A new world of adventure begins

The Azores are a beautiful set of islands. Although, I have to say that they would have been a lot been a lot better during the summer when it was not as cold! It rains or drizzles randomly everyday without fail. The temperature drops when the wind comes off the snowy mountain of the nearby island or one of the high hills of Fayal. We visited the caldera on the island it was an amazing sight as we drove up into the clouds. Even more breathtaking was the caldera itself, an untouched hole in the ground with ponds inside.

The closer we got to leaving the colder the weather got, one night we got pelted by marble sized hail which rattled inside the metal hulled boat. It was time to go and after 3 days of boat cleaning about time. Said later to my constant silvery chub friends in the water who would constantly flash you as you passes by. Chub and barracuda seem to be the only fish I have seen living in the marina next to our boat, but since you cannot go swimming in the water there may be more.

We have finally left the Azores, with a pack of 10 common dolphins leading our way at our bow, as we said our last goodbyes. A good start to an interesting day. It was not long before we started experiencing squalls of up to 49 kts winds, high waves and some rain with a touch of sea sickness. But still we enjoyed watching our heavy steel hulled boat hit 15kts heading out of the cold climate, giving high hopes of the warm weather ahead. We are finally out of the 200 EEZ areas of the Azores and have started the CO2 and pH sensors.

Elton Joseph

A good, rough start

We've been out of Horta Harbor for over 24 hours with early calm seas and light winds. Past the lee, we got quite a surprise. The weather has been consistently sour; winds are gusting to 49knots- strong gale Force 9 with periodic squalls. The waves are rough with torrents of sea-spray. For some of us, this is nothing new. It only evokes memories of passages in the past, i.e. our intense four day stretch between Bermuda and the Azores. For others, however, this is all they know. Our newest crew member has been toughing out with the rest of us, staving off sea sickness. Tom's morale is high; although I’m sure the foul weather hasn’t made for the best first impression of the sea. I am reminded of my first passage, from Lymington, England, to Portugal. Rough weather similar to this instilled a sense of fright, which was combated by my calm and collective crew. However, sailing shorthanded adds fatigue into the mix, so I hope that the weather will ease and warm as we continue our descent to Cape Verde. For now, the next 48 hours look to increase our weather. The latest 48 hour radiofax shows a fairly compact, but strong low developing towards us. Once Sea Dragon clears 27N, about the latitude of the Canary Islands, winds should decrease dramatically. On we go.

Stephen Amato

To Summer- Sea Dragon Departs

The mental rot of being in port- close to land and in the flat water of the harbor - was beginning to set in as our time in the Azores approached two weeks. Anxious to head south and escape the wet, windy weather of the North Atlantic, the last few days have been a frenzy of preparation and anticipation. We were set to leave yesterday (2/25) afternoon, but a system error with a new fire sensor ended up keeping us ashore as Dale worked out a solution into the night. The problem was fixed and we turned in early, eager to rise at dawn and shove off.

We left the dock around 0900 today, waved goodbye to our friend Mike, and raised the sails for Cape Verde. The seas have been calm, compared to the monster low pressure systems we’ve been sitting through, and the sky is relatively clear; painted with rainbows in all directions. A pod of dolphins escorted us out for over an hour, jumping and whistling at the bow. They seemed to instill even more enthusiasm into our green crew, both of whom are staving off seasickness to pull their weight.

We’ve got about a weeks’ worth of sailing to reach Cape Verde. We are anxious for warm sun and seas, which will arrive in no time as we drop straight south. The weather reports suggest good wind and weather, warming with every degree of latitude we drop.

Sea Dragon will now push south-southwest for over 5,000nm. We will cross the equator, the infamous "inter-tropical convergence zone", doldrums, pass a set of tiny mid-ocean rocks called St. Peter and Paul, and then head into Brazil. We continue the research story of marine plastics- now sampling in waters seldom investigated. The boat is also carrying an important new CO2 sensor. Once in international waters we will activate the sensors and begin recording this important data.

