April 25, 2011: Take a walk out to the end of San Francisco’s Pier 39, and you’ll hear an interesting symphony of barking California sea lions and reactions of delight and amusement from droves of human onlookers. And if you’re lucky, you might also find the “Gentleman Biologist of Pier 39,” Tim Vogel, a volunteer at the Marine Mammal Center in Sausalito, who has pursued tech career in Silicon Valley but has never forgotten his Seacamp roots. He spends hours teaching and inspiring visitors about the incredible wildlife of the West Coast and the wonders of science. Also: An update on the penguin rescue effort from Tristan da Cunha by Trevor Glass, Director of the Department of Conservation there.

The Ocean Doctor airs weekly on WebTalkRadio.net. Want to listen on your iPod, iPhone or mp3 player? Download the mp3 file or subscribe on iTunes and don’t miss a single episode. See the complete list of episodes.

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Submit a question and I’ll try to answer it on the air. Even better, record your question or comment on our special message line and I might play it on the air. Call: (805) 619-9194. You can also leave questions and comments for this episode below.

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The Gentleman Biologist of Pier 39

Timothy Vogel, the "Gentleman Biologist of Pier 39," a Docent for the Marine Mammal Center, talks with young visitors about the area's whales, dolphins, seals and other marine mammals

I’ve known Tim Vogel for many years — since the late seventies. We worked together at Seacamp, a marine science camp in the Florida Keys. If you listen to this show regularly, you’re probably starting to think that Seacamp is some sort of cult the way many of us ex-Seacampers have stayed in touch all these years and reminisce with wide eyes about our days there. Well, OK, I guess it is sort of a cult, but a damn fine one.

Not all of us have gone on to be marine scientists, but so many of us who were there in our younger days still have in our hearts a powerful love for the oceans and appreciation of the importance of educating others about their beauty, wonder and vulnerability. We often joke that we often find ourselves going back into teaching mode at the drop of a hat. A few years ago, when our fight was delayed in Dutch Harbor, Alaska, I found myself giving an impromptu PowerPoint presentation to the fishermen in the boarding area, holding up my laptop with one hand and gesturing enthusiastically with the other! I think many of us have stories like that.

California sea lions "hanging out" at San Francisco's Pier 39

Tim is another perfect example of a Seacamper who never stopped teaching. His career took him in fascinating directions, in software engineering and data mining, and areas that, quite frankly, despite my geeky nature, I don’t fully understand at all. He’s worked for years in Silicon Valley, has built small companies, sold software to Microsoft and others with great success. But his passion for the oceans and Mother Nature remain strong, which is why several times a week, you’ll find him today at the northwest corner of San Francisco’s Pier 39, adjacent to a noisy group of California sea lions who began hanging out here more than 20 years ago. He’s a volunteer docent for the Marine Mammal Center in Sausalito, which maintains a presence on Pier 39 to engage the throngs of tourists and enlighten them about sea lions, whales, dolphins and the other rich marine mammal wildlife of the California Coast.

Timothy Vogel, the "Gentleman Biologist of Pier 39"

Volunteers like Tim earn a special place in my heart. When I ran The Conservancy of Southwest Florida, we had hundreds of volunteers, and working with them is what I miss the most about being there. I was so humbled by their selfless dedication to education and conservation. Tim’s no exception. It’s obvious to anyone watching him for just a few minutes that he absolutely loves what he’s doing. But it’s more than that. He’s clearly a voracious reader and over the years it’s apparent that he’s thought long and hard about science, our species and our fellow species, and how we all fit together on this planet. I hadn’t seen Tim in many years, and though we’ve stayed in touch online, it was wonderful to see him again and talk with him, which is why I wanted to share my visit with the “Gentleman Biologist of Pier 39” with all of you.

About the Marine Mammal Center

The Marine Mammal Center is a nonprofit veterinary research hospital and educational center dedicated to the rescue and rehabilitation of ill and injured marine mammals – primarily elephant seals, harbor seals, and California sea lions. Since 1975, it has been headquartered in Sausalito, CA in the Marin Headlands within the Golden Gate National Parks, and has rescued and treated more than 16,000 marine mammals.

During rehabilitation of the animals, its research team studies the causes of their illnesses and by doing so, learns about conditions affecting the health of marine mammal populations and the oceans – conditions that can affect humans as well. The Center’s core research includes studying domoic acid poisoning in sea lions, bacterial infections such as leptospirosis, and even cancer, which is found in approximately 17% of adult sea lions that undergo post mortem at its hospital.

