Fieldwork diary: Who cares for the future of Western Australian corals?

By Valeria Mendez

Over the past two weeks, I conducted in-person surveys with visitors and long-term residents across Western Australia's coral coast. These conversations revealed consistent patterns in how people form emotional connections to marine landscapes. Participants spoke with genuine affection about these places and many of them also served as informal environmental historians, describing how places looked 5, 10, or even 20 years ago. They documented how post-pandemic tourism has increased exponentially and how seascape colours have sadly faded through time.

Coastal landscape, Kalbarri National Park. Photo: V. Mendez

Imagine growing up in a state surrounded by beautiful landscapes, where the most iconic ocean ecosystems, the coral reefs, thrive and nature appears pristine. Picture spotting your first dolphin from your bedroom window as a child, hiking through some of the world's most isolated coastal national parks as a teenager, and making your first road trip to a beach where the Milky Way illuminates your tent as a young adult. Then imagine the privilege of sharing these formative experiences with your own children decades later, returning to beloved places that shaped your environmental worldview. But then imagine witnessing, year after year, the decline of these cherished seascapes. This is the lived reality for many Western Australians I spoke with during my fieldwork. 

Western Australia's coral coast is rapidly approaching a critical environmental tipping point. Climate change, which historically spared this region, has increasingly impacted the Ningaloo barrier reef, threatening its long-term survival. In the past decade alone, at least three marine heatwaves have reached the area, with the most severe occurring earlier this year. While scientists are still assessing the full impact of this critical event, preliminary reports suggest approximately 60% of the coral population experienced some degree of bleaching. Concurrent socio-economic changes, particularly increased tourism flows, compound the environmental stress these ecosystems face. 

Green turtle, Ningaloo Marine Park. Photo: V. Mendez.

What struck me most profoundly during this fieldtrip was the environmental awareness many visitors demonstrated. I believe these observations build a compelling case for the importance of public access to nature. It appears that only through opportunities to directly experience these places do people develop the emotional bonds and environmental understanding necessary to become long-term conservation advocates. However, access itself can also increase the stress these places face, becoming a factor negatively affecting not only ecosystems but also local livelihoods. This presents a fundamental challenge for environmental policy and protected area management. But then, how can we strategically balance public access in our efforts to protect marine ecosystems, for the corals themselves, yes, but also for all the people who have formed deep emotional connections to these environments?  

Understanding how to harness people’s passion for the ocean while managing the environmental impacts of increased access is a central theme to my ongoing research and analysis. The challenge ahead lies in translating fieldwork insights into actionable policy recommendations that honour both ecological integrity and the intrinsic human need to connect with nature.