LAAMU, Maldives -- A fast-moving rainstorm blew over the small atoll late in the afternoon, briefly cooling a humid day just 100 miles north of the equator. But within twenty minutes the sun was back hot and bright, the air even thicker with dampness. Aaaaaah paradise!

I was desperate for some cooling off, having spent the morning learning something I thought I'd mastered long ago: How to breathe.

The lessons had taken place in a pool behind one of the guesthouses at the new Six Senses Laamu resort where I'd joined a dozen superstar water athletes from around the world -- surfers, kite boarders and wind surfers -- learning not so much how to breathe, but how not to. My skimpy personal best for holding it while hanging onto the edge of the pool was about two-and-a-half-minutes; a couple guys went to five minutes and nearly blacked out.

Our task-master, standing waist-deep in the pool as we dunked our heads, stop-watch in hand, was German free diver extraordinaire Anna von Boetticher, one of the world's best at holding her breath. While we were experimenting in the relative safety of a four-foot-deep, suburban variety chlorinated pool she has dived to record depths wearing just a pair of oversized swim fins and mask to more than 270 feet.

She was most enlightening when debunking the "Baywatch" notion of saving near-drowning victims by pumping violently on their chests and blowing spittle into their mouths. She demonstrated the preferred method, which she said most are actually "saved" by, which involves light blowing on the cheeks and a little slap. Of course if that doesn't work, she admitted, then move quickly to the chest pumping and spit swapping.
A one-of-a-kind inaugural crowd -- the event was dubbed WaterWoMen, co-sponsored by Six Senses and +H2O -- had gathered at the newly opened resort, equal parts coming out party for the remote resort and a conference that included a bunch of world-class athletes as well as some of the planet's more thoughtful thinkers on ocean issues.

Late on a Sunday afternoon, hardly a day of rest in this part of the world, the small island of Maalhos is quiet. The men, most of who go to sea each day to fish or work at one of six nearby tourist resorts, are absent. School is out for a week's holiday so kids of various ages scamper up and down the short, dusty streets. The women of the island of 600 are mostly in doorways or small backyards or sitting in laid-back sling chairs made of strong twine strung from metal frames lining the streets.

On the beach, the late afternoon sun in the shade, a gaggle of boys swordfight with palm fronds. A woman in brown headscarf sits cross legged playing a sophisticated game of jacks with small round stones. Three women sit together knitting palm fronds into roofing material. A trio of girls in their early 20s follow us as we walk the streets, painfully shy, peeking out from beneath headscarves, smiling.

Like all Maldivian towns this is laid out in squares. From the start of any street you can stare down it and see blue ocean at the other end. As I walk the streets, obviously an outsider, accompanied by a translator -- one of the many islanders who works at one of the six tourist resorts in the Baa Atoll -- I stop to chat people up and the responses are friendly, smiling. Everyone I meet – man, woman, child – gives me a good, hard handshake as a hello. Though poor, this is not an impoverished place.

Despite the booming tourist business that exists on islands all around, most of these people have little contact with outsiders. Tourists in the Maldives are confined largely by geography to the resort islands. Water surrounds and there aren't shuttles or ferries or water taxis to take people easily from island to island. During the recently ended thirty-year dictatorship, locals were strongly discouraged from mingling with visitors, concerned that negative influences from the west might rub off. Tourists drink alcohol, run around mostly naked and come to party, after all. By comparison, the local populace does not imbibe and is called to prayer several times a day (though there is reportedly a sizable heroin habit and growing drinking problem among many of the Maldive's young people).

There was no b.s. in actor Edward Norton's introduction of himself at the recent SLOWLIFE Symposium in the Maldives: "Films are now my sideline," he said. "Waste is my business."

He admitted of course that what he referred to as his "day job" had provided him with the "storytelling skills" that aid him in his variety of non-acting pursuits, from CEO of Baswood Inc., a green wastewater treatment alternative he and his partners are currently selling and building around the U.S. and abroad to U.N. Goodwill Ambassador for Biodiversity. He's also a board member on a handful of non-profits, including the Maasai Wilderness Conservation Trust, which gives him direct insight into sustainable tourism and eco-system preservation.

The move from fulltime acting to mixing it up in a diversity of projects focused on social good does not strike Norton as unusual. In a long interview with author Mark Lynas (Six Degrees, God Species) while in the Maldives, he sees it as more obligation than option.

"I think the defining challenge of the era right now is that we have recognized that we are living our lives and operating our civilization in a way that will not sustain life as we know it on the planet," said Norton. "I don't think an artist any less or more than anybody else should stay out of that conversation. I think artists, if they are serious about what art can do, are trying to engage in the times they are living in."