On to summer!

Stephen Amato

Reflections from a new mariner

Island of the whales, Azores the volcanic island of beauty. Here I completed my first Atlantic crossing on a sailboat. Now most of our great crew from Bermuda has left, and only three crew members are left. This was an exciting journey, filled with discovery. Many stories and experiences of my boat watch crew still sit on the forefront of my memories. I’ve learned so much about the major environmental problems us humans create in an effort to destroy our selves and the planet we inhabit. This has been a life changing trip for me; I learned many life lessons that I take to heart.

Our relaxing exploration of the Azores was short lived, as when the new crew Dale and Tom arrived and boat work began. The maintenance to make the boat perfect before the new captain arrived began. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I will admit my first time seeing snow couldn’t have been better than seeing snow on top of the neighboring volcanic island of Pico.

This trip has provided a lot of firsts for me. First time: sailing, crossing the Atlantic on a boat, seeing snow, traveling alone, learning about plastic in the ocean, etc. I’ll never forget what I have seen or learned, and I hope that someday I can impart my knowledge to the future generations.

On a lighter note after 2 days of work and some time at the shop we got the CO2 sensor installed and working. We are currently working on calibration and testing. This unit will be an important new research contribution for Sea Dragon. Collaborating with NOAA, this will hopefully help pave the way for more such sensors on private yachts. Sunburst Sensors in Missoula Montana is working closely with us on the unit. We are currently in a holding pattern, waiting for a new, major low pressure system to clear out. Our plan is to head out on 23 February - straight south!

Elton Joseph

High Seas Science - first impressions

The Journey started in sunny Bermuda although there were days where the weather went south and we experienced gale force winds. Bermuda was a beautiful island, with pink sand beaches, although there were also a lot of plastic particles. During the short week in Bermuda the Hach Hydrolab MS5 sensor and CO2 sensors were installed. But unfortunately the CO2 sensor malfunctioned before we started the journey and had to be sent back for repairs. On 28 January 2010 we set out on our Atlantic expedition.

The Sea Dragon traveled at an average speed of 7 knots towards the Sargasso center except when trawling for plastic when the speed dropped to between 1-2 knots. After a rocky start with the data collected the Hach sensor was re-calibrated and work perfectly thereafter. The temperature increase from 19C to around 22C as we headed east south east towards the Sargasso sea center.

The closer we got the Sargasso center the worst the weather became, we experienced 3 days of gale force winds and waves. During two of those days, 2nd and 3rd of February, the sensor had to be cut off due to errors readings caused by the wave action on the vessel. On February 10 2010 about 200 miles off the coast of the Azores the sensor was shutdown and the last data packet sent off. The temperature as expected dropped as we got closer to the Azores heading north east, dropping to around 16.4C. The pH varied slightly between 8.04 and 8.16 averaged at 8.08, while salinity followed suit ranging from 36.14-40.27 and averaging around 37.5. The values attained for pH seems to be lower than the global mean while the values collected for salinity seem range higher.

The Azores are a group of volcanic islands off the south western coast of Europe. We quickly noticed how clear the water was as we drew near to the man made protected marina ,in a naturally formed cove, between Faial and Pico. The staff were doing marina construction when we arrived including some dredging.

The construction in the marina created heavy sediment areas in the water but these were quickly dissipated by the amazing natural flushing of the basin. The marina is also a Blue Flag Certified site. This Blue Flag is used by the EU to certify marinas and beaches meeting a certain environmental standard. The beaches on Fail are all black sand and smoothed black pebble beaches. We have also seen a lot of plastic all of them, small and large pieces like buckets and fuel tanks.

The next part of the journey will lead us south to Cape Verde. During this time we will continue out to international waters to collect to more water quality data. In addition to the Hach sensor the CO2 sensor will also be installed which will make for some exciting data. We expect temperature to increase, and pH and salinity to continue in the same range.

