A short prologue, tinged of blues If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them —Henry David Thoreau Photo by Antonio Bergamino I am an aquatic ecologist and I study plankton, the invisible ensemble of microscopic plants and animals that make the world go round. Yet, many of the world's multitudes are oblivious to plankton's existence. The sharp mismatch between my knowledge of this wonder of nature and the lack of awareness by the general public has driven me crazy since I was a young PhD student when I tried—not very successfully—to explain to my hundred-year-old grandma what I was actually studying. We all belong to a multifaceted living system in which even the smallest components have a role in keeping it alive; a living system whose “health” is essential to our existence and persistence on Earth (e.g., Volk 2003). Unfortunately, in the present complex and deeply entangled societies, we (humans) are so profoundly engaged to our own businesses, interests, jobs, needs, and desires that our, say, “primordial ecological common-sense” is dramatically falling apart. Put simply, we (humans) are forgetting nature and our natural origin. For instance, we (scientists) look at plankton as part of the food web, not the food of OUR food. Yet, overcoming our own disengagement with our humanity could be what helps us bring nature to the masses. Hope and despair alternate in our view of the future, in this beginning new millennium. The actual role nature plays in our societies is uncertain: does nature provide resources to industry or basic goods to humanity? In this context, ecological and economic concerns collide, leading to conflict. Clashing goals of non-governmental organization and trade corporations, although legitimate, inevitably end in polarized perspectives about the value and role of nature. Under these conditions, we scientists must multiply our efforts to disseminate scientific knowledge about the natural world to the general public using multiple approaches (e.g., McGarvey and Mason 2015; Wood-Charlson et al. 2015). Indeed, to instill ecological literacy (Orr 1992) or awareness in the general public, from the bottom to the top, would be a much more successful approach over longer time-scales (e.g., Vaughan et al. 2003). In particular, eco-literacy must be promoted among young generations and people with lower-than-average levels of education. These categories represent the large majority of present Earth's population (data from http://www.census.gov/idb/worldpopinfo.html and http://hdr.undp.org/en/content/education-index) and, with their behavioral, economic, political choices, could exert a big, bottom-up, impact on our planet. Yet, these two target categories are rarely reached by traditional ecoliteracy initiatives, especially where I live and work—Italy. In this country, during the 2000s, a modest average of 20% of the 19-year olds entered university and less than the 10% of these obtained a Master Degree in Life or Earth Sciences (data from the Italian Ministry of Instruction, University and Research, http://universo.miur.it). Furthermore, science communication in Italy primarily targets people with high-level education and, when talking to the general public, it is mainly meant to rule out superstition or medical misconceptions. Ecology is only a secondary issue in mass media. The result is a broad ecological ignorance. As a funny but sad anecdote, in Southern Italy, the word ecology is largely used to mean “taking care of urban waste.” Most people ignore that ecologists study nature (and its laws and the way it sustains our lives) instead of sewage disposal. So, how should scientists approach the general public? Shall we pursue scientific communication by strategies not necessarily involving the mass media? How attractive is our ecological research to the public? How do we change the current condition of scarce or no communication about ecological issues between scientists and the general public? These and many other questions were pressing a group of ecologists participating to the Italian section of the International Long Term Ecological Research network (http://www.lteritalia.it/), during summer 2014. At the end of a National meeting, while drinking a beer, some of these ecologists (mainly Alessandra Pugnetti and Alessandro Campanaro) proposed to other Italian scientists that the team develop edutainment initiatives to attract people informally and enable them to re-discover nature together with scientists. The idea materialized in what they called “Cammini” (plural of “cammino”): pathways run as trips in stages by travelers who bike or walk, for example, to spiritual destinations like in the Camino de Santiago de Compostela, in Spain. The revolutionary element of these Cammini comes from the designation of their starting and ending points: both places were Long Term Ecological Research sites in Italy. Cammini brought together scientists and citizens with the latter involved daily in both hiking and educational activities in the natural environment. Cammini aimed to increase ecological literacy among citizens and predispose the engagement of the latter in citizen-science initiatives, such as those of biodiversity census and assessment of ecosystem health. Three such Cammini were organized and took place during 2015. Two of them involved walking tours. The first walking tour to take place was the “Cammino della Biodiversità” (literally, “walking of biodiversity”—http://www.lteritalia.it/it/cammini/gransasso) and connected Mount