Norton's wide-ranging level of professional curiosity can easily be traced to his father, Edward Norton Jr., an environmental lawyer who has worked extensively in Asia, was a federal prosecutor in the Carter Administration and has close links with the Nature Conservancy, the Wilderness Society and the National Trust for Historic Conservation.

Given her decades of success in the movie business, environmental activist and actress Daryl Hannahcould be lounging on any beach in the world today, drinking rum punches, working on her tan or perfecting her mermaid's kick.

That she recently spent a week in the Maldives, much of it indoors participating in a pair of eco-symposiums focused on climate change and the future of island nations -- just days after being arrested in Washington D.C. as part of the protest against the planned $7 billion Keystone XL pipeline -- says a lot about her priorities.

It's easy to cast a dubious eye at celebrities who align themselves with environmental causes since often it's clear managers or agents have encouraged them hoping to better a client's position based on image rather than sincerity. With every actor under 40 (and many older) attempting to gain environmental cred these days it doesn't take too much effort to scratch the surface and find out who of them really bleeds green.

There are few places on the planet as remote as the Maldives. Landfall is a thousand miles away from much of the long string of 1,200 islands, most of which are little more than thin, uninhabited atolls. Diving into the heart of a Maldivian lagoon it is easy to imagine you are alone in one of Planet Ocean's most distant paradises.

Yet when I did just that a few days ago, in the heart of the Baa Atoll -- 400 square miles of aquamarine Indian Ocean recently named a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve -- something didn't feel, or look, quite like paradise.

The ocean, though jaw-droppingly beautiful, was bathtub warm, 86, 87 degrees F. Diving to its shallow floor it was quickly clear that the realm below sea level here has been badly impacted in recent years by a combination of man, Mother Nature and fast-warming temperatures.

The coral reefs of the Maldives were first badly hammered in 1998, when shifting ocean patterns associated with El Niño raised sea level temps above 90 degrees for more than two weeks. The result was that 70 to 90 percent of the reefs surrounding the Maldives 26 atolls were badly "bleached," the warm temperatures killing off the symbiotic algae that lives within the coral and gives it color.

I was diving with Fabien Cousteau, grandson of Jacques and executive director of Plant A Fish, and Mark Lynas, author and climate change adviser to Maldives President Mohammed Nasheed. During our first dive along a shallow reef in the middle of Baa Atoll we repeatedly signaled "thumbs down" to each other, as it became clear that this reef was a long way from any kind of comeback. Blanched the color of cement, the coral tips were mostly broken off leaving behind bare rock.

I've bumped into Richard Branson a couple times now, in vastly different settings. The first was in the high Arctic village of Clyde River, where he'd come to join his son Sam for a weeklong dogsled expedition. He introduced himself with what he admitted was a weakish pinky-tap, blaming his inability to lift his arm on having rolled an ATV at his African safari camp the week before.

When we met again a few days ago on a beach in the Maldives, again he extended just a pinky. This time he blamed it on a nasty cold, which he was politely attempting not to spread.

He had flown in for a few days to participate in the SLOWLIFE Symposium as I had; ironically he'd arrived by British Air from London, rather than aboard his own Virgin, which doesn't fly to Male, the capital of the Maldives. Given his longstanding competition and high-level squabbles with BA, he joked that he'd brought along his own "food taster." I assume he wasn't referring to his lovely wife Joan, who accompanied him.

During the course of three days spent in sessions where 80 or so participated in conversation and debate about subjects ranging from the consequences of not taking climate change seriously to the energy future of small island states, Branson sat in on every one, taking notes in a small red notebook, participating in round table debates.

It wasn't as if he didn't have plenty on his plate that might have kept him otherwise occupied: The bankruptcy of the American solar company Solyndra had cost him a bundle; his house on his Caribbean island paradise, Necker Island, had burned to the ground just a month ago (thanks to a lightning strike during Hurricane Irene); and in a few days time he would be outed by Wikileaks for participating in covert plots to oust Zimbabwean president Robert Mugabe, announce plans to have Virgin Atlantic Airways running on recycled industrial gases by 2014 and by the following weekend be testing a new submersible amongst great white sharks off the coast of Mexico.

Perhaps the most essential weapon -- or tool -- in affecting environmental change is political will. While individuals can make a difference, and must often lead the charge, for change to stick it demands governmental teeth.

When it comes to the ocean that means things like creating Marine Protected Areas, dictating what fish can be taken when and where, eliminating plastic at every step of life since so much of it eventually ends up in the sea and attempting to control leaks into the ocean, from waste to oil.

During nearly three years in office, President Mohammed Nasheed of the Maldives has shown a backbone far stronger than his petite frame would suggest (he's not much more than 5 feet tall). On a humid, blue-sky day on the island of Kunfunadhoo, the 43-year-old took time out from his global campaign to encourage nations big and small to reduce carbon footprints to give the crowd gathered at the 3rd Annual SLOWLIFE Symposium an update on how it's going.

