Then BAM. The novel unexpectedly, prematurely ends. You’re left in agony, wondering how everything resolves.

Today is my last day in Zion National Park as a Scientists in Parks Fellow. Friends: my research here is ending as a cliffhanger.

Let’s talk about toxic algal mats. They’re in the park. Their growth was accelerating. Toxin levels were rising. New species and growth forms were being discovered. The situation appeared dire.

Then, right as we’d begun to lose all hope (see what I mean about climactic arc??), the hero appeared. Seemingly out of nowhere, despite rumors it was dead and gone, the Zion monsoon season swept in. It flash flooded. It scoured. It made the Virgin River all turbid and inhospitable for cyanobacteria growth.

This past month has been a heated battle. The toxic algal mats clung tenaciously to rocks and riverbank. You would think they had all been washed away…but then the sediment would clear and there would be more algal mats than ever before. But the monsoon didn’t give up. It kept raining and raining and raining. It is currently raining. This entire next week it’s supposed to still be raining. The Virgin River is a muddy mess. Will the toxic algal mats survive this? Will the monsoon pull through? Who will emerge victorious?

I don’t get to find out.

Rather, it is with much dismay that I face a cliffhanger. I close this chapter of my research still brimming with questions and anguishing over unresolved outcomes.

Research cliffhangers are hard. However, research cliffhangers aren’t necessarily bad. A cliffhanger indicates that the scientific narrative experienced was rich and engaging. A cliffhanger shows that the researcher (in this case, me!) got to be deeply involved. And a cliffhanger doesn’t mean resolution isn’t possible – rather, it opens the door for an even more satisfying sequel.

I’ll be back Zion!

The past month I have experienced intense cyanobacteria Baader-Meinhof. I see cyanobacteria everywhere: it’s growing on the rocks along my most recent hike; it’s filling in the irrigation channel next to my office; it’s sprouting from the fountain by the ice cream place in town; it’s creeping into the pothole I have to swim across for a weekend canyoneering trip.

Seeing cyanobacteria everywhere kind of starts to freak you out. Like I mentioned in my first blog post, it’s potentially toxic. And frankly, sometimes you don’t want to know you’re swimming in a pool with potentially toxic cyanobacteria.

Ignorance is bliss, right?

In some ways though, experiencing the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon makes me really appreciate the opportunity to be here as a Scientists in Parks Fellow.

Cyanobacteria is everywhere whether we notice it or not. My research means I notice it and that I also get to sample it, observe it, understand it, and advise how Zion National Park responds to it.

As such, Baader-Meinhof isn’t just a killjoy, making me extra cautious around water features. It also is a reminder that my work is important, applied, and highly pertinent. It is a promise that the natural world is beautifully complex and still holds so many questions to be explored. And that is exciting!

So, who knows – if you keep reading these posts, you may start seeing cyanobacteria everywhere too. Ultimately, I think that’s a good thing.

See that feathery, nodule-growing yellow stuff in the photo?  That’s a species of Tychonema, a toxin-producing cyanobacteria.  Cyanobacteria are a native inhabitant of the tributaries comprising Zion National Park’s Virgin River.  As pictured, they form lumpy mats on submerged rocks, aquatic plants, and the riverbed.  These mats may also detach and accumulate in calm waters near the shore.

As part of their lifecycle, certain species of cyanobacteria may produce cyanotoxins.  At high concentrations these toxins may cause sickness or even death.  This is concerning, as some of the park’s most popular trails are in or adjacent to tributaries containing these cyanobacterial mats.

However, there is a lot of uncertainty about benthic cyanobacteria – both locally in Zion National Park and broadly throughout the scientific community.  Most species have been poorly studied.  Information on why and when cyanotoxins are produced is largely speculative.  And the short- and long-term effects on human health from many cyanotoxins is uncertain.

That’s where I come in!  Data collection is critical to expand scientific understanding, explore causation, protect park visitors, and make informed park management decisions.  As a Scientists in Parks Fellow, I am responsible for maintaining a rigorous monitoring system, investigating and implementing expanded data collection protocols, and examining spatial and temporal trends of benthic cyanobacteria growth and cyanotoxin production.

Consequently, over the past month I’ve been spending many days in the field: collecting samples, making observations, and prototyping new measurement techniques.  I also have been busy during my time in the office: reorganizing the park’s cyanobacteria measurements into a new database, carrying out analysis, and developing SOPs and data collection forms.

July of 2020 was when the cyanobacterial mats first became a concern for the park.  As the end of June approaches, I’m primed (and fascinated!) to see how this summer develops.  Watch for more updates here!

— Hannah