Kristen
Mitchell,
Department
of
Earth
and
Environmental
Sciences,
University
of
Waterloo
A
few
weeks
before
finishing
my
PhD
thesis
I
received
an
email
asking
me:
“Do
you
long
to
sail
on
the
open
ocean
one
more
time?
Do
you
have
fond
memories
of
bow
watch,
gimbaled
tables,
and
picking
plastic
out
of
neuston
net
samples?
Are
you
looking
for
something
adventurous
to
do
this
fall?”
My
answer
was:
“Yes!
Get
me
out
from
behind
this
computer!”
I
decided
to
fill
out
the
volunteer
form
and
see
what
would
happen.
Nine
years
previously
I
had
decided
to
spend
the
first
semester
of
my
3rd
year
at
Eckerd
College
doing
a
Sea
Education
Association
(SEA)
Semester.
The
semester
started
in
Woods
Hole,
Massachusetts
where
we
spent
six
weeks
living
with
our
soon
to
be
shipmates,
learned
about
oceanography,
nautical
science,
and
maritime
history
on
the
small
SEA
campus.
Washing
the
deck
on
morning
watch.
This
was
done
daily
unless
there
were
science
deployments
happening.
After
finishing
our
classes
in
Woods
Hole,
we
made
our
way
to
San
Diego,
California
the
home
port
of
the
Robert
C.
Seamans
which
we
would
board
for
a
six
week
voyage
to
Puerto
Vallarta,
Mexico.
When
we
arrived
at
the
dock,
we
were
shown
to
our
bunks
aboard
the
ship
which
would
be
the
sum
total
of
our
personal
space
and
assigned
to
our
watches,
A,
B
and
C.
I
was
assigned
to
C
watch.
The
watches
would
follow
what
is
known
as
the
Swedish
watch
system.
Each
group
would
stand
one
watch
and
then
be
off
for
two
watches.
The
day
was
broken
down
into
five
parts
beginning
with
the
morning
watch
starting
at
0700
and
continuing
to
1300,
afternoon
watch
followed
from
1300
to
1900,
the
evening
watch
started
the
shorter
watches
from
1900
to
2300,
mid-watch
from
2300
to
0300
and
finally
dawn
watch
from
0300
to
0700.
The
first
days
aboard
were
spent
getting
over
seasickness,
adjusting
to
the
24-hour
clock
and
the
watch
schedule.
While
we
were
adjusting
we
were
also
supposed
to
be
learning
how
to
sail
a
134-foot
sailboat
without
crashing
it
or
losing
anyone
overboard.
Knitting
on
the
quarter-deck.
This
was
a
skill
I
picked
up
on
my
first
SEA
cruise.
Singing,
drawing,
reading
and
board
gamers
are
among
the
ways
to
pass
the
time
when
you
are
not
on
watch.
As
we
became
accustomed
to
this
unique
living
and
working
arrangement
we
stood
watch,
ate
up
to
six
meals
a
day
depending
on
how
badly
we
wanted
to
sleep,
talked
endlessly
about
the
toilets
on
board
and
did
some
truly
fantastic
oceanographic
fieldwork.
Each
of
us
completed
an
oceanographic
research
project.
One
of
our
more
interesting
oceanographic
studies
was
to
track
ocean
currents
by
dropping
messages
in
glass
bottles
into
the
ocean.
We
theoretically
learned
how
to
navigate
by
the
stars,
but
personally
all
I
really
learned
about
celestial
navigation
was
that
I
was
lucky
there
was
also
a
GPS
on
board.
In
class
on
the
quarter
deck,
most
often
led
by
our
peers,
we
learned
how
our
food
was
refrigerated,
how
our
water
was
made,
and
how
our
waste
was
handled.
Fun
activities
were
just
as
abundant
as
the
academic
ones;
there
were
birthday
parties,
a
Halloween
party
which
included
a
ghost
ship.
We
also
looked
forward
to
Sundays
known
as
‘field
day’
which
mainly
consisted
of
the
entire
crew
cleaning
the
ship
from
top
to
bottom.
This
doesn’t
sound
like
it
would
be
fun
but
the
few
hours
spent
cleaning
are
accompanied
by
music
which
otherwise
was
only
provided
by
shipmates.
Dawn
clean-up.
Every
day
after
standing
the
dawn
watch
the
off-going
watch
would
clean
the
entire
ship
below
decks.
As
we
reached
Mexico
our
cruise
ended
by
my
SEA
semester
experiences
have
not.
I
made
friends
on
board
that
I
still
have
today.
I
will
never
forget
what
the
stars
look
like
on
a
clear
night
at
sea
or
what
the
sun
coming
over
the
horizon
looks
like
on
bow
watch
at
dawn.
Four
years
after
our
trip
to
Mexico
ended
I
received
an
email
from
our
chief
scientist
informing
me
that
my
message
in
a
bottle
was
found
by
someone
named
Kayo
Sugitani
on
the
Japanese
island
of
Irimote
after
1277
days
at
sea
and
a
12,
677
km
journey
from
where
I
dropped
it
overboard
off
the
coast
of
Mexico.
