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