Destination Global Good

Ridiculously Random Thoughts from a Rock in the South Pac: Chapter 2

2012-02-17T18:50:15Z

For Mom, Frances, BreBre, Kelly, O.C.T and O.C.S

Soaking it all in during a quick November trip to New Zealand, when my mind and body were in paradise at the same time. Photo:: S.Gilmour

I nearly killed my roommate with a coconut this afternoon. This is probably not the first sentence you thought I would write, considering it’s been six full months since my last entry and surely, there must be some exotic tropical fruit worthy of eloquent description.

In fact, I have high hopes that you will skip directly to photos. Go now and see how the majority of my life here is spent, in paradise, in gratitude. Please do not read the entirety of this entry, as it is an obscure glimpse into my Feb 16^th brain and will do nothing but solidify your thoughts that I just might be a tad out to lunch. I warn you that it makes no mention of sharks, turtles, surfing or steamy love affairs in the South Pacific. It does, however, mark an end to my perpetual, yet comedic self-loathing about my inability, or better yet, unwillingness to update this very blog, as a recollection of my endeavors, both in success and failure, and ultimately, gratitude and growth.

So, back to the coconut. Tina, or O.C.T as we like to call her, is my super rad, marine biology-loving roommate and she was reading happily next to me, giggling, relaxed, seemingly entranced by her book on the beach. The bitch. I wanted nothing more than to rest peacefully and shut my brain down with The Happy Isles of Oceania by Paul Theroux, but my attempts to do so were pathetic and futile. My subconscious hath runneth over and within minutes, I decided to head indoors. I jumped up and kicked a coconut loose, which tumbled rapidly toward her head. More people die every year from coconuts than shark attacks. Oops!

In truth, it was a complete accident and was quite funny, but from the outside, it may have looked like I had done it on purpose, a matter of perception. The coconut incident, along with other recent, ephemeral events, resulted in my conviction that it was time to put an end to my cycle of self-loathing. It was time to deadbolt my ass to this very chair and to type about nonsensical things, which will matter to none of you. And perception or perspective of course, the recurring themes in my mind.

Paradise is a state of mind.

Those of you who know me, and know me well, will usually giggle or roll your eyes at me for my puppies and rainbows approach to new challenges. My optimism, generally a welcomed addition to my character, has at this very instant made me want to barf. Oft and maybe more appropriately referred to as naiveté, it seems to have taken its toll on my mind as of late and while we’re on this train of thought, I have to admit that seeing the good, and only the good in people, can be a bad thing (Yes Travis, you were right) as I am begrudgingly learning. And unfortunately, on more occasions than I care to admit, I have had internal struggles with swallowing the reality of my better judgment and have had a tough time dealing with let downs.

The past few months have been filled with a few mind blowing moments of magic (including an array of unbelievably appreciative and thoughtful care packages and amazing visitors), but also with challenging, yet remarkable moments of struggle, interlaced with multiple acts of sacrifice, humility and several unsuccessful, fleeting attempts at self-pity. The eternal optimist in me looks for the lesson in each adversity. And at the end of most of them, I can put my chin up and feel good about knowing I have grown. Sometimes though, I struggle hard to find it. The truth is that living in paradise, as seen from the perspective of most, is seemingly the best place to escape from it all. But in practice, it is the place I find that most reminds me of what I am searching for, what I want, what I am lacking in character and what the hell paradise really is… why am I not “there” this very instant and what characteristics and circumstances of my life are delaying my imminent arrival. As if “there” is a destination. I know better. I’m familiar with all the clichés and for 360 days of the year, I’m quite good at living, breathing, and in my more annoying states, preaching them. I will push you to go into the darkness and to leap, because the net will appear.

Yesterday however, was not one of those “Yay, my life is so amazing, I’m so lucky-type of days.” Let’s face it, we all have them. And while I usually keep those feelings to myself, I thought it important to express, maybe just once, the other side of this ride. I found myself in a dizzying state of confusion about everything while over-caffeinated and completely sick of my relentless, quizzical inner monologue. I was sick of being poor, feeling stuck, of playing nice, of keeping my mouth shut, of wishing I felt differently, of pretending not to care. And more importantly, I was sick of my day-long-over-everything-and-everyone attitude.

I slammed my eyes shut, clenched my teeth and submerged myself in the sea, staying under for as long as possible only to discover that my brain wouldn’t shut up. And when I came up, I looked around and took two of the slowest, deepest breaths I could, as if I was trying to forcefully lock the visual perfection of my environment into my brain and my being, forever and ever to cure the woes of my mind. Was I was going to disappear and forget to live in the moment? I breathed deeper, as if my location should have easily defined paradise; the fresh, salty air, the turquoise lagoon, the sand in my toes, the warm sun, the swaying palms, the freedom and solitude, the moments of reflection and change. I felt somehow, that it was slipping away and that this ritual, would of course, make it all better.

Of all things uncertain in my life over the past few months (years), one thing is for sure: I have changed. But fear not, for I haven’t become a cynical wretch, better a work in progress. A more open, flexible, view-the-world from other’s shoes type of girl, and I like it. I may even have let my guard down a wee bit, stopped trying to be perfect, and I’m trying to think more before I speak—a perspective that extended travel affords, but also from the humility of listening more, of working for love and not money, of opening my heart, of defeat, of constant compromise and of constantly working toward the humblest version of myself, which is not as easy as I would have hoped.

And thankfully, my woe-is-me-where-is-my-life-going days are few and far between, but I think that at times, I feel like I’ve failed if I even acknowledge their existence.

