' divorce before reaching adulthood. While many go on to thrive—like Barack Obama and Vice President JD Vance—the study underscores how divorce often triggers reduced stability and opportunity at critical developmental stages. The Source This article is based on a working paper released in May 2025 by economists from the University of California, Merced; the U.S. Census Bureau; and the University of Maryland. The study analyzed national tax, census, and Social Security data for children born between 1988 and 1993 to assess the long-term effects of parental divorce. Commentary was drawn from the study's authors, as well as sociologist Philip Cohen and anecdotal insight from individuals with personal experience.
Yahoo
02-03-2025
- Science
- Yahoo
'Like someone put a blanket over the ocean': Kelp could be among fires' casualties
The boat bobbed gently off Malibu's Big Rock Beach as a trio of scientific divers wriggled into wetsuits and double-checked tanks and regulators. Behind them unfurled a panorama of devastation from the Palisades fire a month earlier. Blackened vegetation dotted the hillsides rising above Pacific Coast Highway. Rubble and lonely chimneys littered the shore where beachfront homes once stood. One by one, the three divers slipped beneath the surface, nets and knives at the ready. They were seeking evidence of the fire's underwater toll, particularly its effect on a vital anchor of the coastal ecosystem: kelp. The divers were with Kelp Ark, a San Pedro-based nonprofit seed bank that preserves and stores genetic material from West Coast kelp species. The Feb. 10 dive was their second since fire and subsequent rains injected tons of ash and debris into the ocean ecosystem. 'When we think about wildfires, we think a lot about how that impacts the terrestrial realm, how destructive it can be to the land,' said Lori Berberian, a second-year PhD student in geography at UCLA who studies the effects of wildfire on kelp abundance and habitat distribution. 'But there are huge implications for the coast.' Forests of kelp, a fast-growing brown algae, provide food and habitat for hundreds of marine species and absorb greenhouse gases that might otherwise hasten climate change. Yet kelp is also highly sensitive to environmental changes. Fluctuations in temperature, light availability, nutrients and pollutants can have surprisingly swift consequences on kelp populations, which have waxed and waned along the California coast in recent decades. And few things have shocked L.A.'s ecology like January's Palisades and Eaton fires, which burned more than 40,000 acres, destroyed at least 12,000 buildings and drained tons of ash, debris and toxic residue into the ocean. No one yet knows how sea life will respond to an urban fire of this magnitude. Kelp may be one of the first species to tell us. 'They're a big sentinel species that are indicators of how our coastal ecosystems are thriving,' said Erin Hestir, a remote sensing specialist and associate professor at UC Merced. Hestir is the principal investigator of KelpFire, a NASA-funded research project that uses remote sensing and on-the-ground observations to track the effects of wildfire runoff on kelp populations. While every rainfall washes dirt and urban gunk into the ocean, that process is turbocharged after a wildfire. Fire consumes vegetation that would otherwise hold soil in place and alters soil chemistry so that it absorbs less water. This massive infusion of sediment disrupts kelp's access to two things it needs to survive: rocks and sunlight. A glut of dirt and pollutants can interfere with kelp spores' ability to securely attach to rocks and reefs, either by binding to the spores themselves or by littering rock surfaces. And when ash and debris fall upon the ocean's surface, it reduces the amount of sunlight that filters through the water and provides the light kelp needs to photosynthesize. Kelp isn't the only marine species that suffers when deprived of light or pumped with pollution. But the prominent role it plays makes it an important bellwether for broader problems spurred by a changing climate. Berberian, the UCLA doctoral student, is also a member of the research team. She developed a Post-Fire Kelp Recovery Index to compare kelp canopy extent after a fire to its historical average. The team found that mature giant kelp beds shrank after the 2016 Soberanes fire in Monterey County, the 2017 Thomas fire in Ventura and Santa Barbara counties, and the 2018 Woolsey fire in the Santa Monica Mountains. They still haven't returned to pre-fire levels, Hestir said. Recovery rates varied widely by location. Using satellite data, Berberian found that the median recovery rate of kelp beds near Malibu was a mere 7% in the two years after the Woolsey fire. In the same time period, beds off of Palos Verdes rebounded 61%, with some areas recovering almost completely. All of those fires dumped sediment into the ocean. But January's infernos introduced a new variable, said Kyle Cavanaugh, a coastal geographer and UCLA professor who is also on the KelpFire team. Previous wildfires burned mostly brush, trees and other organic material. The Palisades and Eaton fires incinerated homes, cars and everything in them: plastics, electronics, batteries, asbestos, lead pipes and household chemicals. No one knows yet what effect this will have on sea life. 