This
past
fall,
within
weeks
of
the
first
time
I
boarded
the
Robert
C.
Seamans,
I
was
again
bound
for
San
Diego
to
board
the
ship
again.
The
initial
response
to
the
call
for
volunteers
for
the
Plastics
as
SEA:
North
Pacific
voyage
was
so
great
that
we
were
asked
to
submit
a
secondary
application
detailing
why
we
wanted
to
participate
in
the
cruise.
Twenty
eight
people
were
selected
as
volunteer
crew
members
from
nearly
200
respondents.
This
meant
that
we
were
signing
up
to
be
active
crew
members
as
we
had
been
as
college
students,
except
we
were
all
older
than
we
had
been
the
first
time
around.
Some
of
us
only
a
few
years
older
and
others
decades
older
than
we
had
been
on
our
original
SEA
voyages.
Those
of
us
who
had
become
scientists
also
volunteered
for
special
projects
that
would
be
conducted
while
aboard.
At
the
dock
the
boarding
was
much
the
same,
we
met
the
professional
crew
which
consisted
of
three
mates,
three
assistant
scientists,
two
stewards,
two
engineers
and
the
chief
scientist
and
the
captain.
We
were
again
shown
to
our
bunks,
but
this
time
we
had
to
meet
all
of
our
shipmates
for
the
first
time.
Some
of
us
were
lucky
and
we
knew
one
or
two
of
our
fellow
volunteers.
One
of
the
volunteer
crew
members
had
been
an
assistant
scientist
on
my
student
cruise.
The
rest
were
all
new
faces
and
names
to
learn.
Within
six
weeks
we
managed
to
become
not
only
shipmates
but
also
friends.
This
trip
was
different
because
it
wasn’t
a
ship
full
of
college
students.
There
were
scientists,
grad
students,
doctors,
lawyers,
stay-at-home
moms,
retirees,
and
educators
aboard.
We
were
a
crew
of
adults
with
jobs
and
families
and
pets
and
just
one
common
experience;
being
on
a
SEA
cruise
before.
Plastic
from
a
net
sample.
All
the
pieces
were
hand
counted
by
crew
members.
We
also
had
a
common
oceanography
project
this
time
around:
to
collect,
and
quantify
the
amount
of
plastics
in
the
North
Pacific
Ocean.
This
was
done
using
3
types
of
nets
to
sample
the
surface
ocean.
The
neuston
net
is
the
most
basic
with
a
rectangular
opening
a
net
and
a
cod
end
which
holds
all
the
material
in
but
lets
the
water
pass
through,
a
manta
net
which
is
similar
to
the
neuston
net
but
it
has
‘wings’
to
stabilize
it
on
the
surface,
and
a
MOCNESS
net
(multiple
open-close
net
sensing
system)
which
has
multiple
nets
that
could
take
individual
samples
every
5
meters
down
to
15
meters
below
the
surface
of
the
ocean.
We
also
used
a
variety
of
boat
hooks,
dip
nets
and
lines
in
clever
ways
to
snag
the
big
plastic
pieces
from
the
ship.
We
spent
lots
of
time
staring
into
nets
to
count
plastic
pieces
that
were
almost
too
small
to
see
much
less
count,
by
hand.
On
October
16,
2012
one
thirty
minute
neuston
tow
covering
approximately
one
nautical
mile
took
37
hours
of
continuous
counting,
passing
from
one
watch
to
the
next,
yielded
24,
213
pieces
of
plastic,
most
of
which
were
smaller
in
size
than
your
fingernail.
We
also
documented
suspected
tsunami
debris
visually
from
the
quarter
deck
of
the
ship.
One
of
the
scientists
on
board
documented
plastic
pieces
from
the
foredeck
for
up
to
eight
hours
a
day.
We
passed
buoys,
plastic
film,
shoes,
a
volley
ball,
lots
of
plastic
bottles,
three
tires,
most
of
the
hull
of
a
small
boat
and
a
refrigerator
with
food
still
inside
of
it.
This
refrigerator
floated
by
one
day
and
is
likely
debris
from
the
2011
tsunami
in
Japan.
There
was
still
food
inside
the
refrigerator,
which
we
managed
to
take
out
and
bring
on
board.
As
our
journey
ended
in
Hawaii,
we
all
began
our
journeys
home
to
our
respective
jobs,
families,
and
lives.
It
was
hard
to
say
good
bye
to
new
friends,
but
before
we
parted
ways
we
all
agreed
to
share
our
journey
and
what
we
had
learned
about
plastics
in
our
oceans
with
as
many
people
as
possible.
If
you
wish
to
learn
more
about
our
journey,
check
out
the
Plastics
at
SEA
webpage
which
has
videos,
photos
and
our
expedition
journal.
Hull
of
a
small
boat,
possibly
tsunami
debris
from
Japan.
Dolphins
greeted
us
as
we
awoke
anchored
in
Kealakekua
Bay
in
Hawaii.