Today I feel like myself again. My optimism reigns supreme and I am ok with the trajectory of this course. Excited by it all and by my open slate to write the chapters of an unknown future. And I learn to revel in days of struggle, almost as much as days of bliss (ok maybe not nearly as much), but they’re good reminders that I am capable of living in paradise, no matter where my GPS coordinates line up, because paradise really is a state of mind.

And when I’m feeling lost and want to start searching for that mythical map, I must remember that the perception that matters most, has nothing to do with the viewpoint of others. The only place I should ever look is within.

What’s life without adventure?

(This is the paragraph that kicked me in the ass- it was too similar to my mindframe)

“Walking these New Zealand mountains stimulated my memory. My need for this strange landscape was profound. Travel, which is nearly always seen as an attempt to escape from the ego, in in my opinion the opposite. Nothing induces concentration or inspires memory like an alien landscape or a foreign culture. It is simply not possible (as romantics think) to lose yourself in an exotic place. Much more likely is an experience of intense nostalgia, a harking back to an earlier stage in your life, or seeing clearly a serious mistake. But this does not happen to the exclusion of the exotic present. What makes the whole experience vivid, and sometimes thrilling, is the juxtaposition of the present and the past….” -Paul Theroux, The Happy Isles of Oceania

Hawksbill sea turtles are so curious! This little guy was going up for air, but spotted me and came back down for a closer look! Diving is really and truly amazing. Photo:: S. Timoko

And guess who's finally a Divemaster? This is me, with Tim, one of my instructors and his fiance Lucile. No no, I still dont drink. The champagne was a fun surprise though! Thanks Buddy! Photo:: S. Lyon

The Matavera Christian Church. The island is extremely religious with predominantly Mormon, Christian and Seventh Day Adventists

Freediving is one of my new favorite past times. Im working on holding my breath longer and relaxing more. Steve is able to blow these rings- check out how big they get! Photo:: S. Lyon

Cool Octopus came out for a treat on a nite dive in A'roa lagoon Photo:: S. Gilmour

Yes yes, I have a dog obsession. Lots of the Rarotonga dogs are what I call "lowriders", with these stumpy little legs and normal sized bodies! It's so cute I want to squish them all!

A room with a view. Sometimes- luck is on your side. Photo:: T. Weier

This would have been a great photo. It has excellent and notable supporters of the shark sanctuary. However, I would like to note that there are downsides to taking scooters everywhere.... Photo:: T.Weier

A gorgeous and memorable sunset. Had to share.

Pink-leaf scorpionfish. Shaun spent at least 30 minutes photographing this thing. Yes, it's pretty and rare! Photo:: S. Gilmour

Yay! Clear, warm water! This is a very happy Jess. Photo:: T. Weier

We have lots and lots of group get togethers. This is one of the bigger bbqs, but has most all of my friends in it. Im lucky here- good peeps.

White spotted Eagle Ray!

I'll never tire of this view. Photo:: my now and forever missing, stolen iphone

This is Takuvaine Field, nestled between the mountains. I absolutely love the game of rugby now. And I've even started playing touch rugby with the local women! It's fast paced, competitive, and Im complete shit. haha Lots of new rules

A little hipstamatic Taro, a staple in the Polynesia diet. In Hawaii, it's called Poi

This is what a happy Momma looks like! Warm, Green mountains. No one around.

A walk that I love- through the valley of the taro patches! Mom was freaking out about how green it all was.

Island Nite!

Mom came for a visit! And look what she got?! All the dogs in Raro are snuggly, sweet and amazing. Why can't all men be like that? lol.

A visa run to New Zealand. Heaven for a week.

The joys of life on an island. Red Bell Peppers, called capsicum in this part of the world, are a luxury I can not afford!

It had rained for a week straight. We were tired of being trapped indoors. Welcome to mud rugby! Thanks Titikaveka Field

STAY TUNED FOR A SHORT BLOG ABOUT MY LIFE IN THE COOK ISLANDS, MY PROJECTS AND UPCOMING ADVENTURES!!

Notes from a Rock in the South Pac: Chapter 1

2011-08-23T02:02:27Z

View of Muri Lagoon Photo: J. Bastien

I’ve just returned from a pain-free run under the guidance of a full moon, which has me feeling a pinch of primal deviance. I am smiling ear to ear. I am inspired. It’s taken a lot longer than I hoped for me to have the conviction to sit and type. Well, that’s not true. I’ve started about eight blogs over the past month, but none filled me with the satisfaction to sit still long enough to finish….or, I’ve just been too busy living! Enjoying all the little moments bestowed upon me by amazing humans, innocent animals, and my paradisiacal environment, but most of all, taking none of it for granted. To refrain from boring you with my subconscious turmoil regarding any post-sailboat endeavors, I will simply let you know that I did not stay in Tahiti.

I live alone in a little white bungalow, in a town called Ngatangiia (which, after two months of practice, I can finally pronounce) on the island of Rarotonga. I LIVE in the Cook Islands. The water is the color of my dreams; it’s thirty-four shades of blue in a burst of sunlight and almost daily my eyes observe its creatures behind tempered glass. The surf is fickle, shallow and scary. Its razor sharp reef fingers summon my skin and on occasion, I indulge. The routine sacrifice of my favorite activity keeps me hungry and hopefully in time, I’ll find comfort in its power. But for now, I revel in the peace of my life on a 32km island that I’ve aptly named, Rad-otonga.