'There's certainly evidence that certain types of hydrocarbons and metals are toxic to early life stages of giant kelp, and you might expect that would be a bigger issue with all of the urban structures that burnt,' Cavanaugh said. 'That's something somewhat unique about this." California's giant kelp faces a number of different threats, and Hestir cautioned between drawing a direct line between any single disturbance — fire included — and decline of visible canopy. Yet as the environmental disruptions pile up — prolonged marine heat waves, changing ocean chemistry, stronger and more frequent storms — so does the worry that the next disturbance could be a tipping point. 'What we're concerned about is that these kelp are already under these stressors . . . and then you end up with a wildfire event, and maybe that's what really tips it over the edge and doesn't allow it to recover,' Hestir said. Kelp Ark's divers observed these challenging conditions firsthand during an initial post-fire collection trip on Jan. 27. Days earlier, the first significant rains since May sent contaminants surging into the ocean. The ship's wake was the color of chocolate milk. The ocean seemed to reek of burnt trash, said crew member Taylor Collins. The anchor chain, which on a typical day is visible for about 10 feet into the water, disappeared into opaque murk mere inches below the surface. Before the divers rolled in, captain Joey Broyles let down a waterproof camera to assess conditions below. The first 3 feet of seawater were choked with soot, dirt and pollution, said Bernadeth Tolentino, lead scientific diver and a graduate student in the USC lab of Kelp Ark founder Sergey Nuzhdin. Visibility beneath the layer of soot was close to zero, she said. Divers held hands to keep track of one another underwater before calling it quits. 'It was almost like someone put a blanket over the ocean,' Tolentino said. Two weeks after that murky dive near Malibu Creek, the Kelp Ark team set out again to collect kelp samples to take back to their facility at AltaSea in the Port of Los Angeles for analysis and spore harvesting. For this outing they chose a spot popular with recreational divers, where kelp was frequently recorded prior to the fires. Two hours after plunging into the ocean, Tolentino and colleagues Declan Bulwa and Sedona Silva climbed wet and winded back into the boat. They'd seen all the animals a diver would expect to see in a kelp forest, such as garibaldi fish and kelp bass. But the only signs of the big brown algae were a few loose floating pieces and some decaying holdfasts on rocks near the shore — a sign that kelp had been there in the recent past, but no longer. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
Los Angeles Times
02-03-2025
- Science
- Los Angeles Times
‘Like someone put a blanket over the ocean': Kelp could be among fires' casualties
The boat bobbed gently off Malibu's Big Rock Beach as a trio of scientific divers wriggled into wetsuits and double-checked tanks and regulators. Behind them unfurled a panorama of devastation from the Palisades fire a month earlier. Blackened vegetation dotted the hillsides rising above Pacific Coast Highway. Rubble and lonely chimneys littered the shore where beachfront homes once stood. One by one, the three divers slipped beneath the surface, nets and knives at the ready. They were seeking evidence of the fire's underwater toll, particularly its effect on a vital anchor of the coastal ecosystem: kelp. The divers were with Kelp Ark, a San Pedro-based nonprofit seed bank that preserves and stores genetic material from West Coast kelp species. The Feb. 10 dive was their second since fire and subsequent rains injected tons of ash and debris into the ocean ecosystem. 'When we think about wildfires, we think a lot about how that impacts the terrestrial realm, how destructive it can be to the land,' said Lori Berberian, a second-year PhD student in geography at UCLA who studies the effects of wildfire on kelp abundance and habitat distribution. 'But there are huge implications for the coast.' Forests of kelp, a fast-growing brown algae, provide food and habitat for hundreds of marine species and absorb greenhouse gases that might otherwise hasten climate change. Yet kelp is also highly sensitive to environmental changes. Fluctuations in temperature, light availability, nutrients and pollutants can have surprisingly swift consequences on kelp populations, which have waxed and waned along the California coast in recent decades. And few things have shocked L.A.'s ecology like January's Palisades and Eaton fires, which burned more than 40,000 acres, destroyed at least 12,000 buildings and drained tons of ash, debris and toxic residue into the ocean. No one yet knows how sea life will respond to an urban fire of this magnitude. Kelp may be one of the first species to tell us. 