Created by a massive eruption about two million years ago, Jeju is home to 368 small mountains and more than 160 lava tubes—a rare combination on such a tiny piece of land. Evidence of volcanoes is everywhere, from the basalt sidewalks and old-grandfather statues to the many peaks that are almost always in view (even from my little hostel window).

Inside Manjanggul Cave. Photos by Christine Dell’Amore

Jeju also has the longest lava tube in Asia, Manjanggul Cave, above, which snakes underground for about 8.3 miles (13.4 kilometers), a little less than a mile of which is open to the public. I’d only had a general idea of lava tubes before, but learned that they’re formed when molten lava below earth’s surface begins to slow and solidify, creating long, tunnel-like caves.

According to the U.S. National Speleological Society:

“Because  lava  tubes  are  formed  by  volcanic  processes,  they  are  very different  from  the  more  common  and  better  known  limestone  caves. Magma, super-heated deep in the earth, rises through overlying material that forms the earth’s crust. Eventually this molten rock may reach the  surface and erupt as lava.”

I felt I couldn’t leave Jeju without seeing this UNESCO World Heritage Site, so I hired a taxi yesterday to take me the hour or so’s drive from the conference center.

Walking down the basalt steps into the belly of the cave, you’re transported into another world—a gigantic, at times 75-foot-tall (23-meter-tall) space that seemed to stretch on for eternity. The ceiling and walls were almost perfectly rounded, almost like someone had scraped out the contents in the same way you hollow out a pumpkin.

Stalactites on the ceiling and walls of the cave.

My eyes struggled to adjust in the darkness—only a few ground lights illuminated the path of solidified lava, whose bumpy, corduroy-like texture made walking difficult. The park had installed some colorful lights to highlight the higher parts of the tube ceiling—called cupolas—giving it a colorful, cathedral-like atmosphere.

Along the trail signs explained various types of lava formations—stalactites, formed when the tube ceiling melts from the heat of lava flowing into the cave, and my personal favorite, the lava toe, which occurs when lava flows into a hole in the lower level of the cave and hardens into a shape that resembles the toe of an elephant.

As I picked my way along the uneven ground, water constantly dripped from the ceiling, sometimes hitting me square in the eyeball. I kept my eye out for critters inside the cave, including bats and spiders, but they stayed out of sight.

Manjanggul cave’s lava column, lit by colored lights.

At the end of the path was the star attraction—a lava column, created when lava dripped from a hole in the ceiling. At 25.6 feet (7.8 meters), it’s the tallest lava column on Earth.

It was the perfect note on which to end my experience at the World Conservation Congress—appreciating nature in one of the wonders of the world.

This is my last post from Korea, but keep an eye out for follow-up posts in the future. Thanks for coming along on my adventure!

Christine Dell’Amore, environment writer-editor for National Geographic News, is reporting from the IUCN World Conservation Congress in Jeju Island, South Korea.

After the press briefing, I chatted with Jonathan Baillie, conservation director at the Zoological Society of London, about some of the guys that rarely get their own campaigns (though I’d gladly launch one to save the Okinawa spiny rat).

To Baillie, all the species on the list are “charismatic,” a term many people use to describe the rhinos, tigers, and bears of the world.

One species in particularly dire straits, he said, is the Red River giant softshell turtle, below.

Photograph courtesy Asian Turtle Program via Conservation International

Hunting and habitat loss have driven the population down to just four individuals, and attempts to breed two of them have failed. Scientists are still searching the Red River in China and Vietnam in hopes of finding more.

Baillie seemed to enjoy talking about Attenborough’s echidna, a species so rare that only one specimen has been caught (hence the unappealing photo of a dead one below).

 Photograph courtesy Hein van Grouw

This odd mammal lays eggs and has babies called puggles, and—as if it could get any better—Baillie said Attenborough’s echidnas form a “conga train” during courtship, during which the female is trailed by a bunch of males hopping along.

“You can’t lose that,” he said—and I have to agree. (Watch a video showing the Tasmanian echidna’s four-headed penis.)

Other species he called out include the red crested tree rat and the Seychelles sheath-tailed bat, which uses a membrane between its hind legs to perform aerobatic feats.

The red-crested tree rat. Photograph courtesy Lizzie Noble Fundacion ProAves

The Seychelles sheath-tailed bat. Photograph courtesy Justin Gerlach

Overall, Baillie said, “we have to either care about all life—or we don’t care about any.”

The threatened list is part of a book called Priceless or Worthless, produced jointly by the International Union for Conservation of Nature and the Zoological Society of London (ZSL).

