tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41814898144660396742024-03-12T18:45:48.189-07:00Sailing with Pygmy MammothsUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-66827224154737246302014-06-25T12:34:00.000-07:002014-07-09T13:42:30.397-07:00A Wet & Wild Thanksgiving, part 1 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JeP3nEzqmII/U72G3OYKC2I/AAAAAAAAN1Y/cX750X2_cVs/s1600/IMG_0260.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JeP3nEzqmII/U72G3OYKC2I/AAAAAAAAN1Y/cX750X2_cVs/s1600/IMG_0260.jpg" height="370" width="640" /></a></div>
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There are people who embrace completely unreasonable adventures -- rowing across the atlantic, hiking up Mount Everest in a pair of shorts, or sailing solo around Antarctica. Blessed be them.<br />
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My threshold of craziness is much lower-- the most unreasonable I get is in the mad-dog pursuit of surf by sailboat.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vxiyGiQy4Zk/U72olKBJ_RI/AAAAAAAAN1s/O79VSe_SkCU/s1600/GOPR0643.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vxiyGiQy4Zk/U72olKBJ_RI/AAAAAAAAN1s/O79VSe_SkCU/s1600/GOPR0643.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a> Instead of spending Thanksgiving in a cozy living room with the laughter of family, four of us cast off from Avalon harbor in Catalina, and headed 20-some nautical miles into the ocean, under a canopy of dark clouds boiling ahead of a storm.<br />
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As we pulled into the navy island of San Clemente, there were no helicopters, or ships with live fire, or other signs of the war machine. The only thing blasting into the island was a huge groundswell.<br />
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We anchored in a large cove with swells moving through 40ft of water. Billowing plumes blew off the waves with a south-east wind -- an indicator of an approaching front. Yet, shafts of light shone on the ocean surface, with a thinning cloud cover.<br />
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My girlfriend Sabrina looked at me hopefully - maybe it would clear up? In full disclosure before the trip, I had optimistically said that there was a 50-50 chance we'd get rain. My buddy Alex played along, with his characteristic cheaky grin, "I think we could get lucky - one way or another!"<br />
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Chris was less buoyant, and wanted to get down to business: "Are we doing this, or what?" he said, pulling a wetsuit out of the locker. The conditions were stable; this was our chance.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j6aCRL4KJ4A/U72ouv_W-sI/AAAAAAAAN18/w0hvFRKVuVA/s1600/DSCN6053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j6aCRL4KJ4A/U72ouv_W-sI/AAAAAAAAN18/w0hvFRKVuVA/s1600/DSCN6053.jpg" height="268" width="640" /></a></div>
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What followed was a magical afternoon. When all the elements come together in surfing, it is deeply gratifying. Tide, wind, swell, light, sea lions, us. It was one of those blissful moments when everything "lines up". <br />
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Isn't this what we are all looking for? When life seems just right, feeling total connection in an effortless flow, whether for the basketball player "in the zone" or a mother holding her newborn baby; or Alex, in this case, riding through a heaving tube and declaring his trip was already complete. <br />
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Back at the boat, Sabrina made a Thanksgiving meal fit for kings. Half a roast turkey in the boat oven, homemade cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and all the trimmings.<br />
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In all the baking and exuberance, the sous chefs failed to notice the wind was increasing. When the pitter-patter of rain began on the canopy, Chris unzipped the curtain and looking out into the dark anchorage. The lights of the Navy base were dim in the distance, and he recoiled. "Damn it's cold outside!"<br />
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At this point, I had the brilliant idea of firing up our wood-burning stove, which we had just "fixed" the week prior, to my eventual chagrin. That little stove had treated us graciously for years, up until that fateful night.<br />
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In a classic moment of not-knowing what you don't know, I had recently fixed the leaky chimney flu with epoxy, as I do with all repairs on the boat. Unfortunately, I forgot to take into account that epoxy catches on fire at a certain temperature.<br />
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Suffice to say that I had the opportunity to try the fire extinguisher in a real emergency for the first time. I'm happy to report it worked! Besides cleaning the extinguisher mess, all we had to contend with was 20 minutes of fumes as we aired out the cabin, along with some unwelcome rain as we enjoyed our pumpkin pie. <br />
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When the air was clear, we slept with our full tummies and the steady drone of rain, confident in the 66lbs Bruce anchor and 230 feet of chain holding us in place. <br />
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A radical change occurred at 10am the next morning, which I thought, was a very civilized hour for the storm to kick into gear. <br />
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At that point, the wind shifted and began pushing us towards shore; Aldebaran copping the wind chop on the nose, suddenly turning this peaceful cove into a lee shore, an unprotected anchorage.<br />
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The rain had started pounding, but there was no choice -- it was time to go sailin'.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-41867993972712047082014-06-10T12:24:00.000-07:002014-06-15T07:29:20.321-07:00What makes us feel Alive? thoughts at Little Harbor<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-waurdwoIN4E/U5c-0ZVOZRI/AAAAAAAANr0/A6_izMFhnys/s1600/DSCN5700.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-waurdwoIN4E/U5c-0ZVOZRI/AAAAAAAANr0/A6_izMFhnys/s1600/DSCN5700.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sunset and moonset at</i><i> Little Harbor in Catalina.</i></td></tr>
