INTRODUCTION
           The link below and at page bottom will take you to the current research data ( 2004) and changes that have occurred over the years.
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Lake Erie is a wilderness, a big wilderness, and it is alive. To take a hand full of water is to take a handful of life, life that lives in a different physics than we are born too. I've pretty much given up the notion that I will ever understand at anything more than a superficial level why things occur the way do in the wave battered area of the reef, now I am content to only be a witness to its constant changes. Below the surface, in the water and at the Lake's bottom, is a world of life and a realm of simple beauty.

This report is an introduction to what I've slowly pieced together about the ecosystem found at Avon Point. I have no formal training in biological research and for the most part have had to stumble through the learning process on my own. The only two researchers to have reached out to be of assistance (and that assistance has now faded into many years ago) are Dr. Stansberry and Dr. Beeton, both who I am indebted to for their kindness.

The reef was formed by the collapse of the shore's shale cliffs into the Lake. Over these fallen cliffs have washed rocks left by the glacier that gave the Lake its birth. Winding through the heart of the reef is an old stream bed that has cut into the Lake's floor. Surrounding the reef area is almost perfectly flat plains of blue clay. The reef lies on a flat ridge that surrounds the lip of the Central Basin of the Lake. The Lake's bottom drops off quickly to a depth of 10 to 15 feet and holds this depth for more than a mile out. The reef has an eerie beauty. When diving I am able to view the reef as a bird in flight would view the land below it. Hovering over the tilted shale walls and cleaved blocks I see them not as small ridges and valleys, but rather they appear as vast western landscape seen from the view of a buzzard soaring over a land draped in a perpetual twilight of blue and green. Scattered amid these ridges and valley are shale blocks cleaved along straight lines that give the appearance of having been the works of masons. They are like ancient fallen temples surrounded by a sacred sleeping blue. 

There are two major forms of plant life living on the Lake's bottom; the laison and the long stalk algae Cladophora . The above photo is of the Cladophora growing on the rocks in summer. The laison is a complex ecosystem that grows on the rocks upper surfaces. The laison is formed by diatom alga that, after settling on rocks, secretes a gel that not only secures it to the rock's surface but also begins to act as a trap collecting sediment as the sediment filters down from the water. The laison varies in thickness from .25 mm to 2 mm. in thickness and becomes the home to numerous small crustaceans, annelids, nematodes, insects and rotifers.

Below is a photo of the laison completely covering a rock and all the life on it. Below the laison are zebra mussels that do not seem to be affected by being grown over. The cladophora algae are also grown over which is why it appears to look stick like. I can't tell whether the algae are able to live under this laison growth or not. The laison dies out over the winter. In the spring when I first begin diving the rocks are completely bare of all larger life forms except Zebra mussels. I have gotten so use to viewing the world under a microscope that I had better make clear that when I talk of a large life form I thinking of living things larger than 1 mm. Usually the cladophora is the first to dominate the rocks but as the spring comes to a close and summer begins the laison begins a relentless march covering everything on rocks that lie in suitable areas. 


 

The reef begins where Heider ditch runs into the Lake, almost directly in line with the boat launch pier. To the West is a vast expanse of blue clay, which has occasional large boulders resting on the flats, and a few small areas of rocks. To the east is the shale ridge. Actually there appears to be either two ridges or perhaps only one that is shaped like a horseshoe with the open end facing west. On leaving shore, once past the jetties, the bottom is of clay. Between fifty and one hundred yards out the reef begins. This reef was apparently formed by the collapse of the shale cliff. To the east, Avon Point extends out as a peninsula, but in the past the shore to the west of the Point probably lied as far out as the Point does today. The collapsed remnants of these cliffs are what make up the near shore reef.

Below, a view of Avon Point 

The picture below is of the boundary area between the reef and the clay flats. The rocks of the reef on the right side of the photo are here completely covered by Zebra mussels. This density thickness of mussels is highly variable but easily 50 to 75 percent of the reef area is free of mussels. Moving from the clay flats to the reef is analogous to moving from a desert ecosystem to a forest. What makes the reef so much richer in the number of animals and the number of species is both the numerous different types of habitats it provide and the stability of the reef itself. Avon Point is an unprotected shore that faces one of the longest fetches of the Lake. A fetch is the distance the wind blows over open water without meeting an obstruction and the Northeast fetch is about 80 miles long. The longer the fetch is the longer a waves length can be. And the longer the wave the greater the effect it has on the ecosystem. If a wavelength, that is the distance from the crest of one wave to the crest of the next one is 20 feet than the wave will start pulling on the bottom when the water's depth is ten feet. I have been on the reefs bottom several times when large waves were running overhead. The current was so strong that I had to grab on to large rocks to be kept from being swept away and all around me I could here the rocks banging against each other. Any animals on these smaller rocks would be extremely lucky not to be crushed by the rocks banging against each other. 

