Plastic Discs Keep Returning home
UAF’s Ben Jones with a plastic disc researchers released on northern sea ice forty summers ago. A pilot working with Jones found it in August 2019, not far from where it was released.
Forty years later, another plastic canary has come home to roost.
In August, UAF scientist Ben Jones was hiking near Drew Point on the northern coast of Alaska. He noticed pilot Jim Webster walking toward him, while flicking a little yellow frisbee his way.
That yellow plastic disc, about seven inches round, had a message stamped on it: If the finder returned it to the Geophysical Institute at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, he or she would receive a $1 reward.
After his field season ended and he accomplished more pressing tasks, last week Jones carried the plastic disc back to the Geophysical Institute. He wanted the backstory more than the dollar.
The story of the disc goes back to the late 1970s, when oceanographer Brian Matthews released more than 1,500 of the discs on and sometimes through a hole beneath the sea ice that hugged the north coast of Alaska around Prudhoe Bay. Matthews hoped the drifting discs would show the possible pathways of oil spilled on or beneath the ice.
Matthews and his crews retrieved many on a helicopter mission a few seasons after they released the discs, but they did not find most of them.
Over the years, scientists and oilfield workers have returned a few they found on northern Alaska beaches to the Fairbanks campus home of the Geophysical Institute. The current record for long-distance travel went to a disc that two brothers found while playing on a beach in northern Scotland.
In August, pilot Jim Webster of Webster’s Flying Service in Fairbanks found a forty-year-old plastic disc released in 1979 to determine the fate of oil spilled in northern Alaska.
Oceanographer Tom Weingartner figured that yellow drifter had hitched a ride on an ice floe and sailed north. It then—for more than a decade—spun in a current known as the Beaufort Gyre near the North Pole. Eventually, the ice raft made it through Fram Strait. The ice melted, but the disc floated on, riding the North Atlantic drift, to the Outer Hebrides beach where the boys found it in 1997.
Back then, when the internet was becoming quite useful, the boys contacted someone at the Geophysical Institute. Matthews’ study was long since over (he wrote that his results suggested that oil spilled under ice in winter would tend to move toward the shore), but Roberta Greenlee of the Geophysical Institute sent the Scottish brothers an American dollar.
Just because the study is finished does not mean the plastic is. The disc Ben Jones carried in has weathered forty arctic winters. It lasted much longer than the numbered oranges a scientist threw on the ice during a similar, unsuccessful experiment in 1972. Jones’ yellow plastic disc does not look much different than when Matthews released it on the pack ice in 1979.
Drew Point, Alaska, has been losing much acreage to the sea in the past few decades.
The same cannot be said for the northern Alaska coast where the pilot found the disc. Jones and his colleagues have studied Drew Point for the past decade or so, watching colossal frozen chunks of tundra fall into the sea. In the most drastic year they measured, 2016, the sea consumed an average of seventy-two feet of a 5.5-mile stretch of coast around Drew Point.
Though Jones posed for a photo with the disc, he still has possession of the object that was dropped onto the ice the year he was born. He was happy to solve the mystery of where it came from but is holding out on its return.
“Accounting for inflation, if the disc was deployed in 1979 with a stated award of $1, in today’s market the equivalent reward would be about $3.46,” he wrote in an email.
In This Issue
The Marx Bros. Café
Jack Amon and Richard “Van” Hale opened the doors of the Marx Bros. Café on October 18, 1979; however, the two had already been partners in cuisine for some time, having created the Wednesday Night Gourmet Wine Tasting Society and Volleyball Team Which Now Meets on Sunday, a weekly evening of food and wine. It was actually the end of the weekly event that spurred the name of the restaurant: hours after its final service, Amon and Hale were hauling equipment and furnishings out of their old location and to their now-iconic building on Third Street, all while managing arguments about equipment ownership, a visit from the police, and quite a bit of wine. “If you’ve ever seen the movie ‘A Night at the Opera” starring the Marx Brothers, that’s what it was like,” Hale explains.