A Haunting Beauty The first thing I noticed was the quietness. Standing on the cliff at the west end all I heard was the wind blowing off the ocean, the waves crashing on the shore, the gulls screaming in the air, all mixed with the smell of the sea. No cars, no trucks, no sounds of…
During the summer of 1986 we embarked on the ultimate surfing ecology road trip. Combining my interests of surfing and marine biology we set off looking for abalone and good, uncrowded waves. I had just established study sites and tagged black abalone in northern and southern California. Baja was next.
The year was 1987 and I was searching for a place where black abalone were largely undisturbed so I could complete my dissertation. The island was the perfect location: isolated, difficult to access, federally protected, and surrounded by seal- and shark- infested waters. During my first low tide on the island I was ecstatic: blacks were common and it was the perfect place to conduct a study but there were elephant seals everywhere.
Fictional setting for the novel: the red supergiant star known as Murcheson’s Eye. Associated with it is a yellow Sun-like star which appears in front of the Eye. Since some see the Eye and the Coalsack Nebula as the face of a hooded man, perhaps even the face of God, the yellow star is known…
Standing there today you can imagine it. Just walk outside the Seascape Restaurant near Trinidad Pier and you are on hallowed ground. Ground consecrated by the blood and guts of thousands of magnificent whales and a few brave whalemen. Here, for six years in the 1920s, whales were brought ashore and butchered by men for their oil, their baleen, for their very bones. And lest we judge these men for their actions, back then it was no different then catching fish. Of bringing a commodity to market; a way of making a living; albeit a hard one with many risks.
Hiking into the Washington Cascades. 2006. “To perceive the true nature of existence was one reason for the performing a vision quest; after four days of fasting alone in a high rock, in the great silence and solitude of earth, one is bound to discover that what was thought of as a separate self is…
I will never forget that day: the announcement over the school loudspeakers, the nuns at my Catholic school stricken with grief, the confusion, but most of all I remember the change in my parent’s behavior. I was six years old and it was Nov. 22, 1963. On that day my world changed.
He looked out to sea and watched the crested breakers, combing green. They rose stiffly, curled, and broke again; and because it was ebb tide, the roar was distant, more remote, lacking the sound and thunder of the flood. Then he saw them. The gulls. Out there, riding the seas. What he had thought at…
The swell rises slowly from the depths as it begins to feel the jagged, rocky seafloor. You notice a darkening in the distance against the red horizon as the wave jacks quickly up to 10, 20, then 30 feet. As you scratch outside the wave begins its slow cruise towards you, giving you plenty of time to turn…
Are you as interested in the kelp as the swell in the lineup? Do you ponder what lives underwater as you wait for waves? Do you watch the jellyfish and stingrays zing by while surfing? If so, you might be a surfing ecologist and are doubly stoked hanging out in the ocean. Read on, this post is…