Entries about turtles

Remembering Florida

Florida has been good to me. It's such a beautiful state - so full of life and color. It's a wonderful contrast to the chilly northern climates that I had been visiting. It was good to walk around in shorts again. It was good to swim in a river. It was good to sit around a bonfire under a starry sky. It was good to climb trees again. I ate a lot of amazing food. I did battle in my first paintball war in twenty years. I ate some of the best shrimp of my life in Apalaciacola. None of this would have been nearly as fun if it wasn't for my good friends and hosts, Clayton and Laura Lee.

Florida offered me many new experiences I wouldn't find anywhere else. I saw my first alligator. I ate my first alligator (it was delicious). I pulled an orange right off the tree and ate it for breakfast. I swam with manatees. I took a ride through a Florida swamp on an air boat. I built my first chicken coop. I ate the best strawberry you can get, and I snorkelled down a beautiful crystal clear river (see Soaring Through the Wild Blue). It was great.

Fireside Banjo Jam

This is what it’s all about. I met up with my good friend Clayton on his farm way up in the panhandle of Florida. We spent 15 minutes cutting up a dozen pine logs and set up a good fire. The stars lit up the dark sky, accompanying the hanging crescent moon. We drank some beers. We played our banjos. We talked of life, and how good it is. This was my first night in Florida, and a damn fine one at that.

Stuck

Clayton and I got back in his truck. He started it up, and stopped for a second. We could go straight across the sand lot, or we could turn around and stick to the parking lot. Clayton asked me, “Do you think we can make it?” I answered without really thinking about it, “Sure, let’s go for it.” Well, we went for it. We didn’t make it. The sand became deep halfway across and we sunk up to the axle. We were stuck.

After a half hour of futile effort, one call to a tow truck, and trying a few more bad ideas, a four pack of guys came to our rescue. The four of them lifted the back of the pick up and Clayton jammed a six by six log under the tire. Then we all pushed while Clayton spun his way to the road beyond. We escaped just before the tow truck arrived. It was a solid afternoon had by all.

Coop!

Clayton needed to build a chicken coop for his chickens. I became excited about the idea, and drew up some elaborate blueprints of what Clayton wanted it to look like. I love sketching out the finished product almost as much as I like building them.

One afternoon we went out to the hardware store to buy the supplies, and the next day we started the build. It took a lot longer to build than I thought it would, but the end result looked a lot like how I envisioned it.

I thought back to where I was two weeks before when I was wandering around downtown Manhattan. Now here I was building a chicken coop on a farm in rural Florida. I love the diversity of my life.

On Oranges

Florida has the best oranges. Have you ever smelled an orange blossom? It is the most intoxicating perfume I've ever scented. Have you ever eaten an orange right off the tree for breakfast? I did. It was the juiciest most flavorful orange I have ever tasted.

The Florida Wild

The following photos are from various parts of Florida. Florida is beautiful. It is full of birds, wildlife, flowers, gators, and some of the best trees I’ve ever seen. I love Florida’s trees. The white Cyprus and the giant live oaks are my new favorite, especially when covered in Spanish moss.

Florida Forests

Terrapin

Evening Tree Reflection

White Cyprus and Spanish Moss

Gulf of Mexico

Female Grackles Walking the Swamp

Male Grackle

Swamp Vegetation

Baby Gator

Grackle Flight

Ghost Fish

Wood Ducks

Shamrock in Good Light

Pitcher Plant Frog

Lily Pads and Reflected Clouds

My favorite part of Florida was spending quality time with my friends. Cheers!

I am soaring through the wild blue. Superman is envious of my perfect form. The landscape below is interesting. I pass over huge bowls of limestone, their bottoms flat and sandy. I speed up as I glide over the lip - a victim of physics. The grasses on the sides of the rock reach out and try to grab me as I hurl along inches above their emerald tips. Then I pass over another rim of different rocky bowl. It is as though I’m filming one of the dramatic aerial scenes with an I-Max camera. You know this scene: The camera soars along a rocky mountain range before narrowly skirting by several jagged peaks and over the valley far below. The effect leaves the viewer thinking they are truly flying, though they are sitting firmly in their seat.