My life here is amazing. My dreams and actions are aligning and for that, I feel an indescribable sense of satisfaction and not-surpisingly, an increasingly ravenous appetite for accomplishment. I am poor as hell, but my life continues to get richer. My daily routine isn’t overly adventurous, but the potential keeps me wide-eyed. I am the full time, volunteer Program Manager for Pacific Islands Conservation Initiative (www.picionline.org) working on three major projects: the Cook Islands Turtle Project, the Cook Islands Shark Sanctuary and the Aitutaki Lagoon Monitoring Project. We are a two-person team, with one estranged biologist searching for sea turtle nests in the remote Northern Cooks. My arrival here hinged upon a single statement made by my now closest island friend and only colleague, PICI founder Steve Lyon. He remarked that there was a gap in scientific knowledge within the communities here and he meant to use real data as a means to educate and conserve marine species and habitats. He also acknowledged that he had a notebook full of ideas, a few in pursuit, but he needed someone to come onboard and drive the train. To that, I happily obliged.

I feel as if I’ve been invited into a magical little club on an island filled with magnificent splendor. I’m not sure if my arrival here was just luck, or if it was a culmination of risk and preparedness. My Dad used to have a frame on his office wall, which read: “Luck is what happens when opportunity meets preparation.” While I can ponder the decisions I’ve made and opportunities past, I would rather leave you with a collection of photos and the notion that Im right where Im supposed to be….living in this moment.

Quote of the Day: ”There is no comparison between that which is lost by not succeeding, and that which is lost by not trying” – Francis Bacon

Photo Credits: My friend and talented photographer, Justin Bastien gave me permission to use some of his photos on my website! He spent a few weeks here and as a result, Im lucky enough to post a few of his epic shots! Thanks Justin! For more of his work, check out: www.justinbastien.com

Life on an island Photo: J. Bastien

Surf Check! Photo: J.Bastien

Patagonia ambassador and absolute sweetheart, Mary Osborne and four-legged friend enjoying the view Photo: J.Bastien

Me and JP Garcia enjoying a little Saturday market snack. You will not go hungry on this island. Photo: J. Bastien

Pacific Divers is where I live-my office is in the back and when Im not tapping away, Im working on my divemaster with the amazingly fun crew. Steve owns PD..and helps pay my rent b/c of it! Thanks Buddy!! Photo: J.Bastien

Talking over some fun stuff with Jay Photo: J. Bastien

Climbing and jumping off of gorgeous waterfall, check. Subsequent aerial attack by an army of mozzies, double check. Photo: J. Bastien

I arrived at the same time as the next crew from Sea Dragon (my boat from Tahiti). We had an amazing few weeks of games, meals, laughs and video production. Lifelong friends. Lifetime of memories. Photo: J. Bastien

A closer look perhaps? Photo: J. Bastien

Any takers? Ava'avaroa Passage ::Photo: J. Bastien

Photo: J. Bastien

Photo: Justin Bastien

A little photoshoot with my friend and amazing photographer Justin Bastien

Home is where the heart is Photo: J. Bastien

(and now, for some amateur photos…most of which were taken by my iphone

Local selection during sunset at A'roa. I just loved the hat

One of my favorite past times....watching men run around in short shorts, with this backdrop. This is local Rugby team: Titikaveka Bulldogs.

Another shade of blue-sending my heart into oblivion

Steve and I were invited to create an aquatic Eco-Trail for a local resort. Upon photographing all the reef and fish, we stumbled upon this ugly bastard, a crown of thorns. They kill the reef via overconsumption. There's actually a method to kill them and keep them off the reef. Photo: S. Lyon

Schooling one of the local grommets Photo: K. Doucette

Just another empty beach in the Cooks

Local fishing boat in Muri Lagoon

This is Steve, my friend, colleague and PICI founder with his little girl, Dylan- the most fearless 6 year old on the planet

Steve and I were invited to check out the NSF CO2 research airplane. I was just excited to sneak into the cockpit of the G5 and pretend I was the pilot from North Pole to South and back. Photo: S.Lyon

Giant Moray Eel Photo: S.Lyon

Hawksbill turtles are critically endangered and even thought to be extinct in the Eastern Pacific...if we are successful in finding their nests in the Cooks, we'd be the first to report!

Turtle survey #1: Hawksbill sea turtle, not afraid of a crazy eyed-all too happy-diver Photo: S.Lyon

A little iphone pic at Avana--the closest and friendliest surf break to my house.

This little piggy went to market...

Does this motivate you? This was posted on a booth near ours during Lagoon Day back in early June.

Outside of our booth at Lagoon Day, where we presented a documentary about pollution in the water cycle.

Me presenting our documentary "Sky to Sea: The Water Story". It was my first docu experience and I must say, a lot more work that I had anticipated. Major Thanks to Butch Bogan for filming, editing and putting up with my constant "Can we add more sound here, can we splice this photo or image? Can we.......?"

Following the movie, we asked the students what they could do to help the lagoon. Were there changes they could make in their everyday lives? Could they discuss with teachers? Parents? Local lawmakers?

Here she is! My very own scooter. She's used, but is a little too fast and furious. Everyone on the island rides around on these little buggers. They're ridiculously fun.

Breathtaking sunrise #57 from my front porch

The Roxy surf team who recently came to the Cooks to hang out, take a few pix and a rollercoaster boat ride. Bruna, Leanne and Kelia.

