Caribbean Blue

The catamaran comes to an easy stop a couple hundred yards from the palm-studded shore. The aqua-blue water is the most beautiful I've ever seen. It is transparent and I can see the white sandy bottom of the shallow sea.

We strip down to our bathing suits and step down the ladder into the warm translucent water. I feel the fine sandy grain beneath my feet and in the cracks of my toes.

I pull goggles over my eyes and slip into the sea. Like an amphibious creature I stroke my arms and legs and feel the salty liquid flow across my shoulders. I stare down at the floor of the sea and watch it roll beneath me, unblemished. Occasionally there is a strand of seaweed or a tiny crab burrowing a hole.

I come up for air, slide the goggles over my head, and wipe my eyes with my arm. Jenelle is there and she has something to show me. She leads me over near the catamaran to our new German friends. They are holding a large orange and red starfish they found on the sand. It is beautiful!

Our time is up and we now climb back onto the catamaran and once again raise the sail. We cruise along the deep-blue waters with coastline in sight. I enjoy the breeze across my face and occasional splash of water. Boaters lean over the railing and take pleasure in the moment.

The catamaran comes to an easy stop at the white sandy shore of Saona Island. It is the most beautiful beach I've ever seen. Palm trees by the hundreds grow on and around the beach, including one on the shore that grows diagonally over the water. The sand is fine. Swimmers lounge in the luke-warm water. Plastic beach chairs sit reclined beneath a blaring golden sun. Thatched pavilions offer shade for those in need.

I lie down on my chair, close my eyes, and imagine what this island would be like with no people. In my mind I envision it is sunset. A small fire near the shore crackles and beyond that the waves lap across the sand. There are no other noises because no one else is here. The sea unfolds forever on the horizon, putting an eternity between me and the closest person.

In my daydream I envision what this island must have been like in another time. I am Robinson Crusoe. This island is my home. I sleep on the sand and bathe in the ocean. I drink the milk of coconuts and the water of a gurgling spring. Sunsets come and go and storms stir up the angry sky. It is peaceful. I am alone. I relish the moment in my mind.

But I am not alone on Saona Island. It is filled with people. Yet it is still beautiful.

Jenelle and I walk along the shore, sometimes with our feet in the frothy white of the waves. We see small boats docked along the edge, floating atop the greenish-blue water.

Further afield the beach is less sandy, but filled with smooth rocks and driftwood. Jenelle finds a conch shell larger than her hand.

We walk near the crooked palm. There is a line of people waiting to get their picture as they climb atop the tree. We pause to watch and note the notoriety of the palm.

The sun becomes more intense as the day moves on. I feel the heat on my chest and sense the beginning of a burn. Without further delay I wade into the water and dive head first into the silky sea. Instantly it drowns the heat and ripples through my hair as I propel myself forward. I stand up and let the droplets drizzle down my skin.

Others relax in the water also. A man with swarthy skin paddles a canoe. A crew of Dominican workers bring a boat to shore and tie it down. Women clad in bikinis lie face-down on the sand and let the Caribbean sun bake their backs and shoulders.

After a couple hours of dallying on the island it is time to load the boat and head back. This time we don't board a catamaran, but instead a speedboat. We put on life jackets and squeeze tightly onto benches.

Then, with a lurch, the boat takes off at an amazing pace. No longer do we casually move across the blue water, but now we accelerate at a voracious speed. Wind races across our faces and with every small undulation the boat springs out of the water with air beneath the hull. Everyone wears a smile because this ride is as good as anything at Disneyland! ♠

Jewel by the Sea

"And God said, Let the waters under the Heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear: and it was so.  And God called the dry land Earth, and the gathering together of the waters he called Seas: and God saw that it was good." - Genesis 1: 9-10

"In the beginning there was no land or earth. There was nothing except salt water.  This covered everything like a big sea.  Two brothers lived under this water; the oldest was Teaipakomat.  Both of them kept their eyes closed, for the salt would blind them.  The oldest brother, after a while, went up on top of the salt water and looked around.  He could see nothing but water.  Soon the younger brother too came up.  He opened his eyes on the way and salt water blinded him.  When he got to the top he could see nothing at all, so he went back.  When the older brother saw there was nothing, he made first of all little red ants.  They filled the water up thick with their bodies and so made land." - From the Kumeyaay Creation story.

