The thing with new beginnings is that it is not just some little things that are new and need a lot of attention to figure out…it is everything. That freedom to choose and the newness that infuses all aspects of life is stimulating and promotes a lot of growth as the individual has to quickly adapt. The smoother the transition, the less growth occurs. For us, the transition from California to England was very stimulating and we have all had to change and adapt in ways we were not expecting. From the very beginning, we had to put plan B or C into effect and be flexible and positive. There were difficult challenges and some very tough moments for sure. More than a few tears flowed, stoked by frustration. Yet, we now have a place to live and are negotiating a new country where rules have recently changed and supports do not quite fit our situation. Each day brings a new triumph; a new accomplishment. We are, in fact, immigrants, and that is particularly strange for me as this is my country of origin. What makes the difference is the people.
It may be a west coast phenomenon, because just as in California, the West Coast of Britain, and Bristol in particular, seems to be filled with kind individuals who are down to earth and willing to help. Returning home after so many years away, I wasn’t sure what to expect, and still don’t really. The future is fluid and mutable right now, while the crystal ball is cloudy. And yet, I am thrilled with the diversity of this city- during our short month here I have come to love hearing multiple languages spoken around me (once, on the bus I heard a type of musical African language, Mandarin, a conversation that sounded Eastern European, and Arabic all spoken loudly and rapidly as I sat and enjoyed the moment). The sights, sounds, and smells of the city flow continually feeling like life is happening. Yes, Bristol can be edgy and a little grungy, yet it is vibrant, colourful, full of life and accepting of the weird and wonderful and I love it.
The ancient buildings such as cathedrals, mysterious winding cobbled alleyways, tiny crooked churches and remnants of sweeping castle walls protectively cradling a park or a tiny garden, are at odds with new glass edifices with angular lines or shaped like the bow of some gargantuan ship ploughing through a rejuvenated dockland area. Glass office and apartment blocks sprout everywhere. It shouldn’t work, but it does because everywhere at ground level are havens in the form of small pubs, cafes and restaurants, pretty walkways that follow the rivers and canals, greenery sprouting from 800 year old rock walls or as a living roof on a newly built apartment rooftop. The old and craggy blends seamlessly with the new and smooth. Bikes more than cars compete with an army of electric double-decker buses, and zipping around everywhere are electric scooters rented by college students heading for a night out or an executive in a suit cruising down Whiteladies Road to work in the morning. Canal boats still slide up the river and people take time to sit in the park. And presiding over it all is the omnipresent University of Bristol that seems to represent the valued and stoic traditions of the past somehow adapted to enhance rather than take from the embrace of the quickening future. What a place to be.
View of the river and restaurant near our flatOld and NewBridge to a popular new area with breweries and even a BBC studio Showing support at the Pride Parade
Moving- we’ve all done it. Be it from your childhood home, maybe to your first apartment, perhaps to/from a college dorm room, or even to a new town. For us this recent move is to a new country. And this has definitely not been a boring experience. Since we’ve arrived, one of our favourite sites in Bristol is the Clifton Suspension Bridge. It was designed by Isambard Kingdom Brunel and is seen as a turning point in the history of engineering symbolising a city of original thinkers and independent spirits. As this free-spirited bridge is suspended across the River Avon I find I relate to this connection of being divided and stretched across two places not sure which side I belong to. Especially as we have had to navigate several unexpected barriers since we arrived. Yet each morning we start the day fresh with a cuppa and ready (or not) take on whatever comes next. For us the barriers are inconveniences given our various privileges putting us in our place as we come to terms with the challenges too many immigrants face. Yet the silver lining is how each hiccup has made us appreciate just about everything (since we’ve stumbled with just everything from supermarkets to visas=)
We’ve moved into a great little flat overlooking our new city. Liam started training in a hardcore swim team (even earned a 3rd place at his first swim gala which is just a fancier way of saying swim meet). I’ve met with my stellar university supervisor and helped my family settle in with various trips to Wilko, Poundstretcher, Primark, thrift stores, and TK Maxx. Meggie has been running throughout the city exploring in the earliest hours of the day coming across new smells (not all good) and sights (also a mixed bag) and Stu’s hard at work networking. 100% grateful to be here, 100% aware that we are in over our head and 100% feeling alive as we navigate this together as a family.