Elton Joseph

Land-Ho

As the TTA (Time To Arrival) dropped from days to hours, the vibe amongst the crew turned from anxious to zealous with the notion of making landfall on the other side of the ocean, which we had set out on 14 days before. I was woken up at 0600 with Stiv, Leslie, and Elton, for our 0600-1200 watch. As the sun rose we eagerly scanned the horizon to the east, trying to discern low-lying clouds from high, rugged islands. I stood at the bow, armed with the ships’ bell and binoculars, ready to ring in the standard “LAND HO!!”

Clive caught me off guard and pointed our collective gaze to the small outcrop of rock that makes up the north end of the island of Horta. We shook the bell and cried out, slowly rousing others from their bunks below. Wing on wing, we were headed straight for land with only a few hours and miles between it and us.

Eventually we were all on deck, all smiling and laughing with the mutual excitement. For many of us this was our first ocean crossing, a kind of experience that puts people and the planet into an otherwise unobtainable perspective. Some of us stood at the bow silently, smiling at the accomplishment that was soon to be realized.
Clive took the helm and began our final approach through the channel to the harbor. As if instinctual, he delicately rode the wind in a way that saved us unnecessary tacking and made sail dropping easy. While perfectly skirting along the breeze, he orchestrated the deck crew in a frenzy of sail dropping, line running, and fender tying.

We tied up to the colorful customs quay and leapt for land. Taking full advantage of the solid earth beneath us, we ran, jumped, and laid down on the terra firma that we often take for granted. Unfortunately a few of the crew were more comfortable on the boat than on the ground, and stayed aboard for a few hours to avoid land-sickness.
Approaching the marina, I was struck by the brightly painted docks and pontoons. Apparently it is bad luck to leave Horta without leaving a mark, making the marina a colorful collage of sailors’ art. Behind the marina lies the town of Horta, an old whaling town turned charming village on the sea. Much of the history remains intact, as narrow cobbled streets weave through eclectic and dilapidated buildings. The people of the island were very welcoming, offering smiles and kind words for sailors who have been without contact for probably too long. In short, it is good to be back on land. After a few weeks of solitude at sea, we eagerly embraced the freedoms and comforts afforded on land. However, we all look back fondly on the ocean we’ve crossed; the ocean that taught us so much about the amazing world we are a part of.

New Crew

Sailing vessels, expeditions, and especially families need the best of crew. Today, we are glad to announce a major new addition. Atlas Seymour Ritter, 8 lbs 11oz was born today- latest member of the Pangaea-Sea Dragon Crew. Although new, the young mariner is no stranger to the high seas. He has more months than we'd like to admit under his belt as a junior shipwright - helping his mom on the long refit in the UK. Following this, he set out with the team, safely inside the belly, and sailed over 3,000 miles from the UK south to the exotic Cape Verde Islands. He's a salt for sure - and destined to be part of the adventure team for a long time to come.

The future is about children. We hope the seas of tomorrow will be as rich in life, beauty and wonder as they were for us. Atlas and his generation deserve no less. Sea Dragon's crew is working hard to make that happen. As parents, we thank you.

The Sea Dragon crew got word of his arrival sailing several hundred miles south-west of the Azores- heading into port. They send this wonderful photo over the satellite links announcing his arrival to the sea. Atlas, Welcome to the World. We all love you and look forward to many adventures in the long and interesting journey ahead.

Ron and Portia Ritter

All Clear - time to go in

This storm was really the perfect storm; stirred but not shaken with a sense of danger but not dangerous. Just a nice taster for green fish like us. The wind reached its highest peak the second day, up to 60 knots (111 km)! The boat rocked day and night like a cradle on speed. There was no way stopping it or even slowing it down. It kept going and going and going.

During the morning shift the wind drops and the mountains return to hills. We can use the main sail again for the first time in days and decide to rush to the Azores as soon as possible. We’ve all had it, and since this is a ‘dry-boat’ (no alcohol) all we can think of now is beers, beers and cheers!

