Bowermaster’s Adventures: Transiting the Atlantic Ocean by ship

by Jon Bowermaster on

Seated in a barber’s chair securely bolted to the stern deck I watch the sunrise over the heart of the Atlantic Ocean. A thin layer of pale blue sky rims the horizon, holding aloft a next layer of billowy cumulus. The air temperature is exactly the same as that of the sea, 77 degrees.

We are equidistant between the coast of Portugal and our goal, Puerto Rico, each 1,800 miles away. As far as I can see, 12 to 15 miles, there is no break on the horizon. In the past five days we’ve seen just three cargo boats in the far distance. The captain told me yesterday the longest stretch of open ocean he has ever covered – across the Atlantic, from Angola to New York City – took him twenty days during which time he saw not a single boat.

Except by satellite, this part of Planet Ocean is little seen, under-known territory.

The S-shaped basin brushed by the shores of Europe, Africa and the Americas, which has been known as the Atlantic since the days of Herodotus (450 BC) today seems almost void of life. The water is clear and dark, with very few fish near the surface; in five days I’ve seen just a handful of petrels feeding in the wake of the boat and the fin of a solitary yellowtail tuna.

As vast as the ocean is, what we don’t know about what lies beneath is even moreso. The ocean floor lies more than three miles beneath us, a place we know far less about than we do about the surface of Mars and the moon.All of which, from this vantage point, my feet dangling now over the railing of a dark, vast sea, makes it somehow difficult to shout out those claims that the world’s ocean is overfished, polluted, acidifying and rising. Out here in the heart of the 41 million square mile Atlantic, all seems very pacific.

It is one reason I like coming to the middle of the ocean because it such a powerful reminder that many of the its real troubles lie closer to shore, closer to where man lives and works. As a species we do have a tendency to muck up the very place we call home.

Ever since the first man, most likely a Phoenician, wandered out of the desert and down to the ocean’s shore we have flocked to the coasts. Today sixteen of the 20 largest cities in the world – from Tokyo (33 million) to Dhaka, Bangladesh (11 million) – are on the coast. Sixty percent of the world’s human population of 6.8 billion lives within 30 miles of a coastline.

Go get a globe or an atlas. Run a finger down the coastlines of the six populated continents. It is easy to see that’s where people have congregated, for obvious reasons of commerce and pleasure (the ambitious and the poor move to the big cities on the coasts for jobs, the wealthy head to the beaches for escape).

While there are some fishing fleets that still scour the far corners of the ocean and we know of a growing number of gyres far from shore swirling with plastic – and acidification, of course, knows no boundaries – the real hurt we cause the ocean is closer to home. The biggest competition for fish takes place within 200 miles of shore, often closer. Pollution of all kinds – oil, plastic, trash – line the beaches nearest where we live.

It’s not just manmade problems impacting coastal livers. Natural calamities impacting the ocean – more frequent and powerful storms thanks in part to rising sea surface temperatures, rising sea levels (expected to be three feet by 2100, perhaps double that) – most affect those living on or near the sea.

Maybe one of the answers to helping to clean up the ocean is for man to stay further away from it. As I’m floating here, atlas now in hand, feet still dangling over the three-mile deep Atlantic, maybe Kansas or Kamchatka, Saskatchewan or Siberia should become our new paradises … at least for the ocean’s sake.

Flickr photo By Nantaskart!

Bowermaster’s Adventures — Crossing the Atlantic with “Atlantic”

by Jon Bowermaster on

The Atlantic Ocean, 480 miles southwest of Lisbon – The seas have laid down to a meter in the past 24 hours and (for the moment) the sun is filtering through a gathering cloud layer. We have just sailed south of the Madeira Islands, destination (slowly) Puerto Rico. It should take another ten days or so.

Of all the places I’ve traveled this is my favorite place to be: In the blue heart of an ocean, surrounded by nothing but sea and horizon, eyes locked on that place where blue meets blue. It could be the center of the Pacific or Indian, the Arctic or Southern, any ocean will do. Today, it’s the Atlantic.