Our new Flat is in the tall building that overlooks the River Avon
View from our flat’s windows-many new buildings have living roofs
When wondering about Bristol’s general disposition, think of the word, vibrant. The people, the food, the architecture are all exciting and truly bring meaning to the word. I often visualise my life back in California taking the form of a straight line. I was stuck in the same routine especially during covid. Here in Bristol, in my mind the line shoots up and staggers downward only to sky rocket again. Curiosities and crazy experiences are making life feel like more of an adventure. The scary worries of not being able to find a place to live at the beginning was quickly replaced by the wonderful and startling horizon to horizon view we found ourselves enjoying once we did find an apartment. In Bristol, as I walk down the street I hear a multitude of languages being spoken, some I don’t even know of their origins. The city is rightfully labelled as diverse and forward thinking. Every new thing we learn about in the city makes us fall further in love with our new home. I can’t wait to see what else we will discover in the coming months.
After several hurdles we have finally moved into our new flat. Looking back on these past few weeks it is really interesting how this shift of being in a new country has been. Obviously, the cultures are subtly different as they are with everywhere in the world. Yet living in a new place, these unfamiliar behaviours can go unnoticed until something outside your own brain quietly tells you “that isn’t supposed to be like that”. It’s very strange to have these thoughts and handle these completely new situations. Like the other day I was waiting for the bus as it was late as usual and as I was looking at the views of old churches and the emerald green fields are quite different from the beaches in Goleta. It feels like a weird distorted deja-vu. Everything new has been fun too; it makes one think about how you want to live because you have to work at it as opposed to how it just sort of happens when you are back home in a familiar place in your familiar circle of friends and acquaintances.
See you soon is definitely more fitting than goodbye. We are off to the UK for a gazillion reasons (this is where my husband is from, it’s our children’s nationality, an opportunity to step away from the USA, and where I’ll pursue a PhD…). Through the lens of excitement of what is ahead we are also fully aware that we have so much to be grateful for.
Gifts: Having taught where my kids were students was a true blessing (the teacher-parents understand). Literally thousands of miles walked on the bluffs with a multitude of glorious conversations in the most beautiful of settings-“what’s said on the bluffs stays on the bluffs…” Of course my students, their families, and the brilliant colleagues that I was fortunate to have worked with and have learned from. And finally our family- not a single one of you said, “Don’t do this!” Thank you for your support of our next endeavour- so many gifts!
To our friends, families, students, neighbours, and community we are forever appreciative for sharing this time and space with you.
Meggie:
A few years back when my family was first settling into life in Finland, I coined the terms, Gome and Jyome. It was a way of processing my new understanding that in fact we can have more than one home. At the time, Jyvaskyla, our small town in Finland, stopped feeling new and foreign and began to be a place where we were at home or, Jyome. Sometimes however, conversation would be brought up where home also referred to our house and life in Goleta, our Gome. Since then this is how we have referred to both our lives in each place. And yet now, on my family’s last day in Santa Barbara before we depart for Bristol, UK, it’s time to say goodbye to our Gome. My brother and I commemorated this crazy change by doing something completely normal; we went for a drive after his last swim practice yesterday. We picked up burritos from our favorite local restaurant, CalTaco and cruised through the winding streets of Isla Vista. Our perusal of the familiar roads eventually took us down to Goleta Beach where we ritually turned off the car, rolled down the windows, dug into our burritos, and watched the sand meet the surf and the ocean meet the Channel Island of Santa Cruz. The view, the food, even the conversation- all ordinary. But it being our last time doing so, was fairly strange, slightly sad and very exciting.
Stu:
As I look back on my time in America over the past 26 years, I am filled with gratitude for all the people I have met and spent time with/learned from, the experiences I have had, and the opportunities for growth I have enjoyed (and sometimes endured). My time here can also be summed up as a list of “firsts”.
-First time on an airplane; being in the Channel Islands, mountains, deserts, and many different states and regions; being on T.V. (briefly); getting married; becoming a dad; earning a college degree/teaching credential; becoming a teaching professional and many more to mention. Things like the crazy Los Angeles traffic I won’t miss. Some such as incredible BBQ and salsa are likely to bring tears of sadness soon.
Although I did not intend to stay, I have put down roots and enjoyed becoming part of a family. I was struck by the warmth of strangers and their willingness to include a young Brit in activities and get-togethers. I feel fortunate to have made lasting friendships and seen much of how others live.
