Beyond Baltimore: Summer Camp on the Gulf

The dawning summer sun is barely peeking over the horizon when a group of Henry Hall Summer Scholars and National Aquarium educators meet at Baltimore/Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport. Despite the tired eyes, there's an air of excitement. In just a few hours, they'll touch down in New Orleans. From there, it's on to Dauphin Island, Alabama, a barrier island at the mouth of Mobile Bay. Here, they'll spend the week immersed in marine science and technology, learning from educators at the Dauphin Island Sea Lab (DISL), the state's marine research and education center.

"Staying on a barrier island sounds amazing, and I'm interested in seeing how DISL conducts research. Having never been to the Gulf of Mexico, I would love to go and hope I get picked." – Emil, a rising seventh grader, prior to being accepted

It's the first time a Summer Scholars camp has visited Alabama, although Henry Hall programs have broadened students' horizons for years. Named for Baltimore engineer, aquarist and philanthropist Henry Hall, the Henry Hall Endowment Fund has provided free educational opportunities for Baltimore City Public Schools students since 1982. Since the start of Summer Scholars, students entering grades 5 through 12 have applied for the chance to travel and learn about marine science. For this camp, 17 rising seventh through ninth graders were selected to travel to Dauphin Island for a week in August.

Day One: Touching Down in the Marine Tree of Life

Between the flight and drive, the campers have a lot of pent-up energy by the time they stroll into their DISL classroom. Thankfully, a lecture isn't what Greg Graeber, their DISL educator this evening, has in store for them. The campers are greeted instead by dozens of preserved marine creatures arranged along the lab benches. Some kids squeal with delight and curiosity (and a few with disgust) as they drop into their first lesson exploring the marine tree of life. Some, like Alexandra, Anslee and Giovanna, look like they've been bitten by the biology bug as they poke and prod at everything from hagfish (jawless, primitive fish) specimens to sea turtle shells.

Moving about the room, the students note the similarities and differences between groups of organisms. Greg asks the campers why there are clams, snail shells and an octopus together on the same table. They must be related in some way—after all, they wouldn't have been arranged this way if they weren't. Observing external differences won't solve this riddle, so the benches are cleared, and specimens are replaced with freshly caught longfin squid. They'll be taking a closer look inside via dissection. Carefully, they systematically take their squid apart using only their fingers and a few blunt probes. It isn't long before they stumble on the gladius (or pen), the squid's transparent, internal shell—evolutionary evidence tying these tentacled animals and their relatives to clams, snails and other mollusks.

Day Two: Exploring Above and Below the Waves

The research vessel, R/V Alabama Discovery, pitches gently in the waves as it heads for the mouth of Mobile Bay. The morning's task? Deploying a few midwater trawls to sample species living in the bay and Gulf of Mexico this time of year. The leg to the first sampling spot is interrupted by a shout: "Dolphin! Dolphins! Right behind us!" Colin, one of the campers standing on the upper deck, has spotted the telltale grey dorsal fins emerging from the water. Before long, everyone moves to the railing, craning their necks to see where the mammals will surface next. A small pod hops through the vessel's wake for a few minutes—likely searching for fish—before disappearing. It's a moment that puts a smile on every face.

Shortly afterward, the trawling begins in earnest. Shipmates deploy and retrieve the net, dropping a writhing mass of what turns out to be Spanish mackerel, cutlass fish, lookdowns, blue crab and squid into a wet table's shallow basin, ready for sorting. Pelicans and laughing gulls flock overhead in anticipation of a potential meal. The kids reach in with little hesitation as Dr. Tina Miller-Way, their DISL educator today, points out the species' characteristics. It's a realistic look at how marine science has been done for decades and an immersive experience beyond textbook lessons and videos.

Connecting with marine ecosystems has always been challenging. As land-dwelling creatures, water is a barrier for humans—even scuba diving has limitations. So back at the lab, the campers spend the afternoon testing ways people are breaking that barrier. In this case, they're getting thrown into the metaphorical deep end, diving into the world of remotely operated vehicles (ROVs).

Faced with buckets of cut PVC tubes, pool noodles, electrical cables and underwater thrusters, they break into teams. Their goal? Design a rig that doesn't sink or float too much and can race around DISL's pool to collect objects from various depths. It doesn't take them long to realize that engineering things to work in a marine environment is really hard! By sunset, the competition is on, and six ROVs glide and sputter around the pool. Tense minutes tick by, marked by shouts of encouragement and groans of dismay. The timer sounds. A cheer erupts: Johanna, Johns and Valerie stand victorious beside the pile of rings they've collected with their ROV.