Smoke and Mirrors...hard to get a bad photo with this in the background

A few props on the motu during the Roxy shoot

Parting shot….my favorite kind of lovin…..

Rapa Nui to Tahiti: Chapter 6

2011-07-04T19:14:56Z

Who let these two drive? Me and Sara getting a little kooky after 3 weeks at sea

Characters Welcome::

I should be logging in all the adventures of the past month as quickly as the wind carries them away from me, but there are times when trying to sort out the love in your heart, the fear behind your eyes and the hope in all your dreams becomes enough just to think about, let alone write about to your family and friends.

I left you on the deck of a sailboat, in the middle of the South Pacific Ocean. We had just left Pitcairn Island and were greeted by incredibly calm seas, calling for a second soul-cleansing plunge into the mid-ocean blue. We were finished trawling because somewhere along the line, permits weren’t obtained to take samples in French waters. In truth, the crew was bummed about that because we were, after all, volunteering our time and our friend, family and sponsorship dollars to test for plastic in these waters. The subsequent change of focus from science to pleasure cruise left most people, including myself, with an emotional mix of guilt and confusion.

But with about a week left to sail into Tahiti and a lot of wind in the forecast, we had a little time to get over our trawling sorrows and to get excited about our imminent arrival. We filled the next few days with a multitude of discussions surrounding our environment, baking contests including the first ever mid-ocean “Crumble Rumble”, reading and trading books (I finished “The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay”), sunbathing or in many cases sun-avoiding, introspection and my favorite, solidifying friendships with this cast of characters. It’s amazing how 15 complete strangers can be crammed together on a 22m boat, have zero drama and look forward to seeing each other everyday…at least, it’s how I felt. Each night after dinner, someone new would present and each night, as the sun displayed it’s magic show behind the bow, I was both amazed and aghast by what people had done before the Pacific crossing. At times I was laughing hysterically and in other moments, awe struck by accomplishment.

Toby had apparently been removing Barbie heads and other interesting objects from body cavities in the ER, Clive had raced around the world through a horrifyingly violent Southern Ocean, Jason had designed and launched satellites, Anna had taught inorganic chemistry atop a camel in Egypt, and my newest and dearest friend, who slept two feet from me for three weeks, had written a freaking book! Sara Bayles, married to our resident marine biologist super hero Garen Baghdasarian, wrote an environmentally themed novel in between performing 365 consecutive days of beach cleanups for her blog, The Daily Ocean (check it out! http://www.thedailyocean.blogspot.com/). Sara is warm, inspiring and will never know how much I appreciated our talks on love, friendship, cooking, dreaming, and of course, saving the world.

I actually didn’t present on the boat. I was a little bored of hearing myself tell my story and I just wanted to learn about everyone else. Plus, I felt like both my heart and my brain were in a constant state of confusion, trying to identify and rectify what I’d done, why I was doing it, how I was going to keep going and what I was going to do next. If there’s one thing that sea time affords, it’s the ability to just sit quietly with yourself and think. By the end of those few days, I had decided one thing and one thing only. When I got to Tahiti, I was going to entrench myself in a community, get involved in grassroots projects and I was going to stay…and I was going to stay for months.

Toby and Leslie enjoying a mid day snooze at "the beach" in between baking and crafting

Kitt, our fearless journalist and a little fire in the sky

Anil, our Turkish climate scientist "Vaaat?"

Jeffrey!! Our 2nd mate, or also known as Dale's slave. Such a little monkey!

The beginnings of hysterics: Stiv readying himself for the crumble rumble, takes a little "butterin up"

Garen proceeds to lose it while Stiv eats a man sized portion of fishy smelling butter

THIS is white trash casserole. As Clive aptly described it "it's dry lasagna noodles, bathed in milk, sprinkled with corned beef and corn flakes!" It's what happens when weezy and sleezy take over the kitchen.

The result of white trash casserole....with a side of wieners. Was it a hit?

Tell us how you really feel Clive!

Mother Nature delivers again

Rapa Nui to Tahiti: Chapter 5

2011-05-30T18:33:44Z

Pitcairn Longboat arriving for pickup!

A Settlement of Criminals? Sojourn to Pitcairn::

If tomorrow I were to return to my life in San Diego and try to casually summarize what I’d been up to for the past week, I would be greeted by equal parts astonishment and disbelief. It’s how I would react upon hearing someone say “We had night after night of brilliant sunset, swam in the open ocean, took a detour to an uninhabited World Heritage site, was followed by sharks while paddling my surfboard, had some extra time so we decided to see if we could dive the Bounty….you know, the notorious sunken ship? And then, we hiked to the top of a mountain and had lunch with one of the great-great granddaughters of the lead mutineer himself.” Pretty standard week…right?! Hmph- liars!

Sea Dragon was making really good time and we weren’t expected in Tahiti for nine more days so our skipper decided to make an overnight pit stop on Pitcairn Island, one of the most remote places on Earth, lying halfway between New Zealand and Peru. Until a dark spot in history emerged a few years ago, Pitcairn was known as the settlement of mutineers from the most infamous naval mutiny in history, when in 1790 first mate Fletcher Christian sent Captain William Bligh adrift at sea in an open longboat with minimal supplies and his most loyal crew. Not to worry, I’d never heard of Pitcairn either, but I had heard of Mutiny on the Bounty and this history coupled with the knowledge that 44 of the 55 inhabitants are direct descendants of the original mutineers who sought refuge there, I couldn’t wait to check it out and see how the folks survived in such an isolated place.