Velino and the slope of Gran Sasso d'Italia, the tallest mountain in the Appennini mountain range within the territory of the Abruzzo-Lazio-Molise National Park, in Central and Southern Italy. The second walking tour, the “Cammino Rosa” (i.e., “pink walking”—http://www.lteritalia.it/it/content/al-rientro-dal-cammino-rosa), took place in the Alpine region of Italy, going from the Angelo Mosso Institute of Research (2901 m above the sea level), in the surroundings of Mount Rosa (4634 m a.s.l.), to the Institute of Ecosystem Study of the CNR (Italian National Research Council) on the shores of Lake Maggiore, which is among the largest and deepest European lakes. The third Cammino was named Mesothalassia—a product of the ancient Greek words “mesos,” that is, “in-between” and “thalassa,” that is, “sea.” Mesothalassia means “the land between the seas”). It was a biking-tour, going from the Adriatic to the Tyrrhenian coasts of the Italian Peninsula. The tour occurred between June 2015 and July 2015, stretched ~600 km (~370 miles, Fig. 1), and consisted of 10 day-long stages. Mesothalassia was organized by Stazione Zoologica Anton Dohrn of Napoli (Italy), in collaboration with the University of Molise (Termoli, Italy), the Institute of Marine Sciences of the Italian CNR, the University of Rome III (Roma, Italy), the University of Salento (Lecce, Italy), the Edmund Mach Foundation (Trento, Italy), four Italian WWF Oasis, the Gargano National Park, and several local authorities and citizen associations. The itinerary of Mesothalassia, in the land between seas. In the uppermost panel, a snapshot taken from www.lteritalia.it/it/cammini/mesothalassia. In the lowermost panels, the flat coast-line of the southern Adriatic coast (up) and a view of the steep shores of the Tyrrhenian coast nearby the Amalfi coast (down). Photos by A. Bergamino. The starting and ending points of Mesothalassia were the LTER site “coastal dunes of Molise” in the Adriatic and the Gulf of Naples, which host two sites of long term research, the plankton time-series MareChiara and the benthic monitoring place Lacco Ameno in the Ischia island. The bike tour connected two seas by passing through the Italian peninsula following the courses of two rivers, Ofanto and Sele, and touching river mouths, brackish and freshwater lakes, lagoons, springs and other water environments. The main theme of Mesothalassia was water and its value in terms of food and energy production, biodiversity maintenance, and ecosystem functioning. The Mesothalassia team included seven “science bikers” (an aquatic ecologist, two marine biologists, a limnologist and school teacher, a research technologist, a travel writer and school teacher and a naturalist photographer), and three “supporting” scientists (all marine biologists) on board of a rescue van. The team also included two film makers specializing in travel documentaries. They are currently working on a documentary about the Cammini that will be released on 2016 for the 10th anniversary of the Italian LTER network. For the first three (Adriatic) stages, the bike-tour was joined by a mobile lab—a van equipped with sampling devices and microscopes set by the University of Salento E-Science European Infrastructure for Biodiversity and Ecosystem Research LifeWatch (http://www.lifewatch.eu/). During the 10-day bike tour, the Mesothalassia team performed a total of 10 science communication events in both big towns (population up to 1 million inhabitants) and small villages (population down to 200 inhabitants) with a largely heterogeneous audience, from school children to elderly people. The communication initiatives included simplified science talks, informal colloquia without Powerpoint presentations, demonstrative samplings of plankton and benthos, and microscopy sessions open to the public. These events took place in both research institutions and public spaces. Along with the scientist bikers, a total of about 200 bikers joined the tour, 10 of whom completed between 2 and 10 stages. Collectively, between 500 and 1000 people attended Mesothalassia science-communication events (e.g., Fig. 2). Duty before pleasure. The starting event of Mesothalassia, at the Centre of Environmental Education of the Natural Reserve of Molise Dunes, on the shores of Adriatic Sea. Photos by A. Bergamino. “Mesothalassia land” is a land of travel. During their migration from Siberia to Magreb and back, cranes exploit the water passageway created by the coastal lagoons of Gargano (i.e., the “spur” of Italian peninsula), the salt mines of Margherita di Savoia (the largest in Europe) in the Adriatic coast, the two rivers in the inner country side and the freshwater swamps of the Thyrrenian coast. This is the only passageway used by cranes south of the Alps. The bike-tour went through that “land between the seas,” comprising a less-than 100 miles coast-to-coast distance between Apulia and Campania coastlines. Here, the corrugated geomorphology and the high spatial variability in the annual rainfall regime produced a huge variety of landscapes and microclimates. The eastern region is very dry, features a smooth landscape with low and yellow hills dominated by wheat fields, below which the relatively longer river Ofanto (about 100 km) paves its way to the Adriatic Sea (Fig. 3). By contrast, the western region is wetter, more mountainous and wooded; here, the shorter river Sele runs within steep slopes and eventually flows into the Thyrrenian Sea (Fig. 3). The boundary between these two subregions is set