Albany South West Australia: Whale Heaven, Shark Hell

This one is tough to write because I love the people we met and the heart that is Albany, but the city has a dark side that is difficult to ignore.

When we travel for work we are usually limited in the range and realm of our exploration. We venture to the nook and cranny restaurants and bars, but do not always get to do a road trip. When we returned to Fremantle on the Brigitte Bardot we got the offer for an impromptu road trip to Albany. Albany is about 5-8 hours by car from Fremantle, depending on which route you travel. We needed to get there, so there was no detour to Margaret River. Notorious for their wine tours, we probably would not have made it to our destination.

We packed our gear into our Nissan X-Trail and headed out. Monty, my ever-present traveling companion perched on our gear, able to keep an eye on our exploits. The landscape changes rapidly as you slip away form the outskirts of Perth and veer inland. The soil becomes redder and the sprawling expanse is far more arid than the cool breeze that is referred to as the, “ Freo Doctor.” Farmland started to fill the roadside with massive cattle, kangaroos, ostrich and alpacas decorating the fields. Small roadhouses were scattered every 50 kilometers or so. We stopped at Lady Rae’s and met Lady Rae, wearing a hat decorated with a sparkly nametag. The world is different here. Time seems to slow way down, like it does when you head to the southern states in America. Words are spoken slower and stretched in their pronunciation. The shelves are lined with touristy trinkets that have been collecting dust for at least a decade, boxes of cookies that have a little less dust and some homemade handy crafts that are indiscernible. I felt like we were in a movie with the characters crawling out of the woodwork.


Monty is ready for the trip


A random roadhouse




We arrived in Albany finding the hillsides slipping into a sprawling natural harbor. Albany has a long history with the sea and that history still breathes within the everyday life of this quaint seaside town. Isolated from major cities, the people of Albany are hearty and hardworking, many relying on the port for their livelihood. Albany is also known for its place in Australia’s whaling history. Even before it was a settlement, whalers from America, France and Britain dropped off convicts and carried on whaling. The town’s proximity to the deep-water shelf made it an ideal location for efficient capture and processing of these leviathans. In 1978 the last whale was brought into Albany for processing, as the doors of the Cheynes Beach Whaling Company closed for good.


The Brig Amity Replica



Since 1978, “ Amazing Albany” has built a reputation for being an eco friendly town, now running whale watching trips and utilizing wind turbines for power. Tourist guidebooks lure in perspective visitors with words like, “green,” and “eco-minded,” and for the most part I would have to agree with these statements, that is unless you are a shark.

Duncan and I settled in at the Best Western and decided to take a stroll around town to check out the scene and get the scoop on when the Forest Rescue guys might be coming into town. We wandered into the White Star Line Pub to grab a pint. The White Star is famous for its ship the Titanic and being tourists we opted to check it out. We immediately spotted a man sporting a Sea Shepherd t-shirt and a ZZ top beard and made our way in his direction. Sid warmed up to us quickly and before we knew it he was buying us a round and we were buying him one. Sid works at the port and offered some Intel on the arrival of the ship that was carrying the Forest Rescue crew. We chatted whales, the ocean and life in Albany.

A hearty soul, Sid clearly loves the ocean and has a massive respect for it. We earned our street cred having survived the rogue wave that inevitably took the Brigitte Bardot out of the campaign. Although we have not seen a quarter of what most mariners do in a well-seasoned career, we do have some salt behind our ears. I am happy to say that, now cozy on dry land. Sid expressed his disgust of the removal of such incredible animals, particularly under the guise of, “ research.” As a marine biologist I resent the use of this word because it makes people uneasy with projects that are actually doing legitimate research.
Sid is one of those people that you stumble across in life and it is random draw from the deck. The random chaos of the universe put us in the same place at the same time and a t-shirt was the simple catalyst of the interaction. I love how life works and the people we meet along this crazy, strange and wonderful journey. We exchanged emails and I do believe that we will see Sid again. There is one thing about the people of Australia; when they say to come visit if you are in town again, they mean it. They are not making a polite gesture; they actually want you to come back.

