face furrowed into a mix of what must be complicated emotions: recognition that we had located the highest density of microplastics so far, the brunt of her research efforts, but also disgust that we had found so much.
We had only trawled for one hour, across a distance that would be no more than a speck of dust on a nautical chart, and yet the nets revealed an entire handful of rainbow-colored microplastics populating the first few feet of water below the ocean’s surface. I tried to imagine what sort of larger plastic objects these fragments had once composed: a child’s toy, a milk crate, or maybe a plastic comb? And how many decades ago were these plastics first manufactured? Could these fragments be discarded shadows of the 1970s, ‘60s, or ‘50s?
We were many miles from the closest shipping route and several hundred more from land. It seemed as if there was no far-reaching corner of this planet human civilization had not yet touched. I was disgusted but also relieved that Boyan and his talented team were hot on the trail to find a way to extract these invaders by creating a method that would ensure the most minimal of environmental impacts.
During our last full day at sea, I went aloft while we sailed at a steady eight knots with a full main sail and spinnaker. All thirteen trawls complete, samples labeled and stored, data recorded, we were concerned with nothing more than the wind on our quarter steadily guiding us toward the Azores.
With my camera wrapped in a towel, I clipped the bundle around my neck and straddled the mast while I got hoisted skyward, reaching for spreaders and halyards and any handholds available. As soon as I was settled up top, the immensity of the red and white spinnaker entranced me in all its color and wind-harnessing power. Sea Dragon was chugging through the water below in a fury of spray and speed that certainly earns her name. Being aloft garnered several extra miles of perspective and visibility to the horizon, as if I was witnessing the curvature of the Earth. As I reveled about the sheer beauty of our planet, a floating platter-shaped object caught my attention in the water below. It approached within a few dozen feet of Sea Dragon, hardly swimming at all, effortless, as it rode the currents, seemingly checking out our vessel and then bidding us adieu—a sea turtle.
From aloft, my view of the horizon conveyed the utter immensity of the ocean but what struck me most was the realization of the ocean’s vulnerability. The beautiful waters below—those that had dazzled me on my first open ocean swim—I saw now as an irreversible truth.
Plastics have played a critical role in the advancements of science, technology, and medicine. Plastics have saved lives, supported multi-billion dollar industries, and introduced modern conveniences. But we must learn to manage their life cycle in a more sustainable way.
As country borders dissolve into no-man’s land, I wonder who will ultimately take responsibility for protecting this vast blue space. It’s a matter of policy, perhaps, but it’s also a matter of personal choice. You and I can stop using plastic bags, bring a reusable mug for our coffee, and ensure that the plastic products we do use end up in our local recycling system. And we can spread the word.
My transatlantic trip taught me that the ocean can put on a tough face in a storm, and reveal a softer side with calm evening sunsets, but somehow even a space so vast and powerful can buckle at the knees to the impact of our consumer society. Yes, we might succumb to the most powerful of Mother Nature’s forces, but on a longer time scale, are we truly capable of altering the ocean’s ancient processes and ecosystem?
The Ocean Cleanup is one of many bold players today focusing on different ways to address the plastic problem, by focusing on clean up. Other groups too are focusing on prevention and consumer-based approaches to keeping plastic out of our oceans, and I encourage you to keep tabs on their exciting work.
After seventeen days at sea, I for one long for the day that I can witness that deep, endless blue beneath my snorkel mask and have faith that I am not in fact suspended amidst a rainbow shower of microplastics.
To learn more about plastic and to get involved, please visit:
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