I Really Don’t Know Why I Am Here. 

Or why I said yes to this assignment, since I am not a photographer by trade, just by passion. 

But here I am bouncing up and down on a boat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. It’s early morning, fog makes it hard to see more than ten feet ahead and the point of the bow is like an arrow icon on a computer screen but pointing seemingly nowhere. I close my eyes and imagine clicking on something, anything on my imaginary screen, so this madness would just stop.

The captain seems to know where he is going and the crew acts like this gut wrenching flip flop of the craft is another day at the office. I have to admit this jostling is affecting me, even after all those years as an open water swimmer, there’s no pleasure in being tossed about in a metal can. I guess I don’t have the sea legs I thought I had for this shoot.

My screen-desire-daydream of clicking to make it stop is happening. The sun is starting to burn off the clouds and like the sound you hear when you start your Mac—-the da-dum heralds me and I can now see where we are headed. Our destination begins to reveal itself, first as a multitude of colors and shapes floating ever so elegantly on the sea’s surface. As the light becomes more intense and directional, highlights glimmer and with all the rocking of the boat and the water, the horizon seems to hold a treasure and a lure. A siren’s call to come closer. The boat slows so I can take it all in and I begin to photograph.

As we get closer, excited to see the richness of this scene, I zoom in and any idyllic illusions are dashed. Trash was the sirens’ visual seduction. The playback screen reveals the contents of the treasure are not jewels of a pirate’s bounty, but humanity’s junk. Plastic water bottles, containers of food, toothbrushes, toys, fishing nets, one use shopping bags—-our discarded debris clustered together so intensely it is like its own land mass. I lean over the starboard side and throw up.

The Pacific Ocean’s Gyre or the Garbage Patch now contains my breakfast. The crew laughs and two of them exchange money. Apparently there was a wager on when I would lose my cookies. I wipe my mouth, shake my head and with all the dignity I can muster I ignore them. Captain asks if I’m ok and I wave him off with a thumbs up. I holler over the laughing and tell him to get me closer.

Once the viewfinder goes to my eye, I am lost in a world of seeing. A trance where anything and everything is worth looking and I capture what is before the lens not only to have it but to see it again as a photograph. This transference from real moments to preserved images—-this magic never disappoints. The laughter, the jokes, the sea faring profanity, the bad music they play on the loud speaker drifts silently away and I am in my own space—-an Alice in Wonderland through a looking glass.

I am awaken in my rabbit hole by a tap on my back. Capitan wants to know if I would like a sandwich. He shoves it up to my face with his oily, nicotine stained hands. Tuna, of course, the one fish meat I cannot eat because it was the go-to diet delicacy of my high school days. No thanks, I say. Ok,you’ll be hungry he mumbles through his open mouth chomping of my sandwich.

As he turns to head up to his crow’s nest, I ask can we go around port side for the better light. He nods with his squirrel filled jowls of tuna and mumbles a storm is coming so make it quick. I will. I change the battery and the card in the camera, lock it into a water housing and put on my wetsuit over my swim suit, all as the beady eye crew watches. I turn to them and say the show is over….heads down they busy themselves navigating the ship to its new location. 

With my back to the water, my snorkel and mask tight over my face, clutching the camera, I fall with grace into the water. Quickly, I blow out the fowl sea water, kicking my fins to right myself I surface just enough to breathe. I am not an anxious person in the water, yet surrounded with the hubris of our world, claustrophobia quickly sets in. Thrashing about, clearing my camera and the water in front of my lens I begin to work. As amazing as this space is with hanging, floating, drifting objects, I am repulsed, yet the resulting images on the screen are beautiful. Like a fairy tale, a surreal dream, a suspended animation, what we humans use daily have transformed into new shapes, ragged edges, small sculptures of a consumerism, seemingly continuing forever. 

I kick further into the gyrating center, feeling the detritus wrap around my fins and legs. I stop to scrap off of me handfuls of used-only-once remnants. Fish swim in the debris, nibbling at larger forms and some snap up the small micro particles, believing it is food. I scream in my face mask….don’t eat that! My words are muffled and I gulp in water from my snorkel. My angry reaction to something I cannot stop fills my mouth. I spit, gag and surface for air.

The boat seems farther away. I thought it was getting darker, but attributed that to being underneath the surface. I miscalculated. Sky is dark and thunderous and the captain and crew are waving to come back. I signal ok. 