We also visited the 1849 Backpackers to get some waivers signed and found another treasure. I have stayed in some less than savory hostels and this was a quaint little home away from home. The owner, Danny, was passionate about his place and his work with children, welcoming us and accommodating all our requests. We stayed at the Best Western and I would say to anyone, even those of the non-backpacking flavor, that the 1849 far exceeds the hotel! Free Internet, clean rooms, ample living space, satellite television, free parking and no attitude or aroma of alcohol and body order soaked carpet. Yes, Albany is a spectacular gem, nestled against a gorgeous harbor and filled with a rich history, but if you are a shark, Albany, like so many coastal towns, is a dark place.

As we wandered around town it was time to grab some dinner and we began scouting out our options. We found a little bar called Nonna’s and decided to sample some of the award winning local wines. When in Rome right? As we enjoyed our libations we asked to see a menu. We go into autopilot when we see “fish,” on the menu and ask what species it is. Amazing how many servers do not know or seem to care. Our perky waitress responded that it was shark with a smile. I immediately got a pit in my stomach. We walked out and I felt disgusted having purchased even just a glass of wine at the establishment. We did grab a menu to use a tool in educating people about the issue.

Unfortunately this is not the only place that happily serves shark as its fish option. In fact, the majority of places we wandered into not only serve it, but they have it proudly announced on the menu. The most appalling was the children’s menu at Nonna’s that had Shark Filets & Chips as their top item. How about a little mercury poising for your kids?



Our next step was to figure out what kind of shark. It didn’t take long to determine that most commonly it is bronze whaler. Ugh, another pit in the stomach. My experiences with bronzies are few, but all remarkable. I snorkeled with them in New Zealand on a shoot and was apart of tagging the SBERP’s (Shark Bay Ecosystem Research Project) first bronzie in Shark Bay, Western Australia. Bronze whalers are aptly named with their bronze skin that gleams in the sunlight. They are broad like bull sharks and are one of the most beautiful species of sharks I have ever seen. I am happy to report that Rustlers did not serve shark on the menu and the service was outstanding.


Tagging a bronze whaler in Western Australia


Bronze Whaler skin

It boggles my mind that a place that describes itself as eco friendly and has gone to extreme lengths to redeem its checkered whaling past, would serve shark as a staple on their menus. Ignorance is no longer an excuse. The information is there. Sharks are vital for our oceans and health wise they are filled with mercury. Why on earth would you eat them? There is absolutely no need. I don’t live in Albany, but I have shared my concerns with friends and family in Australia and I hope that people speak out on behalf of the ocean that washes along their coastline. Sharks are not as charismatic as whales, which is all the more reason to step up and be a voice for them.

This isn’t just about Australia; it’s about globally being aware, but also being aware of what is happening in our own backyards. We are quick to point fingers and blame Asian countries, but they are not the only regions that are slaughtering these incredible animals. Check your local restaurants Do they serve shark? Watch out for other names such as hake or flake. Ask questions and educate yourself on what is going on around you. How about your grocery store’s fish counter? Ask them is they ever offer shark and what species? Start asking questions. When you ask questions you make people think. People need to think to make change. Start the movement and start the motion.

Filming, Fixing Cameras and Frolicking in Freo

Our expected six day stay in Perth and Fremantle has turned into almost 3 weeks. At first I did not mind a few extra days, as I am absolutely in love with this place, but now we are ready to go. Facing three months in Antarctica is exciting, but also intimidating because I’ve never been to that part of the world. Each day I mentally prepare for life on a boat and life in some raw and wild conditions; each day we stay on the dock and an emotional rollercoaster carries me.

The boat is prepped, problems have been solved and goodies have been purchased. There are certain snacks and treats that make the long duration of the shoot more bearable. We all have our creature comforts and mine include comfy pajama pants, party mix, some good books, Tim Tams and my journal. We will put in long days and many sleepless nights, so there are things that bring some sense of normalcy to the insane ride that awaits us. Monty, the world-wandering shark, is also ready for his first journey to such cold temperatures.

Duncan and I are familiar with the boat; she was our home for two and a half months this summer. We know how she moves and what life is like in such tight quarters. We also know most of the crew, which makes the transition to 24 hours a day with 8 other people a little easier. As we bring boxes in, the unpacking and stowing process gets a bit overwhelming. It is like Jenga and each piece has to move just right in order to not cause a catastrophic crumble of camera equipment, toiletries and wool socks. Creative storage has become an art form on the boat and we use every plastic bin or cardboard box for something. Large rubber maid bins are drawers and a cloth shoe rack becomes ideal for storing a vast array of items, shoes not included. We negotiate for additional space and fill every inch we acquire.