Yet now it is time to embrace change once again and return to my homeland. It may be of short duration, or maybe long-term. The unknown is nerve-wracking and excitingly stimulating and I look forward to experiencing the familiar and the new-especially through the eyes of my four family who are negotiating the move much as I did all those years ago arriving in California with shorts too small and skin too white. I hope they will be embraced as positively by my countrymen as I was in the U.S.
Liam:
Goodbye SB…
After growing up with Goleta being our home base it’s sort of strange leaving. The reason I use the word strange; not bad or good is because it’s never going to be over. What I mean is that when something is over you can sort of classify it. Living here has honestly been literally a once in a lifetime opportunity. It’s a strange place as you come near the end of something because you see things differently as I’m sure most people come to find out. I think the biggest thing I’m going to miss or rather am going to try and appreciate more is the ocean and being able to live so close to the beach.
The strange, baa-baa sound escaped the plastic confines of the 3 foot-long animal traveling crate sitting innocently on the starboard corner of the aft deck. The plaintive sound was reminiscent of a goat or perhaps a sheep and passengers glanced at each other confusedly as they were on a boat after all; not in a farmyard. The volunteer from the Channel Islands Marine & Wildlife Institute (CIMWI) beckoned over one of the nearest passengers and had them peek inside the cage through the thin bars at the front and sides. There, peering out with large dewy eyes was a tiny fur seal looking for all the world like a puppy demanding to be let out to play. One glance was all it took-hearts melted and before they realized it passengers were peppering the smiling volunteers with questions mostly beginning with “what,” “where,” and “how.” Answers were returned along with stickers that featured the portrait of this very young and seldom seen breed of seal. A few minutes later, a second crate was loaded containing a California Sealion pup every bit as adorable as its cousin.
During the spring, our boats at Island Packers are often tasked with providing the CIMWI team the means to release young seals and sealions such as California Sealions, Harbor Seals, Elephant Seals, Stellar’s Sealions, and Fur Seals (all collectively known as pinnipeds-meaning feathered feet due to their fins). The pinnipeds need various degrees of medical and/or physical support and rehabilitation for reasons such as illness, abandonment, poisoning, entanglement in trash or fishing gear, as well as malnutrition/dehydration. The animals find their way to CIMWI following calls from concerned members of the public who often find the critters in distress on local beaches or harbors. Veterinarians and trained volunteers nurse the animals back to health and help prepare them to fend for themselves back in the wild. The last step is to transport the animals to a spot where they are likely to be successful integrating back into their natural environment. The Channel Islands National Park fits that bill nicely as it provides a plethora of pristine locations already populated by similar animals protected both by the structure of the national park and various MPA’s (marine protected areas) as well as their isolation from the millions of nearby humans who have taken over the mainland beaches and waterways-the natural range of seals and sealions. And so this latest pair of pinnipeds found themselves riding a noisy boat occasionally doused with tangy seawater from breaking waves. They were justly excited.
As we neared Santa Rosa Island Luke, the captain, had a decision to make: disembark the passengers first before releasing our star guests, or stop first to allow everyone to view the return of the pups to the wild. after putting it to a vote (who said a boat is not a democracy?) the answer was unanimously in favor of releasing first. Adjusting course slightly, Luke pointed the bow into a small, sheltered cove at Carrington Point. A few minutes later, the stern quarter was roped off, PFD’s (personal floatation devices) donned by crew and volunteers, and the side gates were opened. The first crate was turned to face the water, and the door opened. Nothing happened. The small fur seal seemed suddenly nervous and edged to the back of the crate. Expecting this, the volunteers tilted the cage up so that the open end faced the water and gave it a little shake. The fur seal pup slid down and then dove into the clear, cold water. Instantly, the tiny animal was transformed into a graceful swimmer completely at home in his aquatic environment. Looping in excited somersaults, splashing, and bobbing his head repeatedly under the water, the seal seemed to be washing off the weirdness of his recent sojourn among the two leg-eds on the mainland. After staring up at us for a long moment, the seal turned and in a flash was gone. Popping up about twenty yards away, we last saw him speeding towards a large kelp bed where more pinnipeds were watching us warily. Everyone cheered and I silently wished him well. Seconds later, the California sealion also dropped in and returned home to the delight of the small crowd of watchers. Another successful return!
