Uncover the wild aspect of Turks & Caicos

Grace Bay sand is predominantly manufactured from parrotfish poop,” states Alizée Zimmerman, government director of the Turks & Caicos Reef Fund (TCRF), with out a lot as a smirk.

I blink, momentarily shocked. I’d all the time assumed sandy seashores had been created by the erosion of coral and shells, however right here in Turks & Caicos, a lot of that mushy, sugar-white sand has apparently handed by means of the digestive tract of a fish earlier than selecting the shore.

It’s an surprising introduction to this British abroad territory — a scattering of 40 low-lying coral islands and cays south east of the Bahamas. Best recognized for its white-sand seashores, kaleidoscopic reefs and luxurious resorts, Turks & Caicos affords the kind of barefoot glamour that pulls honeymooners, divers and escapists alike. But beneath the floor lies a extra complicated actuality — one among fragile ecosystems and quiet urgency — and on the TCRF’s coral restoration facility on Providenciales, I start to see simply how intricate and imperilled this underwater world actually is.

The parrotfish ‘poop’ is only one of many stunning truths that I uncover throughout my guided tour of the lab, the place tanks of thriving coral colonies line the partitions like a dwelling archive. Here, nursery specimens of coral varieties together with staghorn, star and mind develop and feed, every contributing to analysis and repopulation efforts throughout the islands’ broken reefs. I watch every of them carefully: one has inexperienced polyps that stretch out like tiny tentacles, greedy for meals; one other, flat and spherical, lies nonetheless, ready for likelihood morsels to float its approach. “Can you tell me — is a coral an animal, plant or mineral?” Alizée asks. My group comes up with numerous solutions, earlier than she reveals that it’s really all three.

The extra I be taught, the extra I marvel. We’re taught that corals are carnivorous, associated to jellyfish and anemones, however in addition they host algae of their tissues, which photosynthesises to supply meals. In only a single tank, the corals vary in hue from terracotta to moss inexperienced, pale yellow to wealthy brown. Some plain, others vibrant, however all pulsing with life.

Across from the tanks, nonetheless, sits a sobering distinction: a coral graveyard. Here, skeletal stays of once-living colonies, together with the antlers of a staghorn and the concentric ridges of an important star, lie stripped of color and life, the brittle white aftermath of one thing that after thrived.

Initially, I assume they’re victims of local weather change, one other casualty of rising sea temperatures. But Alizée introduces one other perpetrator: stony coral tissue loss illness, an aggressive affliction that’s affected greater than 60% of Turks & Caicos’s reefs lately. First recognized within the Atlantic in 2014, the illness’s origin stays unsure, although it’s extensively suspected to have stemmed from dredging off the coast of Miami. “We started seeing massive tissue loss, as if someone had poured acid over the reef,” Alizée inform us bleakly. “No coral can come back from that.”

In response, the TCRF has given massive quantities of time, vitality and sources into treating sections of reef with antibiotics in a race to curb the illness’s unfold. It’s painstaking, pressing work, a frontline defence towards a disaster that many guests to those islands by no means see.

There are, nonetheless, methods by which guests can become involved in serving to to protect this delicate ecosystem. “As a small, non-governmental organisation, we currently don’t have the capacity to offer regular, scheduled volunteer programmes,” Alizée explains. “However, travellers can reach out via email or complete the form on our website to get involved. It can vary week to week, but travellers can assist us by preparing materials for moorings, or even by joining the dive team. A visit to our coral lab is a must, and on Wednesday afternoons, we feed all the corals.”

Later that night, again at Wymara Resort and Villas on Grace Bay, I discover myself reflecting on the quiet dedication of these working to guard the reefs. I order the chargrilled piri-piri cauliflower steak, which, I’m informed, isn’t only a home favorite, however a dish with objective.

“As part of the hotel’s commitment to conservation, a percentage of the restaurant’s proceeds from this dish support the TCRF,” my waitress tells me, a small smile tugging on the corners of her mouth. It feels good to know that just by selecting to eat right here, I’m additionally making a small contribution to the conservation of the reefs.

Island escapes

The following morning, I board a ferry that slips throughout the glassy waters of the Bellefield Channel in the direction of North and Middle Caicos — quieter isles that promise the final word luxurious: escapism. As we draw nearer to land, the waves start to rise in a whisper, reflecting diamonds of daylight again to their supply.