Waves are bigger now and what was once rocking is now a hard pitching back and forth. Head up now and swimming with all my strength, I am down in ravine of the wave and then thrust to the crest. Any light we had is gone. Darkness makes it hard to see the boat. Rain begins lightly only to become piercing at it hits the water. The wetsuit is no protection from this bullet storm.

I further wrap the strap of the camera around my wrist and begin randomly shooting with flash to catch the blur of this stuff as it swirls in the gyre’s eddy. 

Suddenly an intense dark shadow blots all the available light and I look up to see a jagged half end of a fiberglass kayak barreling down upon me. I drop under the water’s surface but it squarely hits me on the head, knocking me dizzy with an intense pain. The last thing I remember is sinking further underneath seeing the haunting debris illuminated by the repeated firing of the flash. As I pass out, giving in to the pain, my last thought is ironic…it is true…. a drowning victim does see her life flash before her….





Get Off Of Me!

I pushed the Captain away from my face, gagging and spitting out the foul water. I don’t want to even imagine he did mouth-to-mouth on me. I can’t get that out of my head and all the water out of my mouth. I rub my mouth with my sleeve and quickly sit up.

See fellas…brags the Captain. Never lost any one at sea. Hey, little lady you scared us going under like that…if it wasn’t for that flash going off and the wave pushing you up….well you’d have been a goner! I’m billing your company for the rescue…I could have lost my boat!

As he chewed me out for getting caught in the gyre eddy of trash, I continued to cough, bringing up foul tasting water and little particles of God knows what. Delirium was my state of mind and I struggled to piece together what had happen after I was hit in the head. His voice was a loud warbled sound track, as my mind raced to remember.

I do remember clutching the camera, so maybe my wrist was igniting the rapid flashing. Red blood from my head was seeping out from the tear in my hood. Tossed about like the garbage, I became weightless. Water gushed in my mouth from my snorkel and I ripped it off, trying to surface for air, not knowing which way to kick. Feeling the water inside me, unable to breathe, I descended into darkness illuminated only every few seconds with a bright flash of light. 

My camera, where’s my camera I frantically exclaimed, interrupting…Relax lady…we got it! It was wrapped about your wrist so tight we hooked its strap and pulled you out with it…you could say it saved your life, with the light going off all the time. What I can’t figure is how you popped up….like being shot from a canon. I have always said…the sea’s like a woman…always tricking me just when I think I got her all figured out.

Scratching his head under his baseball cap, he hands me the camera. It’s all in one piece, the housing is bruised and battered but the machine inside survived my drowning. I clutch it like one would a newborn, holding it tight to my chest. 

Knowing my work is safe and surviving almost dying, I roll over on my side and pull my legs up to my chest, shivering and thanking the photo gods for my life.

Let’s get her inside, the Captain orders the crew. They throw blankets on me, tuck them in tight, lift me up, bundle me and walk me inside the boat gently lowering me onto a bunk. A few minutes later, the two crew members who made that upchuck wager, raised my head, getting some warm soup into me. Murmuring my best thank you’s, I drifted away again, and this time I was safe, as I surrendered into what I thought would be peaceful slumber.

I am under water, dazed and disorientated, tossed around like the garbage. Water is in me and I gag. Pain in my head and blood, red liquid all around, illuminated by flashes of intense light. My eyes close slowly and falling deeper I weightlessly glide into the arms of an angel. 

Her touch gentle and reassuring, she places an oval object first on my mouth, infusing me with warm liquid and it is as if I am inhaling a stream not of air but a warm purifying liquid, and I am breathing effortlessly in the water. She then places this round device just below my Adam’s apple, my eyes open to see a face and then a figure illuminated fully by the flashes of light. She speaks but I don’t understand her. I mutter where am I? She now answers in English in a soothing voice, and I clearly hear her reassuring voice.

Above me the surface thrashes about but below it is calmingly quiet and tranquil. She and I are suspended and transfixed as we gaze upon each other. I watch as she places her hands on my waist, lifting me upward, pushing me through the chaos overhead with unfathomable strength. A sudden thrust propels my whole body up, above the water. Air rushes into me, suffocating me instantly. I fall on the thrashing debris, floating lifelessly, while the strobe, strapped to my limp arm, flashes, illuminating my black body.

Gasping and screaming, I jerk upright in the bed. I clutch at my neck and unzip my wetsuit to find a small circular shell attached to my skin. I rip it off, realizing the creature from the deep put this on me. Holding it in my hand, examining it I think she gave me an underwater breathing device, and a way to communicate with her. She saved my life, then threw me back to be saved again.