Seals and sealions have not always enjoyed the support of humans. In the mid-20th Century, local California sealions found themselves on the brink of extinction because of human harvesting for their meat, pelts, oil, and even whiskers (used as pipe cleaners). They were also collected to train as performers at zoos, traveling circus acts, and water parks to entertain crowds of paying customers. Only the Marine Mammal Protection Act of the 1970’s saved them, and the local population steadily grew. Today, it is thought California sealions numbers have exceeded 160,000; their pre-hunting numbers and may have even broke 200,000. Still, even though the species as a whole is thriving, not all individual animals do quite so well on their own which is where the Marine Mammal & Wildlife Institute and the kind attention of the public comes into play. Sometimes animals are like us and need a little help. Expert medical help along with monitored and planned interactions are often enough to help return an animal to health without making it dependent on human intervention. Last year, CIMWI helped dozens of animals.
As I watched the tiny critters make their way back into their natural environment, I couldn’t help but wonder what they thought about their time with their human helpers. One thing was certain though-they were excited to be back where they needed to be.
If you see a seal or sealion on the beach, give it space as it is likely just taking a break and warming up. If it seems sick, or is tangled in trash or covered in oil, call the professionals such as CIMWI, as they are much more likely to be successful than you or I. If you would like to learn more about stranded or injured marine mammals (as well as how to help/report) or perhaps donate to the CIMWI here’s a link:
The roar of the boat’s engines suddenly quieted as the captain powered down. Instinctively, I braced myself and looked over my shoulder at the two nearby passengers sitting grimly in the galley telling them to hold on. The bow lifted dramatically upwards at a crazy angle revealing blue sky and a view of the agitated ocean ahead. The sharp 10 foot wave surged underneath and the bow dropped into the trough slamming everyone forward. Two more waves followed in quick succession. The anchor locker cover on the bow deck crashed open lifted by the freefall followed by the impact into water, and spray covered the entire superstructure of the boat. For perhaps the hundredth time during the two hour crossing to Santa Cruz Island, I was thankful that the captain had been aware of the stacked waves that sometimes create an unusually deep hole in the ocean, and had slowed down to make it easier for the boat and us. What a wild roller-coaster ride!
I’ve always been interested in the transition zone where we cross from our safe and comfortable world into a wilderness setting. Until I started participating in ocean sports such as scuba diving, kayaking and surfing, I’d been under the misguided impression that wilderness was somewhere far-off the beaten path that needed much planning and equipment for a person to immerse themselves. Even the definition of wilderness: a tract or region uncultivated and uninhabited by humanbeings supports this view. Wilderness should be far away from people shouldn’t it? Personally, I like the old English, wilde, which is described as a place in the natural state, uncultivated, untamed, undomesticated, uncontrolled. Sure the simple definition of wilderness supported my views, but uncontrolled and untamed? Those are very specific terms that hint at fear, or at the very least, respect and not a geographic location. All those definitions could have been specifically chosen for just one part of our world, the part that is the largest and sometimes the least thought about- the world’s oceans. That wild ride out to Santa Cruz a few days ago sure exemplified the definitions for me.
But exactly where is this transition from everyday commonplace to wilderness? I believe that it is where we have no control of what is happening around us. In cold, murky, oceans this transition for me is very shallow-perhaps even chest deep. A mere stone’s throw from the beach. In clear, warm, tropical oceans, even if the waves are much bigger, there is a sense that the water is somehow safer and less wild because we can see through the water column. This is a fallacy as lifeguards in Hawaii have reported that many accidents occur when tourists mistake the dazzling, beautiful blue water as being more like a swimming pool than a place with rip tides, sudden large waves, and incredibly strong currents.
For most people, swimming beyond the breakers at the beach is definitely moving from a safe(r) area to a more unknown and, especially in the case of cold, murky water, a more dangerous and unpredictable environment. There is also the knowledge stored in our biological makeup from thousands, perhaps millions of years that when entering the ocean we are becoming part of the food chain-and not as the apex predator. The thought that simply by swimming a few yards offshore we have changed from intelligent and technically savvy creatures capable of manipulating our environments to make life easier and more comfortable to being, well, food for another creature is a little unnerving for most people. Perhaps that’s why surfers have so much of the world’s seashores to themselves…
So, why spend time in the wilderness, even one as uncontrollable as the ocean? What do we get from the experience that is worth us becoming shark poop? Our ancestors knew that to venture out into the unknown was to test themselves, a place to measure and compare their physical, emotional, and cognitive strength. Venturing out into the unknown and facing adversity made them intrinsically stronger. Modern people entering the wilderness reconnect to not only our natural world, but also to our physical bodies and senses that have evolved to be part of a natural environment. We are ideally suited to be part of nature even if we are not the fastest or strongest creatures out there. Even our very brain waves change beneficially when we are in a predominantly green or blue environment as we find ourselves living in the moment and connected to nature with a calm mind. That is the very reason architects and planners incorporate green areas inside most public buildings in Nordic countries such as Finland-the calm that comes from being in a wilderness area can be reproduced indoors to trick our brains when we are unable to leave the office.
