When we read about global warming, we hear mostly about its effects on humans; I so appreciate this NYT article that takes a close look at scientists whose areas of research, from coral reefs to polar bears to penguins, are literally disappearing because the animals they study are dying in large numbers.

If you love penguins as much as I do, scroll down to the interview with Dee Boersma of the University of Washington’s Center for Ecosystem Sentinels. Dee is the scientist with whom I met my first Antarctic, Magellanic, and Galapagos penguins (and whose work inspired storylines in both My Last Continent and my forthcoming novel FLOREANA). As you’ll see in this article, penguins are in trouble — as are so many other animals.

Dee’s words in this piece are stark but also hopeful: “My view is that the penguins have a right to exist. I think we have too many people for the Earth’s resources. Overpopulation and overconsumption.”

The hopeful part of this, to me, is that if we choose to live carefully in the world, we can make room for these endangered animals. We can avoid taking up too much of their food, avoid making the world too warm for them, and avoid taking their much-needed habitat.

When I first volunteered counting penguins with Dee in 2006, the Magellanic colony at Punta Tombo was the largest Magellanic colony in the world. But its numbers have gone from 400,000 breeding pairs in the 1980s to about 150,000 in 2019.

We humans do have the ability to save the world before it’s too late. From small choices like eating mostly (or only) plants to driving less to voting in candidates who take our planet’s health seriously — it can be done.

The animals of the world already take care of the worlds they live in — we humans are the only species that does not. And now it is up to us humans to save not only ourselves but the animals as well.

The deadly bird flu H5N1, which has already killed millions of birds around the world, is now threatening endangered birds in such isolated places as the Galápagos and Antarctica.

In Antarctica, penguin populations are especially vulnerable, according to this article. And not only will penguins, terns, and other seabirds be affected but also seals and other marine mammals.

In the Galápagos, where dozens of sick and dead birds have been discovered, three of five tested birds — two frigate birds and one red-footed booby — have died from the virus. As this article notes, visitor sites have been closed on Española Island, where scientists are particularly worried about an endemic and endangered breed of albatross.

Sadly, because of the isolation of these places, the birds in the Galápagos and Antarctica have little immunity to bird flu and other viruses. And in the Galápagos, scientists are concerned about the endemic species that are found nowhere else and whose numbers are already small.

Fortunately, the dangers of this virus are on the radar of tour companies. As the Telegraph points out, “tourists visiting Antarctica this season may not be able to disembark from cruise ships if the worst-case scenario arises.” Biosecurity measures are being stepped up as well; while for decades all visitors to Antarctica disinfected boots before and after setting foot on land, now even vacuums are being used, and tourists are being advised not to sit or even to crouch near the ground.

And while protecting the birds is priority enough, we humans should also keep in mind that bird flu can spread to humans as well. As the Guardian notes, “A warning has been issued calling on tourists … not to try to touch affected birds. Avian influenza can be transmitted to humans.” And there is some concern that bird flu could lead to our next pandemic.

With record-breaking numbers of visitors to both of these remote and isolated places, perhaps this latest news will give tourists pause — and give the animals a chance at avoiding this deadly flu.

This startling subhead appeared in a recent Atlantic article about Antarctic travel, in a story that makes very good points about how and why travel to the last continent is becoming a lot less sustainable.

Earlier this year, I wrote a post asking: Have we reached the tipping point for Antarctic travel? I pointed out that when I went to Antarctica in 2004, there were about 20,000 tourists a year visiting the continent, and by the time My Last Continent was published in 2016, that number had doubled. This past season, that number reached more than 100,000.

In the eyes of many, we have indeed reached the tipping point. The Atlantic story is just one of several I’ve read lately highlighting concerns with tourism in Antarctica

I was so fortunate to have been able to see this majestic continent nearly two decades ago, and I’ve always responded to readers’ questions about Antarctic travel in a positive way, in part because it is hardly fair to discourage people to go when I myself have been there.

But I also believe that the continent has many other problems that need solving — and that travel to the continent can, in fact, inspire visitors to save what they are bound to fall in love with: the ice, the wildlife, the pristine wilderness that exists nowhere else on Earth.

While decades ago, the human impact of travelers in Antarctica was small, now the impacts are greater — not only the carbon footprint of getting to the bottom of the world, but the introduction of bacteria, invasive species, and the effects on wildlife. As this article points out, “A recent study found elevated concentrations of black carbon – soot – in the snow around popular Antarctic tourism sites, which causes snow to darken and melt more rapidly. Researchers have also identified 14 non-native species around the Antarctic Peninsula, transported on clothing and in food.”

The International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators (IAATO) does an excellent job of encouraging sustainable travel and minimizing impact (yet it does remain a voluntary membership, and not all tour operators are members — those who do travel to Antarctica should be sure their tour company abides by all sustainable travel guidelines).

Ever since My Last Continent was first published, seven years ago, I’ve been pointing out that while tourism does affect the continent, Antarctica has bigger problems: global warming, overfishing, pollution from the fishing industry (from oil spills to discarded fishing gear). My own trip to Antarctica was life-changing — and the continent offers this experience to every potential visitor. If people return from Antarctica with a passion for tackling climate change, protecting endangered species, and making the world a better place, does this not make the trip worthwhile?

