Entries about beaches

Above The Water

“My lady’s seas are heaving -- her breath a fifty-knot gale force wind. I step down from the lido after spending ten minutes in her wild embrace. My hair is tousled, my clothes all askew. I’m lightly perspiring and my face is flush with excitement. I’m a bit woozy, yet grinning like a mad man. I feel like I’ve just finished having great sex. I am ALIVE, by god, and there isn’t a better feeling in the world.

Am I weird? Does anyone else have a job that makes them feel this way? Y’all need to get on the ocean…”

Taken from my journal April 16th, 2013.

Isla Tortuga lies north of Santa Rosalia on the eastern side of the Baja Peninsula. In two successive weeks, we had unpredicted gale force winds hammer into us just north of this island in the middle of the night. It’s almost as though the Sea is telling us, “No More! Go Away!” We wisely turned around and ran for cover. After spending the rest of the week trying to hide from the wind, it finally succeeded in chasing us back to La Paz, where we dropped off our guests and called it a season.

Below The Water

Yep. I’ve fallen in love again. I’ve been smitten with the under water world of the Sea of Cortez. Have you ever fallen in love? For me, it was stranger than normal, what with having to put on diving fins and a snorkel. I think the feeling of breathing underwater is a lot like being in love. At first, it feels a bit odd. Something like, “Holy shit! I’m in love with someone.” But after awhile, you get used to it and begin to explore further. All right. That’s enough terrible love metaphors for now. What is this, my Valentine day spectacular?

I tried to become a fish. This is my last week in Mexico, which means it is my last chance to enjoy the sun, hot beaches and relatively warm water. In fact, my rallying cry was, “Sleep Less! Explore More!”

This lack of sleep made it hard to make it through my shift, but I kept finding reserves of energy to get on the beach when my shift ended. I’m good like that.

It’s good to have a diving buddy when snorkeling. My friend Cassidy is one of the best. She’s part mermaid, which makes her extremely knowledgeable about all things aquatic. This is very useful when trying to determine the name or type of species of I’m looking at. I can ask her, “What kind of sea star is that?” And she’ll have the answer without fail. “That’s a Bradley Sea Star.” And so it is.

Either she’s a fountain of knowledge or she’s gifted liar. I wouldn’t know the difference.

My sessions have been great. I’ve explored little nooks of underwater rock around Islas Santa Catalina, Espirito Santo, Carmen, Partida, Danzante and Puerto Escondido. Each location has its own charm. Each session has its own flavor. At each spot, I came out gushing about some new undersea creature I haven’t seen before.

The more I snorkel, the more confident I have become in my explorations. I’ve gone out in snuffy seas with heavy chop and calm days with hardly a ripple. I love being underneath the swells. I love the pull of the current and waves. I love being in the breath of the ocean. I know I’ve said those words before, but they continue to ring true.

It’s especially fun to time a passage over some shallow tops of boulders. I would wait until the wave came through and then launch myself with it up an over a tall boulder using the strong current to propel myself to the other side. One must never fight against the ocean, but instead get with it and use it to your advantage.

The water temperature is warm. It’s about the same temperature as Lake Superior is at its warmest in early August. While other folks swim around in wet suits, this explorer needs only his adventure pants for protection.

My Undersea Collection

These photos cannot do the beautiful reefs of Baja justice. However, they will at least give you an idea of the various life forms found in these vibrant waters. Some of these photos were taken by Cassidy O’Bryant (the mermaid) and used with her permission.

California Sun Star

Brown Sea Urchin

Chocolate Chip Sea Star

“Sea Stuff”



I love the discarded stuff of the sea. I have a special attraction (obsession) with seashells. This collection is from a small one hundred yard section of beach that we called, “Jackpot Beach” because of all the treasures we found there.