Christine Dell’Amore, environment writer-editor for National Geographic News, is reporting from the IUCN World Conservation Congress in Jeju Island, South Korea.

So after a long day spent writing yesterday (check out my story on the escalating war over elephant poaching on National Geographic News) I decided to stretch my legs a bit and see some of the island.

My taxi driver picked me up promptly at 6 a.m., and off we went to one of the island’s marquee attractions—Seongsan Ilchulbong Peak, also known as Sunrise Peak.

Seongsan is a “tuff cone” (I had to look it up, too)—a type of volcanic formation created by the interaction of basaltic magma and water.

Seongsan Ilchulbong Peak, seen from Mt. Seopjikoji. Photos by Christine Dell’Amore

About 5,000 years ago, a volcano erupted in a shallow sea, and the resulting magma formed an island—Seongsan, now a World Natural Heritage Site—that eroded over time. From the air, the formation looks like a giant green bowl, tethered to the mainland by a ribbon of rock.

It’s so big you can’t get a handle on what you’re looking at until you make the strenuous half-hour climb to the top. Once there you can get the full scope of the crater, which is rimmed with sharp volcanic rock and filled with all kinds of vegetation.

Inside Seongsan’s crater.

Steep path down from the crater.

I also got to see a sideways view of Seongsan from Mount Seopjikoji, a promontory with cool volcanic shapes (including one that resembles a candlestick).

Next up: the Jeju Folk Museum, a surprisingly large complex that focuses on Jeju life in the 1800s. The museum had dozens of re-created houses—simple structures built of straw, wood, and other natural materials—that would have housed various people back in the day: fisher, farmer, hunter, and so on.

Most intriguing was the house of the haenyeo, which means “sea women.” Dubbed the “mermaids of Jeju,” for decades these women have been diving into the ocean to collect clams, abalone, and seaweed—all without the hooks and lines of a fisher.

A house of a “haenyeo,” or sea woman.

Outside the house was a mannequin of a haenyeo, who was clutching her crude net and taewak, a hollowed-out gourd that serves, among many things, as a flotation device and buoy.

The profession, still highly regarded and competitive, highlights the resilience of Jeju women, according to my audio guide. Many of the exhibits emphasized how people have adapted to the challenges of life on Jeju, among them a lack of fresh water, poor soils, and a persistent wind.

My last visit was to the Cheonjiyoen Waterfall, which means “God’s pond” in Korean. The 72-foot-high (22-meter-high) falls sits in a subtropical forest boasting rare plants and species, including the giant mottled eel.

Cheonjiyoen Waterfall is home to the giant mottled eel.

I would have loved to see the fish—which a sign told me is “flesh-eating”—but I left happy they’re lurking somewhere in the deep.

Christine Dell’Amore, environment writer-editor for National Geographic News, is reporting from the IUCN World Conservation Congress in Jeju Island, South Korea.

Jeju’s government spent nearly U.S. $11 million transforming the convention center into a green giant, for instance by installing a photovoltaic power system on the roof and installing energy-saving elevators, heaters, and coolers.

Jeju’s convention center is a green building. Photographs by Christine Dell’Amore 

On my “ecotour” through the Green Congress, I first stopped at one of the conference’s ubiquitous big yellow boxes, which look like a combination of a dumpster and an ATM.

Called EcoSave, the machine compresses your plastic bottles or cans with a satisfying crunch, and then prints out a receipt telling you how much carbon dioxide you save by recycling—I’m guessing because landfills produce greenhouse gases. Putting in one plastic bottle saved 250 grams of carbon dioxide.

EcoSave offers an unusual recycling experience

But instead of giving out thousands bottles of water and Coke, even if they are 30 percent biodegradable, it seems the Congress should have encouraged people to fill reusable bottles at drinking fountains.

After all, we’d all been given a bottle in our gift bag, which admittedly I’ve been using for the strong NESPRESSO coffee in the media center. (By the way, a NESPRESSO rep told Jeju Daily that they’re recycling all the cups, aluminum capsules, and coffee grounds inside those capsules.)

Next I stopped by the Carbon Offset Fund desk, part of an initiative to reduce the carbon footprint of conference goers. A helpful staffer asked me to input my details—ie. how many nights I’m staying in Jeju, how I’m getting around, etc.—which told me I’d have to spend more than 56,000 won (about $49 dollars) to offset my carbon.

That was high to me, but you’re encouraged to donate whatever you like—and you even get a prize: a folding fan. The money, the staffer said, goes toward planting trees in Mauritania.