Maarten Vanden Eynde


Today has been amazing. The clouds parted, wind dropped, and seas settled. After 3 days of dumping waves and howling winds, morale was greatly boosted by such a nice day. We even got some dolphins, and Stiv snapped the awesome photo attached. We are now going wing-on-wing at 11 knots straight for the Azores

Stephen Amato

Laughing in 50 knots

I watched John approaching my bunk in the rocking, green LED lit corridor. 0545: he was coming to wake us up for our next six-hour watch.

“Steve, time for your--“

“Yep. I’ve been counting the minutes.”

Gale force winds and battering waves kept me awake while the rest of the off-watch crew caught up on sleep. I laid in my bunk for hours, in hopes of finding the perfect song on my iPod to lull me to slumber. The sleep never came, so instead I let my mind wonder on how I ended up in the North Atlantic in February, a place few are fortunate to experience.

I layered on pants, sweaters, and full foul-weather kit before daring to climb onto the soggy deck. Below, the pounding of a rogue wave and the sweeping slurry of water that follows warned us that it would be a rough, wet morning. We weren’t disappointed.
We climbed into the dark morning at 0600, and huddled together for what was sure to be a good six hours. The wind was gusting above 50 knots and we were hitting 8 knots of boat speed with only the storm staysail, a piece of cloth hardly bigger than a windsurfer’s sail. As the sun rose, we made out the steel grey expanse stretching from horizon to horizon, churning all the way. Sea Dragon swayed back and forth as if trying to stay planted on the back of an unruly elephant. Wind whipped the grey water into wrinkles and washed our exposed faces with a cold spray. At almost regular intervals, rogue waves would smack the hull and send a torrent of water punching across the cockpit. I could usually tell when these waves would hit by watching the facial expressions of Stiv and Leslie on the starboard side. Seeing them drop their jaws and then preemptively wince, I knew to duck down before the deluge of seawater came over my back.

Eventually I looked over my shoulder to see the goliath waves rolling towards us. My eyes went skyward as the crest of a wave stood well above me, only to pick up the boat and slip out the other side. The rough walls of water rose over 30 feet from the canyon-like troughs between them. We sat in awe of the power we were witnessing. Endless expanses of waves big enough to swamp suburbs, and wind fit to knock down trees, reminded us that we are only as big as the ocean will let us be. The shape-shifting beast was roaring a warning, and we weren’t in the mood to test it.
We counted down the time by sending somebody below to fill in the logbook and bring back coffee and Clif bars, every hour on the hour. The 10 minutes spent below deck were rejuvenating and reassuring. Despite the maelstrom up top, the inside of the boat was quiet, dry, and warm.

There’s no use in grumbling about a situation you’re stuck in. Although conditions left a lot to be desired, we did our best to make the most of it. Rogue waves resulted in shouts of excitement, and bursts of sea spray to the face were cause for hysterical laughter. We placed bets on highest wind speed (51.2 knots) and treated the huge hills of water like the descent of a roller coaster, throwing our arms in the air and crying out in thrilled laughter as we surfed down the faces. Either we were making light of the situation or losing our minds, but the watch passed surprisingly well.

The last 10 minutes on deck were the longest of my life. As we waited for the next watch team to relieve us, clammy cold soaked into our hands, feet, and faces. Thoughts of warm dry bunks made the cold bite hard and the waves whip harder. Finally, heroes clad in the same costumes as us clambered on deck and let us retire to the warm belly of the boat. We eagerly stripped off the soaked layers, and embraced the revitalizing qualities of hot lentil soup and fresh biscuits. Minutes later I was hunkered down in my bunk, falling asleep to the whistles of the wind and the delighted cries of the fresh crew on deck.