A Crown of Thorns and Corral Structure

Puffer Fish

I think The Beatles put it best, “I’d like to be under the sea. In and octopuses garden, in the shade.” This would suit me just fine. Alas, my snorkeling days are over for a while. I’ve left Baja for the year. I’m heading northward to Alaska. While the snorkeling could be amazing there as well, I doubt I’ll be wearing only my shorts and fins to explore those undersea realms.

If you want my advice, I suggest you take a walk by a rocky piece of ocean. Even if you don’t go for a swim you can still check out the tide pools.

As for me, I’m off to Alaska. To get there I have ten days of open ocean positioning, followed by twelve days of exploration through British Columbia. I can’t wait.

I’m sitting on a table on our bridge deck (our highest deck). My legs dangle in the breeze. I lean back and look up to the rising moon. I have a cold beer in my left hand and my Ipod with select cuts in my right. I’m rocking out to a big moon, and a beautiful Mexican seascape. I’ve got it pretty damn good.

I’m thinking about what I want to write about this week, but I can’t come up with anything. It doesn’t matter. I take a sip of beer and smile. This week is good. I’m doing good. And sometimes, there just isn’t anything to say.

Bonanza Bay Slack-Line Session

It took me three tries to find the right set up for this line. It was hard to find the right combination of distance, boulders and height to make this line happen. It’s hard to wrap a line around a boulder and make it hold. A taut line on boulders tends to slip no matter how hard I pull the tension. Using a couple of different knots, I finally got the line to hold.

This was the highest line I’ve ever walked. I know it doesn’t look very high, but the landing was sketchy. Should I fall, a small bed of boulders would break my fall. It took me a couple of tries to get comfortable on the line, but I overcame my fears and relaxed. I told myself it’s no different than a low line, it was just higher. For some reason, this line of logic worked, and I walked it.

The best part of this session was soaking in the cool crystalline waters of the Sea of Cortez afterward.

Orange Whispers

I love dawn. There’s something proper to sipping a good cup of coffee and watching the sun rise over the waking world.

The Magic of Isla Magdalena

Isla Magdalena never fails to impress me with its diverse beauty. I’ve written extensively in the past about the finer features of Isla Magdalena. It never fails to provide me with a sense of peace, a sense of place, and a sense of time.

My buddy Paul and I walk across the wind swept dunes to the Pacific side. A fine layer of sand blows over the dunes as thin as smoke. We lose ourselves in conversation, the dunes and our destiny.

On the Pacific side, I drop my accessories and run off into the ocean. I run until the waves trip me and I fall forward into the water. I love this beach. I love this ocean. I love this place. I time the waves and jump with them hoping for that magical feeling of flying. It’s elusive, but I finally catch the perfect wave. I accelerate as the wave curls and breaks. It seems I‘m better at flying in water than I am in the air.

I leave fully satisfied and refreshed. To swim in the Pacific is good for the soul.

Sea Lion in Death

A dead sea lion lay on the sand. Paul and I walk around it, inspecting it. It smells like death. It’s interesting and puts life into perspective. Everything here is temporary, so what the hell is all the fuss about? I don’t know. Neither does Paul.

Isla Magdalena is home to the dead. The bones of countless animals, and perhaps men, litter the island. I can’t think of a more beautiful place to lie still.

Undocumented Moments

This week I experienced several moments I can only tell you about. I’ve kept camera mostly tucked away this week. I didn’t want any distractions. I kept my senses wide open, receptive to it all. I was not disappointed.

I saw three blue whales this week. One of which brought its fluke into the sky as it dove away into the wild blue. I was inches away from several gray whales this week. When they breathed, I was blasted in the face with their breath. Some whales expel their breath at over 100 miles and hour. I breathed the same air a whale expelled. That has to be some kind of good karma, right? I watched streaking dolphins glide through black water. They are ghostly, lit by bioluminescence.

My favorite part of the week was realizing I love my job. I’m a mariner, and I work on the sea. Sometimes the sea gets lumpy and hard to work on. Every move I made was difficult. I was at the mercy of the water and the wind.