I have proof. Photos could confirm all of this. Where is my damn camera. Bringing it up from the floor and onto the bed, I yank off the housing and hit playback. As I click each file, there it all is…the kayak hitting my head, me, stunned falling deep into the water, arms not my own reaching to touch me, holding me, a white thrust of water, my wet suited body rocking on the surface. The card holds the truth that someone, something lives beneath all the garbage of the gyre.

I have to go back in the water now!

Yelling at the Captain to turn the boat around. There is someone else in the water. I need to go find them.

The Capitan whispers to the crew, she is delusional. Lack of oxygen can create illusions, so we need to get her to a doctor asap! 

Lady…it’s bad luck to go back after drowning…the sea is not so forgiving the second time.



PUSHING MY LUCK

Hey Lady….do you want another shot of Jack Daniels? I look up….Sure…I tap the rim of the glass.

Why so down?, the bartender asks. 

Well, I can’t find a boat to rent…I guess the last guy I went out with was right…the sea is not so forgiving, nor are sea captains in this harbor.
The bartender nods and leans forward. How come?

I cannot find a single skipper to take me out to the gyre. The word is out about me. 

Oh…you are that “crazy lady” who claims people are living out in the ocean under the trash? I’ve heard all about you…what a wild story….his voice trails off as he wipes the bar down with a rancid rag. 

Yep…the gossip is out there so much so that when I ask a captain, they will either snicker, shake their head as they curse under their breath and some even wave me off before I can even speak. I got to say I am losing hope of going back out there.

Wait….I got to get that phone that’s ringing, as he walks through the beaded curtain to the backroom so I twirl the glass of the amber liquid, and I start to question my own sanity…but I have proof—photographs of a woman holding a seal, pulling at the plastic wrap around its neck. Caught by the light of my flash, frozen underneath the debris.

I stare into the bottom of the glass. Booze always gives me courage, and I know I am not that crazy lady. I am just so sure. I even emptied my savings from the mainland so I could go back and see for myself. I have to find a boat to take me back out to sea.

I gulp by drink and open my back pack to pay, when a wirey, unshaven tanned man with salt and pepper hair sits down right next to me…Hey, bartender…he signals…I’ll have what she is having!

Before I know it my glass is filled again and this stranger takes a sip of his. He turns his head ever so slightly over his shoulder and says…cheers to whatever ails ya! He swigs the bourbon down in one gesture. I salute him with my shot and follow suit. 

Since my day is shot literally, I ask…so what brings you into a bar in the middle of the day? He says…I was going to ask you the same thing? No..no..no..I lean back and say I asked first…you go first!

The bartender interrupts…JT here owns a boat, the Pleione, it’s name after some Greek goddess since our captain here is Greek!

It means Sailing Queen in Greek I’ll have you know and knock it off. The next drink is on the house for you being a smart ass! JT points to our empty shot glasses.

OK…OK as he pours another round, I ask JT…Is your boat for rent? 

Could be, he says, but not to you…you are that lady who wants to go to the garbage patch and I don’t take risks like that. He gulps his drink and turns towards me.I keep my boat shipshape, and I am selective to who I rent to…you are a disaster waiting to happen, he says to me. 

I hear him, but I am transfixed. He is wearing the same shell the woman in the water gave me around his neck and it rests below his Adam’s apple. I am staring and for once I am speechless.

Hey, lady…did you hear me NO! He turns away and stares at the carved mermaid above the bar’s mirror.

Come on JT…she can’t find anyone to take her out and you haven’t had a customer in over a month! In fact your tab is due today? Go ahead help her out, says the bartender with both hands on the bar looking directly at the Captain and blocking his view. Their eyes confront one another, looking like one might swing a punch any moment.

I start talking fast…Yeah, I can fix all your problems! I am prepared to pay the going rate, plus a bonus if I find what I am looking for and you just have to get me close….keep an eye on me. I’ll  swim into all that junk and dive under myself…there must be ways to keep me and your Sailing Queen safe!

JT turns and faces me….Like what? Well…we can set a buoy with a flag, use walkie talkies, I guess they make them for underwater…gps—so you can follow my dot when I am under water…there’s got to be stuff like that…I promise you…your boat will be at risk….I just need to get back under the gyre. I need your help!

Well…I am not cheap…it’s going to cost you and any damage to my boat you have to pay to fix her. I am really not so sure about this….his voice trails off.

How about I pick up your open bar tab right now and we walk over to your boat and I take a look. It’s a good faith gesture on my part to show you that I respect your position. Then afterwards we will seal the deal…come on! It’s just a boat ride in the Pacific Ocean…that’s all it is!