The Center’s education programs teach nearly 30,000 students and adults each year about marine mammals and the urgent need for environmental stewardship of earth’s marine environments, with the goal of inspiring ocean conservation. Its school programs are designed to meet the California State Academic Standards for science. Additionally, the Center’s Youth Volunteer Program provides younger ocean stewards with hands-on experience as volunteers working on animal care crews or as education docents.

Links

• Marine Mammal Center
• Seacamp Association

December 27, 2010:

It’s our end-of-the-year party and retrospective where we count down your top 10 favorite episodes of the year and enjoy highlights from each of them. If you’ve missed any past episodes of “The Ocean Doctor,” here’s your chance to catch up and discover shows you’d like to hear in full. Find them all at oceandoctor.org/radio

The Ocean Doctor airs weekly on WebTalkRadio.net. Want to listen on your iPod, iPhone or mp3 player? Download the mp3 file or subscribe on iTunes and don’t miss a single episode. See the complete list of episodes.

Follow The Ocean Doctor on Twitter — Become a Fan on Facebook!

Submit a question and I’ll try to answer it on the air. Even better, record your question or comment on our special message line and I might play it on the air. Call: (805) 619-9194. You can also leave questions and comments for this episode below.

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This Week: The Top 10 Countdown: Your Favorite Episodes of 2010

It’s our end-of-the-year party and retrospective where we count down your top 10 favorite episodes of the year and enjoy highlights from each of them. If you’ve missed any past episodes of “The Ocean Doctor,” here’s your chance to catch up and discover shows you’d like to hear in full. Find them all at  oceandoctor.org/radio

December 20, 2010: It’s the premiere of “The Ocean Doctor LIVE!” where YOU are the guest! We get a surprise visit from one of our past guests and talk oceans, coast-to-coast. Also: If I were a Great White, I wouldn’t eat you.

The Ocean Doctor airs weekly on WebTalkRadio.net. Want to listen on your iPod, iPhone or mp3 player? Download the mp3 file or subscribe on iTunes and don’t miss a single episode. See the complete list of episodes.

Follow The Ocean Doctor on Twitter — Become a Fan on Facebook!

Submit a question and I’ll try to answer it on the air. Even better, record your question or comment on our special message line and I might play it on the air. Call: (805) 619-9194. You can also leave questions and comments for this episode below.

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This Week: The Ocean Doctor LIVE! Broadcast

This Week's Guest is YOU!

The beauty of the fact that “The Ocean Doctor” is a podcast and not a live show is that, if you’ve missed past shows, you can easily catch up. But a pre-recorded show doesn’t lend itself well to being interactive, and that was the inspiration for “The Ocean Doctor LIVE!” Last week we had our first LIVE broadcast, but don’t worry if you missed it – you’ll be able to hear much of it in the show – it’s like a show within a show. We get a surprise visit from one of our past guests and talk oceans, coast-to-coast. Also: If I were a Great White, I wouldn’t eat you.

Links & Resources:

Blue Frontier Campaign

Read David Helvarg’s books! His latest is: Saved by the Sea: A Love Story with Fish:

Featured Video

The “Hope Turtle” T-Shirt

October 11, 2010: We make contact with the sailing vessel Tara, somewhere off the coast of Africa and learn about Tara Oceans, a project of Tara Expeditions a French nonprofit program. During its last expedition, Tara Arctic, the ship experienced a 507-day drift, deliberately frozen into the ice pack of the Arctic Ocean. We chat with Romain Troublé, Secretary General of Tara Expeditions and Sy Rotter, Executive Director, TARA Foundation for Marine Research and learn about Tara Oceans, the organization’s latest project, a 3-year expedition around the world to study previously unknown and crucial marine ecosystems. Also, we “go deep” to understand the latest from the National Commission on the BP Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill.

The Ocean Doctor airs weekly on WebTalkRadio.net. Want to listen on your iPod, iPhone or mp3 player? Download the mp3 file or subscribe on iTunes and don’t miss a single episode. See the complete list of episodes.

Submit a question and I’ll try to answer it on the air. Even better, record your question or comment on our special message line and I might play it on the air. Call: (805) 619-9194. You can also leave questions and comments for this episode below.

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This Week’s Guests: Romain Troublé & Cy Rotter, Tara Oceans Expedition

This Week's Guests: Romain Troublé, Secretary General of Tara Expeditions (Pictured) and Sy Rotter, Executive Director, Tara Foundation for Marine Research

“From the remotest nebulæ and from the revolving double stars, we have descended to the minutest organisms of animal creation, whether manifested in the depths of ocean or on the surface of our globe, and to the delicate vegetable germs which clothe the naked declivity of the ice-crowned mountain summit” — Alexander Von Humboldt (1769-1859)

The writings of Alexander von Humboldt, German naturalist and explorer who explored extensively in Latin America, are as poetic as they are scientific.