I’ve signed up for a guided tour of the islands with the National Trust, an organisation that performs a vital function in conservation right here, in addition to preserving and selling the world’s wealthy cultural heritage. Starting in North Caicos, our automobile winds by means of pockets of untamed greenery earlier than crossing the causeway that hyperlinks to Middle Caicos, the place we’re greeted by the white-sand bay of Mudjin Harbour. Curving alongside the northern coast, this seashore marks the start of our hike. We climb the headland, aching legs and sweaty brows rewarded with sweeping views of the Atlantic, the place white-crested waves rise and break in bursts on the sands beneath.

From there, we stroll in single file to steps carved into the cliffside, following them by means of layers of sun-warmed rock till they open out onto a secluded cove. Sunlight streams in from one aspect, casting golden rays throughout the sand in angular streaks. It’s a second of stillness, an encounter with nature’s quiet drama. I pause, inhaling air laced with salt, grateful for these hidden corners that you simply solely discover while you search them out.

Turning away from the ocean, we press inland. Our subsequent cease is the Conch Bar Caves, the biggest above-ground cave system within the Lucayan Archipelago (which includes the Bahamas and Turks & Caicos), and a 15-mile labyrinth of twisting tunnels and echoing chambers. The air is thick with warmth, however inside, the caves provide cool reduction. Stalactites attain down like icicles, assembly their counterparts rising from the bottom, and in a single chamber — often called the ‘nine brothers’ — the formations are so symmetrical they give the impression of being man-made, resembling the ruins of a forgotten metropolis.

“This limestone cavern was once submerged under the sea. These holes in the ceiling are where the water eroded the rock over time,” explains our information, Eddie Smith, his enthusiasm evident as he shares the story of the caves.“The Lucayans were the island’s original inhabitants,” he continues, “and if you follow these passages far enough, you can still see evidence of religious ceremonies they held here more than 500 years ago. More recently, families would shelter in here during hurricanes, but today the whole area is protected by the National Trust.”

A scurry of cockroaches flees the beam of Eddie’s torch as we head additional into the gloom. Then, excessive above us, I discover a cluster of small black shapes hanging by their ft. “That would be the bats,” he grins at me. “Four species live here and there are more than 3,000 in this cave. You should see it when they all leave to feed. The sky turns black, like a living storm cloud. It’s an incredible sight.”

Bats are essential not solely to the cave’s atmosphere, however in sustaining nature’s delicate steadiness throughout the whole island. They play a key function in pollination, whereas their dung feeds the multitude of bugs that decision this otherworldly place house. This specific poo, I uncover, doesn’t find yourself on the island’s seashores, though what’s now a bug banquet was an vital supply of revenue for locals within the nineteenth century, earlier than tourism reached Turks & Caicos’s shores. Islanders harvested and exported it so far as Europe for use as fertiliser, a commerce that collapsed when chemical substances took its place.

I’m nonetheless considering the intricate interlacing of all these ecosystems; how the whole lot — and everybody — has a component to play, after we depart the subterranean chamber, blinking within the harsh afternoon daylight. Our remaining cease is Bambarra Beach on the north coast of Middle Caicos and just lately named the most effective seashores within the Caribbean. True to the accolade, it’s a high-quality stretch of alabaster sand with no crowds and crystalline waters.

I discover a group of coastal treasures — coral fragments, sea followers and shells — organized on a weathered bench, like an altar to the ocean. Each piece, I realise, is a small remnant of a once-living reef, a quiet reminder of each the sweetness and fragility of life. They communicate to what’s at stake if these habitats aren’t protected. I seize them in {a photograph} and depart them undisturbed, permitting them to return to the ocean from which they got here. Perhaps, over time, they’ll erode into high-quality sand, contributing to the seashores we stroll upon — together with that parrotfish poop, after all.

Three extra nature hotspots

1. Flamingo Pond Overlook, North Caicos
Situated simply off King’s Road close to Whitby on the north coast of North Caicos, this National Trust website permits travellers to witness a flamboyance of West Indian flamingos wading by means of glistening wetlands. Admission is free, binoculars value $2 (£1.45) to hire and the spectacle unfolds every day from 11am to three.30pm.

2. Little Water Cay, aka Iguana Island
Home to the uncommon Turks & Caicos rock iguana, Little Water Cay is a conservation success story. Boardwalks wind by means of scrubland and mangroves, the place guides clarify how reintroduction efforts and feral-cat eradication have helped the iguanas rebound. Entry charges are $10 (£7.50) and help preservation work.

3. Bird Rock Point Trail, Providenciales
On the japanese tip of Providenciales, this mile-long path winds by means of one of many island’s final remaining tracts of coastal coppice woodland. Along the way in which, it skirts rocky headlands, mangroves and secluded sandy coves — pure habitats that supply refuge for native birds and juvenile fish.