The vanishing island

Ready for a strange story, that has a curious connection to yesterday's post, about doorways and liminal spaces?

Let's start with H. P. Lovecraft's famous short story "The Call of Cthulhu," written in 1926, which sets up the tale with the discovery on a small island in an archipelago in the South Pacific of a small stone statue that looks like some kind of octopus/human hybrid.  Then, when anthropologists go to the island chain to try and find its origins, the natives not only deny knowing anything about the idol, they say the island where it was allegedly found is uninhabited and always has been.  Sure enough, when they go to that particular island, it's empty -- but there are some "suspicious traces" that certainly look like there'd been people living there, but who were all mysteriously done away with in the not too recent past.  Inquiries are launched, but the people who know something about the idol and where it was discovered all seem to have the unfortunate habit of dying before they can tell anyone about it.  The last part of the story describes the landing of a ship called the Emma on an island that had surfaced temporarily "in the open ocean south of the Cook Islands" due to an earthquake.  Second Mate Gustaf Johansen and six others go ashore looking for a supply of fresh water and other provisions, and soon enough regret their decision:

Johansen and his men landed at a sloping mud-bank on this monstrous acropolis, and clambered slipperily up over titan oozy blocks which could have been no mortal staircase.  The very sun of heaven seemed distorted when viewed through the polarizing miasma welling out from this sea-soaked perversion, and twisted menace and suspense lurked leeringly in those crazily elusive angles of carven rock where a second glance showed concavity after the first showed convexity.

It was Rodriguez the Portuguese who climbed up the foot of the monolith and shouted of what he had found.  The rest followed him, and looked curiously at the immense carved door with the now-familiar squid-dragon bas-relief.  It was, Johansen said, like a great barn door; and they all felt that it was a door because of the ornate lintel threshold, and jambs around it, though they could not decide whether it lay flat like a trap door or slantwise like an outside cellar door...  [T]he geometry of the place was all wrong.  One could not be sure that the sea and the ground were horizontal, hence the relative position of everything else seemed phantasmally variable.

Then, because any reader with a scrap of common sense is by this time screaming at the characters "DO NOT OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!", of course one of them opens the fucking door:

Donovan slid or somehow propelled himself down or along the jamb and rejoined his fellows, and everyone watched the queer recession of the monstrously carven portal.  In this fantasy of prismatic distortion, it moved anomalously in a diagonal way, so that all the rules of matter and perspective seemed upset.

The result is that Cthulhu wakes up, most of the sailors are messily devoured, and the survivors are left with some seriously eldritch PTSD.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Dominique Signoret (signodom.club.fr), Cthulhu and R'lyeh, CC BY-SA 3.0]

Despite Lovecraft's regrettable tendency toward purple prose and the fact that he never met an adverb he didn't like, you have to admit the whole thing is pretty damn atmospheric.

What you may not know is that it's based on a true story.

Well, not the evil octopus monster part, at least so far as I know.  In 1916, the Polynesian Society of Honolulu printed an account from a sailor who claimed to have years earlier visited an island called Tuanaki, where he lived with the natives for six days.  It was, he said, south of Rarotonga, the largest of the Cook Islands; in fact, the Tuanakians ultimately left their home (for unknown reasons, but there were hints of it being something bad) and resettled in Rarotonga, where some of them still lived.

So... explorers set out to find Tuanaki.  When they arrived at the point where the island allegedly was, there was nothing there but open ocean.

Off to Rarotonga to interview any Tuanakians who still lived there.  You guessed it -- the Rarotongans not only said that no one had emigrated there from other islands within living memory, no one they talked to had ever heard of Tuanaki.

Or so they claimed.

More prosaically, maybe (the explorers suggested) Tuanaki had sunk beneath the waves, either due to an earthquake or erosion or both.  One of them recalled that in 1862, some seafarers traveling from Auckland to Rarotonga had hit a submerged shoal near the coordinates supposedly corresponding to Tuanaki's location.  The shoal had been named Haymet Rocks in honor of the ship's owner, J. E. Haymet.

But further exploration couldn't find those, either.  If the Haymet Rocks were the remnants of Tuanaki, they seemed to have vanished as well.

And just to add an extra weird twist to the whole story, explorer Ernest Shackleton launched an expedition in 1921 with the express purpose of relocating Tuanaki -- then died of an apparent heart attack on South Georgia Island before he could go there.