I worked with my mates and we got the job done, despite the challenging conditions. We ate a late dinner in the relative peace of the crew lounge enjoying the camaraderie of a good days work done well.

To work here, you need a sense of timing, physical coordination, and knowledge of the sea. It’s an ancient craft, and I’m happy to say it is mine.

I have severely improved my predicament. I’ve left the icy grip of late winter in the midwest for the hot desert comfort of Baja, Mexico. To put it in numbers, I went from 29 to 75 (f), from freezing rain to warm and sunny. The sun hits my skin as I peel off my layers. It feels wonderful. I am reborn.

I’m in Mexico to w-w..work. Just thinking that word is hard. I haven’t lifted a finger for myself since last November. It’s been a good run, but the time has come to replenish my coppers. I’ve been hemorrhaging money lately (since 2009) and working for a couple of months will help stem the flow.

The Baja peninsula is one also one damn fine place to play. I can’t wait to immerse myself in a silent desert landscape. I’m going swimming this week. I’m going hiking this week. I’m going to watch the sunset tonight, and I’m going to watch the sunrise tomorrow morning. Overall, things are looking up.

Returning to Minnesota

This past week was good to me. I returned to Minnesota. I once lived in Duluth, Minnesota for seven years. It was odd to drive around my old stomping grounds. I saw places that are familiar, yet unfamiliar due to the passage of time. I drove through a city of memories.

I came to the realization that Minnesota was never really home to me. I grew accustomed to living there, exploring there, and being there. But, I could never love Minnesota the way the natives love their state.

But that’s ok. That’s all part of life’s journey.

I spent some quality time with my brother Karl and my good friend Curly. It’s great to meet someone you haven’t seen in a year and pick up right where you left off. That’s the sign of a quality friendship. Granted, most of our time was spent reminiscing, laughing and talking about nothing, but it’s all good for the soul.

Map

My brother has a cat by the name of Map. Map reminds me a lot of Hobbes, of “Calvin and Hobbes” fame. He loves a good sneak attack. Cats love to surprise their prey. I fell victim to his timely ambush several times.

He’s also a good wrestler. He’ll pounce on your foot before grabbing it with his claw and sinking his teeth lightly into your foot. He’s good about not stabbing too deeply, he nips just enough to let you know he’s there.

He’s a quality cat.

A New Slack-line

This week I bought a new slack-line set. I purchased sixty feet of one-inch climbers webbing and a strong one-inch ratchet set. I set up an experimental line in my brother’s yard one morning. I wasn’t sure if it was going to work, but after a few tries I found the sweet spot. It felt good to get back up on the line. I had a good session despite the cold temperatures. Now all I have to do is get it set up on white sand instead of white snow.

There you have it. One minute I’m sitting on a bus driving north through a dreary landscape, the next minute, I’m setting up my slack-line on a beautiful white sand beach. I think that’s a promising change in fortune. Or is it? We shall see.

Look for more Mexican tales next week.

QUESTIONS WITHOUT ANSWERS

It is nearing nine thirty in the evening when the sun finally sets over Lake Superior. In a moment of inspiration, I put on my flip-flops and walk up the old pebbled driveway surrounded by ripening thimbleberry bushes. I cross the old highway bridge that spans the Eagle River some eighty feet below. I walk behind the old white schoolhouse, and I climb to the top of the metal slide that is one of the four best pieces of playground equipment in the U.S.

From this perch, I have a panoramic view of the village of Eagle River and Lake Superior beyond. Panning from left to right, I can see the sunset glimmering over the flatness of the lake. I see rooftops, treetops, tennis court, ball field, swing set and the county court house off in the distance. I don’t know how many sunsets I’ve watched from here-too many to count. It’s a good spot.

