A Desert, But Make It Underwater

Written By Rachel Plunkett for NOAA's Office of National Marine Sanctuaries

 

 

A single whale sinking to the seafloor can ignite an explosion of life in parts of the deep that usually survive on only the faintest snow of organic matter. The deep ocean isn’t empty; it holds coral gardens, towering seamounts, hydrothermal vents, and special places where life gathers in astonishing density.

But between these vibrant worlds lie the abyssal plains — vast, flat stretches of deep-sea floor where food arrives slowly and unpredictably, places that feel a little like deserts on land. Survival here is an exercise in patience, efficiency, and waiting for the right moment.

 

 

How to build an underwater city

Step 1: Be a whale 

When a whale dies and sinks into one of these low-food zones, its body becomes an oasis — a rarity so transformative that it can fuel a decades-long bloom of life. Scavengers arrive first, followed by worms, bacteria, and specialists evolved specifically for this moment. What was once emptiness becomes architecture, abundance, and community.

In October 2019, researchers aboard Ocean Exploration Trust’s E/V Nautilus were exploring Davidson Seamount in Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary when their ROV lights landed on an unexpected sight: a whale skeleton lying on its back nearly two miles below the surface. Estimated at 13 to 16 feet long, the carcass was busy with life — Muusoctopus octopuses, deep-sea fishes, and other creatures taking their share of the whale’s final gift.

The ROV Hercules shines its lights on the whale fall. Photo: OET/NOAA

 

When the desert blooms

Whale falls don’t bloom all at once. Like rain in a desert, they unfold in stages — sudden abundance followed by long, patient transformations. Scientists have documented four distinct phases that carry a whale fall from first arrival to final quiet, each one drawing in different creatures shaped by scarcity and surprise.

The Fall

A whale sinks into the deep-sea desert — a single body drifting down into a place where nutrients arrive as slowly as dust.

Stage 1 — Mobile Scavenger Stage (months to five years)

Hagfish, sharks, amphipods, and other fast-moving scavengers arrive like the first creatures reaching a desert oasis after rare rain. They strip away soft tissue until only the skeleton remains. Take a live look at this stage here.

Stage 2 — Enrichment Opportunist Stage (months to two years)

As the initial feast quiets, smaller animals move in — worms, crustaceans, and invertebrates thriving on the enriched sediment created by the whale’s fall. It’s the desert’s brief season of strange, subterranean wildflowers.

Stage 3 — Sulfophilic Stage (up to 50 years)

Deep inside the bones, bacteria break down remaining lipids and release hydrogen sulfide, supporting entire communities of specialized organisms — including the iconic Osedax bone-eating worms. This is the deep ocean’s long, slow super bloom, sustained for decades.

Stage 4 — Reef Stage (timeframe unknown)

Once the nutrients finally fade, the skeleton becomes a hard substrate for suspension feeders — sponges, corals, and other colonizers. Because deep-sea exploration is relatively new and whale falls are rare to encounter, scientists still don’t know how long this final stage lasts; the reef persists quietly in the dark until it no longer can.

Another deep dive on whale falls can be found here.

 

Guardians of the Deep

Discoveries like this are only possible in places where the deep ocean is carefully — and intentionally — studied. National marine sanctuaries protect vast stretches of seafloor, including areas bordering the abyssal plains, giving researchers the access, stability, and long-term stewardship needed to witness rare events like whale falls.

In these protected waters, the deep-sea plains continue to surprise us, blooming in ways we’re only just beginning to understand — reminding us that even the quietest expanses of the ocean have stories waiting to rise from the dark.