I recently learned about a unique global expedition aboard a sailing schooner that evoked thoughts of Humboldt and explorers of his day: It’s Tara Oceans, a project of Tara Expeditions, a French nonprofit program that began with the acquisition of a unique expedition sailing schooner, the Tara, previously owned by Dr Jean-Louis Etienne and the late Sir Peter Blake. Tara’s voyages are dedicated to scientific research on the impact of global warming on the oceans, with two basic objectives:

• to serve as a platform for scientific research by exploring previously unreachable ocean locations, and
• to raise public awareness of scientific & environmental ocean characteristics, through ongoing reports on its adventurous voyages.

The unique research schooner, "Tara," on its 3-year global expedition of Tara Oceans

Tara has carried out 7 expeditions in the Arctic, and Antarctic, as well as in the seas around Patagonia, Greenland and South Georgia. During its last expedition, Tara Arctic, the ship experienced a 507-day drift, deliberately frozen into the ice pack of the Arctic Ocean.

Tara Oceans is the organization’s latest project, an exceptional 3-year marine expedition to allow researchers to study previously unknown and crucial marine ecosystems.

This week we speak with Romain Troublé, Secretary General of Tara Expeditions and Sy Rotter, Executive Director, TARA Foundation for Marine Research.

Links

For more information about the Tara Oceans project visit: TaraExpeditions.org

The latest information and publications from the National Commission on the BP Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill and Offshore Drilling: oilspillcommission.gov

Music from Gale Mead, including BP Did a Bad Bad Thing: GaleMead.com

Tip of the Week

If you’ve got a Kindle reading device, Amazon offers some wonderful public domain books written by or about the world’s most famous explorers — at no charge! Get them in minutes. 

October 4, 2010: The Ocean Doctor attends the 45th anniversary celebration of Seacamp, a unique marine science summer camp in the Florida Keys that has reached more than 200,000 young hearts and minds through its summer program and its Newfound Harbor Marine Institute program during the rest of the year. We visit old friends, and chat with Irene Hooper, the original director who remains very involved, continuing to impart her leadership and vision to ensure the next generation grows up with a special place in its heart for the oceans. David tells his most famous Seacamp story about a canoe and two mischievous dolphins. And we hear the latest from the National Commission on the BP Deepwater Horizon oil spill.

The Ocean Doctor airs weekly on WebTalkRadio.net. Want to listen on your iPod, iPhone or mp3 player? Download the mp3 file or subscribe on iTunes and don’t miss a single episode. See the complete list of episodes.

Submit a question and I’ll try to answer it on the air. Even better, record your question or comment on our special message line and I might play it on the air. Call: (805) 619-9194. You can also leave questions and comments for this episode below.

Like the show? Learn how to become a sponsor.

This Week’s Guest: Irene Hooper

This Week's Guest: Irene Hooper, Executive Director, Seacamp

Irene Hooper is the founder and executive director of Seacamp Association. Founded in 1966, Seacamp is the first program dedicated to the education of youth in marine science.

Seacamp shows the way to the sense of wonder within you that will last a lifetime, where underwater exploration and study beckon you to a world apart. Seacamp is minutes from the only living coral reef in all America at Looe Key National Marine Sanctuary.

Seacamp’s tropical marine location in the lower Florida Keys enables it to offer a truly unique marine science program. This program is the heart of Seacamp and makes available to campers a variety of activities under the guidance of academically-trained marine science instructors.

Campers discover hands-on the fascinating world beneath the ocean surface. Students work at their own level of interest and learn ecological principles that are pertinent to the future of our natural resources and to the study of marine science. Seacamp offers scuba diving and certifications, snorkeling, kayaking, sailing, windsurfing & more!

Seacamp's fleet of flattop boats in the harbor

During the school year, Seacamp operates as the Newfound Harbor Marine Institute (NHMI) which delivers environmental and marine science education programs to middle and high school students, as well as to university students and teachers. Seacamp is located on Big Pine Key in the Florida Keys, with 450 campers from the United States and around the world participating in three 18-day summer sessions. Campers study the ocean, learn about coral reefs, and share traditional camp activities. More than 10,000 local, state, national, and international students and teachers participate in the NHMI programs each year.