The Carbon Offset desk, where you can offset emissions

The Carbon Offset Fund will also donate one Swiss franc for every ten kilometers (about six miles) you cycle on one of the convention center’s free bicycles. Even though it was rainy, I checked out a bike and headed for a path I’d seen through the convention windows.

Before long I stumbled onto an oceanside park, which I later discovered has the insanely long name of Daepohaeanjusangjeollidae. I walked out on an observation desk to see jagged volcanic cliffs lining the shore, until the rain eventually drove me back to my bike and to the ICC.

Biking break to pose with a traditional Jeju symbol, Dol Hareubang

Other elements of the Green Congress include reducing paper by relying more on the Web and digital displays for announcements and encouraging people to stay in eco-friendly accommodation.

Lastly, on Thursday the Congress will offer free ecotours of Jeju Island, which boasts a slew of titles, including Biosphere Reserve, World Natural Heritage site, and Global Geopark.

Sadly I’m leaving the afternoon of the ecotour, but tomorrow I’ll get my nature fix at one of the island’s treasures: Sunrise Peak.

Christine Dell’Amore, environment writer-editor for National Geographic News, is reporting from the IUCN World Conservation Congress in Jeju Island, South Korea.

Of the 19,817 species in the 2012 Red List of Threatened Species, only three fungi species—one mushroom and two lichens—are listed.

This doesn’t mean fungi have somehow avoided the fate of many other declining species, but rather, there aren’t a lot of people studying them, Gregory Mueller, a fungi expert at the Chicago Botanic Garden, told me.

So, as a fan of the underappreciated, I was happy to hear Mueller announce a new 18-month initiative to collect more data on fungi and figure out which ones may need protection by IUCN.

A Cantharellus mushroom, a type of chanterelle, is listed as threatened by several European countries. Photograph courtesy Gregory Mueller

The initiative is a joint venture of five IUCN Species Survival Commission fungal specialist groups, whose names alone are enough to make you a fungi lover.

There’s the Cup Fungus, Truffle and Allies; Lichen; Mushroom, Bracket, and Puffball (chaired by Mueller); Rusts and Smuts (my personal favorite); and last but not least, the Chytrid, Zygomycete, Downy Mildew, and Slime Moulds—yes, even slime can get a fair shake in the world of fungi.

Why save fungi? For one, they’re nature’s recyclers, processing a lot of dead organic material. They’re also “intimately linked with human well-being,” for instance as food and a source of drugs such as antibiotics, according to IUCN.

The crimson waxcap is disappearing as grasslands are converted to agriculture. Photograph courtesy Martyn Ainsworth, Royal Botanic Garden Kew

Mueller told me that fungi are disappearing largely due to loss of habitat, especially species that are dependent on a particular type of host—say a type of tree—to survive.

“If [the fungi] happens to be on a rare and threatened plant, [the fungi] automatically becomes rare and threatened,” he said.

For instance, one of the largest mushrooms in the world, the nobel polypore, is found only in old-growth forests in the Pacific Northwest, and may plummet if these forests are destroyed.

 A nobel polypore fungus. Photograph courtesy Noah Siegel

Nitrogen pollution from industry and automobile exhaust is also hammering fungi worldwide, although the exact reason is unknown, he noted.

Lastly, some species of fungi—such as the caterpillar fungus in Tibet—is being overharvested. The fungus, Ophiocordyceps sinensis, takes over the bodies of caterpillar larvae then shoots up like finger-size blades of grass out of the dead insects’ heads.

(Read about “Tibet’s Golden ‘Worm’” in National Geographic magazine.)

The caterpillar fungus is being overharvested in Tibet. Photograph courtesy Zhu Liang Yang, Kunming Institute of Botany

So the next time you see a mushroom on the side of the road, let it be—it’s doing good for us and the environment.

One project, Eyes on the Forest, is lifting the veil on forest loss in Sumatra, Indonesia, where demand for pulp, palm oil, rubber, and coal has created a nearly ”unstoppable wave of [illegal] deforestation,” said Michael Stuewe, a WWF-US scientist I met for breakfast this morning at the World Conservation Congress.

A peat forest felled in Indonesia. Photo courtesy Eyes on the Forest.

Decades of data on species populations, forest cover, natural carbon stores, and more went into the easy-to-use mapping tool that’s accessible to anyone.

“We needed a system that would make data available immediately to any user,” said Stuewe.

