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Merrily we bring microplastics into the wilderness with our hiking shoes, study shows

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Monday, October 13, 2025

Hiking shoes and outdoor gear are likely a significant source of microplastic pollution in the wilderness, new research that checked for the pernicious material in several Adirondack mountain lakes in upstate New York suggests.Researchers measured microplastic levels in two lakes that are the among highest sources of water for the Hudson River – one that sees heavy foot traffic from hikers, and another lake that is far away from a path and rarely touched by human activity.The samples from the lake that sees heavier foot traffic showed levels that were about 23 times higher.Soft-soled trail shoes and synthetic clothing “appear to be significant contributors to microplastics finding their way into these remote, otherwise pristine waters”, said Tim Keyes, a Sacred Heart University data scientist, who independently worked on the project with his company, Evergreen Business Analytics, and the Adirondack Hamlet to Huts non-profit.Microplastics are tiny bits of plastic either intentionally added to consumer goods, or which are products of larger plastics breaking down. The particles may contain any number of 16,000 plastic chemicals, of which many, such as BPA, phthalates and Pfas, present serious health risks.The substance has been found throughout the human body, and can cross the placental and brain barriers. Among other issues, microplastics are linked to chronic pulmonary inflammation, which can lead to lung cancer.Previous research found that as much as 70% of microplastics in ocean samples were from apparel. Meanwhile, the substance has been found in clouds and in precipitation samples.Keyes in 2023 sampled for microplastics in Lake Tear of the Clouds, which sits at about 4,300ft (1,300 meters). It sees heavy hiker traffic because it is adjacent to a trail segment that is part of several larger trails.Keyes sent the sample to an independent lab that found 9.45 particles per milliliter (mL). Because the area only had hiker traffic, “it was surmised that microplastic pollution was being brought to the area largely by airborne deposition”, the authors wrote, meaning primarily via precipitation.Now they suspect they were wrong. The authors returned two years later in early 2025 to sample Lake Tear, as well as Moss Pond, which the paper describes as “a remote, trailless body of water” at a similar elevation.The independent lab detected about 0.73 particles per mL in Moss Pond, and about 16.54 particles per mL in Lake Tear – a roughly 23-fold difference that suggests the hiker traffic is playing a major role. Lightweight trail shoes can shed microplastics similar to tires, which are another source of pollution, Keyes said.“It’s a pretty clear indication given the stark difference in microplastic levels between the sister body of water that’s a bushwack away compared to Lake Tear, which is on this thoroughfare for hikers that sees tens of thousands of people annually,” Keyes said.Sami Romanick, a microplastics researcher with the Environmental Working Group non-profit who was not involved with the study, said the research’s methodology and design were sound. She agreed with the conclusion that the contamination was likely caused by hiking gear.“It’s a reasonable explanation that’s supported by the data,” Romanick said.The authors say the findings are meant to generate awareness and underscore why industry should produce clothing and shoes that will shed fewer microplastics. Hikers should consider wearing hard-rubber-sole shoes that release less plastic compared with soft soles, and wear synthetic fiber clothing underneath those made with natural fibers.

Research comparing Adirondack mountain lakes in New York suggests foot traffic is significant source of pollutionHiking shoes and outdoor gear are likely a significant source of microplastic pollution in the wilderness, new research that checked for the pernicious material in several Adirondack mountain lakes in upstate New York suggests.Researchers measured microplastic levels in two lakes that are the among highest sources of water for the Hudson River – one that sees heavy foot traffic from hikers, and another lake that is far away from a path and rarely touched by human activity. Continue reading...

Hiking shoes and outdoor gear are likely a significant source of microplastic pollution in the wilderness, new research that checked for the pernicious material in several Adirondack mountain lakes in upstate New York suggests.

Researchers measured microplastic levels in two lakes that are the among highest sources of water for the Hudson River – one that sees heavy foot traffic from hikers, and another lake that is far away from a path and rarely touched by human activity.

The samples from the lake that sees heavier foot traffic showed levels that were about 23 times higher.

Soft-soled trail shoes and synthetic clothing “appear to be significant contributors to microplastics finding their way into these remote, otherwise pristine waters”, said Tim Keyes, a Sacred Heart University data scientist, who independently worked on the project with his company, Evergreen Business Analytics, and the Adirondack Hamlet to Huts non-profit.