'They're a big sentinel species that are indicators of how our coastal ecosystems are thriving,' said Erin Hestir, a remote sensing specialist and associate professor at UC Merced. Hestir is the principal investigator of KelpFire, a NASA-funded research project that uses remote sensing and on-the-ground observations to track the effects of wildfire runoff on kelp populations. While every rainfall washes dirt and urban gunk into the ocean, that process is turbocharged after a wildfire. Fire consumes vegetation that would otherwise hold soil in place and alters soil chemistry so that it absorbs less water. This massive infusion of sediment disrupts kelp's access to two things it needs to survive: rocks and sunlight. A glut of dirt and pollutants can interfere with kelp spores' ability to securely attach to rocks and reefs, either by binding to the spores themselves or by littering rock surfaces. And when ash and debris fall upon the ocean's surface, it reduces the amount of sunlight that filters through the water and provides the light kelp needs to photosynthesize. Kelp isn't the only marine species that suffers when deprived of light or pumped with pollution. But the prominent role it plays makes it an important bellwether for broader problems spurred by a changing climate. Berberian, the UCLA doctoral student, is also a member of the research team. She developed a Post-Fire Kelp Recovery Index to compare kelp canopy extent after a fire to its historical average. The team found that mature giant kelp beds shrank after the 2016 Soberanes fire in Monterey County, the 2017 Thomas fire in Ventura and Santa Barbara counties, and the 2018 Woolsey fire in the Santa Monica Mountains. They still haven't returned to pre-fire levels, Hestir said. Recovery rates varied widely by location. Using satellite data, Berberian found that the median recovery rate of kelp beds near Malibu was a mere 7% in the two years after the Woolsey fire. In the same time period, beds off of Palos Verdes rebounded 61%, with some areas recovering almost completely. All of those fires dumped sediment into the ocean. But January's infernos introduced a new variable, said Kyle Cavanaugh, a coastal geographer and UCLA professor who is also on the KelpFire team. Previous wildfires burned mostly brush, trees and other organic material. The Palisades and Eaton fires incinerated homes, cars and everything in them: plastics, electronics, batteries, asbestos, lead pipes and household chemicals. No one knows yet what effect this will have on sea life. 'There's certainly evidence that certain types of hydrocarbons and metals are toxic to early life stages of giant kelp, and you might expect that would be a bigger issue with all of the urban structures that burnt,' Cavanaugh said. 'That's something somewhat unique about this.' California's giant kelp faces a number of different threats, and Hestir cautioned between drawing a direct line between any single disturbance — fire included — and decline of visible canopy. Yet as the environmental disruptions pile up — prolonged marine heat waves, changing ocean chemistry, stronger and more frequent storms — so does the worry that the next disturbance could be a tipping point. 'What we're concerned about is that these kelp are already under these stressors . . . and then you end up with a wildfire event, and maybe that's what really tips it over the edge and doesn't allow it to recover,' Hestir said. Kelp Ark's divers observed these challenging conditions firsthand during an initial post-fire collection trip on Jan. 27. Days earlier, the first significant rains since May sent contaminants surging into the ocean. The ship's wake was the color of chocolate milk. The ocean seemed to reek of burnt trash, said crew member Taylor Collins. The anchor chain, which on a typical day is visible for about 10 feet into the water, disappeared into opaque murk mere inches below the surface. Before the divers rolled in, captain Joey Broyles let down a waterproof camera to assess conditions below. The first 3 feet of seawater were choked with soot, dirt and pollution, said Bernadeth Tolentino, lead scientific diver and a graduate student in the USC lab of Kelp Ark founder Sergey Nuzhdin. Visibility beneath the layer of soot was close to zero, she said. Divers held hands to keep track of one another underwater before calling it quits. 'It was almost like someone put a blanket over the ocean,' Tolentino said. Two weeks after that murky dive near Malibu Creek, the Kelp Ark team set out again to collect kelp samples to take back to their facility at AltaSea in the Port of Los Angeles for analysis and spore harvesting. For this outing they chose a spot popular with recreational divers, where kelp was frequently recorded prior to the fires. Two hours after plunging into the ocean, Tolentino and colleagues Declan Bulwa and Sedona Silva climbed wet and winded back into the boat. They'd seen all the animals a diver would expect to see in a kelp forest, such as garibaldi fish and kelp bass. But the only signs of the big brown algae were a few loose floating pieces and some decaying holdfasts on rocks near the shore — a sign that kelp had been there in the recent past, but no longer.
