Black oystercatchers

A cool, calm day, overcast, and flatish. There was no one else on the water. Virtually nobody. So, bored, I entered a small rock garden to play. Rounding one rock I looked up and what should I see not ten feet away but a pair of black oystercatchers working the wrack. I was sure I had flushed them I was so close. But they stayed, more interested in limpets than me. What a treat to see such a majestic bird go about its business. Must have sat there for ten minutes just watching. Photo from the aquarium (their captive kin).

Tide pooling

at Coral St

Thanksgiving

In 1983 I broke my neck. I was asleep in the back seat, the driver
was asleep in the front. I survived that crash and narrowly escaped paralysis. Life changed dramatically enough, though, as it was: It taught me that death will always catch you off guard. And to be appreciative for what we have.

Express egress

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I opened my e-mail Sunday to find that a friend would be on the water in 5 minutes. Well, there was no way that I could catch him, but I could head him off at the pass! So I jumped in the car and was off. Fifteen minutes later I was on the water paddling on a course set to intercept. Along the way I bumped into friends I almost never see, up ahead on the water. Then surfed the steamers rounding Hopkins. That's always a treat. Played in the rocks by the aquarium. But no friend. Unless he got a late start, he should have been there by then. But then, no, wait, there he was in the distance! So we played a bit more in the surf at McAbee Beach. Toyed with the idea of meeting our death rounding the rock under Fish Hopper, but rejected that idea. And then the rain began. That's what I miss most around here. We just hung out rafted up and chit-chatted, as the wind slowly blew
us out to sea. Then the skies opened up and it really came down. We parted company and each went our separate way, assaulted on all sides.

Up close and personal

Found this little guy out by Five Mile Buoy and phoned it in. Turns
out to have been a release. Taken in as a pup and released 7 years
7 months ago. No tags when we found him, but the people at SORAC recognized him at once. Seemed happy that he made it so long.
Little known fact: waterlogged sea otters are heavy!

Objects may be bigger than they appear

We were there for only a few minutes before things started happening. Rafted up for a short break, when all of a sudden here come whales from the north, headed straight for us, maybe 100 yards off! Grey whales steaming south. We were right in their path. Breach, breach, breach, breach, then they disappeared, four of them. They are supposed to be at peak right now. Then they appeared again, this time surfacing right in front of us about 30-50 feet out. So close you could see them clearly, six this time. Fluke! That pod dove deep and we never saw them again. The next pod (4-6 animals) came up right in front of us as we had just turned to leave, headed back in. The first popped up half a boat length just off the port side of the paddler ahead of me, who practically soiled his pants. The most beautiful mottled pink and grey--two nostrils. Smell that breath. Then off to the right a full glistening fluke that somehow I missed. Ooo's and ah's. Something to think about on the way home.

Goodbye, old friend

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