Okay lady! Pay up and let’s go. He gets up and starts walking to the door. I quickly pay the bartender…blow him a kiss as I walk backwards to the door and follow JT, who is walking at a fast clip down the dock.

I clutch my shell around my neck, hidden by my buttoned collar and pray that this man and his boat is the answer to what lies beneath. 




Ask Siri…

The water is calm this morning. A slight breeze whips across its surface spitting a salty taste in my mouth. We are loading the Pleione with my gear as the sun breaks through…only to have this picture perfect moment end abruptly, like a record player needle skipping across vinyl.

You have to bring all this stuff for what you call “just a boat ride in the Pacific Ocean” JT grumbles as he lugs my camera case and underwater gear up on the deck. Seems like a lot to me, as he stows it under bench at the bow.

You can ride up front here and watch for signs of the garbage patch. I’m up top and I like to be alone. I nod…got it…and say under by breath….to difficult to be nice, gotta be a tough guy.

The engine turns over ever so smoothly and the Sailing Queen moves effortlessly out to sea. The wind picks up and I find myself smiling as I breathe in, heady for what I might find. 

As I look around the boat, it is spotless. A beauty, worshipped and cared for by the man alone at the wheel, his eyes set straight ahead. All seeing from his perch above. 

JT interrupts again…shouting down to me…do ya know where we are going?

No, I answer, don’t you? 

The engine cuts out, the boat begins to rock and the steely-eyed captain slides down the hand rails, landing eye level, glaring and gritting his teeth….you mean to tell me you have no idea where we are going…I didn’t sign up for a wild goose chase!

I guess I don’t, as I stare back into his eyes, fearing I might blink. Look, I say, we just need to find some floating garbage and it should lead us to it…I lean in more firmly and say…I thought you knew where the gyre is…I mean this is your ocean!

Geez no…I avoid the garbage patch and all the debris. It’s dangerous and remember you said I only had to get you close. JT breaks his stare, our eyes unlock and he begins to pace back and forth, mumbling under his breath.

I’ll ask Siri, I say—in an upbeat voice—give me the coordinates of the Pacific Ocean Garbage Patch. She replies…“I found these websites. Does that help?”

Now I can hear his audible grumbles as I scroll on the screen…she’s using her phone to find nautical points out here in the ocean….probably no service….what was I thinking. His voice changes to a whiney high pitch, “just a boat ride in the Pacific Ocean”…oh yeah…JT you know better. His murmurings trail off.

Here they are, I say holding the phone up to JT with a forced smile. He looks in disbelief and then grabs my phone and stomps up the stairs to the bridge. I follow, concerned about my phone and afraid he will turn back. I’d wager he is really angry with me.

If I had any sense—dear…I’d go back to port, but a promise is a promise. As he plugs in the numbers for the gyre.

Yes, JT you are right and I plan to keep mine…just get me to the edge of the debris and I’ll swim into the muck.

Sure..sure…no problem…lady.

You could cut the silence with a knife as JT steered his boat easterly, navigating with Siri’s coordinates. It must be hard for two women to be right and one is a voice on a phone.

Soon bits of trash float by…single use bottles, plastic grocery bags, torn nets, styrofoam pieces of take-out containers, frayed rope, the debris growing thicker. The boat slows and soon we drift to a smooth stop. 

Here you are lady, he shouts defiantly.

As he lowers the anchor he loudly criticizes…for the life of me I don’t know why you are doing this crazy ass thing? You wouldn’t fine me jumping into that sewage…

Ok..ok…I get your dislike for as you quote —“this mess”— I’ve gotten you into, raising my voice firmly. 

I open up my gear box and start putting on my wet suit. I zip it up over my shell necklace. 

I am not pleased with the pollution in the ocean, either…but there’s something strange going on beneath all this garbage and I have to see for myself. 

With fins on, I put the snorkel and mask on top of my head. Here’s my phone….don’t mess with it…I have it synced with my watch and you can see where I am swimming so you know how far in I am. I can call for help from the watch. I know I can do this. So don’t worry, just keep an eye out. Just follow the blue dot.

Determined, I pull the mask and snorkel down over my face, check the seal, sit on the edge of the boat, lean back, cross my arms across my chest, pressing my camera close and fall into humanity’s floating sewer.

I don’t know why I always close my eyes when I enter the the water. Yet when I open my eyes within my mask, I am continually reminded I am an alien to this underwater world called the ocean. In a wetsuit, I am a bald headed, round-eyed, slick skinned creature with fake flippers, who never ventures far from the sea’s surface. Every breath confirms I can never become part of this reality. I can only observe it.

