Family legacy drives
NW isles exploration
Just before leaving on a six-week journey through the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands, a beaming Jean-Michel Cousteau extends his arm, bottled water in hand.
"The source of life," he says, taking a swig.
Water keeps Cousteau alive in many ways. It's not only his sustenance, it's his pleasure, his passion, his plight.
At sea, Cousteau is at home. When his father, the legendary explorer Jacques, died six years ago at 87, the first thing Jean-Michel did was go diving. Virtually all of his time is devoted to exploring the world's waters, educating others about them and fighting for their protection.
Which makes pressure to carry on Jacques' name inevitable.
"But I do it because I want to," says the son, who is 65. "This is really not an obligation. I want to honor his work. I want to honor what he's given me by continuing to do what he was concerned about."
The Cousteau family legacy will be in tow as Jean-Michel explores the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands, virtually untouched dots of land that stretch as far as 1,400 miles from Hawaii. Cousteau and his 19-member crew are filming "Voyage to Kure," a public television special that will look at the isles' wild coral reefs, sea turtles, monk seals and seabirds.
Since his father pushed a 7-year-old Jean-Michel overboard, scuba gear on his back, he has made thousands of dives in the farthest reaches of the globe. As a 15-year-old growing up in southern France, he dreamed of building underwater cities; he went on to get his only degree in architecture.
In the five decades that have followed, he's earned an Emmy and a Peabody for his work on more than 70 shows and pushed his message of "Protect the ocean and you protect yourself" to business and government leaders.
But don't mention retirement. "Don't use that word, ever!" he snaps. "Retirement is when you've been switched off."
Before his expedition's July 6 departure, Cousteau logged thousands of miles, jetting between at least eight cities from Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, to Toronto to Paris to his home base of Santa Barbara, Calif. -- a flurry of conferences, lobbying and promotions. In one day on Capitol Hill, he had 14 one-on-ones with members of Congress, advocating ocean issues.
That kind of enthusiasm makes longtime crew members see glimpses of Jacques, who continued to dive into his 80s. The son speaks with reverence of his father, noting a favorite childhood photo of him looking at Jacques "like I'm looking at God."
Father and son were not always so cordial. In 1992, Cousteau resigned from his father's Cousteau Society, going on to found his own organization, the Ocean Futures Society. In 1995, the elder Cousteau sued to keep his son from using the family name to promote a Fiji resort; they reached a settlement the following year.
Cousteau says too much was made of the rift, and that reports that he and his father went years without talking were untrue, though many were attributed to him.
"Most of what I know, I owe it to him," Cousteau said. "I learned about opening my eyes, being an observer, being respectful of the environment, of other people, being patient."
They are lessons he hopes his son, Fabien, will carry on, too.
Like Jean-Michel -- whose heir apparent brother Philippe was killed in a seaplane crash in 1979 -- Fabien is his father's only hope to take over the family business. Cousteau's daughter, Celine, leads tours to Europe and South America.
Fabien, a 35-year-old New Yorker named "Sexiest Explorer" last year by People magazine, had his first documentary, "Attacks of the Mystery Shark," premiere last August for National Geographic. His father can't help but want to see such work continue.
"Am I pushing him? No," he said. "Because it has to come from within. As far as I'm concerned, my dad never pushed me. Never."
Jean-Michel's expeditions have been too numerous to keep track of, somewhere between 100 and 200. Some do stand out -- Papua New Guineau, South Africa and the Amazon come to mind. What is disheartening is when he visits the same location twice.
"There's not one single place where I go where I could say it has improved," he said.
He has high hopes for the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands. Work on this mission started 18 months before his departure from Honolulu Harbor -- a marathon of selling his idea, getting funding, acquiring permits and assembling a team.
On the bridge of the 96-foot Searcher, Cousteau speaks powerfully about what Cousteau does mean and the lessons his family has tried to impart.
"We're still using the ocean as a universal sewer, as a garbage can," he says. "The ocean is our life support system ... unless we find ways to change things very quickly, the quality of our lives is going to suffer."
There is still a visible excitement in Cousteau before he departs on a journey to an undiscovered place. And there is an eagerness about the projects to come.
One of his dreams, the Global Ocean Network, would place ships, buoys and towers across the globe to monitor conditions, relaying information and streaming video to classrooms and libraries via satellites.
By year's end, he hopes to finish "Son Of," his book about life as son of the world's most famous oceanographer. Down the road, he dreams of landing on the North Pole's ice, cutting a hole, and taking a submersible 12,000 feet below. He wants to explore Polynesia and Indonesia, film the migration of the gray whales, explain the freshwater shortage in Greece.
"I want to find the giant squid, I want to go and dive the North Pole," he says, his voice tinged with excitement. "And we will."