Stephen Amato and Elton Joseph

Watching the Weather

There are rare times when the drama of the high seas spreads all the way back to the "support" team members. On this leg, with Portia now 8 days from due, I find myself in that behind the scenes role. We watch the email, blogs and the phones for news. Talking through the satellites several times a day- we watch over the boat. The most important on shore role is watching the weather - or "wx".  Sea Dragon is able to get accurate real time wind, wave and pressure data over the Iridium in what are called "grib files". These compressed data files allow MaxSea to create a picture of forecast condition as far out as 16 days. On shore, however, we have much more data to work with thorugh the full internet. Our major sites are NOAA's Marine Weather Service (like on land but with different data), various satellite imagery sites, and one dedicated to sailors - Passage Weather. Through these sites we can watch several main information sources that give us a fairly good idea what is headed towards the boat.

I always start with the primary source, NOAA graphical forecast sources. Here are the graphical depictions of current and forecast weather out to 96 hours - 4 days. These are also the exact charts that are broadcast on radio-fax over the long-range HF radio. Possibly the most important of these charts is the Surface Forecast. This shows a set of contoured lines depicting air pressure gradients. Here is where we see the classic weatherman type images of the low and high pressure systems. As important as the systems themselves, are the gaps between them. Spacing between the lines translates into relative wind speed - tight spacing= steep gradients =higher winds.  These charts also give the expected wind speeds, and comments on the future development of the system. Right now, we have a significant system developing to the WSW of Sea Dragon (see the two surface forecasts above- these are the real thing). This is a powerful low that is rapidly intensifying (sometimes called a "bomb"). Within 48 hours, the team will have a hurricane force low pressure system approximately 700 miles to their north (38N). Wave heights in the core will exceed 14m (40'+) . Fortunately, they are holding south of 30 N and should not see more than 40kts and 5m waves. What you see in the two images are expected conditions at 0000Z GMT- or just about midnight London time. We watch these "extra-tropical" lows carefully because their route can change, and because they are simply very, very large storms.

You can also read the forecasters interpretation of the weather as a text narrative. The most recent "High Seas" text forecast for the area is as follows:

HURRICANE FORCE WIND WARNING
.LOW 37N60W 989 MB MOVING NE 30 KT AND RAPIDLY INTENSIFYING.
FROM 32N TO 39N BETWEEN 55W AND 63W WINDS 40 TO 55 KT. SEAS 12
TO 20 FT. ELSEWHERE FROM 31N TO 42N BETWEEN 50W AND 74W WINDS 25
TO 40 KT. SEAS 8 TO 15 FT.
.06 HOUR FORECAST LOW 38N57W 976 MB. WITHIN 180 NM SW SEMICIRCLE
WINDS 55 TO 70 KT. SEAS 15 TO 25 FT.
.24 HOUR FORECAST LOW 41N46W 951 MB. WITHIN 180 NM W AND SW AND
240 NM S QUADRANTS WINDS 60 TO 75 KT. SEAS 22 TO 40 FT. ALSO
WITHIN 480 NM SE AND 300 NM NW SEMICIRCLES WINDS 45 TO 60 KT.
SEAS 20 TO 36 FT. ELSEWHERE FROM 31N TO 49N E OF 66W WINDS 30 TO
45 KT. SEAS 12 TO 25 FT. HIGHEST WINDS AND SEAS S QUADRANT.
.48 HOUR FORECAST LOW 46N41W 940 MB. WITHIN 360 NM S SEMICIRCLE
WINDS 50 TO 65 KT. SEAS 30 TO 48 FT. ALSO FROM 32N TO 60N E OF
54W WINDS 35 TO 50 KT. SEAS 20 TO 38 FT. ELSEWHERE FROM 31N TO
65N E OF 60W WINDS 25 TO 35 KT. SEAS 14 TO 28 FT.

This is also a time when we appreciate Sea Dragon's heritage. These boats were built for this- designed to work through the worst sailing conditions on earth. Whether in the Southern Ocean on a race, or doing important research in the North Atlantic - the Sea is not your friend. We invest alot of engineering, systems, training and attitude up front so that conditions like this can be managed.Some would even say "enjoyed"...