I am NOT sitting in a seat. I AM flying! A surge of tingles erupts at the base of my neck spreading downward through my body to the tips of my toes. I forget about everything, and start a series of lazy barrel rolls. My face holds a wide madman’s grin. This is as good as it gets.

Suddenly, I realize I have done one barrel roll too many. My intake is clogging and my engine coughs at the sudden moisture build up. I thrust myself upward and break through the surface of the water with a choking gasp. I force the water through my snorkel with a gust of breath that clears the airway. I pause for a moment to ease my breathing and take in my surroundings.

I’m bobbing along the Rainbow River in central Florida. It may be the most beautiful river I have ever seen. I think this is because of my choice of exploration technique. Snorkeling a river is far more intimate than other modes - kayaking or canoeing cannot compare. You can look at a beautiful woman, or you can make love with her. Which would you rather do?

Snorkeling reveals the underwater realms in their awesome hidden splendor. Now, I realize not all rivers are equal. Many rivers have terrible visibility-a condition of their hydrology, surrounding lands, trees, and geology. This is not my problem today. The Rainbow River has superb water clarity. The limestone beneath the river filters the water before releasing it by hundreds of springs. The springs on the Rainbow move so much water through that the entire river purges itself every four hours. This is a watery dream.

The water is relatively warm, holding through the winter months at 72 degrees Fahrenheit. I’m wearing a thin wet suit, fins, snorkel and mask. I’m comfortable enough, though slowly getting chillier as the day goes on.

The river holds a steady one knot current. This doesn’t sound like much, but when soaring over those grassy rims of bedrock the flow enhances the feeling of weightless flying. I’m STILL grinning about it. This is a drift dive. This means the river current carries me downstream and I won’t be ending where I started.

The riverbed is beautiful. The main channel rises and falls. There are deep holes and shallow grass beds. I swim over steady sandy slopes and level bedrock. It is an interesting landscape unto itself. The swaying grass is mesmerizing. There are sunken logs and trees to explore, the hiding places for snails and turtles. The underwater springs percolate through the sand and bedrock, often changing my speed as I float over them. Some of the springs were large “caves” that I dove down to explore.

The wildlife under water is tolerant of me. I watch two different types of turtles. They held still for a minute before paddling off to hide in the dense grasses. One of them was a good-sized slider; its bright lines along its head and tail were very vibrant in the bluish clarity.

I love interacting with fish under the water. I didn’t bother them at all. To them, I was just a very strange ungainly fish (to be fair, I have no idea what a fish‘s opinion of me is). There are small schools of bluegills swimming around me. I wiggle the tip of my index finger at them. Sure enough, one of them stops, turns around, and looks at me face-to-face - mere inches apart. It slowly swims up and gives my finger a quick peck to see if it was edible. Realizing it isn’t, it swims off. I did this to other bluegills, and had two fish come up to me and peck me on the eye of my goggles. It was so cool!

I also saw a large gar in one of the deeper holes. The gar is an interesting looking fish with a long narrow crocodile like snout. It had beautiful one-inch spots on its body, to aid in camouflage and artistic delight.

The dive is over and I pass my gear up to the dive captain before climbing up the ladder. I sit down, dripping water, and shivering. I reflect on my day and smile.

One of my philosophical mantras is, “Go with the flow.” Well, today, I did just that.

I was looking at a map of northeast Ohio, and saw to my surprise that there was a national park not too far away from where I am hanging out this week. Who knew Ohio had a national park? I didn’t, but when in roam, make like the roamers, and so we headed on down to check out Cuyahoga Valley National Park.

Cuyahoga (pronounced Cay-uh-ho-guh) means “Crooked River” in Mohawk. It seems to me that every river I’ve ever encountered suffers from this same affliction. Are there straight rivers? Never make a deal with a river, it’ll probably gyp you out of something.