Seacamp  is the result of a cooperative effort of parents, scientists, businessmen and camp leaders. Conservation practices and a respect for the marine environment are at the core of the Seacamp philosophy: “For all the sea has to teach us and all the fun in learning it.” Seacamp is proudly accredited by the American Camp Association

Links

For more information about Seacamp/Newfound Harbor Marine Institute, visit: Seacamp.org

Tip of the Week

Send your kids (or yourself) to Seacamp, of course! Three 18-day sessions are available each summer. For details, visit: Seacamp.org

Seven Mile Bridge in the Florida Keys

On July 18, 1975, the tanker Garbis spilled 1,500 to 3,000 barrels of crude oil into the warm, turquoise, coral-rich waters roughly 26 miles south-southwest of the Marquesas Keys, Florida. The oil was blown ashore along a 30-mile stretch of the Florida Keys, east of Key West. I was 16 and enjoying my second summer at Seacamp, a marine science camp on Big Pine Key. Rumors of the spill raced throughout the campus until finally, instructor James Smithson decided to find out for himself what menace might be approaching. He took a small away team aboard his 21-foot Mako, “Isurus,” and made haste south toward the reef tract. We waited impatiently for word back as the sun fell to the horizon and scattered its tranquil orange glow across the water. What I saw next filled me with dread. The Isurus entered the harbor, its white hull stained with enormous swaths of dark brown oil. In that moment the menace was no longer abstract, and to my young mind, everything we treasured — the corals, the mangroves, the fish, the turtles –was on the brink of extermination.

More bad news: The tides were predicted to bring the oil in toward shore overnight. But what could we do — a bunch of unruly long-haired kids? Simple. Seacamp is a science camp, so we would do science. I was among the older students and felt lucky to be included in a group of students and instructors shuttled to the south side of the island to do transect studies along the south-facing shores and tidepools. With measuring tapes, pencils, clipboard, flashlights and bug spray — lots of bug spray — we’d carefully measure each and every critter in each and every crevice so that if the oil hit, we’d have both a before and after picture. We couldn’t protect our shores, but we could hopefully learn from them. We stayed out the entire evening — it was exhausting and exhilarating.

At morning’s light there was no sign of the oil. It never arrived. I never really learned where it ultimately went. In retrospect, it was the most glorious waste of time I ever spent. I had never felt so strongly focused and such a sense of camaraderie with any group before. We were off our collective asses doing something constructive in the face of a terrible situation, in hindsight a powerful lesson for a teenager. Years later I found a study that indicated that the oil had come ashore in some areas, and several habitats were affected, killing echinoderms, oysters and mangroves.

Blue Hill Consolidated School, Maine

During my “50-States” tour and my meetings with students around the country, I am gratified to see their love and concern for the oceans, even among students who have never seen an ocean before. But I’m also pained that after decades of arrogance, carelessness and treating the oceans more like it belongs to large corporations than as the public trust that it is, it seems that we’ve failed to learn our lessons and have burdened our children with an environmental disaster of historic proportions, the effects of which will no doubt still be felt when they’re raising kids of their own. But if my generation didn’t get it right, I’m still hopeful that the next one will. This is a whopper of a lesson to learn from and change will come from it. But most of all, I’m buoyed by the kids themselves, like the young student at Maine’s Blue Hill Consolidated School who raised her hand during our discussion of the oil spill and, pointing to her classmates, asked simply, “What can we do?

The destination was Seacamp, a marine science camp on Big Pine Key, the largest of the Lower Keys, roughly 35 miles east of Key West. As the chartered bus headed south over the old, narrow Overseas Highway, I marveled at the turquoise waters below me. I also marveled at the bus driver’s ability to keep us alive along the narrow pavement laid down upon the trestles where the Flagler Railroad once ran, long destroyed by a terrible hurricane. The railroad track now made up the guard rails.

Founded in 1966, Seacamp was among the first marine science camps and my 15-year-old, Philadelphia-raised perspective was about to change permanently. For my 15th birthday, my parents obliged my obsession with the TV series, “Sea Hunt” (starring Lloyd Bridges) and granted me my wish: SCUBA lessons. Thanks to an ad in “Boy’s Life” magazine, I found Seacamp, and in a day or so would find myself entering that world I’ve never really left since. Nearly 40 feet below the surface, I was sitting in white sands in those warm, turquoise waters, six miles due south of Big Pine Key at Looe Key, now a National Marine Sanctuary, curious angelfish eyeing me and drifting across the reef.

