Narrator: This is a natural sea sponge getting trimmed.
And it was harvested here in Tarpon Springs, Florida,
the sponge capital of the world.
Narrator: By some estimates,
about 70% of the natural sea sponges collected globally
come from this stretch of Florida's coastline.
Generations of residents, many Greek,
have built their lives around this foamy sea creature.
Narrator: Sponge divers here
have harvested these animals — yes, they're animals —
since the 1900s.
But the industry has been struggling recently.
Increasingly frequent hurricanes
have prevented fishermen from heading out to sea.
Some of those storms even killed the sponges.
And high fuel costs over the last year have turned some away
from working in the industry at all.
But sponge diving has faced challenges in the past
and has bounced back before.
Sponge sales still bring in a couple million dollars a year.
But Tarpon Springs has found another way
to leverage its storied history.
It supports probably close to $20 million
worth of tourism.
Narrator: We head to Florida's Gulf Coast
to find out how sea sponges became such a big business
and why divers are fighting to keep their trade alive.
Anastasios Karistinos arrived here from Greece
in the early 1970s.
The 70-year-old now goes by Captain Taso.
Film narrator: His name is Taso Karistinos.
Narrator: Sponge diving dates back to ancient Greece.
In fact, both Homer and Aristotle wrote about the creatures.
Back then, people used them for bathing, cleaning,
painting, and decorating — the same as today.
When settlers found natural sponge beds
in Florida in the 1800s,
Greeks began making their way to America,
bringing their trade with them.
In the olden days, they'd wear suits like this.
But nowadays, divers wear wet suits in the summer,
and insulating dry suits in the winter.
And they strap on scuba masks and shoes.
Corey: I've worn anywhere from football cleats
to try to basically grip the bottom to run a little faster,
to construction boots, to deck boots, to scuba boots.
Narrator: They plunge as low as 60 feet deep
to find the sponges.
Narrator: They walk along the bottom
for as long as it takes to fill up one bag.
Narrator: In the old days, they used a hook
to tear sponges from the bottom.
But now, by law,
a diver has to cut the sponge with a knife
to promote regeneration.
One study shows cut sponges
have a much better chance of surviving,
roughly 30% higher than hooked ones.
It's kind of like shearing a sheep
or cutting a branch off a tree.
Sponges actually show the highest regenerative ability
of any animal.
Still, Captain Taso doesn't harvest the smaller ones.
He leaves them behind so they can keep growing.
Narrator: They haul their full net up to the boat
and make their way back to shore.
Narrator: On the docks,
Taso and his team get to work
separating and cleaning the sponges.
Narrator: Wool sponges are the most valuable,
going for about $15 each.
They're the softest, and they hold a lot of water.
Yellows are more coarse. They're also the cheapest.
As the fishermen sort the sponges,
they give them the first of many cleanings.
Then they trim them to get rid of any discolorations
and to shape them.
Narrator: Overnight, Captain Taso
leaves his clean sponges out to dry.
Some people stop by to ask questions
or buy straight from the harvesters on the docks.
But Taso says the best option is finding a wholesale buyer.
The sponges find themselves,
or rather, a piece of themselves,
at a processing plant like this one,
about a mile and a half from the docks.
Sponges get soaked in the wetting area
and pushed down into a bath with a wooden paddle.
Then they're drained in this net
and transferred to a water extractor,
where they're spun to remove excess water,
leaving the sponges damp
and ready for the next stage: cutting.
The worker protects his fingers
from this sharp wire with gloves.
Harry: These are sponges that are netted up for processing.
We'll put them in the bath tonight,
and they'll sit there overnight
and then be processed from there.
Narrator: Harry Barber manages the plant
at Armaly Sponge Company.
The Armaly family founded the company in the Bahamas in 1908
and expanded into Florida about 50 years ago.
They opened their Tarpon Springs processing plant in 2018.
Into the washing machine they go.
Next, time to dry and get sorted by size.
They box the sponges and prepare them for shipment.
Harry: Bath sponges have taken off tremendously,
because people want to use something on their children
that's sustainable and clean and natural.
Narrator: Despite the sponge's near-magical ability
to regenerate,
it was almost wiped out here in the late 1930s
by a mysterious disease.
And then again in the '40s and '50s,
out-of-control algae called red tides
killed many local sponge beds.
The population survived against all odds
and thrived during the industry's heyday in the 1980s,
when around 30 sponge boats and 50 divers
docked here every day.
Harry: There was a blight of sponges in the Mediterranean.
And we were able to harvest here locally at higher prices
and ship stuff over to the Mediterranean.
Narrator: But when the Mediterranean fisheries recovered,
the demand and the price went down again in Tarpon Springs.
Many fishermen went out of business.
But some, like Captain Taso, stuck it out.
Narrator: 2022 hasn't proven much easier.
With record inflation and fuel prices,
maintaining and gassing up a boat is expensive.
And the industry is facing another problem.
Hurricanes are happening more and more
because of the climate crisis.
So bad years are becoming the norm.
Divers can't go out during storms,
but there's something else.
Even though sponges are technically animals,
they survive by attaching themselves to the ocean floor.
During a hurricane, many get smothered by sand
or hit by tumbling rocks and die.
Lately, only a handful of sponge boats
and about a dozen divers go out any given day.
Narrator: Captain Taso works long days.
Narrator: ... handling his sponges the whole time.
Narrator: Armaly mostly buys
from independent contractors like Taso.
Harry: We purchase from them based on what they bring in
and the conditions and sizes of what they have.
Narrator: So income isn't guaranteed.
Sponger Muhip Goktepe
goes on these long fishing trips year-round.
He makes about $46,000 a year.
Narrator: In addition to the financial uncertainty,
diving can be dangerous
if your hose gets cut or you dive too deep.
That's why Muhip and Taso aren't trying
to pass down a family business.
It is sad to see so few fishing,
but I certainly understand it.
The markets right now won't bear really high prices
to offset the cost of fuel.
Maintenance on boats is expensive.
We're looking at a country and a world
that's trying to look at natural products.
Narrator: So until the industry can rejuvenate itself,
Tarpon Springs will have to rely on its tourism.
Visitors pour tens of million dollars
into the community every year,
eating authentic Greek food and taking boat tours.
They also shop for sponge souvenirs to take home.
But many locals wonder if tourism
will be the long-term solution.
And if not, what's next
for the upcoming generation of spongers?