On the move with Mango and orange

Thrilled to be part of the summer colour pop in Mango’s Juice magazine.

Juice magazine is the monthly in-flight publication for Mango, one of South Africa’s low-cost airlines.
Juice is a lifestyle and travel magazine packed with information that celebrates South Africa, from travel and local events to design, food, wine, destinations and business, along with inspirational interviews and great reads.

mango juice

If the ocean is broken, could you fix it?

Funnel WebIt broke my heart to read the article by seaman Ivan Macfadyen. None of the information was new to me. I’d read it before. I’d done the calculations. I knew what the ratio of plastic was to plankton in the ocean. I knew how many pieces of plastic there were per square kilometre. I knew how many albatross chicks had died starving on plastic. I knew how many turtles were strangled by stray pieces of plastic. But even knowing all this information, it doesn’t ever take away the nausea it brings to my belly and the tears it brings to my eyes whenever I read it again.

The ocean is a victim of our lifestyles. We may want to point fingers at governments and corporations. Indeed it makes us feel avenged. It makes it someone else’s problem. It makes us unaccountable. It makes us feel better. ‘They’ should be doing something about it! Let’s create a movement, a march, a rebellion against ‘them’. It’s not about us. We know better. We love the planet.

But every straw we use, every sparkly cold soft drink we drink out of its conveniently packaged plastic bottle, every individually packaged convenience we fill our lives with, every cool but unnecessary upgrade we hanker for, every fad we buy into, EVERY THING WE THROW AWAY has a really great chance of ending in that ocean we love so dearly.

The answer, my friend, is: “How much do I throw away???”

This is Ivan Macfadyen’s story:

IT was the silence that made this voyage different from all of those before it.
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Not the absence of sound, exactly.

The wind still whipped the sails and whistled in the rigging. The waves still sloshed against the fibreglass hull.

And there were plenty of other noises: muffled thuds and bumps and scrapes as the boat knocked against pieces of debris.

What was missing was the cries of the seabirds which, on all previous similar voyages, had surrounded the boat.

The birds were missing because the fish were missing.

Exactly 10 years before, when Newcastle yachtsman Ivan Macfadyen had sailed exactly the same course from Melbourne to Osaka, all he’d had to do to catch a fish from the ocean between Brisbane and Japan was throw out a baited line.

“There was not one of the 28 days on that portion of the trip when we didn’t catch a good-sized fish to cook up and eat with some rice,” Macfadyen recalled.

But this time, on that whole long leg of sea journey, the total catch was two.

No fish. No birds. Hardly a sign of life at all.

“In years gone by I’d gotten used to all the birds and their noises,” he said.

“They’d be following the boat, sometimes resting on the mast before taking off again. You’d see flocks of them wheeling over the surface of the sea in the distance, feeding on pilchards.”

But in March and April this year, only silence and desolation surrounded his boat, Funnel Web, as it sped across the surface of a haunted ocean.

North of the equator, up above New Guinea, the ocean-racers saw a big fishing boat working a reef in the distance.

“All day it was there, trawling back and forth. It was a big ship, like a mother-ship,” he said.

And all night it worked too, under bright floodlights. And in the morning Macfadyen was awoken by his crewman calling out, urgently, that the ship had launched a speedboat.

“Obviously I was worried. We were unarmed and pirates are a real worry in those waters. I thought, if these guys had weapons then we were in deep trouble.”

But they weren’t pirates, not in the conventional sense, at least. The speedboat came alongside and the Melanesian men aboard offered gifts of fruit and jars of jam and preserves.

“And they gave us five big sugar-bags full of fish,” he said.

“They were good, big fish, of all kinds. Some were fresh, but others had obviously been in the sun for a while.

“We told them there was no way we could possibly use all those fish. There were just two of us, with no real place to store or keep them. They just shrugged and told us to tip them overboard. That’s what they would have done with them anyway, they said.

“They told us that his was just a small fraction of one day’s by-catch. That they were only interested in tuna and to them, everything else was rubbish. It was all killed, all dumped. They just trawled that reef day and night and stripped it of every living thing.”

Macfadyen felt sick to his heart. That was one fishing boat among countless more working unseen beyond the horizon, many of them doing exactly the same thing.

No wonder the sea was dead. No wonder his baited lines caught nothing. There was nothing to catch.

If that sounds depressing, it only got worse.

The next leg of the long voyage was from Osaka to San Francisco and for most of that trip the desolation was tinged with nauseous horror and a degree of fear.

“After we left Japan, it felt as if the ocean itself was dead,” Macfadyen said.

“We hardly saw any living things. We saw one whale, sort of rolling helplessly on the surface with what looked like a big tumour on its head. It was pretty sickening.

“I’ve done a lot of miles on the ocean in my life and I’m used to seeing turtles, dolphins, sharks and big flurries of feeding birds. But this time, for 3000 nautical miles there was nothing alive to be seen.”

In place of the missing life was garbage in astounding volumes.

