The Secret Value of Mooring Fields - reflections from Emerald Bay

Like a game of tick-tack-toe, dozens of empty mooring buoys floated in Emerald Bay.

It is an ugly aesthetic - little white balls in orderly rows breaking up the natural beauty. This is my perception, because I'm used to unspoiled anchorages in the other islands.

But herein lies a secret beauty: without a mooring area, all those boats would normally have to drop their anchor and chains, ripping up chunks of reef as the rode swings. If it's a reef, the damage done by dozens of boat anchors on the ocean floor is not trivial.

Therefore the mooring field serves the dual purpose: convenience to boaters and protecting the marine habitat. It allows a large number of boats to visit with minimum impact.

It's a strange conundrum... on the one hand, my perception is that it gives Emerald Bay a stale, "mass-tourism" feel; on the other hand it keeps the marine environment more healthy, and hence preserves its beauty.

It's a case where my subjective opinions are negative, but the overall objective value is positive. Must overlook some perceptions in favor of the underlying value, at times!

Fences protect native species, mooring fields organize boats, and rules keep invasive species from migrating; all which seem un-natural and limiting. But those limits may create a greater life force in the area and enhance its aliveness.

Stroke Victims and Islands -- reflections on recovery

Navy facilities on San Clemente Island

Like a middle aged man recovering from a stroke, restoring an island that was eaten up by goats or iceplant is physically demanding. But more-- it brings up deep existentialist questions, which aren't often addressed. 

Our tendency is to go into battle and fixate our resources with singleminded focus --  but if we stopped to ask our bodies or lands what they actually need, would we get different answers?  There are two voices competing for attention:

The Environmentalist Voice

The stroke victim wants to be able to run and swim like he did in the past, at all costs. He wants to preserve his limbs and youthfulness. This is like the voice of the environmentalist, who harkens to the past; determined to restore native habitat and protect species from withering away. He considers wellbeing of nature is intrinsically important, and tied in with the future wellbeing of humans. 

The Conservative Voice

The stroke victim begins to think he should "just move on" to new hobbies and pursuits, and not worry about re-living his past. He wonders if months of physical therapy and special diets are a waste of time - he could just enjoy the life he has. This is similar to the voice of the conservative, who prioritizes progress and moving forward. He thinks spending millions of dollars on restoration is a waste, since it could be allocated to more immediate human uses, not vague ecosystem benefits. 

A Holistic Approach?

The voices seem to contradict one another, but it is in their union that lies strength. 

The environmentalist voice is past driven. It is important because even if we are single-mindedly trying to protect a small salamander which thrived 50 years ago, the benefits expand in multiple ways: better stream water quality, better hiking opportunities, better erosion control, better habitat for other species, etc. The stroke victim, similarly, may not be able to run again like when he was young, but exercising and a good diet will improve his overall health and quality of life. 

The conservative voice is future driven. It is important because accepting new conditions and focusing on immediate human needs prevents stagnation; it keeps the creative force of society moving and improving. Sometimes dumping millions into a stream restoration with bulldozers and delicate natives leads nowhere. Likewise, the stroke victim doesn't want to be forever frustrated that they can't be young again-- moving on with life and cultivating a good attitude is central component to wellbeing. 

The strange thing is that both voices are concerned with our wellbeing -- but employ different perspectives. Every stroke victim needs to listen to his/her own body and limitations at each step of the way, with one foot in the conservative future, and one foot in the environmentalist past.  The recovery of Islands is the same. At the heart of the problem is that we don't tend to listen to what our bodies and lands needs; if we did, we'd hear both voices echoing. 

 If I could talk to the island, what would it really want? How does one listen to islands, or our own bodies, for that matter? How do we figure out the holistic approach to recovery?  These are the mysteries that I set out seeking.

Different crafts co-existing, as the fog rolls into Avalon anchorage, Catalina Island