It's more predictable than the available wind, sunlight, or water in river streams, and it's always on. Here's why the gravitational pull of the Moon and the Sun makes tidal energy such a stable renewable power source.

The ocean tides are quite simple. Generally twice a day, coastlines breathe in and out as water rises and falls.

And while this natural rhythm has been swinging for millions of years, we only learned how to turn it into electricity in the last hundred years.

Tidal energy is one of the oldest ideas in renewable power, and also one of the most technically demanding.

It sits somewhere between hydropower and ocean engineering, using predictable water movement instead of rivers or wind.

What is tidal power?

Let's get back to basics and learn a bit more about this unique power-generating method.

Tidal power is energy drawn from the natural rise and fall of sea levels. The motion on which it lies comes from gravity.

The Moon pulls on Earth's oceans, creating bulges of water and, as Earth rotates, different regions pass through these bulges, producing high and low tides.

Unlike wind or sunlight, tides follow precise cycles that you can actually check anywhere online.

Engineers, oceanographers - and surf forecasters, by the way - can actually predict them years in advance, and that reliability is precisely one of tidal energy's biggest strengths.

There are two main physical ideas behind tidal energy:

• Moving water carries kinetic energy;
• Differences in water height store potential energy;

Tidal technologies capture one or both.

The basic principle behind electricity generation

At its core, tidal energy works much like traditional hydropower.

Water moves, that movement spins a turbine, which turns a generator. The generator produces electricity.

The difference lies in the source of the water movement.

In rivers, flow comes from gravity pulling water downhill. In tides, motion comes from the constant push and pull between Earth, the Moon, and the Sun. And that makes tidal systems cyclical rather than continuous.

Now, here's the trick.

In some systems, electricity is generated when water flows into a basin; in others, it happens when water flows back out.

However, many modern designs generate power in both directions to maximize output.

A short history of tidal energy

People have been using tides for mechanical work for nearly a thousand years.

In medieval Europe, tidal mills were built along coasts. They used incoming tides to fill a basin and then released the water through waterwheels. Some of them are still up and running.

But electric tidal power arrived much later. The first large-scale tidal power station was built in France in the 1960s. It was the La Rance Tidal Power Station (see full story below).

When it opened in 1966, it marked a turning point because engineers proved that tidal energy could feed electricity into a national grid.

Nevertheless, since then, only a handful of major projects have followed, even though the slow pace is not due to a lack of interest.

Instead, it reflects the difficulty of building large structures in harsh marine environments.

The main ways to harness tidal energy

Tidal energy is not a single technology. It includes several different methods, each suited to different coastlines. There are three main approaches.

1. Tidal range systems

Tidal range systems use the difference in water height between high and low tide.

A barrier, often called a barrage, is built across a bay or estuary. When the tide comes in, water flows into the enclosed basin. When the tide goes out, water flows back to the sea.

Turbines installed in the barrier capture energy during these flows.

It's a method similar to a dam, but instead of a river, it uses the ocean's rise and fall.

Tidal lagoons work in a related way. Instead of blocking an entire estuary, they create a contained pool along the coast. It's a method that can reduce environmental impact, though the technology is still developing.

2. Tidal stream systems

Tidal stream systems capture the kinetic energy of moving water.

They look like underwater wind turbines and are placed in areas where water flows quickly, such as narrow straits or channels.

What happens is that strong tidal currents spin the blades, driving the generators.

Tidal stream technology is often seen as more flexible than barrages, as it does not require large dams and can be deployed in smaller units.

3. Dynamic tidal power

Dynamic tidal power is still a smart yet experimental idea.

It involves building long dams that extend out from the coast into the sea, without enclosing a basin.

The structure creates a difference in water levels along its length due to tidal phase differences. Turbines then capture energy from that imbalance.

No full-scale dynamic tidal power plant exists yet, but researchers continue to explore it.

Why tidal energy is so predictable

One of tidal power's defining traits is its regularity.

The timing of tides is governed by the so-called celestial mechanics. As we've highlighted above, unlike wind, which can stop suddenly, or solar power, which depends on weather and daylight, tides follow a fixed schedule.

Generally speaking, and with a few geographical exceptions, there are usually two high tides and two low tides each day. The exact timing shifts slightly due to the Moon's orbit, but it remains highly predictable (not entirely predictable).

As a result, it allows grid operators to plan around tidal generation with unusual accuracy. It does not solve all energy challenges, but it offers a level of certainty that most renewables cannot match.

How much power is in the tides?

The ocean holds a vast amount of energy, but sadly, only a fraction can be captured in practice.

Globally, estimates suggest that tidal energy could produce hundreds of terawatt-hours of electricity each year.

Some studies place the technical potential at around 1,000 terawatt-hours annually. That is a meaningful share of global electricity demand, though far less than solar or wind.

To help you, dear reader, put things into perspective: 1,000 terawatt-hours per year can power one major industrialized nation, such as Japan (1,022 TWh), Russia (1,024 TWh), or France and Germany combined.

What limits tidal energy is not the physics but geography.

Tidal systems only work well in places where water moves fast or where the difference between high and low tide is large.

Engineers call this the "tidal range." In most parts of the world, that range is too small to make large projects worthwhile.

The best sites tend to share a few characteristics. They have narrow channels that speed up water flow, or coastal basins where tides rise and fall dramatically.

Places like the Bay of Fundy in Canada, parts of the United Kingdom, South Korea, and northern France stand out.

The story of La Rance

The La Rance Tidal Power Station is known as the world's first tidal energy facility. But it was not built quickly or easily.

Construction began in 1961 on the Rance River estuary in Brittany. The idea was bold for its time.

Engineers would build a massive barrier across the estuary and install turbines that could generate electricity both when the tide came in and when it went out.

The plant opened in 1966 with a capacity of about 240 megawatts. That was, and still is, enough to power hundreds of thousands of homes.

La Rance is not remarkable just for its size but also for its longevity. The station has been operating for decades with relatively low maintenance compared to many other large infrastructure projects.

Over time, engineers improved turbines so they could generate power more efficiently in both directions of water flow.

The project also revealed the environmental trade-offs.

The estuary ecosystem changed after the barrage was built. Sediment patterns shifted. Some species declined, while others adapted.

These were valuable lessons that shaped how later tidal projects were designed.

Other major tidal power stations

A few other large facilities have followed, though none sparked a global wave of construction.

The Sihwa Lake Tidal Power Station is currently the largest tidal power plant in the world, with a capacity of about 254 megawatts. It was built on an existing seawall, helping reduce construction costs.

In the United Kingdom, the MeyGen tidal stream project represents a different approach. Instead of a barrage, it uses underwater turbines placed in fast-moving currents.

It is one of the largest tidal stream projects in operation, though its capacity is smaller than traditional barrage systems.

Canada's Bay of Fundy has also hosted several experimental and commercial tidal turbine deployments, taking advantage of some of the highest tides on the planet.