Microplastics are tiny bits of plastic either intentionally added to consumer goods, or which are products of larger plastics breaking down. The particles may contain any number of 16,000 plastic chemicals, of which many, such as BPA, phthalates and Pfas, present serious health risks.

The substance has been found throughout the human body, and can cross the placental and brain barriers. Among other issues, microplastics are linked to chronic pulmonary inflammation, which can lead to lung cancer.

Previous research found that as much as 70% of microplastics in ocean samples were from apparel. Meanwhile, the substance has been found in clouds and in precipitation samples.

Keyes in 2023 sampled for microplastics in Lake Tear of the Clouds, which sits at about 4,300ft (1,300 meters). It sees heavy hiker traffic because it is adjacent to a trail segment that is part of several larger trails.

Keyes sent the sample to an independent lab that found 9.45 particles per milliliter (mL). Because the area only had hiker traffic, “it was surmised that microplastic pollution was being brought to the area largely by airborne deposition”, the authors wrote, meaning primarily via precipitation.

Now they suspect they were wrong. The authors returned two years later in early 2025 to sample Lake Tear, as well as Moss Pond, which the paper describes as “a remote, trailless body of water” at a similar elevation.

The independent lab detected about 0.73 particles per mL in Moss Pond, and about 16.54 particles per mL in Lake Tear – a roughly 23-fold difference that suggests the hiker traffic is playing a major role. Lightweight trail shoes can shed microplastics similar to tires, which are another source of pollution, Keyes said.

“It’s a pretty clear indication given the stark difference in microplastic levels between the sister body of water that’s a bushwack away compared to Lake Tear, which is on this thoroughfare for hikers that sees tens of thousands of people annually,” Keyes said.

Sami Romanick, a microplastics researcher with the Environmental Working Group non-profit who was not involved with the study, said the research’s methodology and design were sound. She agreed with the conclusion that the contamination was likely caused by hiking gear.

“It’s a reasonable explanation that’s supported by the data,” Romanick said.

The authors say the findings are meant to generate awareness and underscore why industry should produce clothing and shoes that will shed fewer microplastics. Hikers should consider wearing hard-rubber-sole shoes that release less plastic compared with soft soles, and wear synthetic fiber clothing underneath those made with natural fibers.

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

The Whispers of Rock is a personal journey through aeons of geology

In her new book, earth scientist Anjana Khatwa writes a love letter to Earth's rocks and mountains, offering a passionate blend of science and spirituality

The rocks of the Jurassic Coast in the UK span 185 million yearsJames Osmond/Alamy The Whispers of RockAnjana Khatwa, The Bridge Street Press (UK); Basic Books (US, out 4 November) IT IS easy to take rocks for granted. How often do we think about the materials that make up the pavements we walk on, or the origins of the pebbles we pick up while sitting at the beach? And how often do we realise the importance of geology when it comes to nature writing and the hard-hitting conversations now happening about our warming world? Any action concerning climate change and the future of our planet needs to incorporate how we interact with the components that make up our world. How fortunate, then, that we can gain such an understanding from earth scientist Anjana Khatwa and her new book, The Whispers of Rock: Stories from the Earth. Billed as an “exhilarating journey through deep time”, it is a love letter written with such passion that you can’t help but be moved. Khatwa has devoted much of her life to spreading the gospel of geology, and here she offers clinical, scientific substance to back up her extraordinary depth of feeling. Throughout the book, she is methodical in her explanations of subjects such as how mountains, craters and slate are formed, while also weaving in fascinating details. We learn that the Taj Mahal in India, an iconic symbol of love, was constructed with ivory-white Makrana marble, the origins of which date back to when several primitive land masses collided nearly 2 billion years ago. A recipe incorporating those tectonic movements, cyanobacteria, photosynthesis and calcium carbonate led to the rock used in this extraordinary monument, a much more complex process than might be realised at first glance. Once she has established their scientific foundation, Khatwa brings the stories of rocks and minerals to life – and does so far more sensually than any school geology lesson I can remember. In Petra, Jordan, she pushes the reader to take heed of the negative space where rock has been cut back to form buildings, and the beauty that can emerge in unexpected places. Among sandstone and quartz, the rocks whisper “these patterns you see are the traces of rivers of old”, she writes. These are Khatwa’s friends, and soon these “story keepers of time” become ours too. “ A recipe incorporating tectonic collisions, photosynthesis and more led to the marble used in the Taj Mahal “ Khatwa’s love of rocks emerged as a child, when she walked over solidified lava flows in south-east Kenya. In her book, she takes us with her around the world and across aeons, all the way to her home of 20 years in Dorset, UK, where the Jurassic Coast World Heritage Site and its 185 million years of geological history are her neighbours. On this journey, we come to learn how rocks have shaped her and our world alike. We visit Stonehenge’s massive sarsen stones on Salisbury plain in the UK, uncover the science and mythology of the pounamu greenstones in New Zealand and follow the racial and political history of the Black Belt, a region of dark, fertile soil in the US South that was dominated by cotton plantations, following the forced removal of Indigenous communities. But what makes this book really stand out is Khatwa’s personal touch. She offers us vulnerability, sharing her own experiences of motherhood and faith, while not shying away from the fact that the environmental sector in which she works is one of the least diverse fields in the UK. She describes how she found herself “moulded into a different person by the whiteness of the environments I worked in”, with her cultural and spiritual identity taking second place to her scientific self. This book is a must-read for anyone trying to balance that duality, as well as those who wish to understand it. We cheer Khatwa on as she holds on tight to her rocks and navigates spaces of belonging and unbelonging. The Whispers of Rock is so packed with information that every chapter requires you to step away and process it. Khatwa is also deliberately provocative, admitting from the beginning of the book that its alliance of science and spirituality may cause discomfort and consternation in some readers because it just isn’t what people are used to. But this potentially divisive approach is a catalyst for a truly thought-provoking odyssey. Dhruti Shah is a freelance journalist based in London