The office space for prep was stuffed with gear for the daunting and equipment intensive shoot. Sorting, stocking, stowing and double -checking that we have everything we need. Not easy to get a part when you are in the middle of the ocean and if you could find it, the price would be astronomical. Expecting all things to go wrong we prepare and bring the appropriate back ups to make sure we can continue to shoot no matter what. The climate and salt water will continuously attempt to destroy our equipment and break our stride.




Long johns, wool socks, beanies and multiple pairs of gloves will be our daily outfits; an interesting contrast to the flip-flops and tanks tops we are wearing in the summer heat of Australia. Difficult to wrap your head around the broad temperature spectrum we are going to encounter. I am not a fan of the cold, so I have enough gear for two people, as I am determined to not let Mother Nature break me. I don’t want to miss the raw wilderness and once in a life time moments because I am being a wimp and am too cold.

As Christmas nears, there are no fir trees decorated with lights or snow covering the fields. Santa is riding around on a bicycle and golden stars shimmer on telephone poles, with melting from heat more of a concern than freezing. It is surreal and bizarre to hear Christmas songs with the sun scorching down and the beaches stuffed with bronzed bodies. Sale signs hang in store windows and the streets of Freo are busy with shoppers. Koalas are hanging from stockings or wearing Santa hats and Santa was even seen riding a crocodile. Crikey! Apparently Dick (Dick Smith) does Christmas and Santa is super skinny, probably due to riding his bike in 90-degree summer heat.





Mullets seem to be all the rage and are only outdone by the rat-tail. The Mohawk mullet can also be seen quite commonly and not because the owner of said haircut lost a bet. If you are not familiar with mullets, they are a style of haircut in which the top portion is short (business) and the back is long (party). They come in all flavors and sometimes the fairly elusive female mullet is sighted. They can be curly, spiked and come in a variety of colors, all, glorious in their own right. Tank tops, reserved for body builders and red necks in the States, are quite fashionable among most of the male population here. Singlets, the Aussie term for tank tops, can be seen on boys and men, from all walks of life. Summer is extremely hot here and I say that as someone that spends summers in the Bahamas and Florida. Maybe the singlet is more function than fashion?

Living in a hotel means eating out three meals a day, so we have become foodies during our extended stay. It is not cheap to eat in Australia, so we have explored in order to find cheaper options. The Fremantle markets have an Asian food court and it is amazing. We have avoided the stall that keeps getting visits from the health and safety department, but touch wood; all other meal endeavors have left full bellies that have remained full. I found a veggie red Thai curry that was to die for and was only $9. The average sandwich, to give you an idea, is between $18.00 to $28.00 Australian dollars. Breakfast is also not for the faint of heart when speaking about price. Brekky with a coffee will cost you at least $16.00. Dinner, well I am not going there. You can imagine. A pint of beer is on average between $7 and $9.50. Mixed cocktails are about $16, so it is comparable to a night out in South Beach, although the atmosphere is far more amazing and drinks are not served with a large side of attitude. I know, I am a bit biased, but I am absolutely and unabashedly in love with Australia. Shhh….don’t tell Duncan.





Our base camp started at the Esplanade, before moving to Duncan’s family’s house. During prep for a shoot the hotel is simply a place to take a shower before crashing into your pillow from exhaustion. The jet leg, heat and long days are enough to break even the most whole-hearted efforts. The World Sailing Championships had just launched when we arrived and our hotel was stuffed with Team UK. The hotel and city have welcomed the event with open arms and have decorated with sails and sailboats to show this consorted effort. The streets are packed and the bay is filled with white sails from early morning until dusk.






The park across from the hotel was the heart of the event with tents filled with merchandise, nightly bands and performances and even a massive Ferris wheel. Much to our dismay we missed the INXS concert. Wow, they really do love the 80’s here. Awesome! Yet another reason to move here! The energy of the city is bustling with this major event and the nearing holiday season. Such a contrast from being in Miami, as far as the energy and movement of a city goes. People smile and there is a lot of laughter as you walk down the street. People are out enjoying the weather with friends and family, filling the days with cold pints of locally brewed beer and lovely strolls along the boardwalk. Drivers are friendly and I have not received the middle finger once, nor needed to give it. I didn’t even need to honk the horn!




