The myth of the North-Pacific garbage patch

One thing that is interesting to note, is that there is a common misconception about the gyres of the world. They are often known for having garbage patches’ or ‘floating rubbish islands’ accumulating around their centre. When I first read about the north pacific rubbish patch – an area the size of Texas – I imagined boats having to navigate through literal rubbish heaps, plowing their way through as flies and birds scavenged the mounts of trash.

But – the reality is, the rubbish is microscopic and creates a thin film on the surface of the water. Which makes it even more of an issue. Because of its relative size, the tiny pieces get mistaken as food, by birds and fish. You can figure out from there what problems this creates.

The rubbish that (we see) which washes up on coastlines, tends to be more of the bottles, bottle tops, noodle packets that you expect. When we arrive in Honolulu I will post some pictures of the impromptu clean up we did on Christmas Island.

Why am I doing this?

All this talk of islands and sailing, and what is it all for? While it is great to explore, have a holiday and a most definite change of scenery, there is a bigger purpose to this trip.

We’re sailing to Hawai’i at the moment and there’s all this time to think, when you’re not attempting to steer, or keep watch, or defy gravity by living at 20 degrees.

So perhaps now, while I’m stuck on a boat and thinking - not exploring, is a good time to explain a little more about Pangaea Explorations and the company’s vision.

Pangaea Explorations is a not-for-profit organization. Run by passionate conservationists and social change makers, the owners have managed to organize an ever-changing crew of enthusiasts to sail around the world on their yacht Sea Dragon for the past 18 months, exploring the oceans and their islands.

Based in America, Pangaea collaborates with a host of different organizations, institutions, and researchers.

The main project to collaborate with Pangaea at the moment has been run by 5 Gyres – a scientific research group looking at plastic pollution in the ocean.

So while sailing across the seven seas, the 5 gyres crew have been running trawls off the side of Sea-Dragon, picking up rubbish and water samples which are then counted and analysed. It’s amazing, across the Atlantic and Pacific oceans they’ve only had one trawl which hasn’t picked up any pieces of plastic.

The aim is to survey the seas and get some kind of analytical picture of how bad the plastic pollution is across the ocean, where and why.

So. Five gyres and various other scientists have jumped on board to accompany the core crew at different stages of the trip.

I am on the fourth leg of the Pacific Survey trip. There are no scientists from 5 gyres on any of the Pacific legs of the voyage because we are so close to the equator, where the trade winds blow and currents are stronger. Rubbish tends to accumulate near the calmer centres of the gyres, in the sub-tropical latitudes.

But, we are still exploring the issues of pollution in the Pacific. However, I guess there is a broader focus to the Pacific trip. From Tahiti to Hawaii first mate and trip co-ordinator Emily Penn has been surveying an array of small islands. The objective for Pangaea on this part of the journey is to get an idea of the challenges and successes of small-island life, including how rubbish is managed.

So our time on Christmas and Fanning Islands has been spent getting anecdotal evidence by talking to a wide variety of locals. The experience has been eye-opening! My days have been spent at local’s houses, businesses, beaches, schools – learning about a different culture and a different way of life.

The information collected will hopefully accompany scientific data drawn from various stages along the way, and contribute towards future research projects, media reports, and building relationships and networks across the Pacific.

As a side note – although 5 gyres staff aren’t on board at the moment we are however, trawling in international waters for a few hours each day. The simple piece of equipment used looks like a kind of a metal stingray. Attached to the boat’s spinnaker by rope, the microwave-sized contraption glides along the surface of the water, with matter being directed through a tail-like net and into a funnel attached to the end of it. It’s astounding, even on our way to Hawai’i – out in the middle of nowhere - we are finding minute pieces of plastic among the few jellyfish and other organic bits and pieces the trawl brings in.

The definition of remote island paradise

If I could define remote island paradise, I’m pretty sure Fanning Island would come close.

I mean, a pod of dolphins followed our boat on the way in, and then from our anchorage on the last night here we watched manta-rays feed in the lagoon, flapping their wings on the water's surface. That’s got to say something about this place.