The upshot of it all is that we still don't know where, or if, Tuanaki existed.  Considering the dicey state of navigation in the mid-nineteenth century, it's likely the initial account from the sailor had misidentified the location of the island where he stayed and/or misremembered the name of it.

But the fact remains that it's a very odd story, and you can see why it would have inspired Lovecraft.  Even without the oozing cyclopean architecture with impossible geometry, the whole tale is curious, and leaves more questions than answers.  After all, even with our modern mapping tools, the Pacific Ocean is a big place; the latitude and longitude Lovecraft quotes as the location of R'lyeh is not far from Point Nemo, the "oceanic pole of inaccessibility" -- the place in the Earth's oceans that is the farthest from any possible landfall.

So not a place anyone is likely to visit.  But if you do, and there's an uncharted island there, just remember the cardinal rule:

DO.  NOT.  OPEN.  THE.  FUCKING.  DOOR.

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Pacific spike alert

One thing that drives me crazy is the tendency of the woo-woos to take a perfectly legitimate, valid piece of science, and then woo all over it.

The latest example of this is one you might have heard about.  Scientists doing isotopic analysis of cored sediments from the Pacific seabed found an unusual spike of an isotope called beryllium-10.  Beryllium-10 is mainly produced by cosmic rays colliding with oxygen and nitrogen atoms in the upper atmosphere; the beryllium atoms then gradually settle, creating what should be a uniform deposition in terrestrial and marine sediment layers.  Beryllium-10 is also radioactive, decaying into boron-10, so the relative concentrations of these two atoms, along with beryllium-10's known 1.4 million year half-life, allows for a convenient way to date sediment layers.

That, of course, presupposes that the formation and deposition rate of beryllium-10 is uniform, and cores from the Pacific seafloor from around ten million years ago show that, for a short time at least, this wasn't true.  These strata, from the mid-Miocene Epoch, showed up with an anomalous spike of beryllium-10.  What caused this isn't certain; two possibilities the researchers suggested were a shift in oceanic currents near Antarctica, causing an alteration in sediment distribution rate, or a nearby supernova producing a higher-than-normal influx of cosmic rays for a time.  In any case, the spike eventually leveled off, and the rest of the core sample was unremarkable, at least in that regard.

Well, "radioactive sediments" and "cosmic rays" and "anomaly" were apparently all it took.  In the past two weeks, since the paper was published, I've seen the following:

• the beryllium-10 spike is the debris from the reactor core of an exploded alien spacecraft, so add this to the list of "evidence for Ancient Astronauts."
• time-traveling government operatives went back to the Miocene to conduct illegal tests of nuclear superweapons so they could get away with it without anyone finding out, except apparently for this wingnut.
• the Sun had a "flare-up" ten million years ago that caused this.  This same phenomenon also caused all of the Earth's major mass extinctions.  It will happen again, and why is NASA covering this up?
• it's all a smokescreen to hide radioactive contamination that's actually from the Fukushima Reactor disaster.
• something something something HAARP something weather modification wake up sheeple something something.

Okay, will all of you lunatics just hang on a moment?

First of all, let's look at the actual spike the paper discusses.

[Image from Koll et al., Nature Communications, 10 February 2025]

See that wee bump at about ten million years?  That's the anomaly.  It's peculiar, sure, and cool that the scientists are trying to find out what caused it.  But it's a slightly higher-than-expected amount of a single isotope, and that's all.  They have even proposed some nifty uses for the discovery -- detecting the spike in sediment layers elsewhere could help to pinpoint how old they are -- but it's not, honestly, all that dramatic otherwise.  It doesn't correlate with a mass extinction (so cross out the Sun-induced extinction events), there are no other anomalous isotopes that show up at the same time (eliminating the superweapons and the ancient spacecraft, unless the aliens constructed their entire ship from beryllium-10), and it dates to ten million years ago (so it has nothing to do with Fukushima).

And HAARP was decommissioned in 2014, so all y'all conspiracy theorists can just shut the hell up about it, already.

I mean, really.  Isn't the actual science cool enough for them?  Why does everything have to fold into these people's favorite weird idea?

I suppose, as I saw a friend post a while ago, "Everything's a conspiracy if you don't understand how anything works."  But in these times when everyone's got a website, and "I read it on the internet" is considered by a lot of people to be the modern equivalent of "I have a Ph.D. from Cambridge in the subject," it's maddening how quickly these ideas spread -- and how little it takes for the wacko interpretations to eclipse the actual science.