A former journalist and human rights activist, Nasheed was jailed -- and tortured -- by his predecessor, Maumoon Gayoom, an autocratic leader who held the presidency for 30 years and is expected to run against Nasheed in 2013.

There is concern that Nasheed's globe-trotting presidency, which has earned him accolades such as The Green President and been the subject of a documentary, "The Island President," which recently won a prize as best documentary award at the Toronto International Film Festival, may have distanced him from voters back home.

There is no place more apt to engage in heavy-hitting conversation about the future of Planet Ocean than the heart of the small island nation of the Maldives.

It is a place many have heard of but few could pick out on a map. Made up of twelve hundred islands and atolls, most pancake flat, the highest reaches no more than five feet above sea level making the Maldives the lowest country on earth. Only two hundred of the islands are inhabited by roughly 320,000 people. It is an always hot, exceedingly beautiful, Muslim country stretching about 600 miles from north to south in the heart of the Indian Ocean off the tip of Sri Lanka.

In terms less geographic the Maldives is also ground zero for assessing the impacts of climate change. As the earth's temperature continues to heat up, impacting sea surface temperatures in particular, the Maldives is at incredible risk of both rising sea levels and increased frequency and violence of storms.

No politician in the world has taken a bigger role in trying to ramp up interest in efforts to slow climate change (except perhaps Al Gore), than the Maldives' young president, Mohammed Nasheed.

This past weekend an invested crowd of thinkers and doers, including President Nasheed and several members of his cabinet, gathered on the small island of Kunfunadhoo, home to the Six Senses resort Soneva Fushi. This was the third annual S.L.O.W.L.I.F.E Symposium organized by Six Senses CEO Sonu Shivadsani and his wife Eva. The barefoot conference brought together climate change environmentalists like the UK's Jonathan Porritt, Tim Smits and Jeremy Leggett, renewable energy and island nation leaders from as far away as Reunion and Bali, ocean mariners including Fabien Cousteau and some incredibly dedicated headline-makers (Richard Branson and the actors Edward Norton and Daryl Hannah). The subject of three days of talks was: What can we do fast, before it's too late.

The fact that today's high was -67 degrees at the South Pole is not news. Especially for the 49 hardy souls overwintering; they knew what they signed on for. Nor is it a shock that it was -97 at Vostok one day last week, since the Russian base holds the record for the coldest temperature ever recorded (-128).

But there are some surprises being reported from the deep-deep south during the continent's long, cold winter (which lasts eight months, roughly March through October). Like that alien species are invading and that declining penguin numbers may have less to do with warming temps than previously thought. And that the ozone hole over the continent increasingly influences the southern hemisphere's weather and that the ice around the continent's edges is melting faster than predicted. And that for the first time in a decade tourist visits to Antarctica are expected to dip dramatically in the coming summer season.

1. The aliens worrying Antarctic observers are not of the cellophane-skin and pumpkin-head variety, but rather more garden variety: Insects, slugs, worms, plant seeds and fungi that sneak in with the fruits and vegetables consumed by the 4,000 scientists who call Antarctica home during the summer season. Tourists are contributing too, carrying plant seeds in on their shoes and clothing. The invasion is encouraging calls for new levels of "biosecurity" to protect the otherwise pristine continent from being further infiltrated. For the moment, simple fungi and mold are the greatest concern because they often carry plant diseases: On the 11,250 fruit and vegetables sent to nine research stations researchers found soil on 12 percent of the food as well as 56 alien invertebrates and 19 different species of mold. On Antarctica's near islands, rats, mice and cats are already devastating bird populations, a risk the mainland doesn't have to worry about ... for now ... since warm-blooded creatures have a hard time surviving sub-sub freezing temps. For now.

In the course of humankind's global wanderings – whether in search of new lands or gold – there have been a couple historical cycles during which science has prevailed over more material seeking.

The early 21st century is one of those times. Already deep into the information age, what we want to know today about the future are things like where will new energy come from, what can we continue to learn from deep space and deep ocean and how the hell are we going to clean up the variety of messes we've created in the preceding 2000 years.

A fine example of this transition is in my recent post about the new class of Emerging Explorers named recently by the National Geographic Society. Among the 11 men and women in their 20s and 30s there wasn't a mountain climber or North Pole trekker; instead they included molecular engineers, agroecologists and biotech entrepreneurs.

Along the same lines a six-month-old non-profit group, Adventurers and Scientists for Conservation, is attempting to make sure that any adventurer headed into the field goes armed with some kind of scientific mission, big or small. The Bozeman-based group also wants to make sure that whenever a scientific team goes into the field, if they need to take along an accomplished adventurer to help further its work – to climb higher, dive deeper, walk further – it can help in the matchmaking.