Every day we were here this paradise was revealed in a new and different light.

The first day ashore we stumbled across an old Frenchman who got shipwrecked near this island 25 years ago. He invited us to visit his house. Nestled among a grove of coconut palms and frangipanis his petite, open-plan home was simply stunning. It is the only western-style home on the island, built by hand it was a 20-year labour of love, now fit for a vogue magazine.

A morning was whittled away listening to his stories of life on the island, married in to a Kiribati lifestyle.

The next day we decided to visit a local school. To get there, the dingy dropped us off at the local wharf and we were instructed to walk 10 or so minutes to arrive at school. An hour and a half of walking later we still hadn’t found our destination.

Feeling exhausted from the beating sun, we stopped on the side of the track and decided it would just be better if we went swimming. So white sand and turquoise waters beckoned. We didn’t find the school that day, but it was just so lovely strolling along this path, through the forest of coconuts, next to the lagoon, chatting and walking along.

The afternoon was spent cycling through sleepy villages in another area of the atoll. It was slow going because everyone who was out and about wanted to chat - people here are so friendly. A few fresh coconuts, an impromptu photo shoot with them, and an evening swim later, and I was one happy camper.

On the last day here we managed to make it to the school. An extensive tour of the complex was finished off with a tradition meal served in a brand new, raised maneaba (meeting house). Prime real estate, the handmade open-air hut housed us for a few hours while the local teachers spun yarns and entertained us with more stories of island life.

That evening, the sun sunk low in the sky – an orange ball silhouetted the drooping coconut palms. This place has a good feeling about it. It’s kind of sad to be off in the blue mare pacificum now, leaving Fanning behind to become another part of this dream.

The first twenty-four hours

Let me tell you a little thing about sailing a yacht in the Mare Pacificum. All the preparation, anxiety, anticipation and sea sick pills do nothing. Until you experience the thrill, the heart-pumping adrenalin, the tirednessand the constant motion - all rolled into one big blur of events - for yourself, you've got no idea what's coming.

When we hoisted the sails and set off from Kiritimati Island, I really had no idea what was coming. It's only now, sitting in the safety and shelter of a calm, beautiful lagoon that I can sit in a room that isn't rocking like the inside of a washing machine, and write to you.

We arrived at Fanning Island, Tabuaeran, at about 8am on June 20. We first spotted the idyllic atoll, which is 24 hours sail north-west of Christmas, at about 6am. By then I had been on watch sitting at the helm of the boat for about two hours. That coast was a welcomed site to say the least.

By the time we saw land, we were only sailing at about six knots. Over the course of the 24 hour sail we had lowered the yankee sail, the stay sail, and had put three reefs in the main sail. So, in case you're like me and don't really understand boat terminology - we'd pretty much reduced our speed by half, by lowering the sails and consequently reducing the surface area for wind to catch on and propel us forward. We did this because if we arrived at our destination before sunrise, we'd have to sit around and wait for light before we could navigate across the 100 metre shallow entrance to the inner lagoon.

So.. this meant that my introduction to sailing was really, friken shaky. The less sail area to counter-balance the keel below and the onslaught of waves, the more the boat smashes from side to side in the surf.

Oh. My. Gosh. Aparently the seas were calm! I laugh at the thought. I didn't get seasick (wahoo), but being downstairs in room that's a hot, humid, 30 degrees, and slipping and slopping from side to side is not pleasant. It is going to take a bit of getting used to having the salt and the pepper become missiles in a room where walking to the bathroom requires sturdy thigh muscles and quick reflexes.

I was planning on using my downtime while at sea to type and keep up notes and blogs, but maybe I'm going to have to re-evaluate that plan. They say you get used to living at 20 degrees after a day or so, I sure as hell hope so!

Now, this isn't to say sailing was a horrible experience, just challenging. That feeling of setting off into the horizon, the unknown, is just exhilarating. When we first set sail I was steering the boat for about two or so hours. At some point while I was at the helm, I looked back and couldn't see land - that was the moment I had been waiting for. It lived up to my expectations. It's hard to describe that feeling of being absolutely surrounded by ocean. You are very aware of your own mortality and place in this world.