Powered by Google Maps Engine, the mapping tool—a joint effort by WWF-Indonesia; the NGO coalition Eyes on the Forest, based in Riau, Sumatra; and Google Earth Outreach—allows you to choose certain data sets, such as Sumatran elephant populations, and create “layers” of data over a map of Sumatra.

Google Earth provides images taken by NASA’s Landsat satellite that are detailed enough to show canals or roads created during deforestation, Stuewe noted.

I’ve never used GIS, but I easily created the below map by focusing on two subjects: forest cover and Sumatran elephant populations. (Try your hand at Eyes on the Forest.)

Map showing Sumatra elephant populations, protected areas, and forest cover. Image courtesy Eyes on the Forest.

The light green shows forest cover in Sumatra in 1985, while dark green shows forest cover in 2009. Government protected areas are shown in white circles. More tricky to discern are the two population estimates for elephants. If you look closely, the darker blue circles (elephant populations in 2007) sit on top of the lighter blue circles (elephant populations in 1985).

The map shows clearly that both trends—elephant populations and forest cover—are in decline.

Palm Plantations a “Cancerous Growth”

A main reason for deforestation and species loss in Indonesia is palm oil plantations—an “unregulated, wild cancerous growth” in national parks and government lands in Indonesia, Stuewe said. Plantation owners who set up their plantation in government forests get additional profit from selling the timber logged to clear the land, Stuewe said.

Palm oil, “the most successful oil in the world,” is widespread in everything from cosmetics to French fries to even chocolate bars (the oil prevents the chocolate from melting), he said.

Unfortunately, palm oil plants are like a “paradise of candy stores for elephants,” said Stuewe. The behemoths can destroy hundreds of young palm trees in a single night—prompting some plantation workers to poison elephants with fertilizer and organophosphate pesticides. That results in a “brutal death” for the animal, he said.

Poisoned elephants near a palm oil plantation. Photograph courtesy Eyes on the Forest.

There are sustainable ways to produce palm oil, he noted, for example by planting on degraded lands, for which no biodiverse rain forest is destroyed.

The ultimate goal, said Stuewe, is to totally expose such activities, so that governments, large corporations, and everybody involved in palm oil knows where the oil in their products is coming from—and stops buying from illegal sources.

And as new cloud-penetrating radar satellites come aboard, people involved in illegal deforestation “can no longer run away,” he said.

“We can now approach full transparency.”

Satellites For Conservation

Next I stopped by NASA’s booth in the Exhibition Hall to chat with Michael Abrams, a geologist by training who develops new instruments for Earth-observing satellites such as Landsat, the same one that provides Stuewe and colleagues with their Sumatra data.

Surrounded by colorful satellite maps of subjects as diverse as shrimp farms and Las Vegas sprawl, Abrams gave me a brief primer on NASA’s Earth-observing satellites, which go back to 1972.

Every two weeks a NASA satellite images the entire Earth, providing valuable data of changes on Earth’s surface, including (you guessed it) deforestation.

For example, scientists can see where roads or farms have sprouted in parts of the rain forest, perhaps providing data for where to focus conservation efforts.

“Anything that changes we can map, and people try to assess the impact,” Abrams said.

Watch Abrams talk about Amazon deforestation.

From what I learned, it seems that technology breeds transparency—and that can only be a good thing for the planet.

Christine Dell’Amore, environment writer-editor for National Geographic News, is reporting from the IUCN World Conservation Congress in Jeju Island, South Korea.

The Jeju ICC, where more than 8,000 people are meeting this week to discuss conservation, is a surprisingly open and sunny convention center with tantalizing views of the Pacific.

Jeju’s convention center. Photograph courtesy IUCN.

Like most of my other conference experiences, I’d expected to spend my days holed up inside, eating prepackaged sandwiches and feeling bummed about missing out on the culture beyond the walls.

The ICC, as I discovered today, has both those things covered. For lunch I found a food court with real Korean food—although the menu was totally in Korean, I managed to order a vegetarian bibimbap that’s the best I’ve ever had.

Bibimbap is a common Korean dish served in a bowl with rice, sauteed veggies, and a spicy chili paste. (The convention center also has a Dunkin’ Donuts, a Baskin-Robbins, and a 7-Eleven, in case I need an American fast food fix.)

Korean bibimbap. Photo by Christine Dell’Amore

I also wandered outside—unheard of in most conferences—to the Event Stage, where I caught the tail end of a can-can dance performance, just one of many regular cultural events during the week, ranging from sword fighting to world jazz to Japanese traditional music.