So powerful were the experiences I would have in those few weeks that I returned for three summers as a camper, followed by eight summers as an instructor, and I’ve never lost touch for long with the camp’s leaders, Irene Hooper and Grace Upshaw, who are still changing lives there today. I knew before the end of that incredible summer in 1974 that I had found a cause worth dedicating myself to. The oceans were incredibly beautiful, tantalizingly mysterious, but to my amazement — even back then — in grave peril. Like so many others, I thought the oceans to be too vast and limitless, and to my eye, appeared so pristine that it was hard to imagine that we were already taking too many creatures from the sea and dumping too much of our waste into it.

A Seacamp flattop teaching vessel at Looe Key (Photo courtesy of Seacamp Association)

My treasured memories of Seacamp would fill a volume, but a few came to mind this morning as I realized that it was June 24, the first day of camp for more than a hundred new campers, settling into their new bunks for the next two and half weeks. I remember being first to the bottom on a deep dive to 125 feet and finding a collosal sea turtle asleep just inches from where I stood. I remember surfacing from a dive to find it hailing sideways, our boat surrounded by three menacing waterspouts. I remember peering down into the water from atop the old Bahia Honda bridge at night to see the slow-moving, eerie sillhouette of an enormous shark, illuminated by the bioluminescent plankton in the water. I remember seeing my first tarpon underwater — massive, prehistoric-looking fish, a group of six swimming past me, their huge scales gleaming in the morning sunlight like polished silver. I remember Mel Fisher, discoverer of the Spanish Galleon, Atocha, proudly slapping a silver ingot he recovered from the wreck onto a table top, its great report stunning the audience into silence, then boastfully telling us it was worth 50 thousand dollars! I remember my surprise at seeing tiny Key Deer quietly yet swiftly swimming from island to island in the backcountry. And I remember laughing harder than I’ve ever laughed as two dolphins hijacked the canoe of two of my students and gave them the ride of their young lives. (I almost lost my job over that one — a tall tale for another time.)

Today, many Seacamp alumni are my close friends and colleagues. If you saw the wonderful film, Arctic Tale, it was made by Seacamp alumnus Adam Ravetch, who’s gone on to become a major underwater filmmaker. Dr. James A. Bohnsack, who was my favorite instructor at Seacamp and someone I consider one of the biggest influences in my life, is the Team Leader for Ecosystems and Biodiversity Investigations in the Protected Resources Branch at NOAA’s Southeast Fisheries Science Center in Miami. His voice and leadership have been critical for protecting fish resources. Dr. James D. Thomas, a good friend and colleague, is a professor at NOVA Southeastern University and has traveled the world in search of tiny crustaceans called amphipods and helping to unlock environmental trends through patterns in their distribution. Jim is helping us now identify the myriad of amphipods we collected in the Bering Sea during the Greenpeace-led expedition in 2007. I recently met fellow Seacamper, Gaelin Rosenwaks, at the Explorer’s Club in New York and learned of Global Ocean Exploration, a company she founded to “devoted to bringing cutting-edge expedition research science to the public through photography, writing, film, and web-based products.”  As I write this, Gaelin is blogging from aboard a research ship near the Hebrides studying salmon. Not all Seacampers go on to work in marine science…in fact, most don’t. Some are accountants, attorneys, software engineers, interpreters, teachers, etc. But I doubt any can forget their Seacamp experiences, and most I’ve met since continue to hold a special place in their heart for the oceans and a greater, enduring awareness of their fragility.

When I began the Ocean Doctor’s “50 Years – 50 States -50 Speeches Expedition” earlier this year, my Seacamp experiences were, predictably, front and center in my mind. Young people have a natural fascination about the ocean, if only given the chance to experience it. I wish I could toss all of the nearly 10,000 students in the 12 states I’ve visited so far into those turquoise waters of Looe Key. Short of that, I hope that my words, images and videos can convey a small fraction of the wonder of those waters. From the heartwarming responses I’m receiving from students all over the country — even students who’ve never seen the ocean — I’m optimistic.

Big Pine Key coming into view as my flight returns to Miami from Havana

Never could I imagine in 1974 that I would spend a decade of my career working less than 100 miles south of the Keys on a large island, sitting at night with a mojito in my hand gazing northward toward the Keys. As I returned from Havana a couple of weeks ago and peered out the window (yes, I still prefer the window), the first land I saw was Big Pine Key, and there was Seacamp, still occupying that special corner of the island, and that special place in my heart.