The reality under the gyre is eerie. The silence is soothing but sinister, the buoyant objects brush alarmingly against me with seeming no regard for my presence. It’s disquieting that I soon become part of the the disintegrating debris and fragments of peoples’ discards. The colors are hypnotic, drawing me in, as well as repulsing me. As I reach out to clear away this menacing sludge, my heart begins to race. Panicking and kicking harder, I propel myself into the deepest and darkest of the gyre’s dregs. 

Camera on, I start capturing anything to calm myself down--frightened and not knowing what will appear before my lens. The light filters through sporadically. I put the meter on program so I can look without the worry of missing the shot. There’s a disturbance up ahead so I push my kick, thrusting myself closer to the undulating water, hurling myself into pitch black, inky, poorly lit fluid. I test check my flash.

The millisecond of light opens my view. It is a fishing net full of everything imaginable as well as fish and other underwater inhabitants. The bulk of the net is tangled around something bigger than just the junk. Whatever it is…it is thrashing, struggling, helplessly caught in an abandoned ghost net. 

I pop the flash to grip the net. I am met with resistance by a creature who jerks and then yanks me into the fray. My camera is strapped to my chest so I fire off the shutter, flashing light at whatever is there.

A giant eye comes at me through the black…I am wrestling a whale. 

I recoil, realizing I cannot save this leviathan. His frantic resistance to the net, his tail whipping the water violently and my lack of strength—I am helpless. All I can do is photograph, from a safe distance.

Kicking back, widening my vantage point, the water abruptly settles into a chilling calm. I am face to face with a whale, defeated by his battle with a net. Suspended, we stare at each other in disbelief.

All at once, the whale slowly spins, spiraling down, as though caught in an eddy, a gyrating vortex. I panic that I might be swept down by this deadly whirlpool. I am in overdrive, kicking away from his fall and the tug of the water.

As quickly as it succumbed to the water’s force, the whale thrusts upward and on its back is a woman, clutching the net, riding this behemoth creature to the surface. I aim. I capture the unimaginable, with profound disbelief of what I am seeing in the viewfinder. 

Struggling to the surface with them kicking as hard as I can, I gasp for air at the surface and look up. The woman and the whale are overhead. In one forceful gesture, she rips the net off the whale and both fall to the surface, just missing me. A tsunami of debris rises above me. Now the whale is swimming towards me. I dive below the water, its intense speed creates sonic waves of curling water.

Hit hard by the force of this wake, I tumble over myself like an acrobat in the circus and once I am righted, I look about trying to see not only where I am, but more importantly…where is she?

In an instant, silence settles the gyre’s water. Frantically pulling trash from my face, I strain to see but there is nothing to find. Giving up, I surface. I look for the Sailing Queen and wave to JT. He is rapidly moving his arms back and forth in the air, yelling…

Did ya see that? Wow! I can’t believe what I just saw. Its amazing…holy cow, Jesus H Christ! His voice trails off as I take a deep breath of defeat. Swimming towards the boat, I carefully navigate a treacherous course through the trash.

As I breathe with each stroke, a knowing smile begins to wash my face. I am no longer that crazy lady.










Get a Grip

As I rise up to the surface, JT’s face is right there—under the water—leaning over mine. We almost bump our heads. I spit out my snorkel and water lands all over him. He jumps back. WTF, as he wipes his face.

Hey…did you see that? I hope you got some good pics lady…it was amazing…I’ve never seen a whale jump that high! Where did that woman come from?…Where did she go?…..

Hey to you! Back up—give me some space! Oh, sure…no problem and he withdraws while I wrestle in the water with the fins….JT is pacing now, but not grumbling…he’s just rapid firing more questions.

JT…Gimme me a hand, I command and he turns. I am halfway up the ladder. He rushes over to help me and I say no…no…no…not me…the camera!  I hand him my camera. He gently cups it in his hands. I climb out and plop down on a bench.

So I am not that crazy lady anymore, I question him as I remove my snorkel and goggles. 

Noooooo, you are not…you are right…there is something going on down there. 

He carefully walks the camera over to the bench. As I take off my wetsuit, I utter…well…that’s a twist! A man telling a woman she’s right…don’t hear that often! I shake my head.

Oh, don’t be so Miss Smarty Pants…anyway you knew you were right, JT quips and I further let him know that he didn’t believe me until he saw her with his own eyes. He nods and shrugs his shoulders.