"Over the mountains,

And over the waves,

Over the fountains,

And under the graves;

Over the floods that are deepest,

Which do Neptune obey; Over the rocks that are steepest,

Love will find out the way."  

- Thomas Percy (Bishop of Dromore)

"On the following Tuesday, the 3d of the month of October, they departed from this port of San Miguel, and on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, they held their course a matter of eighteen leagues along the coast, where they saw many valleys and plains, and many smokes, and mountains in the interior.  At nightfall they were near some islands which are some seven leagues from the mainland, but because the wind went down they could not reach them that night." - From the voyage of Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo in 1542.

"We have seen Indians in immense numbers, and all those on this coast of the Pacific contrive to make a good subsistence on various seeds and by fishing." - Junipero Serra, Spanish Priest (1713-1784).

 

"Flowers were plentiful that spring because of the winter's heavy rains.  The dunes were covered with mats of sand flowers, which are red and have tiny eyes that are sometimes pink and sometimes white. Yuccas grew tall among the rocks of the ravine.  Their heads were clustered with curly gloves no longer than pebbles and the color of the sun when it rises.  Lupines grew where the springs ran.  From the sunny cliffs, in crevices where no one would think anything could grow, sprang the little red and yellow fountains of the comul bush." - From Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell.  

"This being the spring season, San Pedro, as well as all the other open ports upon the coast, was filled with whales, that had come in to make their annual visit upon soundings.  For the first few days that we were here we watched them with great interest, calling out 'There she blows!' every time we saw the spout of one breaking the surface of the water, but they soon became so common that we took little notice of them.  They often 'broke' very near us, and one thick, foggy night, during a dead calm, while I was standing anchor-watch, one of them rose so near that he struck our cable, and made all surge again.  He did not seem to like the encounter much himself, for he sheered off, and spouted at a good distance." - From Two Years Before The Mast by Richard Henry Dana, in 1835.

"We rode out to the Indians' huts.  The little children were running about the huts, stark naked, and the men were not much more; but the women had generally coarse gowns of a sort of tow cloth.  The men are employed, most of the time, in tending the cattle of the Mission, and in working in the garden, which is a very large one, including several acres, and filled, it is said, with the best fruits of the climate.  The language of these people, which is spoken by all the Indians of California, is the most brutish, without any exception, that I ever heard, or that could well be conceived of.  It is a complete slabber.  The words fall off of the ends of their tongues, and a continual slabbering sound is made in the cheeks, outside of the teeth." - From Two Years Before The Mast by Richard Henry Dana, in 1835.

"The country seems to be alive with cattle, horses, mules and jackasses.  Passing the San Luis Rey Mission we turned left and marched up a mountain, from the top we could see the ocean, we judged it to be about 5 miles away.  This was the first time I ever saw the ocean and it was the case of many of my comrades, all felt to rejoice to know we were so near the end of our journey.  In the evening we camped in a little valley near the seashore.  We could hear the roaring and dashing of waves all night.

"The whole face of the country is alive with cattle, bands of horses, mules and donkeys.  One of the guides said he knew one man who owns twelve thousand head of cattle.

"The earth is carpeted with green grass and wild oats and any amount of wild mustard and white clover.  I see some mustard stalks high as ten or twelve feet and six or eight inches thick." - From the journal of Henry W. Bigler, member of the Mormon Battalion, on January 27, 1847.

" . . . several very heavy gusts of wind came driving madly along, completely filling the whole atmosphere with thick and impenetrable clouds of dust and sand, so much so, that one who was in the street could no more see around him than if he was surrounded by an Egyptian darkness; this continued for a considerable length of time, the violence of the wind still increasing, until about one o'clock, when it came along in a perfect hurricane, tearing down houses and everything that was in its way." - From the Daily Alta California on the October 2, 1858 hurricane.

"For how many thousands of years did it lie alone? How long did the great gray waves batter at its granite shore, its sandy beaches, its clay cliffs? How long did it wait for men to come with their dreams, their ships?"- From Frontier by Louis L'Amour.

 

“The aisle of autumn sunlight settling on 

The mobile corrugations of the sea 

Fragments and forms at once, is here and gone, 

A durable, elusive energy: 

Pure presence and repose—mere lovely being, 

To feel which is as natural as seeing 

The dog that dashes up the beach and back 

Or, to a pair of onlookers' applause, 

Goes skidding to a posture of attack 

And leaps to snatch a Frisbee in his jaws.” - Poem by Timothy Steele.