Advantages of tidal energy

Tidal power offers a set of strengths that are hard to ignore.

It is highly predictable. Grid operators know exactly when tides will occur, which makes planning easier.

It is renewable. The gravitational forces driving tides are not going away.

It has a long lifespan. Facilities like La Rance show that tidal infrastructure can operate for many decades.

It produces no direct greenhouse gas emissions during operation.

And it is relatively dense. Water is much heavier than air, so even slow-moving currents can carry significant energy. As a result, tidal turbines can generate power in conditions where wind turbines would stand still.

The challenges beneath the surface

Tidal energy's promise comes with a few relevant obstacles.

The first is cost. Building structures in the ocean is expensive. Saltwater corrodes materials. Waves, storms, and marine life add wear and tear. Maintenance is difficult and often requires specialized vessels.

The second is environmental impact. Barrages can alter ecosystems by changing water flow, sediment movement, and salinity levels. Fish migration routes can be disrupted. Tidal stream systems tend to have smaller impacts, but they are still studied carefully.

The third is location. Suitable sites are limited and often far from major population centers. Connecting them to the power grid can add further expense.

There is also the issue of timing. Tidal energy is predictable, but it is not constant. Power is generated in cycles, not continuously.

Therefore, it must be combined with storage or other energy sources to meet steady demand.

How tidal compares to solar and wind

Tidal energy often sits in the shadow of solar and wind, two technologies that have grown rapidly in the 21st century.

Solar power is cheap and easy to deploy. Panels can be installed almost anywhere sunlight reaches.

Wind energy, both onshore and offshore, has also scaled quickly due to falling costs and flexible installation.

Tidal energy, by contrast, is site-specific and capital-intensive. It cannot be rolled out across entire continents in the same way.

But it offers something the others do not: reliability in timing.

Solar depends on daylight. Wind depends on the weather. Both can fluctuate in ways that are hard to predict precisely. Tidal cycles, however, are locked into astronomy.

In a future energy system, that predictability could play a valuable supporting role. Tidal power may never dominate global electricity supply, but in the right places, it can provide a steady, dependable contribution.

New technologies

Tidal energy has moved beyond the era of giant concrete barrages. Developers are now experimenting with designs that are lighter, modular, and easier to install.

One of the most striking ideas is the "tidal kite" (pictured above). We're talking about systems that anchor a wing-like device to the seabed.

As water flows, the kite moves in a figure-eight pattern, increasing the speed of water passing through its turbine, allowing electricity generation even in relatively slow currents.

Floating tidal platforms are another development.

Instead of fixing turbines directly to the seabed, these systems are mounted on floating structures tethered to the ocean floor. They make installation and maintenance simpler, since equipment can be brought to the surface.

There are also large next-generation turbines, such as those developed by Orbital Marine Power in Scotland.

They're machines designed to operate in some of the fastest tidal currents in the world and may produce several megawatts each.

Meanwhile, tidal lagoons continue to attract attention.

Proposed projects, like the Swansea Bay tidal lagoon in Wales, aim to combine predictable energy generation with lower ecological disruption than traditional barrages.

Though still limited in number, they reflect a shift toward designs that try to balance energy output with environmental concerns.

Where tidal energy works best

As we've mentioned already, tidal power is picky about location, and the most productive sites tend to fall into two categories.

The first includes estuaries and bays with a large tidal range, often more than 16.5 feet (five meters) between high and low tide.

The second includes narrow channels where water is forced through tight spaces, creating strong currents. Several regions stand out globally:

• The Bay of Fundy in Canada, where tides can exceed 50 feet (roughly 15 meters);
• The coasts of the United Kingdom, especially Scotland;
• Northern France, home to La Rance;
• Parts of South Korea and China;
• Sections of Southeast Asia and northern Australia;

All these are regions that combine strong tidal forces with coastal geography that amplifies water movement.

Even within these areas, suitable sites are limited. A small change in coastline shape can mean the difference between a viable project and an impractical one.

Environmental questions that won't go away

Tidal energy is often described as a clean, renewable power source, but there is one thing that it is not: invisible.

Large barrages can reshape entire ecosystems.

For instance, when a dam closes off an estuary, it changes how water flows in and out. Sediment can build up in new patterns. Salt levels can shift. Fish and marine mammals may find their migration routes disrupted.

The experience at the La Rance Tidal Power Station showed that ecosystems do adapt, but not without change.

Some species declined after construction, while others found new habitats in the altered environment.

Tidal stream systems tend to have a lighter footprint. They do not block entire waterways, and water continues to flow naturally around them.

Still, there are concerns about collisions with marine life and underwater noise.

Biologists now monitor these effects closely. Modern projects often include environmental safeguards, such as slower turbine speeds and careful site selection.

The economics of the ocean

Cost remains the biggest barrier to tidal energy's expansion. Building in the ocean is expensive from the start.

Specialized materials are needed to resist corrosion. Installation requires ships, cranes, and skilled crews. Maintenance can involve sending divers or robotic systems underwater.

Compared to solar and wind, tidal energy is still costly per unit of electricity produced.

Solar panels and wind turbines benefit from mass production and decades of scaling. Tidal technology is still finding its footing.

However, there are signs of progress. As more projects are built, costs may fall. Modular designs and improved materials could make installations cheaper and more reliable.

Governments in countries like the United Kingdom and Canada have begun supporting tidal projects through funding and incentives, recognizing their long-term potential.

Given what we know, could strategically located tidal energy facilities improve our lives?

Words by Luís MP | Founder of SurferToday.com

What began as a pause in rough weather turned into a rare find. An island, long hinted at but never confirmed, finally stepped into view.

In early 2026, a routine Antarctic research voyage met an unexpected sight. 

A team of 93 scientists and crew members, sailing aboard the German icebreaker Polarstern, stumbled upon a small island that had gone uncharted, hidden in plain view in one of the most studied polar regions on Earth.

The expedition, led by the Alfred Wegener Institute (AWI), had been working in the northwestern Weddell Sea since February 8, 2026.

Their mission focused on ocean currents, melting sea ice, and the outflow of cold water from the Larsen Ice Shelf, an area crucial to understanding global climate systems.

A shelter stop leads to discovery

The discovery came not during a planned survey, but during a weather delay. Strong winds and waves forced the Polarstern to seek shelter near Joinville Island, at the tip of the Antarctic Peninsula.

What appeared at first to be just another iceberg caught the attention of the crew.

"The nautical chart showed an area with unexplored dangers to navigation, but it wasn't clear what it was," described Simon Dreutter, a bathymetry specialist with the institute.

Curious, Dreutter and his colleagues took a closer look. The "iceberg" seemed different. Its surface looked dirty. Its shape held steady.

As the ship adjusted course and moved closer, the truth emerged. It was not drifting ice, but solid ground.

"On closer inspection, we realized that it was probably rock," Dreutter added. "It became increasingly clear that we had an island in front of us."