Well, I guess for most people, seeing is believing, I whisper under my breath. Then, he politely asks with the sweetest tone…can we look at what you photographed?

Sure… I motion for him to sit next to me. We go through the camera roll. It is truly unbelievable, and if we both hadn’t seen it for ourselves…Well, the realization washes over us— we now have proof. It is undeniable. There are people living under the garbage patch, saving the sea creatures who have become tangled in all the debris.

Our eyes land on one that we both agree is it! I immediately wi-fi it to the cloud as I did the first one, just in case something unforeseeable might happen. 

JT jumps up and proclaims! You need to send it to all the news outlets and we can be interviewed and I can verify that it is all real. The world needs to know about this amazing pheee-nom-e-non! The news crews can come, see for themselves….

Hold up here Mister Smarty Pants…as I push my hand in front of his mouth to stop his talking…Get a grip, JT!  

That’s the worst thing we could do right now. One, we need to find these women and talk to them—if we can? Two, we need to know the how - what - why…we already know the where. If we publicize the photos it will be the old fish that got away tale. Every looky-loo will show up in these waters and some might want to catch them and do God knows what! Others might think we made this up and it is a hoax using Photoshop! Right now only we know the truth. I continue…

You need to promise me you won’t tell a soul…it could be dangerous for all of us, but especially those beneath the sea. 

Instantly the color and excitement drains from his face…Ok, you’re right again. 

Are we going out tomorrow? he asks.

YES! I nod.

We start back to port quietly talking about what only we know.


You swear you didn’t tell anyone?  I ask him the next morning as we are loading his boat. Honest to God…I told no one… Good, I say…me either. I brought some food and drinks along…I got hungry out there yesterday. Great…he says. We raise anchor and start out.

Hey JT…going out again…that’s two days in a row, shouts a guy from a boat coming into port. We past him and JT replies. Yeah, showing this lady the sights so she can take some pretty pictures LOL… 

I smirk at JT but yell back in a girly voice…Got any great places for me to make my pretty pictures?

Yeah…head northwest. I saw some giant turtles swimming out that way early this morning…you might see some, if they’re still there!

Thanks for the tip, I yell back and JT waves. We both look at each other knowingly as he turns the boat northwest.

I get to ride on the bridge now. I tell JT how the giant turtles mistake white plastic grocery bags for jellyfish. He nods his head and adds that where we are headed always has schools of jellyfish. He kicks the engine up. I hold on as the boat’s speed jerks us forward.

Pointing…there they are port side, I say and instantly we lean hard into a left turn. JT gets close and kills the engine as we float into a large group of swimming turtles. 

There’s all sizes and shapes diving and surfacing and it seems to me they are playing. JT says they are feeding. Look…starboard side…jellyfish! He starts the boat up and swings right.

The engine’s noise causes every thing under the surface to scatter. Port side, I see the wake we created, and suddenly up head, out of the blue, a giant turtle surfaces with a woman on its shell.

JT sees it, too! He revs the engine to full throttle to catch up, hoping to pull along side, but the turtle is too fast and both are too far ahead. Chasing it, I wrap my left arm around the railing and brace myself on the rocking boat, trying to sync with the movement, yet with each wave, we bounce up and land hard.

He’s getting me closer, but we are so far out now in open waters. The woman is struggling to stay on the turtle while trying to pull the plastic bag from the turtle’s vise gripped mouth. Keeping pace with her now, I flow with the boat, capturing as fast as I can this phenomenon. 

She’s got the bag out his mouth yells JT. She’s letting go! Stop the boat, I scream and hold my camera. I scramble down the stairs, kick off my sneakers and dive head first into the water.

I see her ahead. I swim frantically, forgetting to breathe. I am catching up so I touch my shell at my neck and holler…STOP! She turns, She heard me. She treads water as I continue to swim— commanding her to stop. 

I can’t…I hear her through the shell. Keep away from us she warns, and with that she dives deep into the water and swiftly swims off. There’s no way for me to follow her and I don’t trust the shell to supply me air.

Oh my God, JT…I talked with her through my shell underwater, I tell him as he hands me a towel on the deck. You what…you can communicate through that thing on your neck? Wow!

Yeah, it’s what saved my life the first time and I thought I just dreamed its power, but it’s true…I can talk with them. No way…replies JT, shaking his head, and I just know he is thinking crazy lady.

Ok…crazy lady with talking shell…we are too far out to make port so I am going to anchor over in this cove I know for the night. We can head out tomorrow first thing to look for turtle girl. OK?