Today I reflect on the experiences many of us Seacampers shared, like the pungent, organic scent of mangroves standing in bathtub-warm waters. Like the impossibly beautiful sunsets of painted oranges and purples, and knowing the next night’s would probably be even better. Like the earth-shaking roar from above that triggered our sprint outside to worship the DC3 kissing the treetops as a gray cloud of mosquitocide billowed from its hold on top of us. Like the mild sting of a Casseopea jellyfish in your armpits. Like the sound of the incessant crunching of colorful parrot fish’s beaks against the coral. Like the constant, steely yet curious stare of the barracuda. Like the sandpaper feel of a shark’s skin or the glassy smooth feel of the dome of a Moon Jelly on your fingertips. Like the sickenly sweet taste of bug juice. Like the light of the moon dancing on Coupon Bight as the splashes of distant fish echo in the night. To my fellow Seacampers, I think of you today — and most days. And to Eastern Airlines: A late but sincere thanks for the ride…I’ll never forget it.

I hadn’t been to Kansas in 25 years, since my then-girlfriend’s ’72 Dodge Dart broke down at 2 AM square in the middle of our transcontinental journey to San Diego. The dash went dark, the engine quit, and the car silently rolled to a stop on the shoulder of the Interstate. I opened the hood and was greeted by flames, which I somehow managed to blow out, probably with the help of the ever-present midwest winds which were howling that night. They had to wake up a State Trooper to rescue us. Twenty five years later, the winds still howl as I remember them.

I’ve heard friends and colleagues who prefer the coasts and their cities refer to the midwest derogatorily as "flyover country," knowing it only as the patchwork of farmland seen from 37,000 feet, dotted with enormous, colorful circles created by center-pivot irrigation systems. But stopping here long enough to breathe the air, feel the wind, and meet the next-generation of Kansans gave me a far more meaningful and rich perspective about this special place.

Macksville, Kansas is not far from the geographic center of the lower 48, about a 2.5 hour drive from the nearest major airport in Witchita, an unlikely place for a marine biologist to be barreling down the highway, sipping coffee, and mentally preparing to talk about the oceans. I passed miles and miles of farmland and just a handful of gas stations and restaurants along the way. When my GPS announced my arrival, I was greeted by a windswept sign, a small, timeless community of modest homes and winter fields bearing the remnants of the past fall’s crops, swaying with the constant wind.

I received a warm greeting from High School principal, Rusty Wrinkle, and he took me to the classroom of science teacher, Carrie Newdigger, who had invited me to speak. Carrie is no ordinary science teacher. She has made it possible for her students to compete in the National Ocean Sciences Bowl and this year, the National Science Bowl. And last year Carrie came to Washington, DC to be honored. The White House awarded her as a recipient of the Presidential Award for Excellence in Mathematics and Science Teaching for 2007. Awardees are selected from mathematics and science teachers in all 50 states and the District of Columbia and were in the Nation’s capitol from April 28 – May 3, 2008, to receive the award and participate in a variety of educational and celebratory events. Like several others would that day, Carrie welcomed me to the "middle of nowhere." Another teacher asked me why I came to Macksville — after all, there are bigger schools in the cities. I replied, "That’s the point, bringing this kind of program to places where the students wouldn’t otherwise have the opportunity."

My first talk of the day would be to the grade school which occupied the northern half of the building complex. Grade School Principal Laura Davis warmly welcomed me and I began to set up in the library for a group of roughly 100 students. The childrens’ clothing spoke to the agricultural focus of the region, as I spotted "John Deer" and other such logos adorning their t-shirts. Though half of the students had never seen the ocean, I was impressed to see how many regularly watched National Geographic, Discovery, and other nature shows — especially Deadliest Catch (if you consider that a nature show) — and held intense interest in the oceans, and the questions came rapid-fire: "What’s your favorite shark?" "What’s the scariest thing that ever happened to you underwater?" "Have you ever been attacked by a shark?"

OK, so perhaps they’ve slightly overdosed on Shark Week, but it gave us a chance to talk about sharks, their bad rap, and how they really have more to fear from us than we do of them — we’ve eliminated nearly 90 percent of the large predatory fish from the oceans — including sharks — over the past 50 years. I told them the story about my days teaching a Girl Scout program at Seacamp in the Florida Keys, which I described in a recent post. On the first day of class I told the terrified girls that we’d be swimming with the (small) sharks in our holding pond on the last day of class a week later. And I remember well that last day of class when the girls were having so much fun swimming with the sharks that I couldn’t get them out. The Macksville students were fascinated that sharks weren’t necessarily something to fear, but to appreciate.