Mapping the unknown

The crew approached cautiously, keeping at least 50 meters of water beneath the ship. They came within 150 meters of the island and circled it, collecting data.

Using a multibeam echo sounder, they mapped the seafloor.

A drone flew overhead, capturing images that were later processed into a detailed elevation model and georeferenced map.

The measurements revealed a modest landform.

The island or islet, if you prefer, stretches about 130 meters in length and 50 meters in width. It rises roughly 16 meters above the water. For comparison, it is slightly longer than the Polarstern itself.

The event marked the first time the island had been properly surveyed and recorded.

Hidden in plain sight

The finding raised immediate questions. Why had this island gone unnoticed? The answer lies in the challenges of Antarctic mapping.

The island had been vaguely marked on nautical charts as a hazard, but not clearly identified as land. Even more puzzling, its charted position was off by about one nautical mile.

Satellite imagery offered little help. Covered in ice and surrounded by drifting icebergs, the island blended into its environment. From space, it was nearly indistinguishable.

Dr. Boris Dorschel-Herr, head of bathymetry at the institute, explained that gaps in seafloor data can lead to such omissions.

In regions with sparse measurements, features may simply disappear from maps due to interpolation.
Science beyond the discovery

The islet's discovery came amid broader scientific work. The expedition, part of the Summer Weddell Sea Outflow Study, has been examining how Antarctic waters influence global ocean circulation.

Researchers tracked cold water flowing from ice shelves into the deep sea and studied changes in sea ice. Since 2017, summer sea ice in this region has declined sharply, likely due to warmer surface waters.

Prof. Dr. Christian Haas, the expedition leader, noted striking variations in ice thickness. In some shallow coastal areas, ice reached up to four meters thick. Farther east, it thinned to about 1.5 meters.

The team also observed unusual surface melting.

The ice often lacked snow cover and showed bluish or grey tones. Beneath it, instruments detected layers of fresh meltwater, which affect both heat exchange and marine life.

What comes next

For now, the island remains unnamed. There is no official international record for it yet. That process will take time, involving review and approval before the feature can be added to global charts.

And the AWI team might be able to name it. It's fully deserved.

Once the bureaucratic process is completed, the island's precise coordinates will be published and integrated into key datasets, including the International Bathymetric Chart of the Southern Ocean.

Lastly, the discovery also carries practical importance, as with the increase in Antarctic tourism and shipping, accurate maps are essential for safety.

Words by Luís MP | Founder of SurferToday.com

Sharks cruising through the clear waters of the Bahamas are carrying something unexpected in their bodies: traces of human drugs.

A recent scientific study shows that the ocean predator is being exposed to substances such as cocaine, caffeine, and prescription medications.

It sounds like an absurd and bizarre April Fool's prank, but it is real, and the discovery raises new questions about ocean pollution and how deeply human activity now reaches into marine ecosystems.

So, what have scientists actually found?

Researchers collected blood samples from sharks living around the Bahamas.

The results showed that a significant share of them had measurable levels of what scientists call "contaminants of emerging concern" (CECs).

They include cocaine, caffeine, painkillers, and other pharmaceuticals.

Roughly one-third of the sampled sharks tested positive for at least one of these substances, according to the study.

The findings confirm that drug pollution is not limited to rivers and coastal waters near cities. It is present even in areas known for relatively healthy reefs.

The study led by Natascha Wosnick from the Shark Research and Conservation Program at the Cape Eleuthera Institute (CEI) in The Bahamas focused on free-ranging sharks, meaning they were not in captivity or near obvious pollution sources, which makes it even worse and more alarming.

How do drugs end up in the ocean?

The drugs are not entering the ocean in one single way. Scientists point to several overlapping sources.

One major pathway is wastewater.

When people consume drugs such as caffeine or prescription medicine, their bodies do not fully break them down.

The residues of the substances pass through sewage systems and enter the sea, especially in places where treatment systems are limited or overwhelmed.

Tourism obviously only adds to the problem.

The Bahamas receives millions of visitors each year. More people mean more wastewater, more boat traffic, and more pressure on coastal infrastructure.

Then, illegal drug trafficking may also play a role.

The Caribbean has long been a transit route for cocaine shipments. Lost or discarded packages can break apart in the water, and the contents get released or dumped.

Taken together, all these sources create a steady, low-level flow of chemicals into marine habitats.

How sharks absorb these substances

Sharks do not need to directly encounter drugs to absorb them.

They can take in contaminants through their gills as water passes over them. They also ingest them indirectly by eating prey that has already been exposed.

The process, known as bioaccumulation, allows substances to build up over time, especially in top predators like sharks.

Even small concentrations in the water can become more significant as they move up the food chain.

Because sharks often live long lives and feed widely, they are particularly good indicators of what is happening in their environment.

What it might do to sharks

Scientists are still working to understand the full impact of these substances on shark health and behavior.

Some of the detected compounds are known to affect the nervous system in humans and other animals.

Cocaine, for example, can alter brain chemistry. Painkillers and antidepressants are designed to influence mood, perception, and physical responses.

At this stage, researchers have not confirmed clear behavioral changes in wild sharks linked directly to these chemicals. However, the presence of multiple substances at once raises concern.

Even low doses, when combined or absorbed over long periods, could affect movement and hunting behavior, stress responses, and reproduction.

However, the uncertainty is part of the problem. Researchers involved in the study noted that the long-term effects of these mixtures in marine species remain largely unknown.

Why this matters beyond sharks

Sharks sit near the top of the ocean food web. Changes in their health can ripple through entire ecosystems.

If drug exposure affects how sharks hunt or reproduce, it could shift the balance of reef life.

That, in turn, can impact fish populations, coral health, and the stability of marine habitats that support tourism and local economies.

The findings also act as a warning signal. If large predators carry these substances, smaller species almost certainly do as well.

For instance, fish that ends up in our dishes.

What can be done

Reducing drug pollution in the ocean is not simple, but scientists point to several practical steps.

Improving wastewater treatment is one of the most direct solutions. Advanced filtration systems can remove more pharmaceutical compounds before water is released back into the sea.

Better regulation and monitoring of coastal development and tourism infrastructure can also help limit untreated discharge.

On a broader level, reducing the amount of unused medication entering sewage systems, along with stronger controls on illegal drug trafficking, could cut down the sources of contamination.

But this will take time and human will.

One thing we know - our chemical footprints are spreading into places once thought remote and untouched.

Words by Luís MP | Founder of SurferToday.com

After nearly a decade of shutdown, oil is once again moving through a controversial pipeline along California's Santa Barbara County coast.

The restart marks a major turning point for a project long tied to one of the state's worst recent oil spills, and it has reopened a fierce fight between federal officials, California leaders, and environmental groups.

The pipeline is part of a larger network known as the Santa Ynez Unit.

The system includes three offshore oil platforms, subsea pipelines, and an onshore processing plant at Las Flores Canyon.