between the hydrographic basins of the two aforementioned rivers; at the latitude of the Mesothalassia route, this boundary is located over a crest, named Sella di Conza, on top of which both sides of the land between the seas can be seen. Riding through Mesothalassia. In the upper- and lowermost panels, typical landscapes of the eastern and western sides, respectively, of the land between seas. In the right picture above, the spring of the Ofanto river. In the left picture, the travel-writer Emilio Rigatti climbing uphill. Photos by A. Bergamino. While visually stunning, “Mesothalassia land” is one of the most contrasting regions of Italy. Despite the wealth of economic activities along the Adriatic and Tyrrhenian coasts—activities which are mainly driven by tourism, for example, summer recreation, hiking, archeological tourism—the inner side of the Italian peninsula at the southern latitude is dramatically impoverished from both an economic and a demographic point of view. These lands dramatically suffered from the transition from a rural to an industrial economy that occurred at the national level after World War II: several generations of its inhabitants were pushed to migrate to the northern Italy in search of “modern” jobs. Starting in the 1960s, agriculture in this area acquired a larger and larger scale, focused on crops and driven by automation. This resulted in an even larger negative effect on the human population dynamics. Many villages crossed by Mesothalassia were well below 1000 stable inhabitants in 2015. In addition, the countryside is experiencing severe environmental problems, such as a progressive increase in the duration and extent of summer droughts, a progressive loss of terrestrial vegetation, and soil depletion from extensive agriculture. The ideal epicenter of Mesothalassia is a subregion rich in somewhat “strategic” springs (Fig. 4). For the last century, most of the water pouring out from the source of Sele was canalized into the huge pipelines of “Acquedotto Pugliese” (i.e., aqueduct of Apulia). The latter runs for more than 300 km, from the village of Caposele to Santa Maria di Leuca, at the extreme side of the heel of the Italian peninsula. Originating from an under-populated area, this pipeline provides water to one of the driest but most populated and agriculturally exploited areas of the southern Italy. “Mesothalassians” visited the bunker-like plant hosting the source of Sele in Caposele, thus looking at the “value of water” with their own eyes (bottom left, Fig. 4). In search for the value of water. In the uppermost panels, the typical landscape of south-eastern Italian countryside and our sampling activities in Lake Conza, an artificial reservoir produced by a power plant, in the middle between seas. Water from this lake is used for agricultural purposes. In the lowermost panels, at the western countryside, the bunker-like plant of Acquedotto Pugliese in Caposele (left) and the young biker Elisa Tarozzi passing through a fountain in the main square of Caposele. Photos by A. Bergamino. During Mesothalassia, we scientists left our labs, descended from our “Ivory towers” and met people in the streets, park, and green-ways, attracting them as long-distance travelers used to do to get company and hospitality. In the process, we abandoned our science jargon and told people stories about nature. Nonetheless, the beginning was not as easy as it may appear. During this experience, we learned a lot about how to (and how not to) get people engaged in science. The first science communication event we held—at the Center of Environmental Education at the coastal dunes of Molise—was in front of a small gang of cyclists dressed in colorful sporty suits and helmets, ready to start pedaling and impatiently sitting in front of a Powerpoint presentation (Fig. 2). We quickly realized that “frontal” lectures were not suitable for communicating science to a very general public, including people of varying ages and education levels. Right at the second official communication aside a coastal lagoon in front of the Adriatic Sea, we abandoned Powerpoint and instead used simple tricks to stimulate the curiosity of the public. Since plankton was the main focus of our communication activities along the Gargano coastal lagoons—which are largely exploited for small fish and shellfish farming—I asked the audience (composed mainly of school children and their grandparents) the following question: “In a simplified scheme for the pelagic trophic chain, the bigger fish eats the smaller one. But, if we go further down in the chain, what is the food of the smallest fish?” This question, simple to us, provoked much discussion from the audience, including loud replies from the more extroverted children and a serious explanation from an elderly fisherman and fish trader. All of the first replies were wrong. Even the fish trader was not able to reply correctly to our question, saying that “the secret was in the water.” Indeed, he was not aware of the existence of little, “invisible” animals eaten by the smallest fish. After a while, I started spelling the first letters of plankton. Just at the “l,” a shy child who had yet to speak a word exploded in a loud “plankton!” I gave him a big high five plus an official Mesothalassia t-shirt. Only after that, did I explain what plankton was made of and I invited the public to look through our microscopes. The same day, after pedaling about 60 km between the sea and coastal lagoons alongside our student-bikers, we reached