The Cuyahoga Valley has been the stomping grounds for man for eons,perhaps 12,000 years or so (but who’s counting?). In more recent history (the 1800‘s), the Ohio and Erie canal ran through here, partially watered by and parallel to the Cuyahoga. The canal also had an impressive system of locks, which allowed barges to make navigate the elevations between Akron and Cleveland. The canal was a huge success, and allowed settlers and trade goods to be passed along between Akron and Cleveland. In short, this canal helped open up Middle America for settlement.

There isn’t much left of the canal today. It was abandoned in 1913, and nature has been slowly reclaiming its territory ever since. Today it’s a lush swampland full of plants wetland flowers and animals that love the water and thrive here.

My adventure partner is a bit limited in her mobility just now, so we took it easy and went for a stroll on the Towpath trail, near Ira. We followed the white gravel trail until we crossed over a series of wooden walkways over a beaver pond marsh. Given our limited mobility, this seemed like a good place to see some wildlife, and I wasn’t disappointed.

The beavers have done a terrific job of creating a beautiful wetland full of wildflowers, swamp grasses and reeds. This habitat provides a good home to a wide diversity of animals and insects including turtles, fish, frogs, herons, butterflies, bees and other birds.

It took me 29 years to capture a good photograph of a great blue heron, and I had to go to Mexico to take it. I guess the first one is the hard one to get, because since that one, I’ve had no problems getting the herons to pose for me. Out on the boardwalk, one of these beautiful birds was sitting silently on a log not more than forty feet away from me. Knowing how long I had to wait for the first picture of one, I took the opportunity to take a few more.

This particular heron sat motionless for some time, but then, slowly, moving its long sticklike legs very carefully and deliberately it began positioning its lanky body to snatch a fish out of the water. Herons like other water birds use slow movements and infinite patience to catch their prey off guard. The fish get used to seeing an unmoving heron standing in one place and grow complacent. Then when they aren’t suspecting, SNAP! They are in the long beak of the heron and down the gullet.

I watched this heron do just that. It slowly uncoiled its body, and positioned its long neck closer and closer to the water. With surprising speed, it shot its beak into the water and snatched the fish. It happily ate it, and I watched the small lump travel all the way down the long heron neck.

Besides the heron, I was struck by the white water lilies that were in bloom on the surface of the water. They seemed to have a subtle grace and beauty to them that I found very alluring. I made several portraits of these flowers and couldn’t decide which I liked best, so I’ll let you decide.

The trail was busy. It was full of families riding bikes, runners, joggers, lurchers (people who jog with weird strides), and walkers like us. It was a summer weekend, and it was good to see everyone out and about.

We finished off our visit with a stop in the small, picturesque little village of Peninsula. We ate lunch at Fischer’s Café and Pub, and it was very tasty. I’d eat there again, and recommend you stop in if you are in the area. I went for classic man food, a BBQ cheeseburger with fries, and it was delicious.

Cuyahoga Valley National Park isn’t a wild park. It’s pretty tame in comparison to some of the other national parks I’ve visited recently (Glacier Bay National Park, in Alaska), but it does have its charms. The history of the place, combined with the natural beauty found there make for a pleasant place to spend a day or two poking around. I would definitely go back, and would like to bike the length of the Towpath Trail.

I didn’t see the entire park either, I’d like to check out Brandywine falls in autumn, and Tinkers Creek Gorge. I’d also like to see more of the canal, and see some of the rebuilt canal boats that used to navigate the canal. As I was just thinking about it, a possible interesting canoe trip would be to canoe the entire length of the Erie Canal, some 380 miles of it, but I’m not sure that’s even possible anymore.

I guess it’s safe to say, I’ll be back to the Cuyahoga Valley someday.