I felt small, and tiny against the commanding sea, but not scared, not alone. It is in some ways a very empowering feeling to know that it's just you and the ocean, and there's nothing to do but rock with it, roll with it and enjoy the ride as best as possible.

All that blue, and what do you do with yourself? Well, we have watches set up. Our crew of eight is split into two watches of three people, and the skipper and first mate take turns at being in charge. There are five watches in a day. From 6am to midday. Midday to 6pm. 6pm to 10pm. 10pm to 2am and 2am to 6am. When you are on duty, you steer the boat, fill out the logs, watch the conditions on the sea and in the sky, make dinner, do dishes, clean the boat. When you're not on duty, it's best to sleep. Of course, being my first day at sea, it was far too exciting to sleep. Until I realised that was probably the best thing to do if I wanted to keep sane. I'm a slow learner sometimes, I tell you.

Anyway, it started getting rough in the evening and I just remember lying in my bunk as waves crashed over the boat and water trickled in through the hatch and onto my legs which were poking of the side of the bed, thinking "sleep, you can do it, just ignore that feeling that says PANIC!!" The sleep bit didn't really work, it's hard when it feels like you're in the worst thunderstorm you've ever experienced, but I managed to keep the panic levels down.

What can you do, really. So now, I write to you from the comfort of a steady boat. I've just watched the most amazing sunset - the coconuts were silhouetted against the orange sun, the clouds tinged green by the reflection of the palms, and the water painted a majestic, turquoise blue. It's hard to believe I've experienced my first 24 hours as a sailor. It somehow feels like a dream. Mind you, this whole trip does.
We are going to be at Fanning Island for the next few days, so while I'm here in the calm I'm going to take the chance to write up as many notes as I can and hopefully bring you tales of the last week on Christmas Island, and of course more updates about this new little slice of paradise.

Just thinking, if you have any questions about this trip - what I'm doing, who with, why, what's it like, how am I (!?) that kind of thing - feel free to email them to seadragon@gmn-usa.com and I'll try my best to include a response as part of upcoming blogs. Just make sure you put 'for Hannah' in
the subject line.

Ok, I'm tired from the lack of sleep during the past 24 hours, the adrenalin is definitely wearing off. Bed time.

Nite, will write again soon, while I've got the chance. Thanks for reading!

Trouble in Paradise

A constant droning infiltrates the sweet night air as we sit on the deck of Sea Dragon, chatting over dinner.

We’re anchored not far off the coast of the main town of London, in remote Kirtimati Island. It really is an isolated island paradise – white sandy beaches , coconut trees, coral reefs and slow, island life.

But the droning that manages to carry its way across the water, slightly overpowering our conversation, isn’t coming from the villagers, or the island.

Look in one direction off the boat and you just see moon glittering on the water. Look the other direction and six monstrous fishing vessels sit – so out of place – where there should just be ocean.

It’s an alarming site which just adds to the dream-like reality of being here.  I’m having trouble comprehending how life exists (at snail’s pace) so far from anything.

During the day I-Kiribati ride lazily about town on push bikes, an occasional van drives by, full up, with island-tunes pumping out the windows. Workers knock off at about 3pm, the pressing issues of cooking dinner and relaxing take priority.

Meetings happen when people are free.  Downpours that soak you in two minutes flat just cool you down as you wander along. Kids walk barefoot down the coconut-lined roads, or tracks, to get to school. If you’re sick you don’t go to school – instead you go snorkelling – it helps you get better, or so one teenager told me.

Yet the presence of the parked-up fishing boats is an indication that not quite all is laid-back. One of the crew on Sea Dragon, Jasper – a Danish guy who has spent time fishing the Baltics and the North Sea – explains (in a nut shell) how their offshore operations work.

Basically, the fishing rights for Kiribati’s EEZ are brought by international bidders for a pittance. They are sold cheaply because, well, Kiribati has practically no other industry to draw revenue from. And also, if they don’t sell them, the companies and countries which are responsible for these boats will pretty much just fish the waters anyway.