Swimming Drone Explores Underwater Mountain in Lake Superior

Filmmakers and researchers are using drones to explore an underwater mountain in Lake Superior

Known to some as the “Freshwater Everest,” if you want to explore this mountain, you don’t go up, you go down.In the middle of Lake Superior, near the boundary between Canadian and US waters, sits the Superior Shoal, a mountain that’s completely underwater. The shoal is about 4 square miles of volcanic rock that rises up from the bottom of the lake to a height nearly three times that of the Statue of Liberty. Its peak wrests about 30 feet below the surface. Now, filmmakers and researchers are exploring it with underwater drones. They want to see if it’s a hotbed for aquatic life that could offer a refuge for species facing obstacles elsewhere in the Great Lakes.“This is an area that has very, very rarely been explored on camera,” said Zach Melnick, a cofounder of Inspired Planet Productions, which he runs with his business partner and wife, Yvonne Drebert. It’s not the only underwater incline in the Great Lakes. Others include Stannard Rock, a reef in Lake Superior north of Marquette; a knoll outside Tobermory, Ontario in Lake Huron; and Midlake Reef in Lake Michigan, between Muskegon and Milwaukee. And it’s not the only “Superior Shoal.” There’s another located in the St. Lawrence River off the shore of New York. But Drebert and Melnick believe the Superior Shoal in Lake Michigan is the largest known underwater mountain in fresh water. Documenting aquatic life with a swimming robot The filmmakers had been curious about lake protrusions after exploring one that appeared to be an outlier of aquatic life while filming their series and related documentary, “ All Too Clear: Beneath the Surface of the Great Lakes.” Those works dive deep into how invasive mussels in the Great Lakes are gobbling up essential nutrients and devastating organisms, from plankton to whitefish.When a researcher they’d worked with in the past, Michael Rennie, got a grant to explore the Superior Shoal, they “sort of begged him,” Melnick said, to let them come along.Rennie is an associate professor at Lakehead University and a research fellow at the International Institute for Sustainable Development-Experimental Lakes Area. Now, with the help of the filmmakers’ cameras, he’s looking into whether the Superior Shoal might be a hotspot for life, which he said is often the case for similar seamounts found in the ocean. What they’re essentially studying, Rennie said, is “how the physics of having this giant mountain in a bunch of water that’s swirling around all the time interacts with things like nutrients, and with the growth of algae, to promote the abundance of fish that we seem to be seeing out there.”Melnick and Drebert are operating special cinema-grade cameras to monitor aquatic life like zooplankton, algae and fish. The drone they use is called a Boxfish Luna and it can go around 1,600 feet deep, about the length of five football fields.“Think of aerial drones, take all that cool technology, and put it in a robot that you’re shoving underwater,” Drebert said. “But our drone is a little bit special because it can swim in any direction, just like a fish.”Usually, it takes a little while for fish to get used to the swimming drone, Melnick said, but fish near the Superior Shoal seemed to be curious.“The trout out there were ultra amenable to being on camera,” he said. At one point, while the team was livestreaming video, they tried to measure fish with two laser points. The fish chased the glowing red dots the same way cats do. They also saw hydra, which are kind of like freshwater anemones, attached to rocks, giving the effect of a garden.“They are little tiny aquatic animals that wave in the wind,” said Drebert. “They use their little hairy tentacles to pull food, like little zooplankton and critters, out of the water.”Rennie said the data collected on the recent trip has not been fully analyzed yet. But, if research shows that the Superior Shoal is a magnet for aquatic life, then maybe it and places like it could serve as refuges for near-shore populations dealing with environmental or human-caused problems.“And, if that’s the case, then I think we’ve got really good arguments to be made for maybe we should think about affording these regions a higher conservation status,” Rennie said. Melnick and Drebert are planning to use footage taken from the Superior Shoal in a documentary they’re developing about lakemounts as well as a wildlife docuseries they’re working on. This story was originally published by Bridge Michigan and distributed through a partnership with The Associated Press.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Sept. 2025

