A Day in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch

If you’ve ever wondered what it’s really like to cross one of the most plastic-polluted parts of the world, you should check out this video.

Danish environmental nonprofit Plastic Change completed the last leg of its two-year expedition collecting microplastic samples across several seas and two oceans last fall. The final part of the journey took the crew from Los Angeles, California, to Honolulu, Hawaii, in 23 days. Before that the organization had sailed its sloop “S/Y Christianshavn” from Denmark through the Mediterranean, across the Atlantic, through the Caribbean, through the Panama Canal to the Galápagos, and then up to California. I accompanied them on their L.A.-to-Hawaii sail to witness and document what is considered one of the worst-polluted stretches of ocean in the world, the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. This video outlines one day (Day 14) of the group’s scientific research at sea, as well as major ideas related to the world’s plastic pollution problem. Mange tak to Plastic Change for taking me on board. 

Video credit: ©Erica Cirino.

Meet me in the sea

Green sea turtle and divers, Honolulu, Hawaii. August 2017. ©Erica Cirino

Green sea turtle and divers, Honolulu, Hawaii. August 2017. ©Erica Cirino

I’ve been long drawn to the ocean, 

Its depth, its breadth, 

The way it crashes on shorelines

Vast and varied, on sand or shell,

The ocean doesn’t discriminate

Where and on what it breaks.

The ocean is unrelenting, 

The ocean is dynamic, 

The ocean is life.

It reminds me to live deeply,

Not necessarily comfortably or easily,

But to inhale life slowly and fully,

Drawing it in and breathing it out rhythmically

Like the steady streams of air I take and give

Through my diving regulator

When I’m a few dozen feet below the surface

When I kick, kick, kick my finned feet smoothly

So I can hover just above a coral reef, in the thick of

Streams of swift and sparkling fish, just above 

Several somnolent sea turtles and swirling sea grasses,

Where, nearby, I see sleek whales and dolphins swimming and playing

Sharks and rays shimmying, gliding fast with little effort,

And jellyfish bobbing up and down through the water column.

The sea is full of life, 

And, I realize, we are life, 

Like coral, a fish or a turtle, a piece of sea grass,

Like a whale or a dolphin; a shark, a ray or a jellyfish.

All of us exist together in this sea. 

The question is: Once the water gets deeper,

Once you’re surrounded by sharks,

Do you flee to the surface or sink to the bottom, 

Or do you suspend yourself

In that deep sapphire blue water of existence?

In this ocean, I hope you seek the depths,

In this ocean, I hope you’ll join me here.

Originally posted to Medium on September 1, 2017.

Honu

An early morning encounter with a green sea turtle elicits an ocean of thought

lightened cropped green sea turtle.jpg

Just now, in the dawn, unable to sleep, I emerged from the hot steel hull of our ship for some fresh air. It takes a second for my body to adjust to the busy world around me. It’s breezy up here. Shining street lights dance white, red, green and orange ripples on the quiet water’s surface all around the harbor. Somewhere, a rooster crows. Cars, trucks and buses are just beginning to rumble, roar and buzz down Honolulu’s highways. The gray and black sky is slowly turning purple and blue in preparation for sunrise.

I’m absorbing all of this when I notice something moving just at the edge of my sight line — down in the water just below the cockpit where I’m perched on a bench. It’s a cluster of barnacles attached to a dark, hard surface.

Honu, is that you?

I kneel on deck and peer over the side of the ship and I see a small, curious face pop up from the water. Honu. She swims closer. Just inches away now, she locks eyes with me for what seems like an eternity. She’s studying me.

I’m studying her. Every mosaic-like scute on her shell, every wrinkle on her face. I wonder how old she is, how many years she’s lived in this harbor, watching the people on the boats. How many propellers she’s had to avoid. How many pieces of trash she’s accidentally ingested. I worry for Honu.