Together, they carry oil from wells located about 5 to 9 miles offshore to refineries on land.

Before it shut down, the system was a significant producer. It once supported more than 100 wells and generated tens of thousands of barrels of oil each day.

Today, Sable Offshore Corp., a Texas-based company, owns the operation after buying it from ExxonMobil in 2024.

If fully restarted, the project could again produce roughly 45,000 to 60,000 barrels of oil per day, according to company estimates and federal officials.

Where it actually runs

The Sable Offshore pipeline is a connected system that runs both offshore and on land along California's Central Coast, mainly in Santa Barbara County.

The system begins in the Pacific Ocean at three oil platforms in the Santa Barbara Channel that sit about 5 to 9 miles offshore.

Oil produced there is sent through subsea pipelines to the coast. Once it reaches land, it enters pipelines that come ashore along the Gaviota Coast, pass near places like Las Flores Canyon, where oil is processed, then continue inland across Santa Barbara County and beyond, and eventually connect toward facilities in Kern County.

The full system runs more than 120 miles.

The 2015 spill that changed everything

The pipeline has been idle since May 2015, when a rupture near Refugio State Beach sent more than 100,000 gallons of crude oil spilling onto the coast.

Oil spread across miles of shoreline, polluting beaches and harming wildlife. Some estimates say the spill affected over 100 miles of coastline and forced closures of fisheries and beaches.

Investigators later found the cause: severe external corrosion that the pipeline's safety system failed to prevent.

The incident shut down the entire offshore operation.

It also led to criminal charges against the pipeline's former owner and triggered years of stricter oversight, legal battles, and public opposition.

Years of delays, repairs, and legal fights

Restarting the pipeline has taken nearly ten years. During that time, regulators required extensive repairs and new safety measures.

Sable says it has addressed corrosion problems by increasing inspections and repair work along the 124-mile pipeline.

The company has also added new safety systems, including dozens of emergency shutoff devices and continuous leak detection.

Even so, critics remain skeptical. Federal regulators previously identified at least 92 corrosion "anomalies" along the line.

Local officials and environmental groups have repeatedly tried to block the restart. Santa Barbara County denied permits, citing safety concerns and a history of violations.

The California Coastal Commission also fined the company millions of dollars for work it said was done without proper approval.

At the same time, Sable pushed for federal oversight to bypass state-level resistance, setting the stage for a larger political clash.

Why the pipeline is restarting now

The restart followed direct action from the federal government.

In March 2026, the Trump administration invoked the Defense Production Act, a law that allows the government to direct private industry during national emergencies.

Officials argued that boosting domestic oil supply was necessary due to rising global tensions and the war with Iran.

The order allowed Sable to resume operations despite ongoing legal disputes in California. Oil began flowing again through the pipeline for the first time since the 2015 spill.

Federal officials say the project could help stabilize fuel supplies for the West Coast, including military operations.

But California leaders strongly disagree.

Governor Gavin Newsom and other state officials argue the move ignores state authority and environmental law. Lawsuits are ongoing.

A restart that divides California

The pipeline's return has quickly become one of the most heated energy disputes in the country.

Supporters say the restart strengthens U.S. energy security and makes use of existing infrastructure instead of relying on imports. They also point to upgraded safety systems and stricter monitoring.

Opponents see it very differently. They argue that the same pipeline that failed in 2015 still poses a risk, especially along a sensitive stretch of coastline known for its wildlife and tourism.

Environmental groups warn that even with improvements, aging infrastructure and offshore drilling carry unavoidable dangers.

Some also question whether the project will meaningfully affect oil prices, given its relatively modest output compared to global markets.

What happens next

Oil is now moving again, but the future of the pipeline is far from settled.

Court challenges are still underway. State agencies continue to dispute federal authority over the project. And local resistance remains strong along the Santa Barbara coast.

For now, the restart marks a major shift in the paradigm: a system shut down by a devastating spill is back in operation, driven by national energy concerns and political pressure.

Whether it stays running may depend as much on the courts as on the oil flowing through the pipeline.

If you've spent a couple of years in Hawaii, you probably noticed that Kona lows are a normal part of the archipelago's winter weather pattern and that their impacts can be severe when they stall near the islands.

Heavy rain, powerful winds, and flooding affect communities from the coastlines to the mountain summits.

Another interesting phenomenon is that when the winds blow opposite to what trees have grown up resisting, many fall over, often onto power lines, leading to major power blackouts. 

Understanding how these storms work helps residents and visitors prepare when the skies over the central Pacific begin to change.

But let's start with the name.

The name comes from the Hawaiian word "kona," which refers to the leeward or western side of an island. Under normal conditions, Hawaii's weather is controlled by steady northeast trade winds.

When a Kona low forms west or northwest of the islands, the circulation around the low-pressure system reverses the usual wind pattern.

Winds shift and blow from the southwest toward the islands, carrying warm, moisture-laden air from the tropical Pacific.

The wind shift pushes moist air into the mountains and valleys of the islands, triggering widespread rain and unstable weather.

The leeward "kona" sides of the islands, which are normally drier, can suddenly receive intense rainfall.

When and where Kona Lows occur

Kona lows typically develop between October and April, during Hawaii's wet season. Some years see only one event, while others may experience several.

On average, you should expect two to three Kona storms to affect Hawaii each year, and they usually form northwest or west of the archipelago.

Many originate from disturbances in the jet stream or the remnants of mid-latitude weather systems that break away from the main atmospheric flow.

Once detached from the jet stream, the low-pressure center may drift slowly near the islands.

Without strong steering winds, it can remain in place for days or even a week. The slow movement is one reason Kona lows often produce long periods of severe weather.

How a Kona low forms

The formation of a Kona low begins high in the atmosphere.

Meteorologists often see a dip or "kink" in the jet stream, the band of strong winds that circles the globe at high altitude.

If this disturbance deepens and breaks away from the jet stream, it can create a closed low-pressure system over the central Pacific.

The system develops a cold core, meaning the air near its center is colder than the surrounding atmosphere. It's a feature that separates Kona lows from tropical cyclones such as hurricanes, which have warm centers.

As the low spins, it pulls moisture northward from warm tropical waters. When this moisture reaches the Hawaiian Islands, the mountains force the air upward, intensifying rain and thunderstorms.

Weather hazards linked to Kona lows

Kona lows can produce a wide mix of dangerous weather across the islands.

Torrential rain and flooding

Heavy rain is the most common impact. Moist air flowing from the south can generate widespread downpours, sometimes lasting for several days. Flash flooding and overflowing streams are frequent hazards.

Recent Kona lows have produced extreme rainfall totals.

One event in 2026 brought 27.5 inches (70 centimeters) of rain in three days in the West Maui Mountains, with nearly 40 inches (100 centimeters) near the summit of Haleakalā.

Such rainfall can quickly overwhelm drainage systems, submerge roads, and isolate communities.