So that's our dive into the deep end for today.  Beryllium spikes and ancient astronauts.  Me, I'm gonna stick with the scientific explanations.  Better than worrying about NASA covering up that we're all about to get fried by a "solar flare-up."

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The mysteries of the deep

I've heard it said that we know more about the surface of the Moon than we do about the deep oceans on the Earth.

I've never seriously attempted to find out how accurate this is (and honestly, don't know how you'd compare the two), but I suspect it's substantially correct.  About seventy percent of the Earth's surface is covered by water, and given the difficulty of seeing what's down there -- even by remote telemetry -- it's no wonder we're still finding things in the ocean we never knew existed.

Take, for example, the study that appeared in Current Biology last week about the Clarion-Clipperton Zone.  The CCZ is the region between the Clarion Fracture Zone and the Clipperton Fracture Zone in the central Pacific, with an area of about six million square kilometers.  It contains several (apparently dormant or extinct) volcanoes, a number of submarine troughs of uncertain seismic activity, and a rough, mountainous topography.

[Image is in the Public Domain courtesy of the United States Geological Survey and the Department of the Interior]

The prevailing wisdom has been that most of the open ocean has relatively low biodiversity.  To put it more simply, that there just ain't much out there.  If you're in the middle of the ocean, any given cubic meter of water is unlikely to have many living things in it beyond single-celled plankton.  And -- supposedly -- the floor of the deep ocean, with crushing pressures, no light, and constant temperatures just above the freezing point of water, is often pictured as being pretty much devoid of life except for the bizarre hydrothermal vent communities.

That concept of the deep oceans needs some serious re-evaluation.  Last week's paper featured a survey of the abyssal life in the Clarion-Clipperton Zone, and found nearly six thousand species of animals...

...of which 92% were unknown to science.

The coolness factor of this research is tempered a little by the reason it was conducted.  The CCZ is being studied because of its potential for deep-sea mining.  The seafloor there has a rich concentration of manganese nodules, concretions of metal oxides and hydroxides (predominantly manganese and iron, with lower concentrations of other heavy metals), which are of immense value to industry.  Add to that the fact that the CCZ is in international waters -- so, basically, there for whoever gets there first -- and you have a situation that is ripe for exploitation.

What makes this even more complex is that the metals in the nodules are used, amongst other things, for high-efficiency electronics, including renewable energy systems.  The cost, though, might be the destruction of an ecosystem that we've only begun to study.

"There are some just remarkable species down there," said Muriel Rabone, of the Natural History Museum of London, who co-authored the study.  "Some of the sponges look like classic bath sponges, and some look like vases.  They’re just beautiful.  One of my favorites is the glass sponges. They have these little spines, and under the microscope, they look like tiny chandeliers or little sculptures.  There are so many wonderful species in the CCZ, and with the possibility of mining looming, it’s doubly important that we know more about these really understudied habitats."

So much of what humans have done seems to be blundering around blindly and only afterward seeing what the consequences are.  Perhaps we should investigate the ocean's mysteries before we attempt to use it for profit.

It seems fitting to end with a quote from H. P. Lovecraft, whose fascination with the ocean returns time and time again in his fiction: "But more wonderful than the lore of old men and the lore of books is the secret lore of ocean.  Blue, green, grey, white, or black; smooth, ruffled, or mountainous; that ocean is not silent.  All my days have I watched it and listened to it, and I know it well.  At first it told to me only the plain little tales of calm beaches and near ports, but with the years it grew more friendly and spoke of other things; of things more strange and more distant in space and in time.  Sometimes at twilight the grey vapours of the horizon have parted to grant me glimpses of the ways beyond; and sometimes at night the deep waters of the sea have grown clear and phosphorescent, to grant me glimpses of the ways beneath.  And these glimpses have been as often of the ways that were and the ways that might be, as of the ways that are; for ocean is more ancient than the mountains, and freighted with the memories and the dreams of Time."

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A tsunami of misinformation

One of the most frustrating things I encounter while doing research for Skeptophilia is sensationalized nonsense masquerading as fact -- especially when it is gussied up in such a way as to make it seem reasonable to the layperson.