I’d like to say I expected a completely normal bunch, but in all honesty, I thought that anyone who would want to live in the middle of nowhere with only 54 other people, some of them family, must be weird. I was totally wrong….well almost .

The Pitcairn Islanders were so welcoming that they sent 15 people out in the longboat to meet us in Bounty Bay, which luckily was calm today. Imagine our astonishment when we realized that there was a boat full of locals photographing us. We were the anomaly. Throughout the day, we casually made jokes about the photos, saying they were used to determine which of our crew would be captured to diversify the gene pool. All jokes aside, Pitcairners were an incredibly jovial bunch, and many had chosen to move back having studied off island.

Since there were no beaches, we clambered up to Christian’s Cave and explored the mutineers’ hiding spots with Bradley, our gregarious nine-year old guide. We feasted on the porch of a Christian descendant who was working hard for economic progress of the island, dived the reef around one-palm island and swam with a green sea turtle near the barely recognizable remnants of the Bounty.

Everyone on the island has a VHF radio and when it was time to leave, we boarded Sea Dragon and felt a little sad as the villagers wished us well, including Bradley whose crackling voice was never to be forgot. And as we once again turned the bow westward, Pitcairn faded into a few lights in the distance. Bound for Tahiti, we disappeared from their lives into the big open blue.

The original

Sometimes life ain't fair. Losing to girls happens to the best of em!

Views like this make isolation appealing

Jeffrey and Young Bradley monkeying around

HIke to Christian's Cave- check the water color!!

Green and Blue- my 2 favorites

Dale, Kitt, Jeff, Anna, Me , Bradley, Leslie and Toby. Great humans. Memorable experience

Getting ready for my first dive in the middle of the South Pacific!

Bradley found this surfboard one morning washed up in the harbor. It's made of styrofoam and feels like a spongy beach cooler.

Rapa Nui to Tahiti: Chapter 4

2011-05-30T18:34:19Z

Shark Encounter on Henderson Island::

Henderson Island—a makatea, which means raised coral island, is in the middle of the South Pacific. It’s uninhabited except for Polynesian rats and four species of endemic land birds, whose presence afforded the designation of a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1988. From miles away, I could see a long, skinny strip of white sand and steep palm lined cliffs that bordered the entire atoll. Although we were restricted by the Pitcairn authority from exploring the interior of the island, the excitement of stopping at this speck in the middle of the South Pacific Ocean, checking out the beach for both birds and plastic and potentially surfing a reef in the middle of nowhere was filling me with nervous excitement. I was half asleep taking tons of photos and dancing like a swirling jellyfish.

The boat anchored about 200m offshore in crystal clear water spotted with coral and sand. There were three of us frothing to surf so the skipper asked us to check out beach accessibility. I launched myself off the deck of our 22m island with my surfboard in one hand and my diving mask in the other. Shallow and bleached, the reef was home to very few fish, which was immediately shocking considering the island was both remote and uninhabited. We struggled to find much in the surf, but I managed to stand up once, dragging my fins into a mass of coral close to the inside. Oops! Feeling excited about my first (and only) wave here, I washed up on the soft reef to explore the beach. Before even reaching the shore, it was easy to spot the numerous pieces of fishing debris and plastic buoys used on boats. Unlike most of the other beaches I’ve visited, I saw very little disposable plastic items like bottles, shopping bags and flip-flops.

Leslie Moyer, a rep from 5 Gyres, beached soon after and asked me to help her hunt for at least 100 nurdles (remember the plastic precursor pellets?) to send to Japan where a lab is studying the contents and chemical makeup of these ubiquitous beach dwellers. Covered in sand and equipped with a pair of tweezers, it became really easy to tell the difference between the nurdles and rocks. It was hard to comprehend just how these things made their way across thousands of miles of ocean and washed up on this very beach.

After a much-anticipated walk on solid ground and a very confusing and somewhat disturbing understanding of not only our impact from plastic, but also from over-fishing, it was time to paddle back to the boat. This is when I stared back at them.

My Dad is deathly afraid of sharks. Two of my best friends refused to snorkel with me in CA because they’re afraid of sharks. So when Colleen, a fellow crewmate who was snorkeling with her boyfriend 100 yards away calmly yelled “Hey Jess, look down”, and all I could see was one very beady, very close shark-like eye looking back at me, I couldn’t help but think about how my loved ones would react and how I couldn’t wait to tell them…once I was safely on the boat.

At first I saw one and before I could decide whether I was afraid, there were three of them, and they were curious and following me closely. Ecstatic that I brought my mask so I could check them out, I was surprised that I wasn’t completely panicked. I had never been so close to a shark before. In fact, it’s quite possible that they had never been so close to a human before either.

Needless to say, my 200m paddle back to the boat went fairly quickly. Garen Baghdasarian, our marine biologist who had to kick one of the sharks for his own safety, let us know that they were relatively harmless grey rock sharks, who are territorial and only bite when provoked. Lucky for me, I left with nothing but new questions and memories.

Land-ho! Not me, the speck on the horizon!

Stiv on the spinnaker and ready for a beach hunt, some sharks and a photo op

Leslie, Toby, Garen and Sara excited for some solid ground

This pic is really here so you can see the outline of my 5'4 blue beauty

No explanation necessary. Sharks are not always scared of humans...cliffs on the other hand

Rapa Nui to Tahiti: Chapter 3

2011-05-30T18:34:54Z

One of many leaps into the unknown--blue water swimming!