As a diver and surfer, I enjoy entering the transition zone from our regular world into a wilderness environment that is mere yards away as I am forced by necessity to be in the present moving with a quiet mind. In these moments, I am aware of the beauty that is nature and the fact that there is nothing artificial about it. There, everyday worries that seemed so important on the beach become mundane and reduced in stature to their real level of importance. Watching the sun sparkle on the face of a perfect wave or watching colorful fish patrol their territory on a reef become all absorbing, reminding me of my childhood sense of wonder and the simple joy of adventure and exploration. It’s not always easy, and definitely not always safe, yet that is the power of the experience-the risk versus reward makes life richer and more fulfilling. A richer life-who does not want that?
Note: The pressures on nature from our modern human lifestyles such as pollution pesticides, chemicals, and plastics as well as habitat loss and climate change means that the world’s wilderness areas are struggling to remain untouched. They need our help to remain so, and any connection to nature is more likely to lead to better stewardship-so get out there and make your own adventure!
Serenity-time to ponder while kayaking-courtesy Pixabay.comTransition zone-courtesy Pixabay.com
Adult Blue Whale. Photo:Isabel Beasley/Seattle Aquarium
“This was the best experience of my life!” exulted the woman with tears in her eyes as the boat peeled away from the sparkling ocean still broiling from the force of the blue whale’s tail fluke as it kicked downwards for a deeper dive. A few dolphin zipped back and forth before deciding that surfing the bow and stern wake would be a more enjoyable option as we picked up speed. The impromptu whale watching encounter this fall a few miles off Santa Cruz Island in the Santa Barbara Channel had been a good one and all the more fun due to its unexpectedness. We’d been able to get a great view of the largest animal ever to have lived on the Earth which was accompanied this time by a pod of lively common dolphin. Most of the passengers were in awe of the blue whale as it cycled between breathing on the surface and feeding on krill deeper down in the water column. The sheer length and girth of the animal was a startling comparison when it chose to come so close to our smaller, 62 foot idling boat, easily dwarfing it. Interestingly, some definitely preferred watching the antics of the dolphin.
I acknowledged the passenger’s comments adding that we never get tired of these encounters too, especially as there are so few blue whales in the Northern hemisphere (about 4,000). As I made my way round the boat, I had several more conversations of a similar type. Often after viewing even just one or two dolphin, let alone whales, people are often deeply affected by the experience; many being moved to tears. Sometimes, individuals are at a loss for words and simply seem to need validation of how they are feeling. Of course, we naturalists and crew are happy to comply as we’ve all had similar feelings arise from contact with marine mammals.
True, seeing a creature like a hundred foot blue whale that weighs as many tons is an amazing encounter. Yet, the reactions of many people are often just as powerful even when viewing a small scattering of the much tinier 5-6 foot long common dolphin, lively and exuberant as they may be around a moving boat. Best experience of my life is quite a common description for those that can find the words. Many can’t. But why such a strong reaction? Is it simply due to seeing animals absent in everyday life? Is it due to something deeper? Are there positive benefits for people, and can tangible positive change result?
I decided to research the effects and/or benefits for humans that arise from contact between us and wild creatures. I was surprised by some of the findings.
In the recent study, Marine Wildlife Experiences and Beliefs: Towards Reciprocal Benefits, by Rachel Yerbury and William Boyd, the researchers wanted to see how people react to wildlife experiences and whether or not there would be any kind of reciprocal healing (healing of both creatures/environment and human conditions). There were three types of interaction with marine mammals: natural/wild, ecotourism/wild, and captive. They also wanted to see if prior beliefs and other factors such as age and gender would influence the encounters. The two basic beliefs in focus emanated from prior attitudes and experiences and were listed as “Human beliefs about nature, including the perception that humankind is dominant (anthropocentrism) or that all components of the earth are equally important (ecocentrism)…” the researchers also wanted to see if these beliefs would “influence the way that we interact with the world.” Of course, I’m drastically simplifying here, but the results were interesting.