Thinking on my feet as I ran through the airport I grabbed a copy of Simon Winchester’s new book called simply … “Atlantic.” (Its subtitle elaborates: “Great Sea Battles, Heroic Discoveries, Titanic Storms and a Vast Ocean of a Million Stories.”)

When I first heard of the project – the biography of an ocean? – it sounded quixotic. Now that I’ve paged through it, surrounded on all sides by the very same ocean Winchester describes, I’d use the word “unique.”

It’s a challenging task to try and wrestle such a vast, constantly changing place into even 500 pages. There’s geography to consider, all that human exploration and exploitation, the development of trade and slave routes, dozens of wars and the commerce that inevitably followed, by sea and air. Thankfully towards the end of the book Winchester manages to devote about a tenth of his research to man’s impact on the Atlantic, starting with the raping of the cod fisheries off New Zealand right up to the way ocean acidification is today altering its equatorial reefs.”The oceans are under inadvertent attack, and as never before,” he writes. “Insofar as the Atlantic Ocean is the most used, traversed and plundered of all oceans, so it is the body of water that is currently most threatened.”

He admits the Pacific has been heavily hit by similar abuses, but is convinced the Atlantic is in “greater trouble,” in part because it is so much smaller than the Pacific, was the first to be explored, crossed by man and is by far the busiest. “It has become evidently the least pristine and most begrimed,” he concludes.

Winchester puts big responsibility for much of that grime on the trailings of jet planes and smokestacks of ships. One hundred million air passenger crisscross the Atlantic each year leaving behind jet trails of kerosene, a heavy contributor to the carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. One stat is most telling: A fully loaded, 300 passenger Boeing 777 flying from London to New York spews 70 tons of carbon dioxide into the sky or about 2,000 pounds per person.

Ships leave behind a similar trail. Winchester quotes a 2007 report by BP and a German physics institute which says that the funnels of the world’s entire fleet of 70,000 fuel-burning cargo and passenger ships pour more carbon dioxide into the atmosphere than is currently produced by all of the nations of Africa combined. Half of that commerce takes place along the coastlines of the Atlantic.

One downside to the carbon dioxide created by ships –sulfur-laden soot and other particles created by the fossil-fuel burning exhaust — is that it creates its own low-level clouds that linger in the atmosphere for weeks and months. They are so dense they can be seen from space, from which they are called simply “ship tracks.”

(The biggest container ship afloat? The Danish Emma Maersk, which weighs 170,000 tons and carries 15,000 containers.)

Cleaner fuels will help slow the pollution, as might giant sails (computer-controlled, already in the experimental stages). Yet for now, Winchester concludes, “the degradation of the air above our ocean … is just one more of the egregious examples of modern man’s weary disregard for a sea he once revered.”

I put the book down on that note, agreeing with most of his conclusions, actually wishing there’d been more specifics about future options for transport of both cargo and man across the seas. But it is a heavy task to biography an ocean; not everything can be included.

Standing on the rail of my ship, ignoring for the moment the contribution it too is making to the ship tracks, looking out at the horizon line – where from this vantage, everything still looks quite pristine — I wonder to myself even as we gain more and more knowledge about the ways man impacts the ocean, do we really think there will come a day when we stop taking it for granted.

Flickr image via Patrick McConahay

Photo of the Day (10.25.10)

by Mike Barish on
When I was a kid, I used to beg my parents and sister to go swimming with me when we went to the beach. At the public pool, I would demand that everyone watch me jump off the high dive. Basically, I was your average little boy. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to enjoy the serenity of the beach (if I can find a beach that’s not a sea of humanity blasting house music and ignoring posted signs announcing the prohibition of glass bottles) and to avoid public pools. If you find a peaceful beach, there should be no reason to complain about anything.

This photo by Flickr user AlessandraCapricephotography of Thailand’s Maya Bay reminds me of just how blissful a day at the beach can be (and how enjoyable a good vanity shot is every now and then). If you’re thinking, “Mike, cut the BS and just admit that you selected this photo because it shows off a nice set of tanned lady legs,” well, OK, that’s exactly why I picked it. Doesn’t mean everything else I said isn’t true.