Landslides and mudflows

Heavy rain on steep volcanic slopes increases the risk of landslides.

Parts of Hawaii's terrain have thin soils and exposed rock, which makes slopes vulnerable once the ground becomes saturated.

Mudslides can block roads and damage homes built along hillsides.

Strong winds and coastal damage

Kona lows can produce damaging wind gusts. Storms have recorded gusts near 70 miles per hour (110 kilometers per hour) in some areas and stronger winds at higher elevations.

The winds can topple trees, bring down power lines, and generate large ocean swells that batter coastlines.

Snow and blizzard conditions on volcanoes

While Hawaii is tropical, the tallest peaks rise more than 13,000 feet (3,960 meters) above sea level.

During Kona storms, the summits of Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa may receive heavy snowfall and blizzard conditions.

It's not rare for strong winds combined with snow and ice to close access roads and damage observatories in the mountains.

Infrastructure and service disruptions

Severe Kona storms often disrupt everyday life across the islands.

Recent events have caused widespread power outages affecting more than 100,000 homes and businesses, school closures and shutdowns of public facilities, flooded highways and airport delays, and damage to water and communication systems.

Because these storms may last several days, repairs and recovery can take time.

Why Kona storms can be hard to predict

Weather models sometimes struggle to forecast the exact behavior of Kona lows. These storms form in a region with relatively few weather observations across the open Pacific.

Their slow movement and complex structure also make them difficult to simulate in forecasting models.

Consequently, rainfall amounts and storm tracks can change quickly, making preparedness especially important for residents.

Staying safe during a Kona storm

Preparation is key when a Kona storm approaches. Authorities in Hawaii routinely urge residents to take several precautions.

Monitor forecasts and warnings: Follow updates from meteorological services and local authorities. Conditions can change quickly during Kona storms.

Avoid flooded roads and streams: Even shallow floodwater can hide debris or strong currents.

Prepare for power outages: Keep flashlights, batteries, and fully charged devices ready. Store extra drinking water and nonperishable food.

Secure outdoor objects: Strong winds can turn loose items into dangerous debris.

Stay away from steep slopes during heavy rain: Landslides can occur without warning when soil becomes saturated.

Delay travel when possible: Roads may be blocked by flooding, fallen trees, or rockslides.

Follow evacuation instructions if issued: Local officials may open shelters or advise residents in high-risk areas to relocate temporarily.

Words by Luís MP | Founder of SurferToday.com

It's one of the most barbaric and horrific practices involving the slow killing of animals. Meet the cruel facts behind shark finning.

In recent decades, human demand for one expensive food has turned many ocean predators into prey. But at what cost?

Shark finning is the act of cutting off a shark's fins and throwing the rest of the marine creature back into the sea.

Fishers often remove the fins from the boat, keep only the fins, and toss the finless body away.

Many of those animals are still alive when they are thrown back. Unable to swim or breathe properly, they sink and slowly die.

Scientists estimate that tens of millions of sharks die each year because of the global trade in shark fins.

The scale of the problem has triggered bans in many countries and a growing movement to protect sharks and the oceans they help regulate.

But how have we reached this unprecedented stage of torture?

Why fins are taken and what shark fin soup is

It all starts because humans saw these critical triangular parts of sharks as a delicacy worth everything.

The shark fin soup has a long history in parts of East Asia, particularly in China.

For centuries, it was served mainly at imperial banquets and special celebrations. Over time, it became associated with wealth, status, and respect for guests.

Today, it is often served at weddings, business banquets, and holiday events.

Here's the thing: shark fins are light, easy to store, and can fetch high prices.

They are sold dried or processed and used mainly to make shark fin soup, a luxury dish in parts of East and Southeast Asia.

The fins themselves add a chewy, gelatinous texture, even though most of the soup's flavor comes from other ingredients.

The cultural demand once made fins worth hundreds of dollars per kilogram on the market.

For instance, a single bowl can cost around $100 or more, while dried shark fins may sell for $700 to $1,000 per kilogram on international markets.

However, in recent years, a mix of public campaigns, substitutes, and government rules has reduced the dish's visibility in some places.

For example, China, one of the planet's largest consumers, stopped serving shark fin soup at official state banquets in the early 2010s, and that helped lower sales.

But the sheer scale of the tragedy is still too big to ignore.

How big the problem is

As we've seen above, estimates vary, but researchers warn that tens of millions of sharks die each year due to finning and the related global fin trade.

Some widely cited studies put the number between about 73 million and 100 million sharks killed annually. Those losses matter because many shark species reproduce slowly and cannot replace large losses quickly.

The legal, recorded global catch of sharks is roughly half a million tonnes a year, but unreported catches and illegal trade add to that number.

At different points, the shark-fin trade has been estimated to be worth several hundred million to over a billion U.S. dollars a year.

And that is directly proportional to the suffering these marine creatures go through until they eventually sink to death. A set of fins taken from the animal generally means its death.

Sadly, the volume and value make fins attractive to criminal networks as well as ordinary fishers, so the slaughter never ends.

What shark finning does to the oceans

Sharks are often top predators. So, removing large numbers changes food chains dramatically.

Fewer sharks can mean more of their prey species, which then affects populations of smaller animals and the habitats they use.

Scientists call it a cascade effect: an ecosystem can reorganize in ways that reduce its health and productivity.

On top of that, many species hit by the fin trade are now listed as vulnerable or endangered. And all this after living in the world's oceans for millions of years.

Where finning is illegal - and where rules are weak

Let's start with the good news. Some countries and regions have established strong and strict rules against finning or the fin trade.

For example, the United Kingdom passed a law in 2023 that bans the import and export of detached shark fins and products containing them.

Canada made it illegal to import or export detached fins in 2019 and had already prohibited finning at sea in earlier years.

The United States has laws that stop finning at sea and, more recently, national legislation that restricts the possession, transport, and sale of shark fins and fin products.

In China, a major historical consumer, official banquet bans and public campaigns helped reduce high-profile demand after 2012-2013.

Still, demand remains strong in markets such as Hong Kong, Taiwan, and parts of Southeast Asia.

Indonesia, one of the countries with large shark catches, has ongoing enforcement challenges in some regions.

In Brazil, reporting shows heavy use of shark meat and weak controls in parts of the market add threats to shark populations.

Countries involved in the international shark fin trade include fishing and exporting nations across Asia, as well as nations in Europe, Africa, and the Americas.

Spain, Taiwan, China, the United Arab Emirates, the Philippines, Ghana, and Brazil have all been identified in studies of the global trade network, even though in some cases, via illegal routes.

Enforcement and loopholes vary, but the legal framework has strengthened.

The European Union bans finning on vessels and in its waters.

Several other nations and jurisdictions also have either a total ban or a "fins naturally attached" rule, which requires fishers to land the whole shark with fins still attached so fins can't be traded separately.