The summer season also means lot of fresh fruit. For those who know me, my obsession with watermelon is pretty ridiculous, so I have eaten as much as I possibly can. Strawberries, nectarines, mangos and avocados, have all been incredible. Our mass consumption of fresh produce is also largely due to the fact that very quickly into our journey it will become a luxury and then disappear all together. I feel like the pulse of Perth is one of a city that is not quite sure what it wants to be, but offers a diverse range of options. Being the most Western big city in the world, Perth sits on a unique doorstep. World class dinning and wineries make it a foodie’s paradise. Gorgeous turquoise water draws kite boarders, surfers and sunbathers, while the clean air and ample open space is ideal for athletes of all persuasions. Not a day has passed where the designated paths have not been decorated with runners and cyclists.

We’ve spent some time with Duncan’s family; Steve, Sue and Michael live in Perth and have allowed us to spend a few of our extra days as boarders at their house. It is lovely to be with family as the holidays approach and being so far from our immediate families. Welcoming us with cold beer and a proper Aussie BBQ, a glorious way to spend a summer evening. We all had a good laugh as we said “goodbye,” numerous times as our departure date kept getting pushed back. It became a running joke whether we would actually leave or not and if they should start charging rent.






We moved our lives and ourselves onto the boat and prepared for the official and actual departure. Pulling off the dock was emotional; excitement, charged energy for filming and the rush of adventure, sad to leave Freo and family behind and nerves about the impending journey. It is one of those moments that you want to shout, cry and laugh all at the same time, but instead you just move around in a weird bubble. Here we go again, on what is sure to be one of the most exciting and challenging journeys of our lives. See you on the flip side.

50 Hours of Travel to the Land Down Under

50 hours of travel is enough to break most people, but we survived, although our mental state upon arrival in Perth might have been questionable. It is always hard saying goodbye to my family and this time was particularly difficult because we are going to Antarctica on a boat for three months. We are also trying to plan a destination wedding from a destination where we cannot access the Internet.

Mom drops us at the bus terminal and our adventure begins. I am a big fan of the bus to Logan airport; quiet, free Internet and no worry about traffic or crazy drivers. Once at Logan we grab the free shuttle to our hotel. We opted to stay the night in Boston and head to the airport the next day, minimizing the stress of the departure day. A full day of packing, goodbyes and finishing up lose ends has left both of us exhausted. We make it through dinner and fall asleep immediately.

After a leisurely morning and breakfast we check out of the hotel and head back to the airport. We have 4 hours until we fly, but extra time is always something we plan for. With excess luggage and multiple layovers, we assume that there will be some sort of wrench in the wheel and extra time reduces the stressed out and want to scream situation that numerous people traveling live in. Each mode of transportation we step into gets us some strange looks and questions about where we are going with that much luggage. Even stranger are the looks when we reply that we are heading to Antarctica. I assume it is not everyday that they get that answer from travelers. We have a nice chat with 2 pilots seated in front of us that are not flying for Virgin, but seem to enjoy their services. We laugh about the no peanuts rule and how facebook is taking over the planet before arriving at the Virgin Terminal.

We approach the Virgin counter with 5 bags in tow and begin the process, which we have it down to a science and could probably do in our sleep. The agent takes our passports and asks us about our adventure. We quickly get our boarding passes, but come to a screeching halt when none of our bags seem to want to fly with us. The system will not allow bags to be entered. The agent jokes, “ you didn’t need those bags anyway?” No, we don’t need those, should be fine in Antarctica with just shorts and sneakers! The agent calls for backup and quickly we have amassed the entire Virgin staff at Logan airport. Apparently this has happened before and 8 different people are attempting 8 different methods to get our bags to join us. I-phones are out making calls to headquarters and other computers are being utilized. We are cancelled, reissued and probably rerouted to China before we have success in checking in 2 of our bags. They are getting ready to write hand tags and hope for the best when one of the agents shouts, “ ah ha.” Success. She is able to ticket us and check our bags through.