“The wind dies, and the cloud Alps disappear, 

And where the sun now sets, the sky's so swirled 

With smokey colors that the atmosphere 

Seems like the abstract beauty of the world. 

The swells more regular, there floats at rest 

A pelican, long beak tucked to its chest.” - Poem by Timothy Steele.

"The sea lions felt it and their barking took on a tone and a cadence that would have gladdened the heart of St. Francis." — John Steinbeck

"All the wild world is beautiful, and it matters but little where we go, to highlands or lowlands, woods or plains, on the sea or land or down among the crystals of waves or high in a balloon in the sky; through all the climates, hot or cold, storms and calms, everywhere and always we are in God's eternal beauty and love. So universally true is this, the spot where we chance to be always seems the best." - John Muir

"Took my chances on a big jet-plane
Never let 'em tell ya that they're aw-ooh-all the same
Hoh, the sea was red and the sky was grey
I wonder how tomorrow could ever follow today-hee
Mountains and the canyons start to tremble and shake
The children of the sun begin to awake." - From Going to California by Led Zeppelin.

 

“Flashing between curved sea plants in the sand 

There darts a shining company of fish. 

Swirling through the sea's green depths they go, 

Gleaming like silver ripples in a pool 

That dance and sparkle in the moon's cold light. 

Then they are gone, as quickly as they came, 

And the wildly waving seaweeds move 

More slowly and at last are still once more. 

Now through the silent forests of the sea 

There slowly drifts in shimmering radiance 

A lustrous jellyfish. Suddenly, 

From pale pink opalescence swiftly changed, 

It turns translucent and is almost gone, 

Only to gleam once more, far off, against 

Black rocks where shadowy forms move hazily. 

There at last it melts into the distance— 

Ghostlike, drifting slowly out of sight.” - Poem by Everett Ruess.

Sea of Cortez

My first impression was the stillness of the water. Very small waves. Shallow. Low-tide revealing a plethora of tide pools with small, but perfectly intact shells. 

Today we took a boat ride further south into the sea. Along the shore we passed white-washed beach homes, resorts, unfinished hotels, beach-goers, sand dunes and dry rocky mountains in the distance. The day was flawless, with almost no clouds and a perfectly serene surface of water. 

Jenna spotted a school of dolphins. They swam in our direction, occasionally arcing out of the water, their fins pointing skyward. As they moved closer they swam directly beneath our boat, then followed us for a short distance. 

We turned our course seaward from the coast until those dry rocky mountains nearly disappeared over the horizon. We came to another set of rocky hills, these being a small chain of islands. They were covered with sea lions and birds. 

As we turned off the engine of the boat we could hear the barking of the lions. I wondered what it was like for them to have their own little playground. They jumped off rocks, baked in the sun and whatever else their heart desired. 

We spent the next two hours watching them and exploring the coves of the islands in kayaks. My favorite experience was swimming with the sea lions—watching them swoosh within inches of my feet, but never touching! They didn't mind at all that we swam with them, treating us as if we were just another sea creature. 

By the end of the day we were exhausted. Although it felt as if we had boated 100 miles across the water, we barely scratched the surface of the Sea of Cortez. It was a healthy reminder that there are so many places in this world that I have yet to explore. 

Until a few months ago, I couldn't point out the Sea of Cortez on a map. If someone had asked to find the Gulf of California . . . then maybe. This inlet is tucked between Baja California and the main body of Mexico. It stretches 700 miles and has a maximum width of 150 miles. There are 37 islands 

It is believed that this gulf is one of the most diverse seas on Earth. An estimated 900 species of fish live here, along with 32 types of marine mammals. There are blue, humpback and gray whales that call these waters home. In addition there are sharks, dolphins, manta rays, sea lions and Leatherback Sea Turtles. On one of the islands is a rattlesnake that is found nowhere else in the world. 

All this marine wildlife is a stark contrast to the hot and barren Sonoran Desert just outside its waters. Sand dunes often flank the coast line and in some areas there grows an abundant sea of cactus. 