There were more ecocentric encounters, especially when the participants had the opportunity to engage with wild animals in a natural environment, even if these were through organized tourist trips. There was a raise in anthropocentrism when animals were viewed in captivity. Gender and age were not as large factors as some may presume. My take-away from this study was that our beliefs do shape our encounters with wildlife which, as in the case of anthropocentrism (people are more important) brings about a division between humans and nature. In essence, it was what the person brings to the encounter that can enhance the emotional response to it, and if there is no real positive emotional response, then there can be no real love and stewardship from modern people to help preserve the oceans and the amazing creatures that live within it. It seems, not that surprisingly, this is best promoted through interactions with wild animals in nature and not wildlife parks or zoos.
I also came across a new term: Ecopsychology. There’s even courses of study in it. A good definition of the word is provided by Pacifica Graduate Institute which states that “Ecopsychology’s central goals are to heal the alienation of Western people from the natural environment and to examine and transform their modes of thinking and behaving that have led to the imperilment of ecosystems around the world.” It’s not a mainstream field of study although it seems to be gaining momentum and targets the division between the modern western style of living and the natural world; a split that indigenous peoples around the globe do not experience to such a degree. In fact, the institute goes on to warn that “the well-being of humans and the natural world are inextricably connected…” Never was a statement more pertinent than now.
With the amount of information continually presented by the media regarding the plight of the natural world and our responsibility to it, many people find themselves turning away from something so big. I recently read that one author when trying to have a conversation regarding the plight and looming death of the ocean, could only engage people for a maximum of 2 minutes before they changed the subject to something safer and less worrisome. This understanding and connection to nature pushed away and forgotten during our regular working lives surges back into a person’s consciousness when they engage with a wild marine mammal in its natural glory. Like a memory can be triggered by a familiar scent, renewed kinship and connection to nature is triggered by an emotion from being near a particular wild animal. And these emotions can be powerful even if unexpected and baffling.
Maybe that’s the true gift of a wild animal encounter- there’s just no hiding from our need to bridge the divide and reconnect in order to find some kind of love with both wild animals and our best, natural selves.
Rachel Yerbury, William Boyd, and Betty Weiler. Marine Wildlife Experiences and Beliefs: Towards Reciprocal Benefits. Ecopsychology Vol. 12, No. 3. Sep 2020.209-221.http://doi.org/10.1089/eco.2019.0068
A gray whale and her calf migrate north along the California coast on their way to summer feeding grounds in the Arctic. Photo: NOAA
I was hoping only for calm conditions to go out on my stand-up paddleboard as I pulled into the parking lot next to the pier at Goleta Beach, Ca. one morning last March. The giant telltale puff of steam less than 100 yards offshore immediately followed by a smaller, more delicate blast told me all I needed to know: Whales! This was spring and so I was already pretty sure that they were gray whales. Yet so close to the beach…
I have never entered the water so fast and as I paddled out I was sure that I’d missed them. I decided to slow myself and put out a calm vibe; something that has worked well for me when approaching marine mammals on a paddleboard or kayak in the past as they seem to pick up on how we are feeling and will avoid an over-eager paddler thrashing towards them. The fronds of the kelp bed that parallels the beach at this spot swayed lazily on the surface of the glassy water in the small swell as I paddled on.
Distracted momentarily by fish darting from the shadow of my passing board, I was surprised by a sudden whoosh of air very close by. The water that had sat on the whale’s blowhole was vaporized from the rushing air leaving a sparkling mist that rainbowed towards me in the early morning sun not 50 yards away. I could see the mottled patterns on the skin of the whale caused by colonies of barnacles and parasites as it turned towards me and slid regally beneath the water. A much smaller head popped up and I saw the tiny spout clearly as this very young calf took a quick breath and hurried after mom staying tucked in close to her side.
I found myself holding my breath as both whales swam gently under my paddleboard. With barely a ripple, their silver-spotted shadows slid under and passed behind me. The size of these visitors made me feel very small and vulnerable. For a moment it seemed as if a reef or submarine was moving under me. Pivoting my board so that I could face them once more, I was rewarded with yet another spout cycle as they logged serenely on the surface a few dozen yards away. Then, as I watched, the 45 foot long mother followed by her little 15-20 foot long calf turned towards open water and with an arch of the back slid under and away from me. I stood on my board breathing fast and watched them as they headed out and west on a line that would take them past the pier and eventually out towards Point Conception and the next leg of their long journey towards Alaska and the cold Bering and Chuckchi seas thousands of miles away. I wished them safe passage knowing how difficult the journey can be.