I worry for humanity. People are causing problems for Honu. People are causing problems for people. As if on cue, an Army jet on the nearby base revs, runs and throttles itself up into the sky. War. Deceit. Death. For what?

Honu’s eyes are dark and thoughtful, as if she too is processing our interaction, as if she too is thinking about her place in the world. Sea turtles are not creating these problems but are forced to live in a world where we do. I feel love for Honu, for her innocence and thoughtfulness, for visiting my ship in the dark dawn at the precise moment I came up for air. I feel sad and guilty. I feel betrayed by humanity. We are failing this sea turtle. We are failing ourselves. We are failing all life on Earth.

While I’m still lost in thought, Honu slowly lowers her head into the water, locates some breakfast and dives below our vessel to catch it. I watch the ripples her wide shell leave on the water’s surface before I slip back down inside the ship.

Originally published to Medium on August 31, 2017.

This is your brain on whales (and dolphins and sea birds)

Last weekend I spent 36 hours on a ship in the Atlantic Ocean in search of marine wildlife. This is what I saw. And thought.

Humpback whale, Great South Channel, Atlantic Ocean. July 2017. ©Erica Cirino

Humpback whale, Great South Channel, Atlantic Ocean. July 2017. ©Erica Cirino

how could such an enormous creature simply slip beneath the surface in such a small swirl of water and vanish, right before my eyes?

how is it that this creature that seems to magically exist in this other reality, this other world–this vast, dark ocean–be made of the same stuff as me: flesh and bone and brain and spirit; suspended in water and raised on our mothers’ milk?

…are these whales my brothers and sisters?

These musings and more posted on Medium, with more of my original photography. Read here

What I learned in 1 month with 1 backpack and 1 camera, on 2 continents in 6 countries

The past nine months of my life have been very much filled with plastic: Writing about plastic, taking photos of plastic, filming plastic, making art out of plastic, studying plastic, talking about plastic, looking for plastic. I fell into this quasi-obsession with all things plastic after sailing with a bunch of Danish sailors and scientists across the most polluted stretch of the Pacific Ocean last November, where I saw a heck of a lot of the stuff floating around. It was an experience that changed my life in many ways.

Sailing the Pacific Ocean, Nov. 2016. ©Erica Cirino

Sailing the Pacific Ocean, Nov. 2016. ©Erica Cirino

My awareness about the problem of plastic pollution grew exponentially after that trip. When sailing, I saw plastic items like laundry baskets, dustpans and condiment bottles floating across the surface of the world's biggest and deepest ocean. Plastic items improperly discarded on land, dumped into the sea or lost from shipping containers all end up in the ocean. It was unsettling to realize that many of these things had traveled more than 1,000 miles from land (where they are most commonly used). The reason there is so much of it is because we use so much of it...and all of the plastic is causing huge ecological problems and is harming our health. 

Plastic, as a material, is entrenched in modern human culture. Whether you're going out for a meal in the city or a bike ride in the forest or a stroll around town; or spending a day in an office or a classroom or a lake, you're bound to encounter plastic. No. It's more than that. You're bound to plastic...it's a part of modern life. Personally, the sailing trip challenged me to question what is most important in my life. I realized that I need to slow down and spend more time with the people who make me happy, and to place less value on material things–which really don't contribute to lasting happiness. 

Plastic "stuff" for sale in Phuket, Thailand. June 2017. ©Erica Cirino

Plastic "stuff" for sale in Phuket, Thailand. June 2017. ©Erica Cirino

After sailing and seeing plastic pollution firsthand, my goal was to learn from scientific experts about the effects of plastics and possible solutions to the problem, and also to see on-the-ground efforts to minimize plastic pollution. I visited world-class plastic scientists in the U.S. and Denmark from February through June. Last month I traveled to Thailand to learn about how plastic pollution is addressed in Asia–the world's top plastic-polluting continent–and went back to Denmark again to spend more time in the lab and catch up with my Danish sailing friends. I traveled with just one backpack and my camera across two continents and to six countries (Thailand and Denmark, plus stopovers in: Rome, 5 days; Lisbon, 2 hours; Moscow, 1 hour; and Sweden, 4 days).