“Part of it was the aftermath of the tsunami that hit Japan a couple of years ago. The wave came in over the land, picked up an unbelievable load of stuff and carried it out to sea. And it’s still out there, everywhere you look.”

Ivan’s brother, Glenn, who boarded at Hawaii for the run into the United States, marvelled at the “thousands on thousands” of yellow plastic buoys. The huge tangles of synthetic rope, fishing lines and nets. Pieces of polystyrene foam by the million. And slicks of oil and petrol, everywhere.

Countless hundreds of wooden power poles are out there, snapped off by the killer wave and still trailing their wires in the middle of the sea.

“In years gone by, when you were becalmed by lack of wind, you’d just start your engine and motor on,” Ivan said.

Not this time.

“In a lot of places we couldn’t start our motor for fear of entangling the propeller in the mass of pieces of rope and cable. That’s an unheard of situation, out in the ocean.

“If we did decide to motor we couldn’t do it at night, only in the daytime with a lookout on the bow, watching for rubbish.

“On the bow, in the waters above Hawaii, you could see right down into the depths. I could see that the debris isn’t just on the surface, it’s all the way down. And it’s all sizes, from a soft-drink bottle to pieces the size of a big car or truck.

“We saw a factory chimney sticking out of the water, with some kind of boiler thing still attached below the surface. We saw a big container-type thing, just rolling over and over on the waves.

“We were weaving around these pieces of debris. It was like sailing through a garbage tip.

“Below decks you were constantly hearing things hitting against the hull, and you were constantly afraid of hitting something really big. As it was, the hull was scratched and dented all over the place from bits and pieces we never saw.”

Plastic was ubiquitous. Bottles, bags and every kind of throwaway domestic item you can imagine, from broken chairs to dustpans, toys and utensils.

And something else. The boat’s vivid yellow paint job, never faded by sun or sea in years gone past, reacted with something in the water off Japan, losing its sheen in a strange and unprecedented way.

BACK in Newcastle, Ivan Macfadyen is still coming to terms with the shock and horror of the voyage.

“The ocean is broken,” he said, shaking his head in stunned disbelief.

Recognising the problem is vast, and that no organisations or governments appear to have a particular interest in doing anything about it, Macfadyen is looking for ideas.

He plans to lobby government ministers, hoping they might help.

More immediately, he will approach the organisers of Australia’s major ocean races, trying to enlist yachties into an international scheme that uses volunteer yachtsmen to monitor debris and marine life.

Macfadyen signed up to this scheme while he was in the US, responding to an approach by US academics who asked yachties to fill in daily survey forms and collect samples for radiation testing – a significant concern in the wake of the tsunami and consequent nuclear power station failure in Japan.
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“I asked them why don’t we push for a fleet to go and clean up the mess,” he said.

“But they said they’d calculated that the environmental damage from burning the fuel to do that job would be worse than just leaving the debris there.”

From an article in the Newcastle Herald

The bucket list of a 4-year old

Screen Shot 2013-08-06 at 1.56.42 PMIt’s a sad reality that a 4-year old could need a bucket list. I guess we all have things we want to do. Places we want to go. Experiences we want to share. Lives we want to live.

This promotional video created by DDB New York for Water is Life is a stark reminder that achieving our dreams is more a reality for some of us than it is for other.

Care a little

Cheers to Woody Harrelson

This is a poem by poet and activist Woody Harrelson. It talks about the world we have created for ourselves. This is the news today. It is what is created. It is our attitude towards it. It is our apathy as we let it wash over us. 25carr600

Woody poses the question: Can you imagine clean water, food, and air living in community with animals and people who care?

How far have we dipped the scale to be beyond caring? Is there room to shift, to regain the balance? Would you be part of that?

Woody, we’ll be seeing you around!

I sometimes feel like an alien creature
for which there is no earthly explanation
Sure I have human form
walking erect and opposing digits,
but my mind is upside down.
I feel like a run-on sentence
in a punctuation crazy world.
and I see the world around me
like a mad collective dream.

An endless stream of people
move like ants from the freeway
cell phones, pc’s, and digital displays
“In Money We Trust,”
we’ll find happiness
the prevailing attitude;
like a genetically modified irradiated Big Mac
is somehow symbolic of food.

Morality is legislated
prisons over-populated
religion is incorporated
the profit-motive has permeated all activity
we pay our government to let us park on the street
And war is the biggest money-maker of all
we all know missile envy only comes from being small.

Politicians and prostitutes
are comfortable together
I wonder if they talk about the strange change in the weather.
This government was founded by, of, and for the people
but everybody feels it
like a giant open sore
they don’t represent us anymore
And blaming the President for the country’s woes
is like yelling at a puppet
for the way it sings
Who’s the man behind the curtain pulling the strings?

A billion people sitting watching their TV
in the room that they call living
but as for me
I see living as loving
and since there is no loving room
I sit on the grass under a tree
dreaming of the way things used to be
Pre-Industrial Revolution
which of course is before the rivers and oceans, and skies were polluted
before Parkinson’s, and mad cows
and all the convoluted cacophony of bad ideas
like skyscrapers, and tree paper, and earth rapers
like Monsanto and Dupont had their way
as they continue to today.