We are skeptical that they will actually make it to Perth, but it is a step in the right direction. They wave the fee for the excess baggage, as we have been at the counter for over an hour. I must say Virgin offers quality customer service from start to finish. All the agents wish us safe travels, knowing our story because of the quality time we have all spent together. We go find a place to perch for lunch and take a breath. I opt for yummy sangria to relax a little before the first leg of our flying adventures. Lunch is leisurely, killing a bit a time before we can go through security. Virgin has its own security section and the process is actually quite enjoyable. I strip off shoes, hoodie, laptop and liquids, ready to move efficiently through the line. I am quite proud of the science that I have worked out to quickly and efficiently move through security, recollect my belongings in a single swoop and repack. I think Duncan is amazed, as he watches still trying to put his belt back on.

There are only two gates in the Virgin terminal, so we sprawl out. Our usual procedure involves taking turns perusing the shops, picking up last minute goodies to entertain us on the flight. Dunk grabs hand sanitizer and a book, while I stock up on gum and trashy magazines. US Weekly is a guilty pleasure when I fly. Only time it seems acceptable to purchase such mind numbing rubbish.

Our plane boards and we find our seats. Time to settle in for the six-hour journey to LAX. We only have an hour layover scheduled, so we are guessing our bags might catch a later flight. We always cross our fingers that the agent’s reassurance that we do not have to collect our bags and recheck them is correct. On an American Airlines flight from Miami to LAX and onto New Zealand we were assured our bags were checked all the way through. Two days later they arrived at our destination, after sitting in LA and then Fiji waiting to clear customs. At this point it is up to Virgin and we can only get cozy on the plane and hope that stinky people, loud talkers and screaming children are not seated near us. We have secured exit row seats-a sweet deal for the long flight.

The good food, well for airplane standards, is not offered on this trip, only a snack and free soda. I wake up to find a can of Coke Zero and some pretzels waiting for me as the pilot announces that he has news we are not going to like. Who starts off a sentence like that when flying an airplane? I am pretty sure that would not be acceptable procedure in the pilot etiquette handbook. The bad news is that there is a blackout in LA and that we need fuel, so we are heading to Palms Springs. We are set to refuel and sit on the tarmac until we are cleared to land at LAX. So it starts. Probably going to miss our connection, ah joy, more time at the Hellhole that is LAX. I cannot stand the bad energy, crowds or stench of too many McDonalds shoved in such a small area. Back to sleep.

Pilot reports again that we are not going to Palm Springs, plane changes course, and we head to our original destination. The power has been restored, but the airport is a mess. We have not missed our connection because everything is severely delayed. 2 hours wandering and having dinner before we board our plane. I fall back asleep immediately, but we sit for another 45 minutes on the tarmac. 45 minutes does not really matter when you are spending 14 hours on a plane. Dunk wakes me up for dinner service and we settle in with a glass of wine and our respective movies. I opt for Horrible Bosses and a glass of red wine. Another glass of wine as I finish the movie and then lights out for me. Another nap, well 5 hours is really not a nap. I couldn't resist with the seat next to me empty and just enough room to sprawl out, well sprawl as much as one can on 2 airplane seats.

When I wake up again it is surreal, beautiful blue mood lighting decorates the airplane and I have no idea where I am or what time it is. Guess it does not matter. On that plane I am in the weird space where time and life seem to stand still. Crossing the date line time changes and the rest of world really does not affect our existence for 14 hours. I think it is time for another movie and a beer. (I do not recommend Super 8) I am sure it is happy hour somewhere in the world and again time seems to really have no impact on my current life status. I read up on Jessica’s Simpsons pregnancy and Justin Biebers paternity scam-life is good. Surprised that I am so awake I select Mr. Popper’s Penguins as my next form of entertainment. It seems appropriate since we are heading to penguin land in Antarctica.