Whalers in the 18th and 19th centuries called gray whales Devil Fish on account of their fierce and desperate attempts to protect their young and each other from the plunging harpoons. Many a whaler met their end from the thrashing tail of a gray whale as they pursued these magnificent creatures in small row boats. Sadly, the whales were the real victims; their numbers decimated by man’s desire for oil and baleen as hunting methods improved including explosive-tipped harpoons in the mid-20th century. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) states that the Eastern Pacific gray whale population is now a fifth of what it was pre-whaling. Thankfully, the Marine Mammal Protection Act of the 1970’s and the moratorium on commercial whaling in the mid-1980’s by the International Whaling Commission has brought the gray whales back from the brink of extinction. Although their numbers are still much lower than they should be, the Eastern Pacific gray whales were removed from the Endangered Species List in 1994. Not so the Western Pacific gray whales which migrate past Russia and Japan whose total population is estimated at less that 300 individual whales.
Each fall when the waters of the far north become colder (is that even possible?) Eastern Pacific gray whales travel south from the Bering and Chuckchi seas following the North American coastline until they reach the welcoming warm waters of Baja, Mexico where they spend the winter months breeding or giving birth. The females and calves are renown as being friendly and will approach small boats and even allow themselves to be touched.
As spring approaches, the whales begin to migrate back north in order to feed in the rich, frigid waters from which they came months before. This migration is estimated to be 10,000 miles long in total and is fraught with danger. Many females give birth either on the journey or down in Mexico and have to run the gambit of predators such as great white sharks and orcas, as well as avoiding boat and ship collisions, abandoned fishing nets, and pollution (water and sound). Amazingly, even though the mothers are fasting, each day they manage to feed their young about 50 gallons of a 50% fat calorie dense milk, almost the consistency of yoghurt which encourages the rapid growth of protective blubber. Imagine gaining about 60 pounds of weight each day…Sadly, although now protected, the ocean is still a harsh place and not all whales make it through the annual migration safely. Yet, gray whales, especially the mothers, do whatever they can to keep their young alive and one such strategy-staying in very shallow water, brought this particular pair to my favorite place to paddle.
Over the next few days, my wife and I saw several pairs and small groups of whales slowly make their way past our little stretch of coastline. Mostly less than a couple of hundred yards from the beach, from our vantage point on the bluffs we could watch them for long periods at a time as they took respite in the protected waters and lazily interacted with each other. I was humbled by getting so close to such calm and wonderful creatures and although something of a cliche, thought that the term, gentle giants wastruly apt. This year, I’m again hopeful of another chance to visit.
Note: The world’s oceans are more than just home to the creatures that live in them-the majority of our atmosphere’s breathable oxygen and carbon dioxide absorption results from the process of photosynthesis by untold numbers of small phyto-plankton floating in the ocean. This crucial interaction for life on Earth is under threat from climate change while other creatures also struggle with the effects of pollution and commercial fishing. If you are interested in helping make positive change, below are some resources which may help:
Meggie and Liam ready for their first open water dive at Leadbetter Beach, Santa Barbara, CA.
Many times in my life I have had to literally force my mouth to stay closed while my wife’s fingers dig into my arm to prevent me from interfering with something that is not under my control. Never more so than now as a dad watching my kids learn how to negotiate the new skill of scuba diving. This past weekend was the culmination of several months of online training; pool sessions (not easy during a pandemic lockdown, I might add); a successful, if murky beach dive; and now the holy grail for a new diver: The legendary open water checkout dives from a real dive boat. Incredibly, both my 13 and 16 year old kids took on the challenge and became certified with flying colors.