Sea Dragon will be safe, but the team will have a rough several days ahead of them. Trawling will be difficult if not impossible for now. They key is to get them through this and in a position to use the final days productively. This should then position them just South of the Azores in time to reach north and into port. Watch the weather through these sites to understand the challenges the team faces. Never a dull moment...even back here in the "support role".

Ron Ritter

Day 5...Dolphins and Garbage

We are five days from Bermuda, and a bit more than halfway to our waypoint in the center of the North Atlantic Gyre. Despite a bout of rough weather, and the confusion that comes with being new to the sea, the crew is getting along splendidly. The mission of studying plastics makes bobbing about at 2 knots during a 25 knot broad reach semi-bearable. Morale is high as we are more than a third of the way into the trip, and we continue to trudge along into the ever-thickening plastic whirl we set out for.

Having 13 people living on a 72ft long island in the North Atlantic, in January, seems like the makings of some strange reality TV show. The producers would be sorely disappointed with our crew, as we’ve managed to get along famously through good and bad alike. The measure of people’s patience seems to go farther than the measure of their tempers, because in the five rough days we’ve been out we’ve managed to stay civilized. A major reason for this is the building sense of camaraderie amongst us all. Between sharing rough 6-hour watches with, sharing domestic duties, and sleeping within smell-range of each other, we’ve all come to trust and respect those around us. Going to sea with a group of people is like concentrated team building. You can make lifelong friends or foes in days, and the bonds forged are strong enough to deal with the worst that is thrown at you.
Our mission of finding and researching the plastic gyre in the North Atlantic is a sort of tragic success. I was roused from my bunk this morning by ecstatic cries of “Dolphins! Dolphins!” Sure enough, a small pod of spotted dolphins was playing around the boat as we slowly motored along. They leapt in pairs before the bow, and ducked below the hull the to pop out on the other side. The sight of dolphins always elicits a sort of giddy excitement; perhaps because you can’t watch them without wishing you could join them. This excitement soon turned to disgust, as we noticed the dolphins diving through patches of plastic debris. Bottles caps, fishing line, and miniscule fragments littered the playground of these amazing mammals.

Before this we had been trawling for about an hour, dragging a 300micron manta trawl to collect a quantifiable amount of plastic debris. The trawl was pulled up and produced a mere five fragments of plastic. Ironically, as if led by the dolphins, we found ourselves frantically scooping debris with a team of four nets only twenty minutes later. The sight was shocking: 1000miles from anywhere and we were sifting through more trash than we could handle. Still, we are 400 miles from what we believe to be the center of the gyre. If we’ve scooped up toothbrushes, shotgun shells, fishing crates, and water bottles this far out, I’m a bit afraid to see what turns up at the center of this mess. One of the more frightening factors is that we are only scratching the surface. As we witnessed today, and many times before, plastic has a density so close to water that a bit of a push sends it spinning down below our reach. With the constant churning of waves and wind, it’s probably safe to assume that what we see on the surface is only the beginning.

There is a strange dichotomy playing out amongst our crew. Despite our abhorrence of plastic waste, we can’t help but get excited when we spot debris. We spot and scoop and sift plastic from the sea with a sort of enthusiasm that still strikes me as not fitting. Perhaps it’s the ability to say, “I told you so,” or the collection of data to add to the arsenal in this battle against single use products. Maybe it’s just something to do when you are days out to sea. Regardless of individual reasons and agendas, everyone continues on with the kind of sturdy enthusiasm needed for our mission. We are doing well in terms of staying civil. To stay busy, we play poker for clothes pins and give daily presentations on various topics of personal interest, everything from film making to short stories to new sciences. Courtesy is abundant, as we have all come to appreciate the boost in morale that comes from a simple salute of “good morning,” or “great job.” We spent the past 36 hours rocking in the wake of a rough low front. The boat was essentially parked to keep us from making too much ground on our schedule of trawls. I’ve got to hand it to our skipper Clive: the fact that he can go from pushing these boats to the limit around the world, to slowing it to a dead stop in the name of science, is a testament to the guys patience. Everyone’s patience has been tested over the past few days, but nobody has been pushed. Good vibes are abundant as we continue on.

