Citizen science closes the gap between trained scientists and outdoor enthusiasts. Anyone can take photos, report problem areas, fill out data sheets and record GPS points.
Nor is a rugged expedition required. “We have samples collected by the world’s best mountaineers and by people going for an after- noon spin across Lake Washington,” notes Treinish. One of the challenges with citizen science is collecting data ac- curate enough to be useful. Few paddlers with skills for the open coast can also tell invasive Timothy grass, Phleum pretense, from the native Phleum alpinum, or recognize the song of a Eurasian Collared Dove. The Outer Island Survey team was built to address both. Andis and Norwood’s deep ecological knowledge helped Avery and Lewis recognize and collect useful data. “Paul would say, ‘We’re looking for this plant, here’s where it grows, see if you can find it,’” recalls Avery. “If you have good powers of observation and can be detail-oriented, a non-scientist can contribute.” Andis agrees, “Any- one can take photos, report problem areas, fill out simple data sheets and record GPS points.”
Team member Rob Avery’s ghoulish alter ego.
Matchmaking groups like Adventurers & Scientists for Conser- vation offer another window onto how to close the gap between trained scientists and outdoor enthusiasts. When someone going on a trip contacts them, ASC scours the scientific literature for related projects. When a scientist wants samples from a particular spot, ASC looks for someone headed there. Scientists use Skype to train ad- venturers on sampling and surveying techniques, and ASC confirms results with labs and looks for large data sets. Outer Island Survey member Cris Lewis says there’s another reason to embrace your inner scientist. “If you want to learn the [local] ecology, what better way to do it?” she asks, “That education was part of the magic.”
Southeast Alaska Conservation Council create similar trips. By 2013, SCS was running 21 expeditions to nine wilderness areas, including nine paddle trips.
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he trend of paddlers donning lab coats under their PFDs reaches well beyond the borders of Southeast Alaska.
“In the sea kayak community, people have always gone on expedi- tions to raise awareness of one thing or another, but now we’re seeing more involvement in hard science,” says Steve Weileman, who founded The Ikkatsu Project in 2012 with partner Ken Camp- bell. Through expeditions and films, The Ikkatsu Project monitors and raises awareness of tsunami debris and plastic pollution on the Olympic and Aleutian coasts. Weileman and Campbell conduct beach surveys and water sampling and share their findings with NOAA and other scientific organizations.
SCS runs more paddle-based expeditions each year. But the surface has barely been scratched. “Kayakers, climbers and hikers have the potential to gather data scientists need but can’t access,” says Gregg Treinish, founder of Adventurers & Scientists for Conservation, a Bozeman, Montana-based organization that has been matching adventurers with scientists since 2011. “There’s a poten- tial army of outdoor enthusiasts all around the globe—we have over 1,400 adventurers collecting data for 130 scientists on everything from ocean microplastics to ice worms.”
52 | ADVENTURE KAYAK n n n B
udding wilderness stewards may well have an even greater impact than paddle-wielding science nerds. During a debate about protecting Southeast’s salmon streams, veterans of the Sitka Conservation Society’s science expeditions generated 60 letters and several hundred postcards. The potential is huge. “Americans spend about the same amount of money on outdoor recreation as we do on cars and gasoline every year,” Andis says, “We just need to put our mouth where our money is.”
Ultimately, a deep love for wilderness drives paddle-powered science. “I suppose I could have done something in my backyard, but in the larger sense, places like Coronation are my backyard,” muses Avery. Andis is philosophical about his chosen craft. “I think doing our work by kayak rather than by floatplane or motorboat is what the writers of the Wilderness Act would have wanted,” he says. Even as SCS continues to disseminate the Outer Island Survey findings, fundraising is underway for upcoming expeditions. Mean- while, on Coronation Island, mysteries remain. “Some years we see tons of wolf sign, and then nothing for five years,” notes the Forest Service’s Tory Houser. “What happens? Does the population crash? Do they swim to other islands?” Someday, someone will find out. They might arrive by kayak. One of them might be you. Neil Schulman is a kayaker, writer and co-founder of the Confluence Environmental Center in Oregon. He lived in Southeast Alaska long before cellphones or Google Earth.
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