Chuck Schonder, a local veteran scuba instructor for NAUI, risked developing grey hair by taking on the job of turning my swimmers into divers along with 2 friends, and it was with equal measures of excitement and nervousness that we found ourselves gearing up for the first dive of the day aboard the dive boat, Spectre. Thankfully, this make up day out near the east end of Santa Cruz Island, part of the Channel Islands National Park in California, was sunny and calm with just a light wind and better than hoped for visibility (a solid 45-50 feet). Our prior attempt had been cancelled as something akin to a force 10 hurricane had descended on the Santa Barbara Channel creating 11-15 foot wind waves and virtually plucking the very feathers from surprised seagulls. Not so this day. Even better, the anticipated heavy west swell had failed to materialize meaning that my guys wouldn’t have to battle nausea along with the demands of donning and using heavy scuba gear. I was also secretly pleased that due to the Covid-19 pandemic restrictions, the Spectre was operating at 50% capacity so I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone in my group turning around awkwardly with their BCD and air tank knocking someone over on a crowded deck. Of course, the offender would most likely be me, but I saw no reason to share this information…
Soon enough, my kids were briefed, dressed for immersion in the chilly 56 degree water, and lined up behind Chuck ready to take the plunge into a completely different world than they’d experienced during their brief time on the planet. They’d done it all with minimal help and progressed through their checklists and prep together as a buddy pair-all I was allowed to do with my years of experience and know-how was to pull up a hard to reach zipper on my daughter’s wetsuit. In fact, soon after my valuable contribution, I discovered that my own arms had shrunk a foot or so in length and that I too needed help reaching my wetsuit zipper. So much for experience. One by one my friend Jason’s kids and my own followed their instructor off the swim step at the stern of the boat into dazzling blue water. Jason and I followed as we were allowed to trail the group serving as an extra pair of eyes and not as co-instructors (I could almost feel my wife’s fingers on my arm as I agreed to the directions). Without any fuss each student signaled the divemaster that they were okay and grouped up by the anchor line. My kids signalled to me more subtly that they were fine, and that I could, well, go now, Dad. Jason and I buddied up and with a short blast of air from our BCD’s swam down to the bottom clearly visible 30 feet or so below to distract ourselves on this momentous occasion and watch the action while satisfying our own desire for exploration.
This dive, and the 2 subsequent ones, were notable for the clear water, thick shady kelp beds attached to large and interesting rock formations looking for all the world like an ancient sunken city lit by laser beams of golden sunlight through the waving fronds, and of course the diversity of wildlife. Sometimes called the Galapagos of North America due to the explosion of creatures thriving in isolation, the CINP boasts clear water teeming with fish, invertebrates, and marine mammals such as seals and sealions. We saw dozens of species of fish including calico bass, wrass, whitefish, opaleye, gobies, the obscenely orange garibaldis that lord it over other duller species while fiercely guarding their territory, and ever-present hopeful sheepshead that have learned divers will sometimes sacrifice an urchin with their knives to tempt fish in front of camera lenses. We saw octopus, nudibranchs, sea cucumbers, lobster, and the largest sea hares I’ve ever encountered clustered together in a colony (or orgy, as Jason succinctly put it).
My kids brought a fresh perception to this old favorite activity of mine and I found myself watching them as they explored the deep as much as the wildlife swirling and lurking around me. I discovered that they had become adults somewhere along the way during their training and was surprised by the depth and complexity of their observations as well as their burgeoning self-reliance. Later, while discussing this change with my wife, we permitted ourselves a pat on the back for providing our kids this opportunity for personal growth as there is truly nowhere to hide when entering this wild and fluid environment: by its very nature, the ocean is a true wilderness and there is no taming it. Divers here at the CINP have to deal with extremes of cold water, weather, tough sea conditions and wearing thick gloves, hoods, booties, and wetsuits to delay exposure to debilitating cold. All of this takes good mental and emotional control and solid skills, and I’m proud to say that my kids demonstrated this and loved every minute of the experience. In fact, we are all excitedly planning our next foray to explore more of the Channel Islands National Park.
Note: The Channel Islands National Park comprises 5 islands located between 11 and 20 miles or so off the Ventura and Santa Barbara coastline. It was formed in 1980 and provides many opportunities for diving, kayaking, snorkeling, hiking, and camping. To find out more visit their website:
Several dive boats operate in the CINP out of Ventura Harbor. We chose the Spectre and you can book a trip via their website: Dive Boat Spectre
If you would like to spend the day or camp out on the islands themselves, Island Packers runs daily trips as well as whale and bird watching cruises and much more. You can find out more at their website link here: Island Packers
Underwater scene at CINP-Photo: Brook Peterson (waterdogphotography.com)Dive boat Spectre passing Island Packer’s Island Explorer at Anacapa Island. Photo: Stu