Stephen Amato

Day 5 Dolphins and Garbage

We are five days from Bermuda, and a bit more than halfway to our waypoint in the center of the North Atlantic Gyre. Despite a bout of rough weather, and the confusion that comes with being new to the sea, the crew is getting along splendidly. The mission of studying plastics makes bobbing about at 2 knots during a 25 knot broad reach semi-bearable. Morale is high as we are more than a third of the way into the trip, and we continue to trudge along into the ever-thickening plastic whirl we set out for.

Having 13 people living on a 72ft long island in the North Atlantic, in January, seems like the makings of some strange reality TV show. The producers would be sorely disappointed with our crew, as we've managed to get along famously through good and bad alike. The measure of people's patience seems to go farther than the measure of their tempers, because in the five rough days we've been out we've managed to stay civilized. A major reason for this is the building sense of camaraderie amongst us all. Between sharing rough 6-hour watches with, sharing domestic duties, and sleeping within smell-range of each other, we've all come to trust and respect those around us.  Going to sea with a group of people is like concentrated team building. You can make lifelong friends or foes in days, and the bonds forged are strong enough to deal with the worst that is thrown at you.

Our mission of finding and researching the plastic gyre in the North Atlantic is a sort of tragic success. I was roused from my bunk this morning by ecstatic cries of "Dolphins! Dolphins!" Sure enough, a small pod of spotted dolphins was playing around the boat as we slowly motored along. They leapt in pairs before the bow, and ducked below the hull the to pop out on the other side. The sight of dolphins always elicits a sort of giddy excitement; perhaps because you can't watch them without wishing you could join them. This excitement soon turned to disgust, as we noticed the dolphins diving through patches of plastic debris. Bottles caps, fishing line, and miniscule fragments littered the playground of these amazing mammals.     

       

Before this we had been trawling for about an hour, dragging a 300 micron manta trawl to collect a quantifiable amount of plastic debris. The trawl was pulled up and produced a mere five fragments of plastic. Ironically, as if led by the dolphins, we found ourselves frantically scooping debris with a team of four nets only twenty minutes later. The sight was shocking: 1000 miles from anywhere and we were sifting through more trash than we could handle. Still, we are 400 miles from what we believe to be the center of the gyre. If we've scooped up toothbrushes, shotgun shells, fishing crates, and water bottles this far out, I'm a bit afraid to see what turns up at the center of this mess. One of the more frightening factors is that we are only scratching the surface. As we witnessed today, and many times before, plastic has a density so close to water that a bit of a push sends it spinning down below our reach. With the constant churning of waves and wind, it's probably safe to assume that what we see on the surface is only the beginning.

There is a strange dichotomy playing out amongst our crew. Despite our abhorrence of plastic waste, we can't help but get excited when we spot debris. We spot and scoop and sift plastic from the sea with a sort of enthusiasm that still strikes me as not fitting. Perhaps it's the ability to say, "I told you so," or the collection of data to add to the arsenal in this battle against single use products. Maybe it's just something to do when you are days out to sea. Regardless of individual reasons and agendas, everyone continues on with the kind of sturdy enthusiasm needed for our mission. We are doing well in terms of staying civil. To stay busy, we play poker for clothes pins and give daily presentations on various topics of personal interest, everything from film making to short stories to new sciences. Courtesy is abundant, as we have all come to appreciate the boost in morale that comes from a simple salute of "good morning," or "great job." We spent the past 36 hours rocking in the wake of a rough low front. The boat was essentially parked to keep us from making too much ground on our schedule of trawls. I've got to hand it to our skipper Clive: the fact that he can go from pushing these boats to the limit around the world, to slowing it to a dead stop in the name of science, is a testament to the guys patience. Everyone's patience has been tested over the past few days, but nobody has been pushed. Good vibes are abundant as we continue on.

Stephen Amato