Have a picture of some nice legs a beautiful beach scene? Or maybe just some great travel photos? Submit your images to Gadling’s Flickr group and we might use one for a future Photo of the Day.

Bowermaster’s Adventures: Navigating the hordes of jellyfish

by Jon Bowermaster on

Jellyfish — those gelatinous, stinging, floating-condoms-of-the-sea, the pint-sized boogeyman of the ocean are fast becoming the equivalent of a coal mine’s canaries. Appearing this summer en masse along coastlines around the globe, jellyfish are evidence of just how badly we’re treating the ocean and with painful results.

During the last days of summer jellyfish swarmed the Atlantic coast of Spain stinging hundreds on a single day, sending many swimmers to the hospital. While most of the stinging effects would go away in a week or two, many can still itch months later and sometimes require surgery to remove the affected area.

Dubbed a couple years back by the New York Times as the “cockroaches of the sea,” hordes of jellyfish have been showing up in similar abundances along beaches in New York, France, Japan and Hawaii, stinging innocent passersby and clogging fishing nets.

While jellyfish do little more than float with the currents and sting only when bumped into, last year more than 30,000 Australians were treated for stings, double the year before. Such swarming used to happen on occasion, but last just a couple days. Now some are lasting for weeks. In Spain this summer a fishing boat from the Murcia region reported an offshore swarm of iridescent purple jellyfish spread over a mile.

“Those jellyfish near shore are a message the sea is sending us saying ‘Look how badly you are treating me,’ ” jellyfish expert Dr. Josep-Maria Gili with the Institute of Marine Sciences of the Spanish National Research Council told the New York Times.

Experts believe this is a problem that’s only going to grow in years to come, thanks to a variety of environmental ills bearing down on the ocean simultaneously:

1. GLOBAL WARMING increases sea surface temperatures, which encourage jellyfish growth, as does a corresponding lack of rainfall. Typically freshwater from rain aggregates near shore and helps keeps the jellyfish at a distance; lack of rain due to a changing climate – as they’ve experienced along the European coasts this summer — means jellyfish float closer and closer to shore.

2. COASTAL POLLUTION reduces oxygen levels and visibility in the water, which scares most fish away from the shoreline but is conditions in which jellyfish thrive. While most fish have to see their catch, jellyfish filter food from the water, so eat passively.

3. OVERFISHING eliminates natural predators of jellyfish like tuna and swordfish, which also allows for more plankton growth, which helps the jellyfish proliferate.

One bright note to the boom? Some predict in the not-so-distant future jellyfish may be the only marine life left and thus may become a dietary staple. Savvy scientists, like the University of British Columbia’s Daniel Pauly, believe thanks largely to overfishing that we better start working on some jellyfish recipes … and fast.
Eating jellyfish is already prevalent in some Asian and Third World countries where sea cucumbers and sea urchins – “which live off dirt,” notes Pauly – are already on menus. When Pauly first suggested the notion of jellyfish sandwiches, it was intended as a joke. Not today.

Photo of the Day (10.01.10)

by Mike Barish on
We’re nearly two weeks into autumn here in the Northern Hemisphere, but I had put off officially saying farewell to summer. I mean, it had been mild here in New York. But, this week brought rain, wind, cooler evenings and all the trappings of autumn. Kids are fully entrenched in the new school year, football season is hitting its stride and, yes, the foliage is getting ready to be peeped. Heck, it’s now October. Summer, my friends, is over.

This picture by Flickr user snowjumpr seems like a fitting goodbye. However, let us not mourn Summer’s loss. As the sun sets on the season of vacations, beach weekends and picnics, let’s enjoy the comfortable temperatures, pick some fresh apples and find our fat pants that make Thanksgiving oh so comfortable. Autumn has plenty of perks, not the least of which is the food. It’s pie season, folks!

Have a picture that shows you chasing summer? Or, even better, just some great travel photos? Submit your images to Gadling’s Flickr group and we might use one for a future Photo of the Day.