The crew almost never go ashore. Instead, workers from poor countries, trying to earn a living to send back home, live and work aboard the boats in almost slave like conditions. Some boats have close to seventy crew. According to Jasper, management would rather employ more cheap labour than needed, than run the boat efficiently.

What is the I-Kiribati going to do about the boats in their backyard anyway? Scare these sea-monsters off by charging at the vessels with their dingys? It’s either take what you can get, or get nothing. Such is life when you’re bang-smack in the middle of the Mare-Pacificum.

Japan is a strong example of this. The neighbouring country to the far-east has fishing rights for waters around Kiritimati. To sweeten up the deal though, and for the sake of ‘friendship’, the Japanese invest in building schools and some infrastructure on the island.

I guess it has some benefits for the tiny nation. We visited a high school one afternoon and learnt that the Japanese had paid for an internet café to be built in the school. Japan also takes one of the island’s only exports – salt. The lagoon is so extensive here and there is so much solar energy beaming down, that there is ample opportunity to create the condiment.

On the northern side of the island, a small area of the lagoon is pumped into five holding ponds. These ponds are then drained for around three months, leaving the pits with raw, Pacific salt. Around 45 locals work on the farm, harvesting dried sea salt with crow bars – apparently the crushing machine is on its way… months from now I’m sure it will finally arrive.

The raw salt is sent over to Japan for refining. It is a good thing the lagoon has pristine waters to draw from, because at this end of production there’s not really much quality control over what goes into the ponds.

Speaking of the pristine sea, today I snorkelled in the most electric blue waters I think I’ve ever seen.  We caught a ride around the semi-sheltered lagoonon this classic little orange and red catamaran-type dingy and were lucky enough to anchor just off a wildlife sanctuary to check out the waters.

It was just stunning. Like you’d imagine the tropics to be. Rachel, the oceanographer on board, is diving several times a day while here. As part of her PHD project at Scripps in San Diego she’s mapping the state of reefs along the Line Islands and has been for the first time, looking at the quality of them in the Cook Islands as well.

Apparently out where the fishing boats are anchored, and on the coast out from London – the main village on the island – the reefs are in pretty bad shape with hardly any fish.

But where we were, about a kilometre or two away, the water and the reefs are healthy, flourishing cities of sea life. Kind of like on Finding Nemo!  Just incredible to have such a host of amazing underwater scenery right in front of your eyes.

When we finished snorkelling, our lovely guides took us by boat around the sanctuary (a little island, named Captain Cook, after its discoverer) – so, so, so many beautiful and rare birds nest there. I wish I was a bird watcher so I at least knew the names of these squawking, quibbling, somehow graceful creatures.

So far Kiritimati Island has been an experience of extremes. On one hand, it’s an isolated beauty – the wildlife and oceans are in pretty good knick. And the people are so welcoming and lovely. A nod of the head or shy ‘Mauri’ is always offered when passing by.

But this simplicity is contrast with these massive monster ships, glaring their lights into the tropical surroundings like a monster eyeballing its prey.  I’m astounded. But I guess that’s part of this experience – learning that not everything is as you imagine, and even what you imagine is probably not close to reality.

Ok, off to bed – am sleeping on the deck of the boat tonight because it’s too hot down below, and I figure that while we’re anchored – why not?

More on island life soon.

Mauri ...

Flying into Kiritimati Island was like nose diving out of the sky and into an alien landscape. The sun broke across the horizon not long before I sighted the atoll out of my window seat on the plane – a vast expanse of coconut fringed lagoon, sand and marsh. With such a thin strip of coast and so much water it seemed an easy target for the plane to miss.

But we landed safely at 6.30am on a runway where grass was growing through cracks, and I-kiribati stood lazily drapping themselves over fences, watching the action unfold as tourists and locals got off the once-a-week plane.

As we embarked I met the two other ladies who were joining the expedition. We made our towards the tin-shack terminal where we were greeted by a hand painted red and white sign welcome sign and a bunch of locals standing around chewing the fat. Several different people gazed over our documentation before raising an eyebrow in approval and hand-signing our passports to certify entry.