This is the problem with the article "Fukushima Radiation Has Contaminated The Entire Pacific Ocean (And It's Going To Get Worse)" that appeared over at Zero Hedge yesterday.  In it, we have a rehash of the Fukushima disaster of 2011, which generated a horrific tsunami and breached a nuclear power plant.  The combined effects of the earthquake and its aftermath cost almost 16,000 lives, and left 230,000 people homeless -- some of whom are still living in temporary housing.

Unfortunately, that's about where the Zero Hedge article stops being factual and starts relying on sensationalist exaggerations and outright fabrication.  Here's a brief list of the inaccurate claims that appear on the article:

• "[The Fukushima earthquake was] believed to be an aftershock of the 2010 earthquake in Chile."

Well, it might be true that someone believes that.  Presumably the writer of the article does.  But there aren't any geologists who do.  The earthquakes occurred a year apart and over 17,000 kilometers from each other.  There is no seismic process that could possibly connect the two.

If that weren’t bad enough:

• "Fukushima continues to leak an astounding 300 tons of radioactive waste into the Pacific Ocean every day."

This isn't incorrect so much as it is misleading.  Note that nowhere in this statement (in fact, nowhere in the article) does it state how radioactive those 300 tons of water are -- i.e., how much radioactive cesium (the most common radioisotope in the leaked water) was present.  In fact, marine radiochemist Ken Buesseler has stated that ocean radiation levels near the disabled power plant are one thousandth of what they were immediately following the accident, and at any distance at all from the site the contamination is "barely discernible."

• "It should come as no surprise, then, that Fukushima has contaminated the entire Pacific Ocean in just five years."

Cf. my previous comments about quantities and measurability.

• "Not long after Fukushima, fish in Canada began bleeding from their gills, mouths, and eyeballs.  This “disease” has been ignored by the government and has decimated native fish populations, including the North Pacific herring."

This is referring to viral hemorrhagic septicemia, a deadly disease of fish that is caused by (note the name) a virus.  It has nothing to do with radiation or the Fukushima disaster, and was recorded in fish populations long before the earthquake.

Also, correlation does not imply causation.  Even if viral hemorrhagic septicemia had only been seen after debris from Fukushima washed ashore, it wouldn't necessarily mean that the contaminants in the debris had caused the disease.

• "Elsewhere in Western Canada, independent scientists have measured a 300% increase in the level of radiation."

300% of a minuscule amount is still a minuscule amount.

• "Further south in Oregon, USA, starfish began losing legs and then disintegrating entirely when Fukushima radiation arrived there in 2013.  Now, they are dying in record amounts, putting the entire oceanic ecosystem in that area at risk.

This is another viral disease called starfish wasting disease, and like the fish disease mentioned earlier, has bugger-all to do with Fukushima as there have been outbreaks of it since 1972.  However, there is some evidence that increasing water temperatures have made starfish more susceptible, so there's a connection to climate change, which is something we should be concerned about.

And no alarmist article would be complete without some scary pictures.  First, we have this one, from NOAA:

This has nothing to do with radiation leakage.  It's a map tracking wave heights of the tsunami as it crossed the Pacific, as you'd know if you had looked at the scale on the right hand side.

Then there's this one:

Which shows a bunch of dead starfish.  But as I established a couple of paragraphs ago, this has nothing to do with radiation poisoning.

And so on and so forth.  The alarmist foolishness in articles like this is dangerous from a couple of standpoints. First, it makes it sound like the scientists themselves are ignorant of what's going on, or (worse) are actively covering it up for their own malign purposes.  Second, it misrepresents what the science actually says.  Third, it distracts us from problems that actually are global catastrophes in the making by focusing our attention elsewhere.

At a less-than-careful reading, though, such an article sounds well researched and factually accurate.  It has links, sources cited, uses technical vocabulary.  It's only if you take the time to do some research yourself that the whole thing collapses like a house of cards.

So caveat lector.  As usual.  And to the people who keep forwarding this article around, I'm respectfully asking you to stop.  It's hard enough to get people to trust legitimate science these days; this kind of thing only makes it worse.

Giant radioactive mutant dog attack!

It's funny to what extent people will believe unscientific bullshit when they've been primed to do so by fear.

And by "funny" I mean "so frustrating that I facepalmed hard enough to give myself two black eyes."

The tsunami that struck Fukushima, Japan two years ago still weighs heavily on people's minds, and for good reason.  It was a disaster of massive proportion, causing almost 16,000 known deaths (another 2,500 are still missing and are presumed dead).  Add that to the damage to a nuclear facility, and it's no wonder that people consider this one of the scariest events in recent memory.