I was treated to my first real school lunch since high school. And it was my favorite — cheeseburgers — served on the same plastic green tray I remembered from so long ago, with little depressions to hold the baked beans, french fries, and dessert. As the cafeteria transformed into an auditorium, I set up once again and this time addressed the entire high school student body — all 100 of them. Like the morning group, half of these students had never seen an ocean before. I was pleased to see lots of the faculty and staff sit in, along with a reporter from the nearby St. John newspaper. Afterwards I told Rusty how impressed I was with the great behavior of the students in both sessions, a feat not easily achieved.

I wasn’t done yet. Carrie invited me back to her classroom to talk with her small group of students preparing for the upcoming Science Bowl, who stayed after school for our chat. What was supposed to be a coaching session for the students became an education for me. I’m grateful to students, Tyler, Justin, Luke and Hannah for sharing their thoughts, dreams and experiences with me. Hannah and Tyler are interested in pursuing science careers relating to animals. Hannah is interested in feedlot nutrition issues. Tyler lives on a farm where they raise cattle, and has enjoyed his travel to livestock shows in Colorado and elsewhere where he’s learned a lot about the field, including genetic selection. He also indicated that he just enjoys listening to all the accents at such events. Justin is seriously entertaining the thought of pursuing a law degree.

The students were shocked to hear me quote a statistic from the book, Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv, which indicates that the average American child spends less than four minutes a day outside in unstructured activities. These students spend hours upon hours outside and love every minute of it. When not involved in farming activities, they’re fishing, hunting and trapping. Tyler talked about how hunting bobcat in Kansas can be lucrative. The furs are sold in Canada and Russia where they’re made into coats. Justin talked about his fishing experiences, though the nearest water bodies are quite some distance. We talked about the possibility of bringing next-generation aquaculture to Kansas and how it might fit well within a community that already knows how to farm.

Our chat ventured into some political areas, like global warming. They asked me pretty directly if I believed global warming was real. I explained that I had been working on the issue since the late 80s, and even back then the vast majority of scientists concurred that human activity was changing our climate. The real "debate" is centered on how much and how fast our climate is changing, which makes setting policies quite challenging. They seemed to accept my perspective, but did take the opportunity to express their concerns about carbon taxes being levied on cattle. To them it seemed absurd to tax cow "emissions." As ruminants, cattle do "emit" a significant amount of methane, which is a much more potent greenhouse gas than carbon dioxide. "What about deer? Are they going to tax deer?" asked Justin. Yes, I can definitely see Justin as an attorney. And yes, I can see the bumper stickers, "Vote NO on the Fart Tax"

We moved from global warming to weather, and I suddenly realized I was visiting one of the communities that had been devastated by one of the strongest and most dramatic tornado events ever recorded. An immense tornado nearly two miles wide and measuring EF5 on the Enhanced Fujita scale virtually wiped Greensburg, Kansas from the map shortly before 10 PM on May 4, 2007. Eleven people were killed and more than 50 others were injured. It was one of 22 tornadoes that touched down in southern and central Kansas from the same thunderstorm complex. Macksville, just 25 miles to the northeast of Greensburg, was pummelled by the storm, and the homes and farms of all of the students, and their teacher, had been damaged. Thankfully, Macksville was spared the death toll of Greensburg, but a Macksville police officer was killed responding to the emergency. The students directed me to a spot a few miles south of the center of town where I could still clearly see the unmistakable mark of this unforgiving storm. I saw a small home recently rebuilt among a chaotic tangle of dead trees and branches, their tranquility against the setting sun belying what was an unimaginable fury that evening in May. Tyler, an enthusiastic videographer, put together this thoughtful video (below) that commemorates the event while also expressing their small community’s resiliance.

Video by Tyler, a Macksville High School Student

On my way back to Washington, I peered out of the tiny window at the plains and fields of Kansas far below and I thought about one of my messages to the students: That 40 percent of the continental U.S. drains to the Gulf of Mexico, that even here in the middle of Kansas, smack in the middle of the country, they are connected to the oceans. But I also thought about the messages from the students to me: That though they jokingly refer to themselves as the "middle of nowhere," it is in fact not "nowhere" or "flyover country" at all — it’s a special somewhere that they call home and care deeply about. And they care very much about their future; many of the students I spoke to weren’t in any hurry to move away. They were, however, eager to explore beyond Kansas. When students were raising their hands indicating that they had never seen the oceans, I asked how many of them wanted to see the oceans. All of the hands remained outstretched, high in the air.

Leg 2 was going far too smoothly. My flight to Tampa was early. The rental car bus arrived immediately. I didn’t get lost. The sun was shining. Maybe you’re like me, but when things start going this well, I get nervous. Turns out my gut feelings were right. Things were about to get…silly.