A survey of major shark-fishing countries shows a mix: about half now have outright finning bans, many have fins-naturally-attached policies, and a minority still lack clear, verifiable protections.

At the same time, important shark-fishing nations and busy markets still allow finning or have weak enforcement.

Demand and economic factors in parts of Asia, along with poor monitoring on some fishing boats, continue to allow finning in many places.

That keeps pressure on shark populations even where laws exist on paper.

Unfortunately, there's still a lot of work to do.

What works to reduce finning

Experts and conservation groups believe there are tools that can be effective to halt this tragedy.

Everything starts with laws that ban finning and also prohibit trade in detached fins.

Laws that only ban finning at sea but allow trade can leave room for illegal fins to enter markets. Strong import/export controls close that route.

Then, environmentalists underline that this type of fishing should involve "fins naturally attached" plus good inspection and traceability.

It should be required to land whole sharks and improve documentation, so fins can't be separated and sold without detection.

Also, public campaigns and awareness-raising efforts in consumer markets have reduced public appetite for shark fin soup in many places. Celebrities and ad campaigns helped shift social norms, which lowers market pressure.

Better fisheries management and monitoring are needed, too.

GPS tracking of vessels, port inspections, and penalties for illegal trade all play a part. International cooperation among ports, customs, and conservation agencies is also essential, as the fin trade crosses borders.

Lastly, there should be economic alternatives for fishers.

Programs that help fishing communities diversify incomes reduce the incentive to target sharks, especially where shark tourism or sustainable fisheries can replace destructive catches.

If we all do our part by simply rejecting shark fin soup, slaughter could virtually end.

Words by Luís MP | Founder of SurferToday.com

Near the equator, the Pacific Ocean acts like a giant climate engine that pushes and pulls heat into the atmosphere.

The back-and-forth cycle between warm and cool ocean conditions is called the El Niño-Southern Oscillation (ENSO).

ENSO has three major phases:

1. La Niña: Cooler-than-normal Pacific surface waters;
2. El Niño: Warmer-than-normal Pacific surface waters;
3. ENSO-neutral: Conditions that are neither warm nor cool;

When we get a strong El Niño, it heats the equatorial Pacific. But there's more.

It often pushes up global temperatures and affects the weather around the world, from droughts and floods to hurricane seasons.

The strongest versions are sometimes called "Super El Niño" events.

Where things stand now: La Niña and ENSO-Neutral

In early 2026, La Niña was still present, according to NOAA's latest ENSO Diagnostic Discussion (from February 12, 2026).

The report reveals sea surface temperatures in the eastern and central Pacific were below average, which is the signature of a La Niña phase.

But something important was happening beneath the surface at the same time:

Below the ocean surface, warmer water was increasing and spreading eastward toward the central Pacific.

This subsurface heat buildup matters because it's one of the key ingredients that can trigger a shift into El Niño conditions.

NOAA scientists said that La Niña was likely to end between February and April 2026, with about a 60 percent chance of transitioning to ENSO-neutral conditions.

ENSO-neutral is a sort of "in-between" phase. It doesn't have the strong cooling of La Niña or the strong warming of El Niño.

But it can make it easier for El Niño conditions to develop later, especially if ocean temperatures keep rising.

What the forecast models are showing

NOAA's Climate Prediction Center and world climate models are key to these predictions. Here's what they are pointing toward for 2026:

1. Transition to ENSO-neutral soon

NOAA's updated February advisory notes that La Niña conditions are weakening and that ENSO-neutral conditions are likely through at least the Northern Hemisphere summer (June-August 2026).

2. Rising chance of El Niño after that

Once ENSO-neutral sets in, many forecasts show the chances of El Niño formation growing during the middle to late part of 2026. Some model averages suggest that by late summer or early autumn, El Niño is more likely than not, with estimates often above 50 percent and sometimes closer to 60 percent.

3. Models show heat building up

Scientific reports and weather handlers highlight that heat from the western Pacific and subsurface layers is slowly moving eastward. This warmer water is what feeds the formation of El Niño conditions in the central and eastern regions of the tropical Pacific.

Could it become a Super El Niño?

A Super El Niño refers to one of the strongest El Niño events ever recorded. Past Super El Niños happened in 1982-1983, 1997-1998, and 2015-2016, all of which caused big global weather shifts.

Scientists aren't yet able to say for certain that 2026 will be a Super El Niño.

That's because it depends on how much ocean surface warming happens after the ENSO-neutral phase, and on how the winds, ocean heat content, and atmospheric patterns interact over months.

But the pieces that typically set the stage for a strong event are starting to come together:

• Warm subsurface water spreading eastward: a precursor signal;
• Trade winds weakening or changing direction: another signal that ONI (ocean temperature indices) could flip positive;
• ENSO moving out of La Niña and into neutral, which clears the way for El Niño to form;

Some forecasters and climate analysts have noted that the Pacific conditions in early 2026 resemble patterns seen before strong El Niño events in the past.

That doesn't guarantee a Super El Niño, but it gives scientists something to watch closely as the year unfolds.

What scientists are watching closely

Here are a few of the main indicators climate experts look at:

Niño-3.4 Index

It is one of the most important measurements. It tracks sea surface temperature anomalies in a key region of the Pacific. If this index rises above about +0.5 °C for a sustained period, it signals El Niño. NOAA reported La Niña still in place in early 2026 but noted warming subsurface conditions.

Subsurface Heat Content

Heat beneath the surface can later surface and warm the ocean above. Scientists have observed an increase in this warmed layer, which strengthens the potential for El Niño development later in 2026.

Wind and Atmosphere Patterns

Changes in trade winds and atmospheric convection patterns are also crucial. Westerly wind bursts and weakening easterlies help push warm water east, feeding El Niño emergence. Analysts have pointed to some early signals of these changes.

Wait, monitor, and see

Here's a simple way to look at all this.

The Pacific Ocean has been cool (La Niña) but is warming toward a neutral state. Models show it will likely shift to neutral in early-mid 2026.

Once neutral is reached, ocean and atmospheric conditions could tip into an El Niño pattern.

If those conditions become strong enough later in the year, the event could grow into a bigger, possibly "Super" El Niño, though scientists are still watching and are not yet certain.

Sharks are high-tech creatures. The ocean's predator is equipped with a super agile body and a sensory system that allows it to detect electric fields in the water.

If you look closely at a shark's snout, you'll notice small dark dots scattered across the skin that look like freckles or pores.

Inside each one sits a structure that helps make sharks some of the most effective hunters in the world's oceans.

These organs are called the ampullae of Lorenzini. They are part of a sensory system that lets sharks detect electric fields in the water. 

Scientists consider it to be one of the most refined examples of electroreception in the animal kingdom.

What the ampullae of Lorenzini actually are

So, what exactly is this electroreceptor system? It's simultaneously simple and complex.

Let's see.