Day Three: Beachcombing for Trash

The campers return to the classroom in the early morning. They may be in Alabama, but the day's first lesson shows how similar Mobile Bay's struggles are to those of the Chesapeake. As the nation's fourth-largest estuary, Mobile Bay copes with everything from fertilizer runoff to sediment and plastic pollution. It's a familiar story to the campers, who immediately draw comparisons to their hometown's Inner Harbor.

Just because these are big issues doesn't mean that small contributions can't help solve them—so it's off to the beach to collect, tally and clean up trash! First, it's a bottle here, a candy wrapper there. Then, the kids start looking closer. Fabric strips, aluminum cans, broken bits of plastic. Some items aren't yet sun-bleached, their bright colors standing out against the white sand. Others blend right in. Refrains of "Found another one!" drift along the beach as Alexx, Delancey, Lucy and Samuel excel at finding the most common item: old cigarette filters. By the end of the cleanup, they've collected dozens. The campers' efforts don't go unnoticed either, with locals stopping to thank them.

"It may seem like, 'what can one person do that can actually make a difference?' But if everyone does one thing to stop pollution, it could change the world." – Freya, rising seventh grader

With the afternoon sun beating down, everyone retreats indoors, first to the Alabama Aquarium, then to relax around the DISL campus. Of course, summer camp wouldn't be complete without games. A number brave the heat in favor of some volleyball or frisbee, but don't last long. Abandoning any sports, the crew instead opts for raucous rounds of card games while a few break away to read. During the slightly cooler evening, the group ventures outside once more to tour the island with Greg and walk through a maritime forest.

Day Four: Rising Water Levels and Sinking Plankton

As it turns out, walking through the maritime forest was a prelude to their first lesson of the morning. Kyle Halstead, their instructor today, starts off by covering three heavy-hitting topics: climate change, sea level rise and coastal erosion.

Barrier islands bear the brunt of wind and waves, sapping energy from damaging storms and protecting the mainland. Dauphin Island is no exception, but as the campers saw, it has two distinct halves. Homes on the eastern half are sheltered, tucked away among trees and protected by a 35-foot dune. The western half stands relatively exposed, its dunes having been stripped away by Hurricanes Ivan and Katrina over 20 years ago. Aside from being more vulnerable to storm damage, the western part is also more susceptible to flooding as sea levels rise.

With a handful of crafting supplies (plastic containers, play dough and straws), heat lamps, thermometers, water and some ice cubes, Kyle has the crew test how water reacts to increasing temperature. While the group waits for ice cubes to melt and water to warm, he shows them National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration models of how Dauphin Island could be affected in the future. The maps are stark reminders of how much could be lost.

"Can we see Baltimore?" the kids ask. It strikes home in more ways than one when they spot familiar streets and neighborhoods predicted to flood routinely. The models aren't merely numbers anymore. They are faces and places, not just of friends and areas of the Chesapeake, but of this island and its residents, too. More importantly, though, the models are also not set in stone. They reflect scenarios that can be influenced by curbing greenhouse gas emissions, restoring living shorelines and wetlands, and pushing for climate action.

As the day draws to a close, Kyle switches topics and challenges the campers to one last engineering task. This time, it's a race to be the slowest, not the fastest. Drawing inspiration from some freshly sampled plankton (organisms well adapted to keeping themselves near the ocean's surface), the teams make models that should sink through the water column at a measured pace. Teams drop their models in a clear PVC pipe, timing them one by one. Twenty seconds ... 18 seconds ... 14 seconds. One group contends with a stubborn model that sank in their test pool but now refuses. Nobody, though, is prepared for the final team's entry. Julian, Margaret and Sam gather around the tube to lower their ladybug-looking model into the water. At first, it doesn't appear to move. Then, almost imperceptibly, it begins to sink at a glacial pace. It crosses the finish line nearly 12 minutes later to much celebration.

Lasting Impressions

The last day arrives sooner than expected. By 8:30 a.m., the campers and Aquarium staff have piled into the vans, bid farewell to DISL, and are headed for New Orleans ahead of their flight home. There, along the shores of Lake Pontchartrain, they take a moment to reflect on the week.

"Henry Hall Summer Scholars has impacted me so much and shown me so many extremely amazing things about the underwater world." – Nora, rising seventh grader

For some, it's that giddy feeling when holding a wriggling fish; for others, it's knowing their environmental actions can make a difference. And some found new value in trial and error, learning lessons in teamwork and troubleshooting.

The kids also mention another type of lasting impression: making new friends. And how could they not? Between the daily excursions, lectures and meals, there were hours of conversations filled with laughter, silly games and goofing off. This week was their time, their shared experience. It will stay with them long after they touch down in Baltimore. Yes, they've connected with nature and the ocean. Perhaps more importantly, though, they've connected with one another.