This was Pre-us
back when the buffalo roamed
and the Indian’s home
was the forest, and God was nature
and heaven was here and now
Can you imagine clean water, food, and air
living in community with animals and people who care?

Do you dare to feel responsible for every dollar you lay down
are you going to make the rich man richer
or are you going to stand your ground
You say you want a revolution
a communal evolution
to be a part of the solution
maybe I’ll be seeing you around.

Still waters run deep

We love it when our fans send in pics of where they’ve take their Mawu on holiday. We think this Mawu particularly enjoyed its holiday in the Greek Islands….

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Out and about – steeples and crescents

The little dorp (village) of Goedverwacht – where colourful fruit trees and gardens line the main road through town – lies around the back side of the Piketberg Mountain with a river running through it. It’s like something out of Eden. The “townsquare” an enormous vegetable patch. And the old missionary church steeple standing sentry.

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It was the Snoek en Pataat Fees. The annual highlight of the town. Shiny SUVs and clapped out Datsuns moved in in droves. Psychadelic leisure wear and the Rastafarian tricolore echoed the radiance of the flora and the fare. Barrows of veggies and pots of corn cobs hinted at the verdure of the location.

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Candyfloss and koeksisters sent the children running wild. And the queue for the snoek-en-pataat wrapped it all up like a great big gift. This was country at its best.

Nothing can beat the taste of traditional Western Cape apricot jam-grilled fresh Atlantic snoek with a great big roasted sweet potato and a chunk of fire-baked bread. “Want dis lekker!” called out the T-shirts of festival staff. And nothing beats washing it down with fresh, ice cold mountain water. Of course a beer could do the trick too…..

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With a belly full of local fare, it was time to tackle the fynbos and rhenosterveld to climb a summit that was rarely summited. It was the search for the perfect view. Kitted up with as little excess baggage as possible (a few Mawu aquasacs really does the trick), we headed into the unknown.


Weaving our way through the dormant fruit orchards, we made it half way up with relative ease. Perhaps a wheeze or two carrying the extra lunchtime load…..


Then it was time to veer of the path. What looked like knee-height bushel quickly grew to head-height and protea branch face-lashings became common-place. It was great to be part of the bush. It was like a big bear-hug from an old uncle, rich with its own peculiar scent.


Nature even gave us a peak into her jewelry box with a couple of real natural gems.

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There’s something about getting to the top. It can never be underestimated how beautiful the view can be from up there. And this was no disappointment. Valleys of green holding on to a really big blue sky. Perfectly linear fruit orchards chopped into the earth, row upon row. And beyond it all, way beyond, we could just make out the ocean. They say on a perfectly clear day you can even see Table Mountain.

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This is what Sam had to say

Samantha Keller from Connecticut, USA, sent us a pic and a piece on her Mawu.

“Rocking the Long Island Sound at Weed Beach, Darien CT yesterday . Kept the water beautifully cool on a very hot day! 90 degrees it was – about 33C.”

sam on Long Island Sound

Recycling a pair of old jeans

We’ve had a lot of fun recently exploring different ways to make a Mawu Aquasac! The cool thing about the aquasac is that there is as much potential for carrying your water as there is for carrying, well, anything else. Because we’re not limited by the confinements of plastic, aluminium or glass, we can be as creative as our imagination allows us.

We’ve always love the concept of upcycling. Upcycling increases the lifespan of a product, reduces the use of material, and saves on the cost of recycling. And nothing beats the effects of converting an old pair of jeans into something else, and that can’t be achieved if you cut from fabric by the yard. Recycling jeans into new looks creates a fab statement about personal style and freedom. Presidents and prime ministers wear it, yet it’s still a rebel fabric, a badge of workers. A totem of anti-establishment cool, denim is the most democratic of fabrics.

And denim can hold its own against the usual suspects in terms of meeting the basic functional requirements of insulation.

With many people becoming more apprised of what they consume and how they dispose of it, why not convert your old pair of favourites into the walking, talking, hiking, styling, surfing, sailing, beaching, birding, golfing, gaming, exploring accessory for the conscious generation.

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Collaborating for a brighter future

It’s always been a dream to collaborate with artists and designers to create the most beautiful way to carry our most precious resource. Think about it, we spend squillions on phone holsters, tablet sleeves and laptop cases. Yes, there is certainly value in our technology crutches. But can we ever really compare the value of a piece of computer equipment that is becoming increasingly transient, to the value of the very giver of life? What’s the price tag you would attach to the source of all things living – past, present and, increasingly importantly, future?

We believe the value is priceless!

And we want to create a way to carry and consume water that is becoming to something that is so precious and important.

Our latest find are the beautiful designs of Leila Fanner. Check out her website and blog on http://www.issimyafrika.com/.

We can particularly see designs like these ones glamourising our Mawu Aquasacs.

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