Each ampulla starts as a tiny pore on the shark's skin. That pore leads into a long canal filled with a jelly-like substance. At the end of the canal sits a bulb-shaped chamber packed with sensory cells.

Thousands of these pores are usually clustered around the head and snout. A single bull shark, for example, may have more than 2,000 of them.

Inside the canal, the jelly conducts electrical signals.

When an electric field reaches the pore, it creates a tiny voltage difference between the opening and the receptor cells. That difference triggers the cells, which send nerve signals to the brain.

The sensitivity of this system is extreme, and that's why some sharks can detect fields as weak as about 5 nanovolts per centimeter, far lower than what most animals can sense.

Why sharks evolved an electric sense

First, let's put everything into perspective - every living creature produces a small electrical field.

Muscles contract, nerves fire, and gills move. All of these actions create tiny signals that leak into the surrounding seawater.

Sharks use their ampullae to pick up those signals, helping them in several ways. Here are a few very useful uses of their electroreception:

Finding hidden prey

A flatfish buried under sand may be invisible to the eye, but its breathing still produces an electrical field. A shark hovering nearby can detect it and strike.

Hunting in murky or dark water

Vision is limited in low light or cloudy conditions. Electroreception still works, so sharks can hunt when other senses struggle. Unbelievable, isn't it?

Close-range targeting

The system works best at short distances. In many cases, sharks can detect prey within about 8 to 12 inches (20 to 30 centimeters).

Navigation and orientation

Incredibly, scientists believe sharks may also use their electroreceptors to sense the Earth's magnetic field. This is actually mindblowing and allows them to travel long distances across the open ocean.

Also, the system is tuned to the low-frequency signals produced by living animals to help sharks distinguish prey from nonliving objects.

How the brain uses the signals

The electrical information does not stop at the skin. It travels through nerves to a part of the brain called the anterior lateral line lobe.

There, the signals are processed into a map of electrical activity around the shark.

Researchers have found that sharks can filter out background electrical noise and focus on the signals that truly matter.

Consequently, they can zero in on prey even when the ocean is full of other electrical activity.

Experiments have also shown that the ampullae respond to temperature changes as small as 0.2 °C, suggesting they may provide additional environmental information.

Why it matters for surfers and ocean enthusiasts

The same sensitivity that helps sharks hunt also gives scientists a tool for reducing shark encounters.

Because sharks rely on their electroreceptors at close range, researchers have tested devices that create artificial electric fields.

The idea is simple: if the field is strong enough, it overwhelms or irritates the ampullae, and the shark turns away.

For instance, at some point, scientists tested an electric deterrent on 18 white sharks near bait and a seal-shaped decoy in the Neptune Islands, South Australia.

The research was part of ongoing efforts to develop safety devices for individuals who enjoy spending time in the water. Including surfers, obviously, a group that is particularly affected by shark attacks.

The surf industry, for example, already created special gear - mostly surfboard leashes and traction pads - that addresses the need to mitigate unprovoked shark attacks on surfers.

These deterrents do not rely on chemical or sound stimuli.

Instead, they target the shark's electric sense directly. The approach is based on decades of research showing how sensitive the ampullae are to even tiny fields.

Results aren't perfect, but it is a trial-and-error and iterative process.

Scientists are still learning

Because not everything is entirely known to science, modern studies are digging into the details of how the ampullae work at the molecular level. 

Researchers are examining the jelly inside the canals, which has unusually high electrical conductivity for a biological material.

They are also studying how different shark species vary in sensitivity.

Hammerhead sharks, for example, may detect electrical signals more effectively because their wide head spreads the sensors farther apart.

Ultimately, all this work will provide data for engineers to design better deterrents and for conservationists to find ways to reduce accidental shark catches in fishing gear.

Words by Luís MP | Founder of SurferToday.com

The fastest winds ever recorded on Earth come from two storms that had almost nothing in common.

One was a violent tornado that tore through suburban Oklahoma in 1999. The other was a tropical cyclone that struck a small island off the coast of Western Australia in 1996.

One record was captured by a mobile Doppler radar. The other came from a fixed weather station.

Together, they show just how extreme the atmosphere can become.

Let's take a look at the strongest tornadic and non-tornadic wind gusts ever registered.

May 3, 1999: the Bridge Creek-Moore tornado

On the afternoon and evening of May 3, 1999, a powerful supercell thunderstorm developed over central Oklahoma.

It produced a series of tornadoes, including one that would become one of the most studied storms in history.

The ninth tornado from that supercell formed at 6:23 p.m. local time near the town of Amber.

It quickly intensified, grew into a wide wedge, and tracked toward the communities of Bridge Creek, Moore, and southern Oklahoma City.

The tornado stayed on the ground for about 1 hour and 25 minutes and carved a path roughly 38 miles long (61 kilometers). At times, it was nearly a mile wide.

The record-breaking measurement

As the tornado reached peak strength near Bridge Creek, a research team from the University of Oklahoma deployed a mobile Doppler radar known as "Doppler on Wheels," or DoW.

The radar scanned the winds inside the tornado about 100 to 200 feet above the ground. The original analysis produced a value around 301 miles per hour (484 kilometers per hour).

Years later, improved processing techniques led to a revised estimate of 321 miles per hour (561 kilometers per hour). That number is now widely cited as the highest wind speed ever recorded on Earth.

Because the measurement came from radar rather than a traditional anemometer, it is sometimes listed separately from official surface wind records.

Still, it remains the strongest wind speed ever measured inside a tornado.

Extreme damage across the metro area

The tornado reached F5 intensity on the original Fujita scale.

In the Bridge Creek area, entire neighborhoods were flattened. Some homes were completely swept away, leaving only bare concrete slabs.

As the tornado moved into Moore and southern Oklahoma City, the destruction continued.

By the time the storm dissipated at 7:48 p.m., it had killed 36 people directly, with five additional indirect deaths.

More than 580 people were injured, and damage was estimated at about $1 billion in 1999 dollars.

The tornado became a turning point in severe-weather research.

It was observed by multiple radars, storm chasers, and scientists. The detailed data collected that day helped improve warning systems and understanding of violent tornadoes.

April 10, 1996: Cyclone Olivia's shocking gust

Three years earlier, a very different storm produced another record-setting wind.

Tropical Cyclone Olivia formed north of Australia in early April 1996. It moved westward and strengthened as it approached the remote Pilbara coast of Western Australia.

On April 10, the cyclone passed near Barrow Island, a small, sparsely populated island used for energy operations.

A brief, violent burst of wind

At 10:55 UTC that day, an automatic weather station on Barrow Island recorded a three-second wind gust of 408 kilometers per hour (656 kilometers per hour), or 253 miles per hour (407 kilometers per hour).

The instrument was mounted about 10 meters above the ground.

The extreme gust likely came from a small-scale circulation, known as a mesovortex, embedded within the cyclone's eyewall. Several intense gusts were recorded within minutes of the peak value.