“The profit system follows the path of least resistance. Never follow the course of least resistance, because following the course of least resistance is what makes a river crooked. Hmph!” Utah Phillips

There were four of us in the panga including our whale-whispering guide, Jimmy, who had a unique ability to coax whales to come close. And it was CLOSE! A Fifty-foot long mother gray whale was floating perpendicular to our boat directly beneath us. It was about two feet away, and despite my gorilla arm length was inches out of reach. So close, yet so far.

I’m ok with that. Close encounters with whales are as moving as watching a gorgeous sunrise light up the alto-cumulus, or finding a mountain meadow full of wildflowers. Her calf was very curious, and surfaced a couple of feet away. In fact, it gave one of us a slap with his tail on her palm. I like to think it was a high five, though she didn’t see it my way.

After our friends moved on, swimming away, practicing for the long migration up to Alaska, we looked about us and saw gray whales everywhere. There were more mother and calf pairs, seemingly synchronized in their swimming, breathing and blowing at the same time. A great big billowing cloud of misted salt snot for mom, and a cute little puff of salty snot mist for the calf. Speaking from experience, the smell of whale breath is far sweeter down here in Mexico than it is in Alaska. In Alaska, the humpback whales are feeding heavily on herring, giving their breath a horrible noxious mixture of rotten fish belches. The gray whales down here aren’t feeding yet. They have to migrate up to Alaska before they feed, and so their breath is relatively clean smelling. It’s weird to think about, but I’ve breathed the same air a whale has breathed.

Look at the “knuckles” on this particular mother. The gray whale is a very unique looking compared to other whales. It doesn’t have a dorsal fin, it has “knuckles” This is an old whale, though nobody is really sure how old these whales are. Gray whales don’t have teeth, which usually tell us a whale’s age, they use baleens to eat, separating their food from water. Some think that the whales swimming in Magdalena bay are old enough to remember being hunted by whalers.

The gray whale was known as the “Devil Fish”, as they would fight harder than any other whale when harpooned. The harpooners who were dumb enough to harpoon a gray whale calf would have to face the angry mother attempting to save her baby, and there are tales of skiffs smashed to pieces by enraged whales.

If these whales remember whaling, the fact that these mothers bring their calves to our zodiacs to let us touch, pet, hug and kiss them, is amazing. These whales should give all of humanity hope that there are beings far more forgiving than man is. Man has spent decades trying to kill whales, and in some countries still are. However, these whales, these magnificent gray whales of Magdalena bay, have crossed over and connected with us. This is unprecedented, and it is one of the coolest, feel good stories of the year.

Everyone who I have talked to concerning touching a whale, has this to say, “It is really, really cool!” or “It’s one of the highlights of my life!” The consensus is, we love whales. I’ve yet to see someone who’s seen a whale up close say, “BAH! So I touched a stupid whale, all it did was come up to the boat, and splash around.” It just doesn’t happen.

While hiking along the western dunes of Isla Magdalena, I came across a couple sets of whale bones. They were very large pieces, some vertebra, and I think a skull. The scouring westerly winds combined with sand, and hot sun had polished and bleached them pure white. I stopped to look at these bones, and composed a few photos, but mostly I was thinking about the life of the gray whale and their bones on Isla Magdalena. It makes sense that if whales are born here in the warm shallow waters in Magdalena bay that they might come home to die as well. This small island is witness to the gray whale’s life from cradle to grave life coming full circle here in Magdalena Bay.

I ran my hands over the smooth bones, pondering my own journey. Isla Magdalena is a very powerful and peaceful place. It’s a great place to wander and think. I love the white noise of the rolling waves, the wind continually shaping and remaking the textures of sand make for a pleasant place to lose yourself, and explore a unique place as well. The island collects interesting bits of ocean life. Next to my whale skull was the skeleton of a turtle. I really liked the skull. It was very cool. I’ve found five turtle shells in my jaunts around the island so far. I really like the shells of Magdalena Bay. Look at the colorful detail of this shell. I knew I was in the right place, and on the right path. My lucky number is number nine, and to find one of such vibrancy, was reassuring that I am where I should be.

I walked on my way, feeling good, and enjoying life. This is how it ought to be.