Breakfast comes around soon and we enjoy another lovely meal. We are set to land in just over an hour. I pull out our itinerary and check the time at destination on the handy menu option on my screen. Perfect! We are set to arrive an hour after our connecting flight leaves. I signal for the flight attendant and she says that we have been put on a flight one hour later and that the ground agents have already made arrangements. Excellent, a sprint through the airport to collect our bags, clear customs and make our flight. By the time we get to the gate agent to recheck our bags we have approximately 15 minutes before departure. The woman cannot find us rescheduled on any flights and begins to look for options. We are certainly not making the flight we were rumored to be on. We are hoping to go directly to Perth and avoid a layover in Sydney, but it doesn’t look good. After 10 minutes she finds a direct flight to Perth, sweet, but it does not leave until 4:30pm. Current time-9:30 am. Ah well. Bound to happen and at least we are not stuck for that long at LAX. Now time to check the luggage again and once again our bags do not want to fly with us.

We go through the whole process again requiring the troops the come in for backup. Tickets issued, cancelled and reissued and the flight gods smile up us and suddenly the computer allows all our bags to join us on the journey. Haha! Victory. It’s early, but lunch and a beer seem like the perfect way to start off our extended stay at Brisbane airport. Neither one of us has the ambition to leave the airport for an excursion, but I am tempted because there is a koala sanctuary in Brisbane. I am not confident, however, in our timely return to make our flight if I get wrapped up in cute and cuddly critters found only in the land down under. We find a restaurant and order a couple of Pure Blondes. Perfect way to toast our arrival in Australia and fitting for our hair color, although “pure,” should be used only referring to Duncan, I suppose.

Not sure of where in the time and space interim we are, beer and lunch seem completely acceptable and we notice that most tables around us have the same logic. The airport is beautiful and has free Internet. We are alert family that we have completed the longest leg of the journey and have one more to go. We also contact the family in Perth that are picking us up that our arrival will be severely delayed; so much for that extra day in Australia. Ah well. Pure Blondes are cold and the sun is shinning.
Time slips by quickly with a leisurely lunch and some shopping. Airports are fantastic for people watching and I could do it for hours. I love thinking about where people are going and why or where they have come from. Airports are the gateway to adventure and a seat in the sky. I love the energy, although stressful at times, that fills the air and moves the system. Delays are frustrating, but I do enjoy the world, separate from our normal existence, that exists within planes and airports. I find myself excited for travel and my finely tuned tricks of the trade; my goodie bag filled with mini toothpaste sleeping masks, travel yoga cards, ear plugs and Tylenol pm. Magazines, journal, Monty (my ever present travel companion) and comfy clothes. It really is an art and I get a rush from all of it.



We arrive in Perth and expect a bag if any at all to come shooting off the belt. When you keep your expectations low then even the smallest miracle, like bags arriving, is a pleasant surprise. Pink turtles, blue plaid, black, red and blue come shooting around the corner of the conveyer belt. Wow, all of our bags arrived on the same flight as we did. Not knowing which way is up we gather our belongings and load them onto the best airport dollies in the world-white sharks on them! We make our way outside and breathe in the summer air. Even at an airport with traffic everywhere and people pollution, the air is still cleaner than Miami. Duncan’s cousin walks up to welcome us. There is something about arriving in Australia, particularly Perth, which feels amazing, like we are home. We keep ending up back here, like we are meant to be here?

After nearly 50 hours of shuttles, buses, airports and airplanes, we have arrived. Battered whale shit is the term Duncan has coined to describe the post travel glow. Not sure what day it is or what time it is, but let me tell you bed has never felt so good.

Sharks Need Angels Too

Sharks are not the cuddling charismatic animals that most people want to save. This does not however, mean they don’t need all the help they can get. Shark Angels is an organization that empowers people from all backgrounds and gives them the opportunity to help sharks; a support system and a connection to one common goal.
I am proud to have been named one of the featured angels and only hope to continue my work in saving these amazing creatures.

Shark Cherubs

The Shark Angels are everywhere and are doing amazing things. Sharks need all the help they can get and angels are reaching out across the globe to make a difference. On Monday November 28, 2011 I was fortunate enough to enlist 50 new “ Shark Cherubs,” at Berwick Academy. The students took a pledge that includes:
Getting Shark Smart-learning as much as they can
Not eating shark fin soup or eating at restaurants that serve it
Be a positive voice for sharks
Standing up for sharks
They kids were really excited knowing that they ARE making a difference and becoming a part of something that matters.
Thanks to Shark Angels, Berwick Academy and Susan Morris







Shark Angels

Shark Conservation Education and Outreach is Wicked Good in Maine

I was very fortunate to grow up around the water and with parents that cared about the environment. My mom never let me have the cool snack packages, but rather she got things in bulk and put them in Tupperware. I was a bit annoyed at the time because my friends all had the cool snacks, but it instilled the lesson of what we as individuals can do to help our environment.
Today my mom has continued her journey as an environmentalist teaching 6th graders about sharks and shark conservation. She has shared a real life research project that students can study from and has even spent 2 weeks tagging sharks in Australia. This is her own initiative that she has taken above and beyond the standard curriculum.