Me and the Sea – Perfection in the South Pacific::

“My grandmother’s had a double mastectomy and she can move faster than you! C’mon you facking land lover!” Meet Dale. He’s our fantastically witty, at times inaudible and never censored, forty something Kiwi expedition leader who is at present, yelling at me to unroll the yankee, which is a bit difficult because I can’t stop laughing. We’ve had about as much wind as plastic this past week so a little 11 knot burst got me excited enough to drag him onto the deck. If there are no nurdles for me to dissect out of fish bellies then I am going to learn to sail dammit!

I looked up and smiled as I saw three perfectly rounded sails, the yankee, the stay and the main all full with wind and gliding us (slowly) over a glassy Pacific to Ducie Atoll, our proposed next stop.

Just as I had regained my breath, Clive peeked his head up on deck and said “Three minutes to trawl”. I shrugged my shoulders and chuckled with Dale as he slowed the boat down to 3 knots so we could safely trawl for a few bits of plastic. We had sailed for 5 minutes. As much as I am excited to explore the reach of these plastic bits, we have found very little on our journey and since we are officially outside of the accumulation zone, I can’t help but feel like trawling every 50 miles is a bit futile. It feels like we’re just multiplying the number of data points on a flat line. In other words, can’t we skip just this one?

But my windless woes were fleeting. I emerged from the galley to hear that we were stopping the boat for a swim. The swell was manageable and the ocean was completely glassy. It was now or never I thought. I rushed downstairs, threw on a new Roxy bikini, scampered to the front of the boat and climbed unsteadily onto the railings. With the help of a wave, I launched myself off the bow and into 13000 feet of the clearest and bluest water I’d ever seen. I took the deepest breath I could manage and kicked down, down down. All I could see was blue. Clean water blue.

Clean Water Blue, my most favoritist kind

Sailing

Guess who's happy about swimming? It's strange being surrounded by water for weeks and not being able to get in....

Stiv going big

The trawl--that empty bastard

Dale and his most favorite cheeky lil bastard

Rapa Nui to Tahiti: Chapter 2

2011-05-30T18:09:24Z

The Big Blue: A week adrift at sea

From the bow it looked at least 6-8 foot…from the back. We had been anchored just offshore since about 11am and a few of us were trying to decide whether we had time to unpack our boards and make the paddle in between safety procedures, watch schedules and funny lectures on cleaning and exactly how to stack pots and pans. I had been lucky enough to catch a few fun waves the previous days and now that I was on the boat, I wanted to meet my crew, find my sea legs and get on with the science of blue water plastic pollution.

Almost 24 hours later, we pulled anchor, turned the bow westward and into the setting sun. I let out a primal howl as my body shook with excitement. Rapa Nui faded into the darkness of a few lights on the eastern horizon.

I’m only 5’3, but I struggled to find a comfortable position in the lopsided, sagging blue sack known as my bunk, whose sides were raised by nylon straps to keep me cradled as the boat rolled side to side. There are 18 berths on our boat, which are about 6 feet long by less than a meter wide, with minimal headspace. The claustrophobic within me would have to be headlocked into submission if I was ever going to get some z’s.

“Jess…Jess…Jess, it’s 3:45am, your watch starts in 15 minutes.” It felt as if I’d just fallen asleep.

On deck I was greeted by my watch-mates, a three-quarter moon, and our skipper Clive whose calm demeanor was as welcoming as his British clip. “Pick a star or a cloud,” he said when it was my turn to steer. Within minutes I relaxed into the easy rolling of the boat and was relieved by the lack of swell. Although I’d been told all about Sea Dragon’s stability in extremely rough conditions, I was in no hurry to experience it first hand. Clive described Sea Dragon as I gazed at the Southern Cross to my left, “She’s a Challenge 72’ and is one of only 12 boats built to compete in the Global Challenge Round the World yacht race, which she did in 2000 and 2004. [Weighing 42 tons] She effortlessly cruises at 8 knots and with large storm and a wave to ride downhill, she’ll top out at about 20 knots.” Staring upward, I wondered if I could sweet talk my way to the top of our 95’ mast. I’d been secretly daydreaming about diving off of it and morphing into a mermaid-like creature that swims with the whales. Typing this, I wonder if I should keep similar thoughts to myself.

It’s about 7am, still very dark, but time for my first manta trawl. Every 50 miles along the route, we slow the boat down to 2-4 knots, and trawl the surface for plastic. I am thrilled to participate in this event with 5 Gyres and can’t wait to see what we pull up. I had seen a number of horrifyingly dense samples from the Atlantic and North Pacific and expected something similar. To my surprise, the protocol was quite simple and resulted in very little debris. Was it because of the decreased human population in the South Pacific? Was it because the air temp and salinity affect the density of plastic and their place in the water column?
Honestly, I was a little disappointed in our lackluster results, but quickly realized that less plastic was a good thing. Less plastic=less pollution=less fish and birds eating=less death, but was this true? And what of the beaches in the atolls along our route?

Say goodbye to land for a while

Westbound: 2995 miles to go

This is where claustrophobia and I divorced

Sara, Garen, Skipper Clive and a crazy driver- sunrise shift

First sunset at sea

Rapa Nui to Tahiti: Chapter 1

2011-05-11T07:23:13Z

Well, we do what we can no matter who's watching

Bleary eyed, I peeked out the window to see an emerald green hill dotted with wild horses. The deep blue on the horizon already beckoned me as I searched for another island in the distance. Stepping onto the ground felt like I was walking straight off the last page of great novel and into a place in my life that will forever be marked as before and after. Before I sailed the Pacific.

