Just in the nick of time for summer reading, Saving Our Oceans will be released May 15. It will likely appear on Amazon a short time after that, or the book can be ordered from Moonlight Mesa Associates. You can email us here to get your signed copy.
Here’s a sneak preview:
How is it possible that the most intellectual creature to ever walk the earth is destroying its only home?
What began as a simple idea for a book about ocean and plastic pollution grew seriously sidetracked. In the process of researching this issue, it became very clear that ocean pollution is intricately connected to the rivers, land, and air that generously shed their pollutants into the ocean. It’s estimated that 70 to 80 percent of the ocean’s plastic pollution comes from fresh water sources. And a mountain of evidence indicates that freshwater pollution, including drinking water that originates from rivers and aquifers, is stored in reservoirs, or is even captured as rainfall, is a much more acute problem than most people realize. It appears that there may not be any bodies of water at all that do not have plastic/toxic pollution issues, some obviously worse than others. This then accounts for the inclusion of a chapter on fresh water pollution which expanded to a chapter on potential water shortages and water wars. While some of this country is drowning in water, other parts are parched. This is true worldwide also.
Plastic pollution, both land and ocean, offered an invitation to take a closer look at the promise and disappointment of recycling. What can we do with the plastic we’re drowning in? Several possibilities are presented, but nothing yet seems to be a sure thing, although there is hope despite endless controversy on the subject.
And how can one write about ocean plastic pollution without including many people’s favorite mammal – the whale. In late 2018 a dead whale washed ashore. One can pretty much name any country where this happened, as whales have been turning up dead in what seems record numbers around the world. The necropsy revealed the whale had ingested 114 plastic bags along with flip flops, plastic cups, and other plastic debris. This shocking occurrence should have been enough to rouse the public’s ire and the plastic producers’ repentance for their prolific adulteration of the earth with their product, but it didn’t. It’s horrifying to consider the possibility that this whale represents the norm, not the exception. This, of course, brings up the dismaying situation of Washington State’s beloved Southern Resident Pod of orcas who, in addition to suffering from malnutrition, like orcas worldwide are also filled with toxins generated by PCBs and other products dumped years ago (and some fairly recently).
The whale issue is also complicated by the nations that continue to slaughter mammals who have been scientifically proven to be extraordinarily intelligent – who live in matriarchal pods for decades, who communicate and navigate with advanced sonar and oral abilities, and who, in fact, can feel pain and are self-aware. Did I mention the criminal captivity of whales? Did I mention the millions of seabirds who die every year because of plastic ingestion? What about those turtles? And the ocean inhabitants trapped in discarded nets?
By now we know that plastic does not “go away.” But it doesn’t stop with plastic. Biological waste, fertilizer runoff, and even animal excrement travel through river systems to the ocean. The items you may unthinkingly be dumping down your drain flow into a sewer system and can eventually make their way to the sea.
Finally, the “Rights of Nature” briefly found its way into this book. The Rights of Nature seems to be a movement that is not well known in this country yet. The United States, now seemingly run by lobbyists and corporations, has been resistant to adopting the philosophy that nature has rights just as much as people. Animals in general have been granted some rights, but nature itself is on its own and subject to demolition, pillage, and destruction by owners and developers. There are countries, however, like Ecuador, Bolivia, New Zealand, India and some European countries that agree with this right. Ecuador adopted the Right of Nature into their constitution in 2008: first nation to do so.
I am not a scientist, a marine biologist, or any other highly skilled, scientifically oriented person. I have two degrees but am not particularly smarter for it. I ride a mule. I hike. I row. I like to paint. I also own a micro-sized publishing house that up until now has specialized in western publications, both fiction and nonfiction (western as in cowboy up). I have published award-winning titles, and sometimes I self-publish a book, like this one.
Born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, a former sailor, I am one acquainted with blue water sailing, having traveled around 25,000 miles on a 34’ Cal 2-34 back in the day when people navigated using a sextant and dead-reckoning. I’ve been acquainted with the ocean’s moods and have a respect that at times feels much more like fear. I’ve traveled the Inside Passage to Alaska, and I’ve seen a plethora of whales in my journeys. But like many others, I’ve felt stymied in trying to help remedy the dire situation facing the ocean, whales, and other sea life. I’ve fretted about these issues, chagrined at my lack of involvement. Although I’ve donated money to worthy causes, hoping my meager funds could help better these challenges, donating does not bring the same satisfaction as doing.
Then one day, when I was on my little tugboat in the Northwest enjoying my summer escape from Arizona’s heat, the death of a baby orca and the protracted grief and anguish of its mother struck a sense of sorrow I couldn’t escape. Rather than silently mourn and carry depression around, I resolved to take action of some sort – and this book is one piece of the action plan I devised. My plan is still evolving, and I’ve also included a bit of this in Saving Our Oceans, as well as simple, likely already well-known ideas for those who’d like to do something about the calamity unfolding on the planet. I still haven’t decided if my evolving ideas are audacious or just genuinely bone-headed, but for two years I’ve been wanting to move forward on a new path with my small publishing company, but I just didn’t know what or where or how. Until now.
Should you regret having purchased this book, try to mollify yourself with the thought that the net proceeds from the sale of this title will be donated to a worthy cause, such as The Orca Conservancy, The Ocean Foundation, and the Save Our Wild Salmon organization.
I know these organizations will be very grateful for your support, and I sincerely thank you.
R.L. (Becky) Coffield