She always asks if I can speak to her class about sharks and shark conservation. I do not get home often, but when I do I always try to get in. The 6th graders are one of my favorite ages to speak to because they have a base understanding of environmental factors and can critically think about the issues. Many of them are aware of shark finning and I am always pleasantly surprised with the insight they share.



Some people may thinking that showing 11 and 12 year olds an image of dead sharks, bleeding and without their fins is too much, but I think it can be done effectively. Many of these kids have seen Jaws and other “R” rated movies, so they are not shocked. Many, however, cannot believe that this is happening and it catalyzes an instant empathy for the animals. They want to know why people do it and how to stop it. This is the energy and enthusiasm that it will take to make changes in the world.




Duncan and I shared images and video of shark tagging, shark diving and even the birth of baby lemon sharks. We also discussed what each of them could do to help the environment. Because they are young, they often feel that there is nothing they can do, but we strive to express that there is so much.



The last class we spoke to had one student that really hit home with me about why I do this. When we were talking about shark fin soup he raised his hand and said that his dad had eaten it a few times and mentioned that it was expensive. In a class full of kids that are ready to attack anyone hurting a shark, this was a bold admittance. It was also the ideal opportunity to reach out to this student and his dad. When we moved on to discuss diving with shark I suggested that he talk to his dad about getting in the water with sharks instead of eating them. He smiled and shook his head in agreement.

I am sure he went home and shared the idea with his dad also explaining that shark fin soup is toxic and destroying our oceans. Now either his dad told him that I don’t know what I am talking about or he actually listened. I am hoping that the second scenario played out and that it fosters a sense of change in his dad. As children we look up to our parents and no matter what we do not seem to question their actions. They are often our heroes and can do no wrong. His father has a chance to be an ocean hero for his son and for the environment.

It is these students and the students that have parents that sport fish for sharks that make speaking in classrooms worth it. Most students may already care about the ocean and already have parents that are involved in conservation or at least not killing or eating sharks. It is the parents that are participating in unsavory activities that are the goal. They are the people I want to reach and going through their son or daughter carries tremendous strength. I remember coming home from school when I was 7 or 8 and seeing a deer hanging in a tree at the house. I am from Maine and deer hunting is very popular, so this was not I new sight for me. This was however, the first time I had seen it at my house. I asked my dad why he killed the deer? My dad still talks about it to this day and describes the look of confusion and sadness on my face. He has not hunted since. Children hold a tremendous weight and they are a crucial element in the push to save our oceans.

I look forward to the next opportunity to be in the classroom and reach even just one student who will make a change.
Thank you to Berwick Academy in South Berwick, Maine for allowing your students the opportunity to experience real life conservation in action and to be apart of it. Thank you to my mom, Susan Morris for always being an environmentalist and making a difference.

For more information on shark conservation presentations please feel free to contact ME

Ban the Import of Shark Products in the State of Florida

2 weekends ago Duncan and I visited a few tourist shops on South Beach. We went in to see what shark products they were selling and were disgusted to find jaws and fetuses in jars. There is no way these items should represent the essence that is Florida and there is no way their sale and distribution should be legal. I traced the products back to a company called Holiday Souvenirs based in Fort Lauderdale. I called them and was told the items were " by products of overseas fishing," before I was hung up on.

I have started a petition to get the import of such products banned in the state of Florida. Also here is the contact information for Holiday Souvenirs. Please call and email to voice your opinion about this disgusting market that has no place in Florida. It is a global issue, but we must act locally. The goal is 10,000 signatures in order to get the attention of Florida Senators.

Holiday Souvenirs
3438 NE 5th Ave
Fort Lauderdale, Fl
33334
800-521-4302
954-564-6134
hsshells@bellsouth.net

PETITION