‘We made everything bear-proof’: the Italian village that learned to love its bears

By learning to live with its ursine neighbours, mountainous Pettorano sul Gizio has drawn tourists and new residents, bucking a trend of rural declinePettorano sul Gizio is a medieval mountain town full of alleys, watchful cats and wooden doors locked sometime in the last century. In the lower parts of town, rustic charm turns into abandonment – branches grow out of walls and roofs have fallen in. The only bar closed at Christmas, after the owner died. Some “For Sale” signs have been up so long the phone number is illegible.The town, with its faded ochre and orange hues, is listed as one of Italy’s I Borghi più belli (an association of historic towns). In 1920, about 5,000 people lived here, now the population is 390. It resembles many others in Italy’s south-central Abruzzo region, home to a shrinking, ageing population. One nearby town has been almost completely abandoned, and is home to just 12 people. Continue reading...

Pettorano sul Gizio is a medieval mountain town full of alleys, watchful cats and wooden doors locked sometime in the last century. In the lower parts of town, rustic charm turns into abandonment – branches grow out of walls and roofs have fallen in. The only bar closed at Christmas, after the owner died. Some “For Sale” signs have been up so long the phone number is illegible.The town, with its faded ochre and orange hues, is listed as one of Italy’s I Borghi più belli (an association of historic towns). In 1920, about 5,000 people lived here, now the population is 390. It resembles many others in Italy’s south-central Abruzzo region, home to a shrinking, ageing population. One nearby town has been almost completely abandoned, and is home to just 12 people.A postcard of Pettorano sul Gizio from about 1920, when the town’s population was 5,000. Photograph: Angela Tavone/Rewilding ApenninesBut Pettorano sul Gizio is different – set apart by its passion for bears. A lifesize model of a brown bear and cub stands in the town square, and paintings of bears look down from the walls.At dawn and dusk, a bear known as Barbara is known to wander the narrow streets – sometimes trailed by cubs – to see if she can pilfer any food.Now known as “the town that went wild”, it has attracted a new crowd of younger people working in nature restoration. Yet, making peace with the town’s critically endangered Marsican, or Apennine, bears (Ursus arctos marsicanus), which are endemic to the Abruzzo region, was not easy.An adult Marsican, or Apennine, brown bear in Abruzzo. Photograph: Bruno D’Amicis/NPLThe biggest threat to the bears is humans, so conservationists realised that people living in these remote towns needed to want to protect them.There was a climate which was against the bear. We had to do something in a more practical wayOne reason the bear population is doing so well is because so many people left the region. A blurred photo of the village in 1905 shows hills stripped bare by grazing livestock and deforestation caused by the carbonari, or charcoal-makers.After the second world war, as Italy’s economy boomed, rural people left to work in the cities. As human pressure on the landscape declined, nature bounced back – the Marsican brown bear population now numbers about 60 individuals, and appears to be increasing. But the people who remained had forgotten how to live alongside large predators.Bear claw marks on tree bark in an Abruzzo beech forest. Photograph: Bruno D’Amicis/NPL/AlamyRelations were at their worst 10 years ago during the rein of Peppina, a 135kg “problem bear”, who raised cubs in the area for several years. She was known for her raids on people’s chickens, bees and orchards, hoovering up any food she could find. Mario Cipollone, of Rewilding Apennines, says she was “most vicious in these raids”.In 2014, tensions between local people and animals came to head when a young male bear was shot by a hobby farmer after it raided a chicken coop. Many people supported the man, who claimed he was attacked by the bear. There are no documented cases of Marsican bears killing