We hitched a ride on the back of a truck through the villages to get to the port. Sea Dragon, our home for the next three weeks, is anchored off the coast of the main village.

Along the way we passed the only real resort on the island – a hand painted sign signals its existance further down a dusty dirt road. As we got closer to the township of London, more and more palm-frond shacks, raised on stilts, dotted the roadside. Colourful clothes hanging out to dry were a stark contrast against the dirt brown of these buildings.

I learnt pretty quickly that these fale are the norm – a house made of bricks is a rarity. Living is very communal here, with an open air shared living spaces serving several households.

I think the thing that struck most when I first arrived was the smell.

The sweet, putrid smell of rotting, cooking, drying fish wafts through the palms. When this doesn't hit you – knocking out your senses – the equally gagging smell of burning plastic finds its way to your nose. I much prefer the wind carrying that salty, sea air.

The locals are lovely. A shy 'Mauri' or nod of the head greets you wherever you go. Teenagers drive motorbikes down the road carrying laughing children, old men bike lazily along the wide, coconut-lined streets. Everybody is curious in someway, and more than happy to engage, learn and share experiences and stories.

People here live in an almost limbo existance – stuck between a world where Island life and tradition dominates, but creeping into the global lifestyle via the introduction of the internet (even if it's archaic) and western consumer habits – such as food, drink and technology.

It's hard to imagine that a society can function this far removed from anything. I mean it's bang-smack in the middle of the Mare Pacificum.

But we're two and a half days in and already the complexity of island life is revealing itself. There's definitely more to life on this paradise than meets the eye.

In my next blog I'll explain a bit more about the beautiful coastal environment, and my experiences snorkelling, boating around the lagoon, and meeting with various I-Kiribati to learn about their Pacific home.

Bula!!

It's 30 degrees in Fiji - welcome to the Pacific! 

After calling to check my flight details at Air Pacific's office in Auckland and casually mentioning that I was in the media industry, I was upgraded to business class and am also enjoying the business lounges in New Zealand and Fiji. Although I'm making the most of this (of course!!), I do think it's quite sad that in general, so many problems go unfixed until somebody says they're from the media and then organisations pipe up and don't want to make themselves look bad through subsequent possibility of negative publicity. I've seen it happen a few times in my short stint so far as a reporter.

Anyway, speaking of business, tomorrow things are really going to get exciting. Everything I've been planning for the last few months should come together when I arrive, hot and lacking sleep, at 6.30am to the largest coral atoll in the world. Wahoo, finally!!!

Tomorrow I'll hopefully have pictures of this largely unknown paradise and will no doubt fill you in on the boat, the crew and all that jazz.


For now though, I'd like to draw your attention to the links on the right hand side of the page. While I've been doing my trip research, trawling the net, these are some the organisations and websites that have stood out. All have a pacific or environmental focus in some way, but I guess what's cool is that I don't think they force their views down your throat - they are more just interesting insights and valid observations.

Also, big ups to Sustainable Coastlines - Pangaea Exploration's New Zealand partner organisation - who just won an award at the Ministry for the Environment's Green Ribbon awards evening. The guys from SC work really hard to let Kiwi's know the importance (and fun of) cleaning up our beaches.

In a later post I will piece together an interview I had with Camden Howitt, one of the key Sustainable Coastline members, who went on the second leg of the Pacific survey trip around Rarotonga.

Bula for now!

The sweetness of my bitter experience

Day three... am supposed to be relaxing by the poolside and wandering through Sigatoka on Fiji's coral coast. I should be sending you all postcards. But getting a postcard with the Skytower on it would be a little bit of a let down...

I am still in Auckland. After spending several agonising hours at the airport yesterday, again being told "another announcement will happen in an hour", I finally had my flight rebooked for tomorrow afternoon. So much for a holiday in Fiji. Fingers crossed the ash cloud wont delay things even further tomorrow.

This means I will no longer have any time on holiday in Fiji, and will get a connecting flight straight to Kiritimati Island tomorrow, to join up with the Sea Dragon crew at 6.30am on June 15.