This is one of my thinking spots. It is one of the oldest I have, perhaps, and it has been a long time since I’ve come here. Tonight, I’m thinking a lot about my current situation. I’m thinking about my future- what do I want to do, and where do I want to go. In short, “What’s next?” This is the age-old question that we all ask ourselves from time to time. I ask it aloud, and only hear the soft rustle of the trees on the hillside not far away. Fair enough, that’s a good answer.

I think back to the last four months, and get lost in my memories for a while. I smile, and take it from the top. In April, I drove four thousand miles across the US with my trusty (and rusty) van Marvin. I think of the pleasures of spring: the hot springs, sand dunes, and endless miles of road. I think of the people I reconnected with. I found my family, my friends, and myself. I went white water rafting, slack lining, hiking, long boarding, and rock climbing. I celebrated my birthday in Seattle with my birthday twin. I flew to Sitka and got my ass kicked by a fever. There, I walked through a living museum of memories from where I had my heart broken. It was an odd experience, but I felt only peace. I flew on to Anchorage and I hitchhiked 240 miles to Denali National Park. I hung out with my nephew and lived in a shack. I danced my Denali mountain dance on a mountain top and the sun came out. I hitchhiked 460 miles in 11 and a half hours. In Homer, I ate the best seafood of my life. I floated to Haines, and slept on the sidewalk in Juneau. I backpacked on Isle Royale-getting drenched in three inches of rain. I flew to Colorado. I saw my first wildfire, and drove to the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. I followed a bear, swam in an alpine lake, and watched the sun rise from the highest sand dune in North America. I grew weary, and rediscovered Nebraska. I felt the irresistible urge to return to my roots. I came “home.”

So, what’s next? I’m really not sure. In the immediate future, I’m going back to work for three months. This will take me back to Alaska, British Columbia, Washington and Oregon. I don’t have any plans after that. In Nebraska, I traveled without a map. It was a pleasure to travel by instinct and allure. I think I’m going to do more of that. I’m tired of having a plan. The trouble with a plan is sometimes I feel like I become a slave to the plan. However, I’m fortunate to realize when it does not feel right and have no problems changing things up. You can’t force the trip.

From my perch, I watch the sun ease into the water. Lake Superior can be frigid, and I’m certain I heard the sun gasp a little as it sunk up to its middle. I’m at ease too. I don’t know what’s next. I don’t have any plans. I’m going to travel without a map for a little while, and see how it goes. The one word I try to remind myself of everyday is FLOW. Everything flows. With that certainty, I’ve set down my paddle and I’m content to let the river of life, energy, and creativity take my craft as it will.

INTERACTIVE SUNSETS

I’ve been watching many sunsets lately. However, I’ve taken them to a completely new level by wading deep into Lake Superior just as the sun nears the horizon. I love the swirl of colors in the water. I love the tingle of energy from the cold water rising slowly up my body. I love the serenity of the lake when I‘m up to my neck in cold water watching the day fade away. I love being a part of the sunset, rather than just a witness.

Please don’t take my word for it. Try it. It is amazing.

SUMMER

For the last three weeks, I’ve been content to take it easy. I’m unwinding from three months on the road and I’ve enjoyed settling down - for the moment. I’ve spent a lot of time with my brothers, enjoying their peculiarities and good humor. I’ve been puttering around “the camp” (my family’s vacation home) on self imposed projects, and I’m satisfied with the progress I’ve made here. I’ve been eating well, and have happily spent many hours in the kitchen serving up fresh bread, rolls, Swedish blueberry pancakes, pizza, gumbo, burgers, green salsa, pineapple upside down cake among other dishes.

I picked blueberries-summer’s best fruit- at a small patch back at the farm. The crop is good this year, and I’m going to pick some more this week. I transplanted some maple trees here at the camp. I’m optimistic that they will make it, and I’m hoping to slack line between them in a decade or so.

A pair of eagles has nested just across the river from my front porch. This is the first time I have ever seen eagles on the Eagle River. Not only that, but they are raising young eagles in their nest. They haven’t flown yet, but I can hear their shrill cries from the nest when one of the parents brings home a fish.