Like the expedition’s first leg to California, Leg 2 was also to familiar territory, to a state I had once called home: Florida. My many years in Florida, teaching at Seacamp in the Florida Keys, as president of The Conservancy of Southwest Florida in Naples, and co-chair of the Everglades Coalition, means that I’ll be returning here twice more to honor the flood of speaking requests I was honored to receive.

I hadn’t seen Kelly Samek in several years, since she had been the organizer of the Public Interest Environmental Conference (PIEC) at the University of Florida’s Levin College of Law. PIEC is a remarkable event, now in its 15th year, where attorneys and other professionals from around the state and beyond gather to shed their pinstripes, roll up their sleeves, and speak with brutal honesty and fervent passion about protecting what’s most special about Florida — its incredible natural heritage. PIEC is also admired for its notable parties, some of which are reminiscent of hippie days gone by. I was honored to be keynote speaker at PIEC several years ago, but the highlight for me was meeting author, Carl Hiaason, whose acid humor has done as much to raise awareness about Florida’s treasured environment and outrageous politics as any advocacy group.

Kelly had since gone to Tallahassee and was working for the Florida Department of Environmental Protection (DEP) in the Office of General Counsel, working on the front lines of land use law and endless controversial issues spawned as greed and backhoes continued to collide with cypress and woodstorks against the backdrop of the largest environmental restoration ever attempted in human history: The $10 billion restoration of the Everglades. Overworked and underpaid, Kelly was as energetic and optimistic as I remembered her, still sporting her good natured sense of humor, including the delightful shark badge riding on the back of her Toyota.

We spoke by cell phone as I made my way to the teaching auditorium, which I found was still occupied 20 minutes before show time. The news from Kelly wasn’t good: "The auditorium is double-booked." Turns out she was only half correct. It was actually quadruple-booked! It had been many years, but based on the shouting, jumping and hand waving I was seeing through the crack in the doors, I was pretty sure I was witnessing a Friday evening screening of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. A young student approached and told me she was supposed to be screening the Hitchcock classic, Dial M for Murder in the same room. And I learned later that some sort of circus program also laid claim to the room. My watch indicated 15 mintues before 7pm, our scheduled show time. In 2007 I had given an impromptu PowerPoint presentation to fishermen at the Dutch Harbor (Alaska) Airport, holding my laptop above my head — hopefully this wouldn’t be the case again here.

My new Hitchcock friend disappeared into the darkened room to see if she could plead my case. Miraculously, I saw the fluorescent lights illuminate a few moments later, and she emerged, telling me that the Rocky Horror folks would take their performance elsewhere. And so would she. In moments, the hall was empty, with 10 minutes to spare! The circus group never arrived, but fortunately Kelly and our attendees did, a wonderful mix of Kelly’s Coastal Law and Policy and other students from New College, along with senior volunteers from nearby Mote Marine Laboratory, an organization I have worked closely with for decades, including our current work in Cuba.

I wrestled with a rat’s nest of unfamiliar wires and managed to get an image on the screen. The projector was so weak that it was necessary to kill every light to make it visible to the audience. "Actually, this is appropriate." I said, thanking the audience for their patience as the program finally started, "Most of the planet’s life lives in the oceans, and most of it lives in complete darkness." As latecomers stumbled through the aisles, feeling their way to find their seats, I launched into an hour-long presentation.

When the lights painfully came back on, I was happy to see the size of the audience had grown and no one was asleep. This was a group that knew its stuff about the oceans — the Gulf was practically within spitting distance. Students asked me questions about coastal issues, and we talked about how in Florida, land and water are inextricably linked…what happens on land ultimately expresses itself in Florida’s coastal waters. And I was delighted to speak with a student named Catie, who is deeply inspired about the oceans. I told her about the newest partner to "join" the expedition, Our World – Underwater Scholarship Society, which awards incredible scholarships to college-aged students (freshman to recent graduates) to travel the world for a year studying with the A-list of ocean experts.

Kelly and I had a chance to catch up afterwards, and here again, another of my colleagues in the environmental world, overflowing with tireless commitment and dedication, was using her vacation time to advance the cause, in this case teaching Coastal Law and Policy at New College. How lucky her students are, and how lucky all of us are that even in tough times, such a spirit endures. During my introduction, I told the Mote volunteers how much I missed the hundreds of volunteers I worked along side of at The Conservancy of Southwest Florida. As with many nonprofits, it truly would have been impossible to do anything without them. One of the attributes of the U.S. that the world marvels at is the strength of our volunteerism, and I expect that as we forge through difficult months ahead, we’ll see even more clearly just how important the strong hand and caring heart of the volunteer is to all of us.