Despite the record gust, the cyclone's average maximum winds were estimated at Category 4 intensity by Australian standards.

A record that took years to confirm

The data from Barrow Island did not become an official world record right away. The weather station was privately owned, and the extremely high values raised doubts among meteorologists.

More than a decade later, a panel from the World Meteorological Organization (WMO) reviewed the instrument and the data.

The panel concluded that the anemometer was working properly and that the gust was physically possible.

In 2010, the organization officially ratified the 253-mile-per-hour (407-kilometer-per-hour) reading as the highest surface wind speed ever measured that was not associated with a tornado.

Two records, two different measurement methods

The two storms hold their records for different reasons.

The Bridge Creek-Moore tornado produced the highest winds ever detected, but the value came from Doppler radar scanning the air inside the funnel.

Cyclone Olivia's gust was measured by a mechanical anemometer at the surface, which is the standard method used for official world records.

In simple terms, the tornado likely had the stronger winds overall, while the cyclone holds the official surface wind record because of how it was measured.

Whichever you favor, they're both remarkable demonstrations of Nature's raw power.

Antarctica looks quiet. Vast white ice stretches to the horizon. How peaceful is that? But beneath the ocean surface, scientists are discovering something far more violent.

The oceans of the world are, by themselves, a sea of secrets and hidden phenomena. However, Antarctica is an extreme and rather inhospitable place.

Giant chunks of ice snap more and more off the edges of glaciers and crash into the sea.

And when that happens, they generate powerful underwater waves, sometimes tens of meters high, that surge through the ocean depths.

Researchers call them underwater or internal tsunamis, and until recently, no one had ever measured them directly.

These waves may help explain why Antarctica's ice is melting faster than expected, and why changes here matter far beyond the frozen south.

When glaciers fall, and the ocean moves

Glaciers along the Antarctic Peninsula and across West Antarctica are retreating as air and ocean temperatures rise.

It's an indisputable fact.

At places like Sheldon Glacier, ice that once filled entire bays has pulled back more than a mile over the past 50 years.

So, when ice the size of an apartment block or larger breaks free and plunges into the sea, it sends a shock through the water column.

Above the surface, the splash is brief, and it has already been ridden by surfers. The thing is, below it, the impact travels outward as a rolling wave.

Interestingly, those waves can reach deep into the ocean, where warmer, saltier water sits beneath a thin surface layer of icy meltwater. Scientists believe the force is strong enough to stir these layers together.

"By mixing that warm water upwards, you're altering where that heat ultimately ends up," says Alex Brearley, an oceanographer at the British Antarctic Survey.

"And we have to understand that in order to make those better predictions about sea ice melt."

Why mixing warm water is a big deal

Ocean layers normally act like barriers. Cold, fresh water from melting glaciers floats on top. Warmer water stays below. That separation slows melting.

But underwater tsunamis may break that barrier.

If warmer water is pulled upward and pushed against the submerged face of a glacier, it can melt ice from below, weakening it and speeding up retreat.

Scientists now think this hidden process could be happening repeatedly along Antarctica's long, fractured coastline.

They are deploying robotic gliders equipped with sensors to patrol the waters in front of glaciers.

These machines move silently through the ocean, recording temperature, salinity, and pressure changes as waves pass.

"It's kind of remarkable," one scientist says in the Sky News video "Could Antarctica's underwater tsunamis change our future?", describing how the gliders can be controlled from Cambridge while operating 6,200 miles (10,000 kilometers) away.

Antarctica's role as the planet's thermostat

But then, what happens beneath Antarctic ice does not stay there.

The Southern Ocean surrounds the continent and drives the Antarctic Circumpolar Current, the strongest ocean current on Earth.

It links the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian oceans, moving heat and nutrients around the planet.

Scientists estimate this system has absorbed about 75 percent of the excess heat produced since the Industrial Revolution.

It works stunningly well, like a global cooling system, storing heat deep in the ocean instead of letting it warm the atmosphere.

"Antarctica is a continent miles away from where we live in the UK, but it has a profound influence on what happens across the whole planet," says Professor Dame Jane Francis, director of the British Antarctic Survey.

Consequently, if underwater tsunamis are changing how heat moves through the Southern Ocean, they could affect how much warming the planet experiences, and how quickly.

"What scientists really want to know is where that heat is going and if it's going to stay there for a long time," Professor Francis adds.

"Or are we at risk of it coming back into our atmosphere?"

Doomsday Glacier and rising seas

Far from the Antarctic Peninsula, another glacier looms large in scientists' concerns.

Thwaites Glacier, often called the Doomsday Glacier, is roughly the size of Florida. It acts like a cork, holding back the much larger West Antarctic Ice Sheet.

"It's kind of a keystone of the West Antarctic Ice Sheet," one researcher explains in the short Sky News documentary.

"If you destabilize Thwaites, it might lead to a destabilization of the rest of the ice sheet."

Thwaites alone contains enough ice to raise global sea levels by about 25 inches (roughly 60 centimeters). If the wider West Antarctic Ice Sheet were to collapse, sea levels could eventually rise by more than three metres.

Peter Davis of the British Antarctic Survey notes scientists are trying to understand how long the glacier can keep acting as a barrier.

"What we want to learn is how effective these dams are in holding that ice back," he stresses.

"And ultimately, how quickly, therefore, is sea level going to change over the next 100 years?"

Despite all human development and technological advances, underwater melting, driven by warm currents and possibly intensified by submarine tsunamis, remains a key unknown.

Life beneath the ice

The effects of underwater tsunamis may not be limited to ice, though.

Mixing caused by these waves could also move nutrients through the ocean.

And that is relevant mostly because Antarctica supports vast blooms of phytoplankton, tiny marine plants that absorb carbon dioxide and form the base of the ocean food chain.

The Southern Ocean is thought to have absorbed more than 40 percent of the carbon dioxide released by humans since the Industrial Revolution.

At Rothera research station, on Adelaide Island, marine biologists have been diving year-round for nearly 30 years, tracking how life responds to warming waters and retreating ice.

"We're seeing whales here in massive numbers compared to previous years," says Professor Lloyd Peck, a marine biologist with the British Antarctic Survey.

He links the change to shrinking sea ice and shifting ecosystems.

But rapid warming brings risks. Some species struggle to survive even small temperature increases.

"What we found is that some can't take a warming of one degree," Peck adds.

"The ecosystem balance is changing. The species numbers are changing."

Racing against change

It's true that Antarctica has warmed and cooled many times in Earth's history. Ice cores drilled deep into the continent show that clearly.

But past changes unfolded over thousands of years.

"What's so important is the rate of change," scientists highlight.

"What we're seeing now is happening at a rate we have never seen in our recent history."

Underwater tsunamis are just one more reminder that Antarctica still holds surprises. Scientists are only beginning to understand how many hidden processes are shaping the planet's future.

Despite its distance, the frozen continent remains tightly connected to life everywhere else.