Brain coral at Dry Tortugas National Park/Pixabay.

It's 2014, and I adjust a mask and snorkel tighter around my braided hair. We visit in March, but already a layer of heat had descended on the windy Dry Tortugas National Park, making the crystal-clear water appear even more enticing. For five days, a contingent of Duke Nicholas School students and I had camped out on the remote island, but most of our work focused on the above-surface bird colony. Eager to explore the diverse, underwater world, I wade into the Florida waves.

There are few places like Dry Tortugas in the United States. Accessible only by boat, the island is a unique mix of history and biodiversity, from giant brick fort that once held Civil War prisoners to the resting migrating birds to the coral reefs themselves. 

It's a tough time to be a coral reef. Rising ocean temperatures and increased nitrogen flow from human-developed landscapes makes reefs more vulnerable to mass bleaching events, which in turn increases mortality. With no coral, the ocean floor can no longer support the fish, sharks, and other aquatic species that call the reef structures home.

When I snorkeled in the Dry Tortugas five years ago, I swam amidst fish schools of all colors, floated above the waving sea fans, kept my eyes out for sea turtles. Today, the reefs within the national park look much the same, but scientists are in a race against time to save coral reefs from a novel threat: stony coral tissue loss disease.

Disease is not new; corals have been ravaged off and on by pestilence throughout their evolution. What's different this time? Most disease outbreaks last only a year, but this strain -  discovered five years ago -  continues to spread. First reported in Miami, the pandemic has now covered 350 miles from Palm Beach all the way to Key West. In a recent update, NOAA states: "The disease is thought to be caused by bacteria and can be transmitted to other corals through direct contact and water circulation."

The Dry Tortugas thus far have been spared, but researchers predict it's only a matter of time before the disease reaches the park's reefs. In an effort to provide a "backup plan," divers collected 410 corals at the beginning of July. They will continue to survive in an aquarium while the disease sweeps through the corals remaining on the reef. According to NOAA, "They will [be] transferred to longer-term care facilities to preserve genetic diversity and to serve as breeding stock for future restoration activities."

There's so much to see when snorkeling in the Dry Torguas; only the inevitable chill of the evening and wrinkled fingertips drive visitors back up to the sand. As the scientists work to rescue coral (follow their progress here), I hope the reefs survive the outbreak to become vibrant and beautiful for future generations of park visitors.