Thanks to The Quiksilver Foundation, who sponsored my berth, I am embarking on the trip of a lifetime aboard a sailboat to Tahiti, in search of plastic pollution with the crew from 5 Gyres.

For the past 3 days on Rapa Nui I have been lucky enough to explore volcanic craters filled with marshy freshwater, surf a perfect little right hander on my perfect new 5’4 Moss Research Eco-Board, which was so graciously donated by Jake Moss, Rey at Entropy Resin and Clay at Marko Foam, share laughs around a fire with people from 8 different countries and dodge near arraignment at a World Heritage site. But a single walk on the sand has been a staunch reminder of our wastefulness on the larger lands of this planet.

The words “plastic confetti” have been used time and again, but they are the best 2 little descriptors for what happened upon us yesterday. With 15 Moai staring westward, behind their backs we quietly collected large pieces of buoys, bags and bottles. Niko, a local guide and environmentalist, (who’s group I can’t remember right this second!) lead me to a well, which was nestled between the lava rocks not far from shore. This was a sacred spot to the indigenous because it was one of the few sites to collect fresh water. To my dismay, the interior and exterior of the rocks were littered with 2-5mm particles of plastic. I wish I thought they were beautiful, colored white and pink and blue. Niko looked at me and said “Do you see the baby lobsters? Hmph, I suppose they’re eating this shit too”.

Our next stop was a sandy beach whose surroundings must have inspired a Tolkein sequel. And maybe it’s because I was looking for it or maybe it’s because of the sheer number of particles, but I have never seen such a concentration of bits of plastic in my life. There is no glitter or gleam to polypropylene. I took a scoop of the sand with a metal strainer and played, like a child looking for treasure. In less than a minute, I had about 2 teaspoons worth of nurdles—the plastic pellets which are precursors to our bags and bottles. Until recently, many manufacturing facilities were careless about their little pellets, allowing them to wash into storm drains and roll their way out to sea. But with the help of Anna and Marcus of 5 Gyres, regulations have been put in place in many locations to manage this “overflow”.

As with every new crew member about to set sail with Sea Dragon, I am openly curious about just how much of this stuff I will encounter in the big blue. I honestly don’t know of a beach in the world that is free from plastic, but what happens to it out there? How much of it sinks and then what? How much is ingested by birds and fish? Have the fish I’ve been eating..been eating plastic? How many of these items onshore are items I use on the daily? Scary thought….

These are the questions I will try to answer with this experience.

Stiv got a shot of me on the inside reform to the Moai! Best little board EVER, my Moss Research Eco 5'4

Our trash. Their beach. The sad truth for islanders.

Playing in the sand-check the surroundings and count the plastic.

I guess I like em old! Me and Mr. Moai

Can you think of anything other than Confetti to describe this image? This is what a sacred well looks like on Rapa Nui

The trailblazers themselves! Anna Cummins and Marcus Eriksen

On the edge of the crater

They're always watching

Guatemala

2011-04-12T21:17:55Z

“Don’t you want to give him hugs?”, said Guajia, the young girl running at me with her 15-day old goat-sheep cross. Regardless of my language deficiencies, baby animal and hugs are well within my vocabulary in Spanish. She giggled at me as I smiled for the camera, similar to the giggles I received from all the women when asked if I could photograph their latrines.

I am in Guatemala not only taking photos, but interviewing families and surveying water and sanitation projects as a volunteer for the World Water Corps (WWC), a division of Water for People (W4P). Today was our first full day in the field and I couldn’t wait to get my feet on semi-solid ground after spending the last 2 days praying I wouldn’t plummet to my death at the hands of more than one crazy driver. It seems all the participating communities are at least an hour from town at the end of horribly bumpy roads, around hairpin turns perched 6000ft above sea level, with uncompromised views of mountains and forest, sprinkled with a few homes, even fewer dirt roads and the occasional brilliantly colored bougainvillea bush, blowing quietly in the wind.

The majority of our work today centered around latrines which were facilitated W4P Guatemala, but built by members of the community. It was, as expected, a humbling, wonderful and at times, uncomfortable experience to hike into a homestead and interview such poor families (in Spanish!) about their personal hygiene habits. Has anyone ever asked you if your entire family washes their hands after using the bathroom? I tended to divert that question to my local counterpart. However, between the uncomfortable questions were moments of both quietude and brilliance in our interactions.

Juan is the head of Mamaj Chiquita, a small mountain community in the municipality of Santa Cruz del Quiche in which all families have ventilated, composting latrines. Upon finishing his interview, Juan invited us into his home and offered us….water. Oh boy the predicament. While trying hard not to envision my Haitian water offering and later bellowing to the porcelain gods, I graciously accepted. The 3 other people in my group looked around, shrugged their shoulders and took a few gulps. I nearly gagged, not because the water tasted foul, but quite the opposite! Juan’s family makes less than $2/day and therefore, did not have anything more than water to offer. So instead, his wife added a few tablespoons of sugar to the water. Sugar water. With debris floating in it. And I drank it, admittedly, I only took a few gulps, but the possible sickness was a better than the thought of offending this welcoming family.

Needless to say, it’s been great interacting and learning from the Guatemalan people. Although I have questioned my presence in the communities with regard to the projects (I think the Guatemalan team is more than capable of completing the surveys without me), I am reminded that a shared, unfamiliar smile can work wonders.

[I will upload photos when I get back into Panama, the internet can't handle it here!]