I'm a strong believer in the idea that travel can teach a person some pretty important lessons about life. It can also helps a person arrive at their truest, best self. I think these effects are especially strong when you travel with as little as possible, with a flexible plan, and alone, as I did. I've traveled on structured trips with more gear and in groups before and the results can be similar but are not quite as potent. Throw yourself into the world pretty much naked and see what happens. See what types of places you find, what types of people you attract, what kind of challenges you encounter, what you feel. 

Thailand was unlike anything I've ever experienced. I've never been to Asia before, and the energy is indescribable. Perhaps I'd classify it as frenetic peace. There are many, many people–often on scooters–and during the day they move quickly, speak quickly. In Thailand the sun is hot and the waves are crashing and cars are honking and people are talking, talking, talking. But then when you remove your shoes and walk into a shining, gold-gilded temple, the world stops. You can hear your own breath moving in and out. All is quiet–unless a monk is saying prayers or if a temple cat is purring at your feet. 

"Temple Cat." (1/7) Rawai, Phuket, Thailand. June 2017. ©Erica Cirino

"Temple Cat." (1/7) Rawai, Phuket, Thailand. June 2017. ©Erica Cirino

In Thailand, the world's sixth-biggest plastic polluting country, I found a lot of plastic on the country's roadsides and beaches. And I learned that plastic pollution is an ongoing problem there in large part due to the cultural taboos that surround cleaning it up. But I also found people working to combat it, as I've written about recently. I got to document a fitness boot camp where participants workout on a beach for an hour and then clean that same beach for an hour. I met a photographer-filmmaker-chef who documents how climate change affects how people cook, and he and I traveled together around Phuket on photo-expeditions for a week. I also met Thais and expats who care deeply about the environment, and I listened to their stories: about what they do and what inspires them.

Plastic trash on a roadside in Phuket, Thailand. June 2017. ©Erica Cirino

Plastic trash on a roadside in Phuket, Thailand. June 2017. ©Erica Cirino

In Denmark I worked again with my scientist-sailing friend Kristian Syberg examining the plastic samples our crew had collected while sailing the Pacific. While I was interviewing Kristian, he got a call from journalists from DR, the Danish national media, who wanted to visit the lab and ask him questions about plastic after a large plastic fishing net had been found earlier that week in Danish waters. During the filming, I stood out of the shot until the cameraman asked me to step in so he could create some b-roll. I can now say I have been on Danish television (albeit in a nonspeaking role, wearing a lab coat and for all of about a fraction of a second or two). And it's all because I've gone traveling solo, with so little, with a flexible plan.

Besides time in the lab, I spent time with two sailor friends on a Hobie Cat. I was introduced to some amazing outdoor artwork and a great international food court from another sailing friend. I met a talented and interesting Danish artist (and bought some of his art). I had a chat about an increasing loss of creativity in many increasingly expensive cities with two men living in Christiania (Denmark's famous intentional living community), cooked Danish food, biked everywhere and enjoyed some celebratory øl with the crew. 

My debut on Danish television with scientist and plastic expert Kristian Syberg at Roskilde University in Denmark. July 2017. ©DR

My debut on Danish television with scientist and plastic expert Kristian Syberg at Roskilde University in Denmark. July 2017. ©DR

This trip across the opposite side of the world reiterated to me that we as human beings don't need much in life to be happy. That pleasure is found in friendship and experience, not things that you buy. I recognized too that we have more in common with people from other countries than we think. I met kind souls everywhere I traveled, and truly connected with them, even when I couldn't fluently speak their language. 

Many of these are lessons we are taught when we are young, but I think as adults we sometimes forget. Traveling helps ingrain them into the brain. You don't need much to let them in. Just an open mind.

Sweden. July 2017. ©Erica Cirino

Sweden. July 2017. ©Erica Cirino