A pair of Kingfishers has also made the river their home this year. I’ve been watching them fly by throughout the day. One evening, as I was skipping rocks by the bend in the river. One of them flew to a nearby stump and landed. I held still. After a minute, it took off, hovered above the river for a second, and then dove down into the water to snatch a minnow. It was awesome! This was the first time I’ve seen kingfishers in action.

I think I’ve made the most of my summer vacation. I’ve eaten ice cream cones, stared into bonfires at dusk, and have ridden my long board down to the beach to swim three times a day. These actions are good for the soul.

~RECONNECTIONS~
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ImKAGn7gUU.]
I will leave you this week with a short movie I’ve put together from clips I shot on my road trip back in April. I think it came out ok, but please realize I’m not using top of the line equipment. My cameras have a movie feature on them, and I decided to see if I could come up with anything cool. I’ve also come to realize that editing movie clips takes up far too much time, especially if you are a perfectionist. I finally had to give up, realizing this is just an experiment, and not going to Sundance. Enjoy.

I gave up my long johns for my adventure pants, and I’m back on the southern Baja Peninsula. My reasoning is that March is one damn fine month to be in Mexico, and a poor month to be anywhere in the northern United States. With that bit of logic, I agreed to work for four weeks on the good ship Sea Bird, my floating home of the last year and a half.

I took a red eye flight down to get here. When I agreed to fly the red eye, I didn’t know that it was going to stop at nearly every airport along the way. I flew from Spokane to Seattle. Then from Seattle to Sacramento to Guadalajara to Culiacan and finally to La Paz. I didn’t get any sleep at all on the plane, and by the time I landed in the bright sunshine of mid-morning in La Paz, I was a zombie. True, I was a smiling zombie, but a zombie all the same.

I took a cab from the airport down to the malecon along the waterfront of downtown La Paz and stumbled into the Crown Seven Hotel. The good people at the Crown 7 perked up when they heard I had arrived, as our agent in La Paz had told them of my “nightmarish flight.” They welcomed me, grabbed my bags, led me up to my room, practically tucked me into bed, and wished me a comfortable rest. It was sweet relief to plummet into a coma at 11 am in the morning with the soft breeze of the air conditioner lulling me away.

The advantage of taking this flight was that I had two days to spend in La Paz before traveling across the peninsula to San Carlos where I would join the ship.

La Paz

I love La Paz. I should say I love the Malecon located in La Paz, as it is the only part of the city where I have spent my time. However, it is very charming. I woke up after a four-hour nap. I was still half out of it at first, but woke up enough to realize I was hungry. La Paz has several good restaurants, and I had plans on visiting two of my favorites while I was here. I decided on pizza. I stepped out into the cooling evening air, and walked two around the block to the restaurant. It was still too early for most diners, and I had the place to myself. I ordered a green pepper and onion pizza, and it was delicious.

The sky darkened with the setting of the sun, and I walked back to the hotel. I sat out on the fifth floor patio and looked over the Malecon. There were people walking along the boardwalk. The decorated streetlights winked on, and then grew brighter. The small waves lapped at the shore. Two dozen sailboats bobbed in the harbor, their dinghies tethered to the stern. The sunset left the western sky a dull orange smudge, definitely not the best sunset (that came later in the week), but still added to the scene. It was peaceful. It was another tranquil evening in La Paz.

I climbed back in bed, and slept a very satisfying sleep.

The next day was very enjoyable. There was no hurry to my day, as the bus to San Carlos didn’t leave until 5 pm. I had breakfast on the seashore, followed by a leisurely stroll. I had lunch at Rancho Viejo, and ate the best fish tacos I have ever eaten in my life. I went back to the hotel and met up with the guy who I was replacing. We had coffee and talked of the ship. The ship is a constant topic of conversation, among boat folks, and there was a lot to catch up on.