To make matters worse, the retaining plate I have in my mouth (from when I had braces several years ago) snapped this morning. Joy. After ringing around several orthodontists in Auckland and having no luck, I finally got an appointment with my dentist this afternoon. This means a trip to Warkworth, 45mins north of Auckland.

The lovely flatmates of my girlfriend have offered to drive me up there, which is so sweet of them and I am very thankful. My parents and girlfriend have also both been so super helpful over the past few days.

My girlfriend and I had a lovely date at the airport yesterday, it was so romantic... sitting. watching people get on their flights. waiting. talking about nothing for hours. getting angry at airport staff. waiting some more. Oh it was a unique date, a one off.

Yes, having wonderful people in my life is definitely the sweetness to the bitter experience of the last few days.

No adventure starts with things going to plan..

It's 7.15pm. My flight left at 2.30pm. Well... it was supposed to. But, “due to engineering problems” or so the loudspeaker keeps saying, I’m still sitting in Auckland Airport’s departure lounge. C’est la vie I guess. Since when have adventures ever started smoothly anyway! That would just be predictable.

One thing that being stranded here does is give me some time to put this trip in to perspective. The build up to leaving has been crazy hectic, and sometimes it's easy to forget the bigger picture of why I signed up for this crazy-holiday-type-thing in the first place.

So, after pondering and walking round in circles at the airport for a little too long,  I've come up with these goals for the next four weeks:

- Take every opportunity on offer, even if it scares me a tad!

- Chat with as many people as possible to get a broad view on conservation issues in the Pacific.

- Link what I learn back to New Zealand and its association with the broader mare pacficum

- Blog everyday where possible, with a mixture of interviews, pictures, stories and personal excerpts.

- Not miss my certain someone too much

- Send postcards (I'm so bad at that!!) 

Oh and it would be nice to come back with a tan that replaced the Auckland winter shade of white. hehe.

Just before boarding at 1pm when thing were still going to plan! 

Seventeen days on a (not so leaky) boat

Mare Pacificum, the Latin name for the Pacific Ocean, means peaceful ocean. Calm and peaceful conditions on the sea are what I'm hoping for when I set sail from Kiritmati Island - a coral atoll in a far flung corner of the Pacific - on a trip that will lead me up the remote Line Islands then across enough open sea to make me feel a little nervous, with the end destination being sunny Hawai'i - aloha!

Kiritimati Island is the largest coral atoll in the world. Photo: dxing.at-communication.com 

Leaving tomorrow, it'll be a 28 day trip altogether, with the first few days to acclimatise (yes, that's what I'm telling myself!) in Fiji, before flying to Kiritmati Island on June 14. I'll be spending a week on Hawai'i after arriving on the boat on June 30.


But what the frick are you doing? I can hear you asking. Well, back in February I got a little excited and decided it would be a good idea to invest all the pennies I've saved since starting work as a graduate journalist, in this 17 day trip. I'm going as crew on 72-foot yacht Sea dragon, which has been making its way around the world on a research expedition surveying the state of our oceans and their islands. Click here to find out exactly what the boat will be researching...

Satellite image of Kiritmati Island.

Photo: Oceandots.com

I must admit I'm a little nervous about the whole trip. The thought of so much ocean slightly scares me, and I'm not even sure if I get seasick (I know, slight issue). But I guess there's no point in worrying.


Along the way I plan to blog about my experiences. The hope is that I can convey the issues - such as plastic pollution and overfishing - that Sea Dragon and its crew are exploring, in a way that makes it relevant and interesting to everyone back home.


The republic of Kiribati straddles the equator - it's the only country in the world to lie across the north, south, east and west hemispheres. Photo: www.climate.gov.ki

When I think about all the sea I'll be covering, I feel like a tiny little drop in the ocean. But sometimes its the small things that make a difference - every drop counts towards creating a consciousness of the issues our oceans face. Keep checking in to this blog for updates about the trip; for interviews, photos, and research info; and to find out if I actually do get seasick... I really hope not!