a small country festival, within a little park, on the shore of the Varano lagoon (Fig. 5). Here, several hundred people tasted oysters and blue-mussels farmed in the lagoon. As the chief-organizer of Mesothalassia, I was invited to the microphone to make a brief public speech along with the local authorities. After saying formal words about whom we were and what we were doing, I simply said: “Would you like to see the food of oysters? Go to that van and ask to see them!” Hugely satisfied, I saw the crowd run to the van—the small mobile-lab equipped with microscope. Playing with science. In the uppermost panels, a typical “science-blitz” occurred during Mesothalassia (left) and sampling in the Varano lagoon (right). In the lowermost panel, kids playing with molecules involved in photosynthesis, together with a Mesothalassia educator. Photos by A. Bergamino. Children, their parents and nice elderly ladies—who were singing religious choral songs just minutes before—were all saying: “let's go to see the 'oyster feed'!” The oyster feed—which none of them had ever seen—that had been sampled half an hour before in the Varano lagoon by our colleague Lea Roselli (Fig. 5). The happy ending was a long line of people waiting for their turn outside the van, people looking at the microscope, eyes wide and wet with tears of astonishment, people leaving the van and saying “it's all true! It looks like small plants!” Here, we learned an important lesson: that we (scientists) must take any chance to make people aware that what we study is actually present in their own lives. This is particularly important while approaching adults with science communication. Such communication happens more easily if we leave the lab and also our institutions and meet people in completely informal contexts. The last story is about a boy, less than 10-year old, named Fabrizio, who arrived at the Visitor Center of the WWF Oasis on the shores of the freshwater lake of Conza saying he wanted to be a “biologist.” The little guy came together with his mother and two friends. Their home was in the nearby nice hamlet of Cairano, set on top of a whale-back shaped hill, a ~200 inhabitants' village that has lost the 90% of its populations from the fifties to date. The little biologist and his two friends represented 30% of the elementary school population of Cairano. The PhD-graduated limnologist Andrea Zignin, a member of Mesothalassia team, who is also a skilled first-level teacher in Trento (Italy), involved these students in science demos in which the three interpreted the main elements of a trophic chain: a top predator, a consumer and a primary producer. The latter was Fabrizio, the lowest one, who mimicked a small photosynthetic organism raising its “antennae” to the sun, to get its energy. Afterwards, kids played with photosynthesis molecules (Fig. 5). While looking at those scientific performances, I thought how fortunate are Andrea's scholars in Trento, a town in the north of Italy in the wealthiest region of our country. Yet, the three Cairano's children were for the first time engaged into a real session of scientific edutainment. I realized that our effort to go out from our labs and encounter the “real” world to bring the science “word” had a significant social value. Fabrizio and his little friends did not skip plankton observations (of course). Now they know that the water in the lake they see from the hill where they live is populated by incredible creatures. After the microscope session, Fabrizio went home crying and convinced his mother to buy a microscope. One day, he will probably become an aquatic ecologist. I hope it will be thanks to Mesothalassia. Mesothalassia was conceived within the Italian Long-Term Ecosystem Research network (LTER-Italy) and was financially supported by the involved research Institutions, LifeWatch-Italy and the Italian Flagship Project RITMARE. I am grateful to all the people and associations that contributed to the organization of Mesothalassia: Maria Grazia Mazzocchi, Davide Di Cioccio, Emanuela Dattolo, Marina Montresor, Adriana Zingone, Maria Cristina Buia, Gabriele Procaccini, Massimiliano Maja, Francesco Paolo Patti, Valerio Zupo,Maurizio Ribera d'Alcalà, Vincenzo Saggiomo, and Roberto Danovaro from Stazione Zoologica Anton Dohrn; Angela Stanisci, Sara Fusco, and Maria Carla De Francesco from University of Molise; Alicia T.R. Acosta from University of Rome III; Alberto Basset, Lea Roselli, and Maurizio Pinna from University of Salento; Nico Salmaso from Edmund Mach Foundation; Alessandra Pugnetti, Caterina Bergami, Leone Tarozzi, Mariangela Ravaioli, Gianfranco Eugenio Pazienza and Raffaele D'Adamo from CNR-ISMAR; Giorgio Mattucci (Coordinator of LTER-Italy) from CNR-ISAFoM. Many thanks are also due to Andrea Zignin for conceiving and managing edutainment activities for children, to Emilio Rigatti, co-author of the daily blog available at mesothalassia.wordpress.com, to Antonio Bergamino, photographer of the tour, and to the documentarists Francesca Consoli and Orazio Aloi, who produced a Mesothalassia spot, available at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrszte3JQ5E). Finally, I wish to thank Adrienne Sponberg, Editor of L&O Bulletin and one anonymous reviewer for their constructive comments and English corrections, which improved an earlier version of this contribution. Domenico D'Alelio, Stazione Zoologica Anton Dohrn, Department of Integrative Marine Ecology, Villa Comunale, Napoli, Italy; dalelio@szn.it, dom.dalelio@gmail.com