Yeah, I am cold and tired. I going down below to rest and warm up, then I’ll eat something. The hum of the engine rocks me to sleep and I relive my discovery in a restless dream only to awaken to a gentle, soothing motion of the boat. I step onto the deck to find a beautiful cove bathed in golden hour light. JT’s popping open a beer. I get one too, and we sit down to cold sandwiches, chips and cookies.

JT…how did you come to wear the same sea shell that I have, I ask as we start our second round of beers. It was my Greek grandmother’s. She gave it to me during a time I didn’t know what to do with my life. She said “ pnévma tis zoís” which roughly translated means spirit of life. Soon after her death, I bought this boat and here I am the Captain of the Sailing Queen.

I wonder if you can communicate with your shell under the water? I ask him. Now you are truly the crazy lady…let’s finish these beers and turn in for the night. Where do you want to bunk?

I want to sleep out underneath the stars, I say as he gets me a bedroll and pillow from the box at the bow. 

Ok, I am sleeping down below. Good night.

A couple of beers usually puts me right to sleep, but not tonight. I make my bed on the bow’s deck and lie down looking up. I can see all the planets, moving satellites, and the star constellations. The Pleiades cluster is especially bright. I imagine all the sailors that used them to navigate across the Pacific. I can’t turn my mind off.

Restless, I get up and say…what the heck…another beer won’t hurt me. I start to twist the cap and I see a glowing light moving under the water about 100 feet from the boat. There are no other boats anchored in the cove. I put the beer down, moving closer to the edge. 

There’s a woman down below illuminating the coral with a blue light. Ok, but where did she come from? She has no snorkel or fins or any scuba gear. She moves effortlessly along the bottom, never coming up for air.


JT, wake up as I hold my hand over his mouth. Ssshush…don’t say a word. I lift my hand.

I think there is another one of our mysterious women swimming starboard side, lighting up the coral. No gear and no visible breathing devices. Be real quiet. Go topside and see for yourself. 

Creeping ever so softly, we sneak to the edge, peering over. She’s moved closer!

What do you want to do, he whispers. I’m going to slip into the water. I’ll take the camera, I hope to make contact through my shell.

I’m going with you, asserts JT. I nod ok. Just be quiet and stay back…two people might scare her away. In slow motion, we put on snorkels and goggles. I strap the camera on my chest, checking—I‘ve still got battery power. Over the port side we slide into the water without making a sound.

Stealthy stroking, we approach. JT is behind me about 10 feet. I see her and the moment is one not to miss. Get it now kicks in. I frame and shoot. The flash did what I thought. Startled, she zaps me with her light. I am stunned and blinded. JT breaks through the light and I see him swim pass me. 

He touches his shell and yells…STOP…we don’t want to hurt you! Why are you here? Please tell us. I put my finger on my shell only to hear.

You humans need to stop…killing the ocean. We are trying to help you. Don’t hurt us.

We’re not here to hurt anyone, we want to know who you are, why you are living here, I say.  pressing the shell, I can see now. Tell us so we can help you. We just want to understand….

My sisters and I swore not to tell anyone. Only Maia can speak the truth. 

Where can we find Maia? asks JT. 

Swimming backwards, this mysterious woman says, “Early every morning she’s saving the birds in Nautilus Cove.”

Turning quickly and with one strong kick, the dark waters envelop her disappearance.


Maia

We have to leave right now, JT orders, as we take turns down below putting on dry clothes.

Nautilus Cove is way out there. I think I have just enough gas to get us there and back.

Where is it? I ask, as I zip up my hoodie and climb up on the deck. Northwest, near the edge of the gyre. I won’t know until sunrise since garbage patch is constantly moving, but I have a pretty good idea I can find it.

JT starts the engine, switches on the bright flood lights and puts the Sailing Queen in gear. He keeps talking as we head out… 

It’s an isolated cove shaped like a nautilus shell, untouched by tourists, but it really gets its name because, there are rough ridges of rock, patterned like chambers in a nautilus shell under the water’s surface. Boating in can rip the bottom off of your boat leaving it beyond repair. What’s really amazing is it’s a feeding frenzy for the birds, because the tide pools are full of the stuff birds like to eat. So…we’ll have to anchor at the mouth of the cove and walk in. 

Okay, I reply as I upload my only image of the woman lighting the coral reefs. Plug in your batteries, too, yells JT and let’s have another beer, I am a nervous wreck.