Over the years both ecosystems, the clay flats and the reef have been subject to constant change, first the coming of the Zebra mussels and most recently the arrival of the rounded gobies have vastly altered the ecosystems Anyone who has lived at Avon Point for a long time can remember finding large clams washed up on the shore after every storm. These clams, there were five species of them, have all disappeared, killed by the Zebra mussels. When I first started diving here it was not unusual to glide over thousands of snails of the species Pleurocera acuta. These snails are all gone now. They, as well as four other species of snails have been driven to all but extinction in this area. I really don't know what has caused their disappearance. Other changes are only visible on the Lake's bottom such as the increase in the number of sponges, the increase in bryozoans colonies, the disappearance of planarians and on and on. In the water itself the animals that make up the zooplankton have seen their numbers diminish year after year. As I said at the beginning of these notes I can't say why these things are happening, only that they are.

THE CLAY FLATS

The clay flats break up in many areas into what almost appears to be cut tiles with all of the life clinging to the areas formed by the gaps between these tiles. 

The area in the gaps between the clay are in above picture are thousands of Zebra mussels.

But in general the clay flats seem to stretch out forever like an empty desert in a perpetual twilight 
In the depression in the clay in the foreground of the picture are the shells of dead Zebra mussels. In the background are boulders that harbor thousands of mussels. 
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                                                             ON THE APPROACHING NEW YEAR

      After all these years I still look with anticipation to the Spring. I am writing this at the end of February, a month when I begin looking for  the slow rise in the water temperature of the Lake. Today it stands at 33 degrees, a temperature it has been at since late December, but any day I expect it to start the slow climb upward. The true mark of the end of winter for me is the day the temperature climbs one degree to 34. And I will watch it with both excitement and dread as it slowly makes it way up to 50 degrees, the temperature I feel it is safe to enter the water. The excitement is easy to explain, only a cursory glance at all I written on the Lake in these web pages can tell the joys I get from the simply acts of personal discovery. Explaining the dread is harder. Someday I fear that I won't be able to face the shock of the cold. Even in a wet suit the initial plunge into 50 degree water can literal take your breath away. A wet suit works on the principle that once the water enters the suit a persons body heat will warm the water and that heated water will mostly stay trapped in the suit. But until that water heats up the cold is numbing. I also have a problem on entering the cold water that is perhaps idiosyncrasy. When my face first hits the water I get a tremendous pain in my sinuses located above my eyes, I suppose the pain is brought about by the temperature difference between the warm air temperature in my sinuses and my cold skin temperature in contact with the water. In the fall or early winter, on the day I first feel this pain I know diving for the year is finished. In the spring that pain is something that has to be faced and every year both the cold and the pain get a little harder to take. Perhaps that will be the day I know that I've grown old, when I no longer can take the plunge. Not that I will regret it so much, most of growing older is coming to terms with letting things go and this will be just one more thing to let go of.
     Over the last two years I have taken up photography, both on land and underwater. I find the joy in peering through a camera lens comes from taking notice of the world in a frame. Glancing around the world with these eyes I am overwhelmed by the magnitude of the world surrounding me. It is not seeing the trees for the forest, which seems to be a problem we all face more than the commonly used reversed way of saying the phrase. In photographing a scene I get to know it usually from a different angle than standing upright. Lying on the Lake's bottom peering through a lens between two rocks usually makes the scene so much grander, beyond the rocks a vista of magnificent proportion seems to open up. I wanted to say that the vista looks grander than it actually is but there is no "actually is". The vista is grand because of the way I'm looking at it. Looking at tree from a standing position is very different from lying on your back at its trunk and looking up at it. Standing the trees looks like a part of the landscape but viewed from below the trees seems to fill the world and become the center of it. The Earth seems to revolve around this point, and it can be frightening experience. My problem in doing photography is that I can get so caught up in it that I don't make the time to seek out the animals that make up the bulk of this study. Time is really limited when your in a place you can't breathe in on your own and where fatigue sets in rapidly from the body just trying to generate enough heat to keep functioning. Fresh from the water I feel exhilarated, I'm sure there is probably some hormonal push taking place, plus the relief that I didn't wind up killing myself. After an hour or so thus exhilaration comes crashing down and I'm left with a great sense of fatigue. I've read that this fatigue has a name, "unexplained fatigue syndrome" which is a misnomer because reading on the explanation for the fatigue is that it caused by the body's fuel being used up in trying to maintain a 98.6 degree temperature as the warmth was being sucked out by the cold water.  I suppose this cause would be a good excuse to lay in a supply of donuts and brownies to boost the carbohydrates used up and even though I really have no desire to eat after leaving the water I could force myself in the name of research to consume these sinful treats. But than perhaps I've lashed onto this unexplained fatigue syndrome to escape from the fact that middle aged men just get tired quicker than when they were young.
     So a new year is soon to begin, and like new years resolutions, made and broken with the best of intentions, I will strive to find a balance between photography and research data, hoping this year to have the balance tip towards the research. But of will I am weak. Lets see how it goes.
                                                                                                                                                     John Lavelle
 

e-maillavelle@centurytel.net

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