Next to the stage is the Culture Market, where a variety of Jeju traditions are on display, including pumpkin taffy (didn’t taste much like pumpkin, oddly), South Korean calligraphy, and painted paper fans—some of which you can make yourself.

One booth lets you try on Jeju traditional dress and get your picture taken. Though the heavy silk was nearly unbearable in the humidity, and the little tasseled hat kept popping off my head, I got photographic evidence (below).

Wearing Jeju traditional dress. 

Also, to get to the exhibition hall from the main building, you have to walk outside—a much appreciated diversion. There were a few large bonsai trees along the way, and after I’d seen the exhibition hall I traipsed up steps made of the volcanic rock that’s so widespread on Jeju. Apparently there are black stone walls everywhere on the volcanic island, some of which previously served as defense against invaders.

A bonsai outside of the ICC. Photo by C.D.

The stone is also used to make sculptures depicting Dol Hareubang, or “Old Grandfather.” The predominant symbol of Jeju, these stout men are found everywhere on the island—including, as I was pleased to find, on the top level of the ICC, though I’m guessing this guy is a replica.

A traditional Jeju symbol, Dol Hareubang. Photo by C.D.

Though I haven’t seen Jeju yet, the World Conservation Congress at least gives me a sense of where I am in the world.

Christine Dell’Amore, environment writer-editor for National Geographic News, is reporting from the IUCN World Conservation Congress in Jeju Island, South Korea.

In the most comprehensive study yet of Caribbean coral reefs, scientists have discovered that the 50 to 60 percent coral cover present in the 1970s has plummeted to less than 10 percent.

“I’m sad to tell you it’s a dire picture,” Carl Gustaf Lundin, director of IUCN’s Global Marine and Polar Programme, said at a news briefing Friday at the World Conservation Congress in Jeju Island, South Korea.

Called “Nature’s Olympics,” the conference will explore five environmental themes over five days. Today’s theme is Nature+ Climate, which focuses on how to combat global warming.

A Caribbean Sea reef off Belize. Photograph by Mazyar Jalayer, My Shot

Much of the decline is caused by a massive die-off of sea urchins in the 1970s—possibly due to disease. Without these reef grazers—the “cows in the field” that keep vegetation in check—the number of algae and grasses have skyrocketed, dominating reefs and pushing corals aside, Lundin said.

What’s more, overfishing of grazer species such as parrotfish or surgeonfish is allowing more algae to take over and outcompete the coral, said Ameer Abdulla, IUCN senior advisor on Marine Biodiversity and Conservation Science.

“Coral reef communities are just like human communities—there are different roles that are fundamental to keeping the system going,” Abdulla said.

For example, if all the engineers were taken out of a human society, that would affect how the society functions.

The same phenomenon is happening with the loss of the Caribbean’s grazers, he said.

Parrotfish are like the cows of the sea, keeping algae in check. Photograph by Chriskraska Kraska, My Shot

Global Warming Also at Play

The scientists also said that warmer water—often caused by hurricanes blowing through—have harmed reefs. When the water gets too hot, algae that live inside coral, called zooxanthellae—abandon their hosts, causing the coral themselves to bleach and eventually die.

Though some reefs can bounce back from such periods of warmer water, notably in the Indian Ocean, ”We have heating happening with much higher frequency and for longer duration,” Lundin told National Geographic News.

For instance, some 500-to-a-thousand-year-old corals in the Indian Ocean have died due to warmer water.

“We know with some certainty we haven’t had this happen for a thousand years, that’s a clear indication that something’s afoot,” Lundin said.

“For those that are very skeptical of what’s happening with climate change, I would say reality is not in their favor.”

Caribbean Collapse a First—Others May Follow 

Corals are vital for many reasons, from boosting tourism dollars to local communities and even buffeting islands themselves from powerful storm surges, Lundin said.

The good news is that there are ways to protect the remaining 10 percent of Caribbean corals.

“The urgency of improving management is certainly there—our message is we need to encourage the people who are the custodians of the resources to take charge. We do know a lot about what one can do,” said Lundin.

For instance, putting in place marine protected areas can reduce the pressure of overfishing. Governments can also work with local fishers to maintain their livelihoods, for instance by raising the value of individual fish so that the fishers catch fewer animals.

The bottom line, Abdulla said, is that “the Caribbean system is one of first systems to experience collapse—it’s something that will happen across the globe if human use of coral reefs continues as it is.”

Christine Dell’Amore, environment writer-editor for National Geographic News, is reporting from the IUCN World Conservation Congress in Jeju Island, South Korea.