It was named by Francisco de Ulloa in 1539 in honor of the Spanish conquistador, Hernán Cortés. Ulloa originally believed that the gulf led to the mythical Strait of Anian, which connected the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. Another Spaniard, Melchior Diaz explored the area extensively in 1540, including conducting a survey of the lower Colorado River where it runs into the gulf. 

A couple days later we chose a secluded sandy beach. The dunes sloped downward into the crystal clear blue water. I strapped on goggles and slowly floated on my belly a short distance from the shore, scouring the floor of the sea with my eyes. Remnants of shells were scattered everywhere, most of them white and some twirled in narrow conical twists like the horn of a unicorn. 

I swam parallel to the shore, coming up for air from time to time. When I saw something on the sandy bottom I would extend my arm—if I could reach—and pull it closer to my view. Then I would decide whether to keep it. In this manner I collected a modest cluster of shells. 

I have decided that the Sea of Cortez is a gem that most don't consider. I have only skimmed the top, yet there is an allure, a desire, to return and explore more. 

Perhaps John Steinbeck said it best: “Trying to remember the Gulf is like trying to re-create a dream. This is by no means a sentimental thing, it has little to do with beauty or even conscious liking. But the Gulf does draw one, and we have talked to rich men who own boats, who can go where they will. Regularly they find themselves sucked into the Gulf. And since we have returned, there is always in the backs of our minds the positive drive to go back again. If it were lush and rich, one could understand the pull, but it is fierce and hostile and sullen. The stone mountains pile up to the sky and there is little fresh water. But we know we must go back if we live, and we don't know why.” ♠

 

Run Along Chetco Cove

We left our room and began jogging on the road across the harbor. We inhaled fresh morning air and enjoyed misty fog that hung over the masts of the boats.
 
Two Columbian black-tailed deer walked down the hill near our hotel, feeding on grass. That would be a good omen.
 
We ran along the west side of the harbor and to the jetty where the Chetco River meets the Pacific Ocean. There we stopped and stretched our waking muscles.
 

My daughter, Jenna, has made the goal to run in as many states as possible. We couldn't pass up Oregon. And it was a good excuse to work our muscles after endless hours in a car.
 
I sat and leaned and pulled on one side, then repeated on the other. Thighs, calves, quads, piriformis. Then I was ready to go.
 
A sea lion lay asleep below us, not yet up and moving at this early hour. Another good omen.
 
We ran along the beach, just far enough away that the crawling foam of the water couldn't reach our feet. The black sand felt like running on a sponge.
 
Seagulls squawked and flew above us. A man and his golden lab walked alongside, the dog frolicking in the water. We passed an early-morning fisherman with a long pole with his taut line cast into the ocean.
 
Our muscles were now loosening and our stride became a rhythm and everything felt in place. The fresh scent of ocean permeated everything and took the edge off of any discomfort we may have felt.
 
At the far south end of the beach, at a place that appeared to be the terminus of our sandy stretch, we found an arch in the rock wall—and a passage to the other side! We entered the portal and found ourselves on a new beach with a new stretch of sand.
 

But this morning was not all about the run. It was about the experience. There before us sat a tide pool begging to be explored.
 
While still panting we discovered all sorts of sea creatures. Jenna found the first of many starfish. In orange and blue and red the curious critters attached themselves to the rock and sat motionless, letting the incoming waves lap over them.
 
Anemones—by the hundreds—surrounded the star fish. If you didn't look closely you could miss them. They camouflaged well. Some were small, the size of a quarter, and others large like a softball. Their trunks attached to the rock, and they were soft to the touch like a marshmallow. Most of these small sea creatures remained closed, appearing as mere bumps on the rock. Several had opened their tentacles, shimmering colorfully in the water.
 

We sat at the edge of the pool, careful not to soak our shoes. What an array of sea life! On every rock there seemed to be hundreds of creatures, including mussels and other colorful shells.
 
To top things off we found a waterfall pouring off a cliff. The fog remained, shrouding the sea stacks and the spruce trees on the hills of the shore. We chose to run to the end of this second beach where we turned around.
 
This world is full of so many beautiful places. This morning our run probably stretched only a mile in one direction. Considering how pretty it was, it boggles my mind to imagine this stretch of coastline, multiplied by the total coastline of the planet! There is so much to see, and so little time to waste. How much more valuable is it then to share it with someone we love. ♠