Honolulu Star-Advertiser © Susan Scott
January 16, 2004
Nuclear waste on a Mexican beach, frankenfish, sewage spills. The ocean is trying to kill us, and here we sit worrying about the few pounds we gained over the holidays.
About that radioactive beach in Mexico. I received an e-mail from a California woman who found my column about glow-in-the-dark plankton during an Internet search. She wrote: “The blue glow was like a million stars on the beach. When the sand was disturbed, the tiny particles glowed. When picked up, they smeared. What a relief to learn it was bioluminescent plankton. People were telling me it was nuclear waste.
“I’m sure the Mexican families here (Puerto Vallarta) would like to know more about this since they are afraid and will not swim when this occurs.”
For those families: Glowing marine plankton is common, natural and harmless. It can also be out-of-this-world beautiful.
One night while sailing in the Caribbean, I nearly fell overboard watching a pod of dolphins riding our bow wave. Glowing green organisms covered the dolphins’ skin, turning their antics into a psychedelic light show. It was, well, far out.
If the Mexican residents who fear this glow knew how people in Puerto Rico cope with it, they would likely enjoy their fantastic blue beach.
Years ago, I visited friends in Puerto Rico who took me to a bay near Ponce called La Parquera, famous for bioluminescent plankton and limited circulation.
Movement got the light-making creatures going, so people there swam, twirled, dived and splashed. Since each piece of plankton gave off a two-second glow, these movements had memory. The result was another far-out light show.
Such groovy talk reminds me that I’d better go buy a black light because I’m about to purchase some day-glo fish.
Singapore researchers recently transplanted a bioluminescent gene from a sea anemone relative into zebrafish embryos, resulting in fish that glow red under ultraviolet light. A Florida company now creates and sells these fish to brighten freshwater aquariums.
The company calls these special pets Glo-fish, but critics call them frankenfish. I call the critics Luddites.
For those who don’t know, Ned Ludd was an 1811 English worker who destroyed labor-saving machinery as a protest. A Luddite, therefore, is someone opposed to technological change. I know this because my sister calls me a Luddite when I balk at computer upgrades.
I am not a Luddite, however, about Glo-fish. After reading all the literature I could find on the subject and consulting a trusted molecular biologist friend, I think Glo-fish are as safe to people and the environment as those genetic freaks, mules.
Safer even. A mule tried to bite me last summer in Morocco.
Safety, of course, is often an individual call. Two days after the recent heavy rains stopped, I was wheeling my kayak down the street to Lanikai Beach when a passerby informed me, “The water is full of sewage.” I kept going. “Believe me,” the man said with passion. “It’s not safe.”
I paddled all morning in that treacherous (clear) water and felt great afterward. Hopefully, I also made a dent in my added Christmas poundage. For me it’s the only thing on the above list worth worrying about.