It’s not likely that every single one of the 100,000-plus visitors to Antarctica this season returned home and became vegans, stopped driving, committed to a net-zero lifestyle. But if each of them devoted their lives to some form of change for good, this would have an impact. For example, if we as a human species stopped eating seafood, much of the Antarctic’s problems would resolve — the myriad threatened species in the Southern Ocean, from whales to penguins, could have access the food we humans are taking from them, giving them a better chance at survival.

Of course, not all visitors will have such reverence for the continent. The Atlantic notes that “many sightseers bring a whiff of ‘last-chance tourism’—a desire to see a place before it’s gone, even if that means helping hasten its disappearance.” And as this Guardian article points out, “in some areas tourists have traipsed over delicate mosses and plants. Some historic structures have even been scarred by graffiti.” And for many tourists, there seems to be far less interest in learning about the unique landscape, history, and wildlife in Antarctica than in doing things they can do just about anywhere else: climbing, camping, cross-country skiing, paddleboarding, snorkeling.

There is no official cap on the number of tourists who can visit Antarctica, and, as the Atlantic advocates, Antarctica “is actually most valuable to us when left wild, so that it can continue to act as a buffer against climate change, a storehouse of the world’s fresh water, and a refuge for birds, whales, seals, fish, and even the krill that the entire marine ecosystem depends on.”

As this article notes, “Antarctica doesn’t need ambassadors; it needs guardians.” While surely one of the best ways to protect Antarctica may be to leave it alone, at the same time, seeing a place firsthand may be the most powerful way to let it change your life and vow to protect what you were able to witness firsthand so that it will all be there for others to see in the future. As acoustic ecologist Gordon Hempton says in this 2010 interview in The Sun magazine: “…the wildlife wouldn’t miss us if we didn’t visit. But the reality is that experiencing wilderness increases the chance that we will preserve it.”

Women at the end of the world have been getting more attention lately due mostly to publicized cases of sexual harassment and assault on research bases — and here’s hoping the focus on these women in science will soon shift to the amazing work they’re doing.

As this article points out, women’s work in Antarctica is recent — the continent was first sighted in 1820, and the women who arrived in the early 1900s were accompanying their husbands (check out the book Polar Wives to learn about the wives of famous Antarctic explorers, like Kathleen Scott and Emily Shackleton). It wasn’t until the middle of the century that women traveled to Antarctica to explore and research on their own. The continent was still primarily male dominated even when an all-women team worked there in 1969.

As Chilean biologist Dr Leyla Cárdenas, who’s been traveling to Antarctica for thirteen years, says in this article, work in Antarctica has long been “defined by gender roles.”

It’s inspiring to see more women engaged in polar studies, and perhaps now that efforts are being made to address sexism and harassment, more women will work and thrive in Antarctica, as they already are.

One of my favorite Antarctic stories, though fictional, celebrates women in an extraordinary way: Ursula K. Le Guin’s short story “Sur” is about an expedition to the South Pole by a group of South American women — the first humans to reach the South Pole, and the only ones who know it.

When My Last Continent was first published (hardcover in 2016 and paperback in 2017), I found myself answering a lot of questions about Antarctic tourism. Is it ethical to visit this fragile place? What sorts of harm are travelers doing to the environment? Are visitors hurting the penguins’ chance at survival?

My answer, six and seven years ago, was that travel was the least of the penguins’ problems. These incredible birds are being profoundly affected by climate change and overfishing; the best way to help penguins, I used to say, is to stop eating seafood (especially krill) and to fight for climate protections and marine protected areas. Back then, the number of visitors to Antarctica was not enough to harm penguins directly — especially when considering the emotional impact a visit to this beautiful continent can have. I like to think that most people who see penguins in the wild will begin to devote at least part of their lives to protecting them, whether it’s making changes to prevent global warming or to eat less seafood, or none.

But things have changed quite a lot in the last few years. When I went to Antarctica in 2004, there were about 20,000 tourists a year visiting the continent. By the time My Last Continent was published, that number had doubled. Now, the 2022-23 season expects to see more than 100,000 tourists in Antarctica. That is mind-boggling — and seems to be a sign we’ve reached the tipping point at which Antarctic travel can no longer be sustainable.

There are many reasons why 100,000 waterproof boots on the continent are too many: pollution in the Southern Ocean, possible disruptions to penguins’ breeding cycles, the introduction of foreign objects and viruses — and this article highlights something many of us may not even think of — the effects of marine noise for the underwater animals in Antarctica:

Most of the thousands of scientists and support staff who sail to continental Antarctica every summer smash into the Southern Ocean on ice-cutting hulls.
Their engines boom. Their machinery rumbles. Their propellers clatter and hiss from cavitating, collapsing bubbles.

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The results of this noise “can cause immediate injury or even mortality” to such tiny animals as krill, which penguins and whales rely on for food. But underwater noise also causes stress to whales and other marine animals. The impacts of noise include “miscarriages; injury; disease; vulnerability to predation; changes in appetite; disrupted mother-calf bonds; panic; anxiety; and confusion.”

Of course, fishing boats also cause noise — and we need to limit their presence in the Southern Ocean as well — and scientific vessels are important and often necessary. But each of us can have an impact by considering why and how we travel. Given the animal lives at stake, is it really worth it?

Antarctica is among my favorite places on the planet, and I feel fortunate to have been able to travel there. But I would not make the same decision to travel to Antarctica as I did nearly twenty years ago. I’d like to see other humans discover the magic of this amazing continent — but the trouble is, the magic will be gone if we travel in numbers too great for the animals, and the environment, to handle.