The ride across the peninsula was fun. I was a bundle of nerves, being both a little bit nervous, and quite excited about seeing my friends and the boat once again. I sat far back in the bus as we whizzed through the inky desert night. It was kind of like being on a plane with a lot of turbulence, but for some reason since I knew I was connected to the ground, I wasn’t concerned about it.

Finally, we arrived in San Carlos and I saw the bright lights of the Sea Bird. My nervousness and excitement grew, and a smile began to grow on my face. I stepped off the bus and into the melee of luggage, crew, guests and hubbub. I was back onboard. I spent the evening giving hugs, catching up, handing out chocolate, and staying up late. It felt really good.

As with all choices one makes in life, the outcome is never clear or certain. I figured to make the best of my time here in Mexico.

Sublime Times in Mexico
I had the morning off. I like to ease back into work, and I spent my time on the west side of Isla Magdalena at a place called Sand Dollar Beach. I sat for a long time, just watching the rollers curl and break on the sand. There were dolphins in the distance, and the warm sun baked into me. I stalked a small crab that was skittering along the shore. I took its portrait. At last, I could not resist it anymore, and I shuffled my way into the ocean. It was time to catch a few rides on the waves. The water was a perfect temperature, reminding me of Lake Superior in July. It was not too hot or cold. It was refreshing, it was rejuvenating, and it was good for my soul.

On Kissing Gray Whales

I’ve talked of my first experiences of kissing a whale in "To Kiss A Whale" (March 2011 I am a fortunate man. I’ve done it again.

As part of our itinerary down here in Mexico, we spend a couple of days watching the gray whales of Magdalena Bay. Our captain, complete with his heart of gold, called the whale watching guides in Lopez Mateo to get a crew boat to go out and watch the whales. I was on the second tour, and several of my friends were gushing about their experiences on the first. TTwo of my friends kissed whales. I was beaming too. It’s funny, everyone is extremely happy when other people have good whale experiences. It is such a great moment.

There were seven of us in our group as we cruised out to the Boca Del Soledad. The Boca is a small opening to the sea from Magdalena Bay. The gray whales frequently use this as their entrance to and from the bay. The crew cracked jokes and told stories, vented and relaxed as we looked out for spouts from the whales. We followed a mom and her calf around, but they didn’t want to play. It was great to be out among the whales again.

Then it happened. We were following a mom and calf pair when the calf started to come close to the panga. We all leaned over the side, almost, but not quite tipping the boat. We splashed at it, called for it, said hello, cooed, and welcomed the whale to come closer.

It came right up to the boat, and I said hello and touched the calf on the back of the head. I said aloud, “You feel just like an eggplant.“ No sooner than I had finished uttering those words, then the whale surfaced and blew its breath directly and forcefully into my face. I was no more than 15 inches away from the blowholes. It was kind of like being three inches away from a human sneeze. I begged the whale its pardon, and apologized. I wonder if a whale knows what an eggplant is. I can imagine it saying, “Why are you saying I feel like this thing I never heard of before?”

After that, the whales put on a show of affection. The mom and calf played around us, and the feeling of good will and kinship grew. I kissed both whales twice. That means that I have kissed three different whales in my life. The thought of that is preposterous to me. I whiffed on two other kisses though, and I ended up dunking my face into the water as the whale retreated.

My favorite moment was seeing the mom’s eye up close, not more than six inches below the water. It was beautiful. To me, the eye was relaxed, full of compassion, maternal serenity and knowing. It was like being noticed by a grand beautiful queen, even for just a moment. It was beautiful, and I hope I never forget that moment.

Punta Colorado
I like to pick a high point and hike there. This one was very satisfying.

Sunset

The sunsets of the Sea of Cortez are consistently the best I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure there is much more I can say about them. They are simply amazing.

What a great first week. I can’t believe my good fortune. I wonder what the next three weeks will hold?