A couple of swigs of beer and I ask a calmer JT, did you think you could talk to her through your grandma’s shell, I ask. I don’t know what I thought. The bright light zapped me, too, but not as bad. I reacted and grabbed the shell at my neck. I just didn’t want her to go…so something—an instinct, I guess—I just yelled through it!

JT takes another swallow, I knew my grandmother was special—-but this! He scratches his head, shaking it in disbelief and blurts out…she must have been a goddess in a prior life. We clink a toast to the heavens.

The rest of night we travel at a steady speed to save fuel and carefully because we can see only as far as the flood lights on the dark, inky black surface. I finish by beer, wishing instead for a bourbon and curl up on the bridge to help JT stay awake.

The sun just breaks the horizon. JT anchors us at the opening. He guessed right, it is low tide. We pack up and start hiking in, climbing up on a ridge so I can see the nautilus shape cove with its ravaging tide pool ridges.

Looking down, I see “the sitting duck” vulnerability of the inhabitants of the pools, and a greater danger lurking for the birds. The crevices of rock are littered with bottle caps, toothbrushes, pill jars, shreds of styrofoam and bright colored debris— that is decayed and unrecognizable from its source, but a promising lure for a bird. 

All kinds of birds are swooping down, scavenging—many mistaking plastics for food. 

I wanted to scream “Don’t eat that”, but it’s hopeless to even phantom that my yelling would prevent this man made atrocity.

JT grabs me and points up ahead. Nestled in the sand dunes is a woman sitting at the water’s edge. She is holding a bird, touching it, soothing it. From its open beak, it regurgitates plastic objects into her hand. She clenches tightly, waves her hand and the items disappear into thin air.  The bird flies away, only to be replaced by another.

The birds are attracted to her and this reclamation act is memorizing as she gracefully holds each bird until it is rid of its ingested plastics. 

I frame her from my high vantage point, to capture this intervention and as I release the shutter, she looks up as though she knew all along I was there. I stop. We lock eyes through the camera. I lower my camera. We walk down to meet Maia.

She greets us. I was expecting you. My sister Alycone told me about last night. Sit with me. Maia’s voice is soft yet firm and mesmerizing. Seated, she asks our names, captivated about JT’s name: Jack Thalassa. She says to him, you know your name means “aloft at sea”. He shakes his head, I only know it is Greek, from my father’s side.

And the shell she points to on his neck. Oh, yeah my grandmother gave it to me. Wise woman, Maia replies. Do you know what the name of your boat means, she continues. Yup, it means Sailing Queen, and Maia leans forward and says, it is also the name of our mother —Pleione. 

We, sisters, have been watching you and your boat, following you. You respect the ocean and we know the good deeds you have done to preserve her. JT puts his hand over his heart and says thank you.

It is my turn to ask a question. Maia, I thought so….you are one of the seven Plieades sisters? Why are you here?

Yes, and we are the Sisters Pleiades, daughters of Atlas and Pleione. We are here to save the ocean. It was once our home when we lived on earth. It was a beautiful body of water, full of life, nourishment, adventure as well as mystery and of course danger. 

Maia asks…Why have humans ruined the sea? Don’t they realize without the ocean, they will soon be dead?

JT and I nod, agreeing helplessly to the chaos called plastic. 

Maia…Where did you come from? As she begins to speak, each sister emerges from the water and sits beside her.

We came from our exiled home in the sky. Six of us made it safely. Taygete gave you one of our shells, Electra, I am afraid scared you when she rode the whale to pull off the ghost net; Celaeno tries to keep the turtles safe and I told her to ask you to leave us alone. But Alycone, knew by your determination, that we had no choice but to tell you the truth…so here we are…together for the same purpose.

Talking for hours, it became evident that even if they stayed forever, both they would be in danger and perhaps a liability to their very purpose, when the reason for their journey from the heavens was to save the ocean from pollution. Soon a sixth woman steps out of the water. 

Maia said, This is Merope. She wants us to try one more thing before we go home…

Merope begins. Plastic turns into billions of pieces called micro particles. They are throughout the food chain and humans now have them in their bodies as well as even more lie on the bottom of the sea. I’m going to gather them up and send them up into the heavens for our remaining sister, Asterope to receive them. Using her powers, she’ll melt the particles into stars, release the glowing orbs into the cosmos—where they will do no more harm on earth.

Maia adds, we want you to record this as you have each of us…and hold the images in safekeeping for a time when it becomes necessary for you to reveal our visit and tell our story.

Hopefully, through your photographs, humans might become more aware and take action.

We now know we cannot do this alone.

Only the people of the world can make the ocean clean again.