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Today is our seventh day of migration. Limu and I have begun to grow slightly tired from the drifting currents and scarce resources out here in the open ocean. Finally, we’ve made it to Vanuatu, our first pitstop. I break through the surface of the ocean, but I taste something foul enter my mouth. As I peak my eyes above water and get my first glimpse of Vanuatu the lush green forest just past the beach catches my eye, native birds fly overhead, and a canoe paddles just past me. So what could have produced such an awful taste, I think to myself. My gaze lands on the water surrounding me, a slimy foamy film encircles my place in the water. A large crinkly plastic floats past me, which I recently learned from Limu is called a “bag”. I almost mistaken one for a jellyfish on our way here and she had to warn me never to touch these dangerous “bags”. Not only because they taste terrible but she recounted a story of her close friend being caught in one when she took a bite out of curiosity and in a state of panic found herself tangled in the plastic mess. After recalling the story Limu told, my curiosity was quickly diminished and we continued our way to shore. Amongst the shallow waters of Vanuatu just inside of the reef we tumble across an interesting sight. Hundreds of baby mangroves are spread among the shoreline while the more mature mangroves stand tall along the banks. After weaving through the many trees a peak my head up to take in my surroundings, I spot a large banner strung up between two palm trees ashore. My curiosity gets the best of me and as we finally reach the sand I scuttle my way up the banks to take a look. As I make my way the closer the sign reads “Erakor Lagoon Mangrove Restoration”. In smaller words at the bottom I see that it describes the community-led efforts to restore the lagoon’s mangrove ecosystem in an attempt to protect the vulnerable coastlines from sea level rise and climate change. I’ve heard these words before from concerned elder turtles who worry about the quality of our waters, but never truly understood how serious it was. But if beaches here in Vanuatu are also concerned maybe it’s a much bigger issue than I had thought. I found myself wondering if any turtles native to the area could help me learn more. Limu had already found herself a patch of sea sponge to graze so I decided to do some exploring. As I’m drifting through a channel of coral a large leatherback swims past me. I quickly grab his attention and ask who he is. The ridges on his shell tell me he must be quite a bit older than I am. He says his name is Kros, meaning “grumpy” in Vanuatu’s native language. I ask him about the newly planted mangroves and how climate change has affected him. He tells me everyone on the reef was over joyous about the mangrove restoration and how it will give them cleaner water and replenish food resources. He tells me stories of his loved ones passing away boating incidents and overpollution and how he hopes that the place I come from isn’t having the same issues as Vanuatu. I reassure him that my reefs back home are plentiful and clean and he’s welcome to visit anytime. After saying goodbye to Kros, my heart grows heavy for the poor creatures living here who have lost so much. I certainly hope that the next place we migrate to isn’t experiencing the same struggles. 

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