Weather and Wonder

2010-12-22T12:57:49Z

Rainy Drive on the way to Boca del Drago

This past month in Bocas has been both an adventurous and memorable spectacle as well as a slow, rainy testament to my resolve.

The Friday after I posted my last blog, we had a long awaited meeting at the Smithsonian with a group of supposedly influential people, with the ultimate goal of pooling our brains to rocket the turtle project into the stratosphere. Well, at least this was my naïve perception. Present parties were myself and Kristian, founders of Bocas Foundation (which is almost a legal entity), the director of the Smithsonian, a dedicated turtle researcher, a representative from Solimar (NGO funded by USAID), a representative from the Municipality, and a man who spoke like he had a mouth full of rocks and whose purpose I still can’t define, in English or in Spanish.

After 3 hours of talking in political, bureaucratic circles, nothing was decided except that we needed another meeting in mid-January and it was going to cost money, careful movements and more painstaking hours to garner the support of these individuals. There were no action items, no meeting agendas, and no timelines set, which frustrated me to no end. It was clear that we would have to work separately with Cristina, the turtle researcher, in order to keep things moving forward. I was pretty sure I knew why the group would meet almost two months later, since no one seems to work in Panama from mid November through the New Year. There are almost a dozen National holidays, 3-day weekends, fiestas, parades, Christmas, New Years and of course the rain, which has subsided for today and shed a little Vitamin D light on the cloudy side of my brain.

Rain has an interesting effect on productivity in Bocas. Everyone in town relies on rainwater catchment systems, since there is only town water for about 2 hours every day. So rain means we can do laundry, shave our legs in the shower and write those emails and blogs we’ve been meaning to get to. The problem with the rain however is that everything is slow. Flights are cancelled, boats are delayed, markets run out of fruits and veggies, construction halts, research projects push back weeks and your brain begins to feel as murky as the once turquoise water. You find yourself making jokes about cloud bursting (see Men Who Stare at Goats), playing board games and staring at the book you’ve been meaning to finish, meanwhile trying not to panic about having earned $0 since April.

But did I think about jobs? Not really, instead I have been working on more volunteer projects and I couldn’t be happier to write about the next two on my calendar!!

A few months ago, with the help of Dr. T, my inspirational organic chemistry professor, I discovered an organization called Water for People (www.waterforpeople.org) and decided immediately that I wanted to volunteer with them. Their CEO, Ned Breslin (http://nbreslin.tap.waterforpeople.org/) isn’t afraid to say that his organization does NOT have all the answers. He refuses propaganda used by so many other NGO’s and instead, reports on facts. The organization pools brainpower of employees, volunteers and community members to determine the most viable, long-term solutions for potable water and sanitation in various regions of the world and monitors progress throughout.

Needless to say, after an interview in English and in Spanish, an online application, a CV and about a month of email exchanges, I was selected to volunteer for their Guatemala team at the end of March. I am thrilled and look forward to this experience, to learning Water for People’s protocols, building new relationships, diversifying my skills and applying them elsewhere in my travels.

My second opportunity is one that I have barely been able to contain and it also transpired during this past rainy month. It’s a good thing I’ve been spending so much time around boats here, because in April, it will be all I know! I was recently selected to sail aboard Sea Dragon with the 5 Gyres Institute (www.5gyres.org), whose mission is to sail through each of the 5 major gyres in the world’s oceans, trawling the water and testing for both particulate and microscopic pieces of plastic. The goal of the trip is to raise awareness about plastic which is being dumped into our oceans daily, killing marine life and polluting our water and to continue research on better handling of plastic waste.

My voyage leaves Easter Island April 13^th and arrives about 20 days later in Tahiti, sailing through the South Pacific Gyre(!!). I couldn’t be more excited to be a part of this team and to raise awareness about this pressing issue and, I will utilize my scientific research skills onboard. The only proviso is that I need to raise $5500 for 5 Gyres to cover my spot and research costs. 5 Gyres is a 501c3 and all donations are tax deductible. Email me if you’d like to donate!

So, amidst the rain, there have certainly been pockets of sunshine in terms of opportunities and love! Last week my good friend Brina visited, and alongside Kristian, we laughed through 10 straight days of rain and survived tiger sharks, bat guano, stinging nettle, giant crickets, crazy horses, skinny horses, chitres, mosquitoes, big waves, angry locals, freezing cold boat rides, airplane delays and last but not least, Bocas belly!

I am feeling extremely excited about coming months as I will have my turtle tagging training, my Reef Check training, more visitors and hopefully more news about my philanthropic actions. In the meantime, I will embrace the sky and it’s ever changing moods.

Panama, you have been teaching me an incredible lesson in stillness, manifestation and resolve, but no amount of rain will quench the fire burning in my belly.

Quote of the Day: “Just don’t use the furry leaves!” -Spoken by Kristian upon exiting bat cave #2, just after I realized that it would be an uncomfortable afternoon with stinging nettle in my special spots.

(Since a few of you have requested more photos, I have included a few of Brina’s visit!)

Brina and Jess brave the jungle on horseback

Entrance to La Gruta, the bat cave

Jess, Brina and some giggling local kids in Boca del Drago

Brina, Kristian and the pups get ready for a beautiful ride from Bluff to Mimitimbi

Jess enjoying a break from the rain on the way to Zapatillas

Jess and Brina performing their best siamese sea lion poses underwater at Zapatillas

Lonely house on the backside of beautiful Isla Loma

Sunburst after rainstorms