So let's start there; horrible earthquake, terrible death toll, radiation release from a nuclear plant.  So far, frightening enough.  But the problem is, the last-mentioned -- nuclear radiation -- is a phenomenon that few people understand well enough to judge accurately the hazards it might generate.  This combination of fear and lack of information is a powerful one, and probably explains why hundreds of sites started cropping up last year (and continue today) claiming that the radiation plume from the damaged nuclear reactor was "frying the west coast of the United States."  Usually the story is attached to this map, that allegedly shows the progress of the radioactive water across the Pacific:

The problem is, this isn't a map of radiation -- this is a map, made by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration shortly after the tsunami, showing wave heights across the Pacific.

But boy, it sure looks scary, doesn't it?  All those reds and oranges and purples.  That's got to be bad.

And just to (I hope) put your mind further at rest, a study done at the Institute for Cross-Disciplinary Physics and Complex Systems found that the radiation, when it reaches the United States west coast, will be so dilute that it will pose no threat to human health, thus further highlighting the difference between the words detectable and dangerous.

Yet the panic continues, which as I mentioned, sets people up to believe nonsense.  And the nonsense reached new heights in the past couple of weeks, with a set of claims that evidently originated with Topeka's News, an online media outlet that apparently is "news" in the same sense as The Weekly World News is.  Now, let me be up front; I think this could be satire.  It could be that Poe's Law has reared its ugly head again.  But honestly, I'm not sure, and it really doesn't matter, because I'm beginning to see these stories making the rounds of social media -- and people believe them.

Let's start with this one, about a giant radioactive killer dog.

Here's what they have to say:

Russian officials are confirming the existence of a new dog species: the giant Tibetan Mastiff.

Genetic tests have confirmed Fukushima radiation in the dog’s genes, confirming that runoff from Japan has contaminated Russia waters and is not creating genetic monstrosities in the nation [sic: I'm guessing they meant "now creating...," although "not creating..." makes more sense in context].

To date, dozens of reported sitings [sic] of giant Tibetan mastiffs running throughout the Russian Siberian tundra have been reported, but it was not until this week that researchers were able to confirm the dog.

Well, there are a few problems with this claim, beginning with the fact that (1) Tibetan mastiffs are not new (the Wikipedia article calls the breed "ancient," actually); (2) they're not a separate species, but are just ordinary dogs, albeit really big ones; and (3) since Tibet is up in the mountains, it's hard to imagine how "runoff from Japan" could have gotten there since water generally doesn't flow uphill all that well.

Oh, yeah, and you can't have "radiation in your genes."

Yes, but they have photographs, to wit:

Big!  Scary!  Look at the teeth!  Must be a radioactive mutant, right?

Of course, right.

Oh, but they're not done yet.  Not only do we have giant scary mutant dogs running around, we have the rare Fukushima Radioactive Mutant Hamster Lion:

The writer for Topeka's News admits that this photograph hasn't been verified, but says, "the picture does provide an excellent opportunity to once again delve into the topic of nuclear energy."

Then there's the Fukushima Radioactive Mutant Megaturtle:

If you're curious, this photograph is actually a still from the 2006 Japanese horror movie Gamera the Brave.  [Source]

But the problem is, these are being circulated around all over the place, usually with headlines like, "What is the radiation from Fukushima doing to animal life, and what could it do to humans?"  And very few people, that I've seen, are responding to those posts with, "You're joking, right?"

I have a solution to all of this, and it's the same one I always recommend; before you start panicking, learn a little science.  Apply some logic and skepticism to what you read.  And for cryin' out loud, find out what the scientists themselves are saying.  These days, you can often find out the straight scoop just by appending the words "skeptic" or "debunk" to a search (e.g. "giant Fukushima mutant dog debunk"), and you'll pull up what usually reputable sources like Doubtful News or The Skeptic's Dictionary or Skeptoid or Snopes have to say about it.

To sum up; no need to worry about the radiation from Japan causing mutations that will result in gigantic herds of carnivorous Bunny-Jaguars terrorizing downtown Omaha.  As devastating as the situation was (and still is) in Japan, the radiation isn't going to have much of an effect on us here in the United States, and that's not how mutations work, anyway.

Which is unfortunate, actually, because the idea of a "Bunny-Jaguar" is kind of cool.