humans, and they are generally shy and avoid contact with people.Cipollone says: “There was a climate which was against the bear.” The bear’s death created a paradigm shift. “We had to do something in a more practical way,” he says.Mario Cipollone, of Rewilding Apennines, with a bear-proof bin in Pettorano sul Gizio. Photograph: Angela Tavone/Rewilding ApenninesSo in 2015, Pettorano sul Gizio became the first “bear-smart” community in Italy. Electric fences were erected around more than 100 properties to protect bees, chickens and other farm animals; gates and bear-proof bins were installed; and manuals on how best to live alongside bears were distributed around Pettorano sul Gizio and the neighbouring town of Rocca Pia.These places make me think that we can do something, that best practices really existResidents are urged not to leave food out; ripe fruit is picked off the ground in orchards and food waste kept indoors until the rubbish is collected. Since 2014, “there has been a dramatic decline in damage”, says Cipollone.Peppina’s successor, Barbara, prowls the alleyways of Pettorano sul Gizio but she no longer causes any damage. By 2017, there had been a 99% reduction in bear raids compared with three years earlier, according to data from Salviamo L’Orso, a bear conservation organisation, who also says there have been no damages since 2020.“The amount of damage has almost been eradicated,” says Cipollone. “We made everything bear-proof.”An infographic in Pettorano sul Gizio outlining the lifestyle and habits of the Mariscan bears. Photograph: Phoebe Weston/The GuardianOther European countries are taking note. There are now 18 bear-smart communities across Europe, funded by the EU’s Life environmental programme.While depopulation may have drawn bears to the region, in Pettorano sul Gizio bears are now bringing back people.It’s not just about tourism. It’s about making people believe they can remain here and have a very good lifeLast October, Valeria Barbi, an environmental journalist and naturalist, visited the bear-smart community and liked the town so much she decided to stay.“This place has made me shine again in a certain way,” she says. “I was a little bit overwhelmed about the [global] ecological situation. But these places make me think we can do something, that best practices really exist.”The afternoon sun warms the mountain village of Pettorano sul Gizio in the province of L’Aquila, Abruzzo, Italy. Photograph: Stefano Valeri/AlamyMilena Ciccolella, owner of Il Torchio restaurant, describes the rewilding events as “a real lifesaver in economic terms”, so much so that they are now offering vegetarian food on their once meat-dominated daily menu to coax in nature-loving travellers.Mario Finocchi, president of the Valleluna Cooperative Society, says: “There is an increasing trend in the presence of tourists in the area. Some people who came as tourists then decided to buy a house here.”The number of tourists staying in Pettorano sul Gizio has increased from about 250 in 2020 to more than 2,400 last year, according to accommodation data collected by Valleluna.It is good to have tourism, but “it is important to have people actually living here,” says Finocchi. “There is a new young community who have come here because of bears, who are working on socially and culturally enriching the town.”Marsican brown bears playing among autumn foliage in Central Apennines, Abruzzo. Photograph: Bruno D’Amicis/NPL/AlamyIn the evenings, dozens of people can be found outside La Pizzicheria Di Costantino, which sells large hunks of local cheeses and hams, alongside bear-themed beer. The owner, Massimiliano del Signore, who runs it with his wife, says they moved here for the nature, tranquility and people.“We fell in love and decided to invest in the area,” he says. “It is not just about tourism. It’s about making people believe they can remain here and have a very good life.”Find more age of extinction coverage here, and follow the biodiversity reporters Phoebe Weston and Patrick Greenfield in the Guardian app for more nature coverage

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