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It's when I feel happiest --- when I feel most alive. But what exactly is this feeling of <i>aliveness</i>..?</div>
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Not necessarily when I'm energetic; I can be very calm. I'm just content and full of life. Aliveness seems to be contagious. Enthusiasm, joy, and beauty in others can raise our energy levels.</div>
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Even an incredible vista can send a surge of life into our bodies. Some places seem to be pulsing with life force -- a lush jungle with a harmony of animal noises, a majestically silent desert, or a sheltered cove erupting in sunset colors. </div>
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It is like the writer whose words "come alive" in a piece of paper and turn text into moving stories. </div>
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Aliveness is a key to feeling good and general wellbeing. Yet, we forget about this simple truth when it comes to restoration and recovery. </div>
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A stroke victim - or a landscape ravished by goats - can have a dead and numb feeling. We try to "fix" each of its components that got "broken". Recovery, however, is not about fixing something. It is about creating the right conditions for life to flow back into a person or place, as it naturally wants to. </div>
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How alive and full of vitality do we feel today, compared to our final years in college? Compared to a memorable vacation? Compared to when we saw a humpback whale for the first time? We have a sense of what the answers may be. We may not be able to measure it - but we can try to understand and improve it. </div>
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What affects Aliveness? Like yin and yang, there are two sides to the coin: </div>
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<li><b>Lifeforce</b> is the positive, creative side. It is abundance and diversity - whether of animals, of thoughts, or ideas. It is excitement, new technology, and imagination. But... it can also create its anti-thesis, Waste, as we end up with "too much of a good thing".</li>
<li><b>Waste</b> is the negative, destructive side. Waste is by definition non-useful and potentially harmful. As a by-product of creative energy, it is a fact of life, and should be accepted. In fact, if managed skillfully, dealing with waste can generate more creativity and Lifeforce, feeding the cycle. Otherwise, it can dramatically reduce Aliveness. </li>
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To feel content and full of life, we need to enhance our opportunities for Lifeforce (e.g. having a meaningful career, having kids, doing exciting things, planting a garden) and we need to wisely manage our Waste (e.g. not over-spending, not over-eating unhealthy foods, having a bad attitude). </div>
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Those same principles are in play - whether we are recovering from trauma or in the restoration of traumatized landscapes. The great thing is that what we learn from one, we can apply to the other. </div>
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<iframe src="//player.vimeo.com/video/97859938?byline=0&portrait=0&autoplay=1&loop=1" width="720" height="405" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen mozallowfullscreen allowfullscreen></iframe> <p><a href="http://vimeo.com/97859938">Little Harbor Sunset</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/kristianbeadle">Kristian Beadle</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-47519253922277055902014-05-28T19:27:00.000-07:002014-06-10T07:52:58.980-07:00The Secret Value of Mooring Fields - reflections from Emerald Bay<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PZLPEsthSBk/U5ZJPPQYVwI/AAAAAAAANrU/BuLTzIt_NME/s1600/DSCN6110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PZLPEsthSBk/U5ZJPPQYVwI/AAAAAAAANrU/BuLTzIt_NME/s1600/DSCN6110.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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Like a game of tick-tack-toe, dozens of empty mooring buoys floated in Emerald Bay.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-go5L9OWWUME/U5ZJm10MJ2I/AAAAAAAANrc/5Xg3HwCoMFg/s1600/DSCN6131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-go5L9OWWUME/U5ZJm10MJ2I/AAAAAAAANrc/5Xg3HwCoMFg/s1600/DSCN6131.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-8625704504210953232014-05-21T08:34:00.000-07:002014-06-09T16:33:33.124-07:00What if Catalina Island could talk?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-grF193Ha2xg/U5HSuqS4cUI/AAAAAAAANqQ/M9FJUeKM0iw/s1600/DSC_0615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-grF193Ha2xg/U5HSuqS4cUI/AAAAAAAANqQ/M9FJUeKM0iw/s1600/DSC_0615.JPG" height="418" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Risso Dolphins, with characteristic scar patterns on their bodies, seen 1 mile from Avalon harbor in Catalina. <br />They measure 8-12ft, much heftier than bottlenose dolphins!</i></td></tr>
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What if Catalina Island could talk to you, like an old grandmother sitting under an oak tree?<br />
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"Ms. Catalina, I beg your pardon, but what do you want for your future?" you might ask.<br />
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"Well, my son, back in the day..." Ms. Catalina would start.<br />
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We were anchored north of Avalon near of the summer camps. I thought, for sure Ms. Catalina likes having all these kids around. That is way cool - they are snorkeling, playing, and appreciating her shoreline and canyons. <br />
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Ms. Catalina also likes having a few bison roaming around, brought to the island by that one famous movie production. It makes her feel unique. She likes how the island fox is coming back, after nearly being wiped out by a mainland disease. Hey, she even likes having the pretty town of Avalon -- although when their sewage system is leaking and the gas powered golf carts are making noise (as they do daily) she gets a little disgruntled.<br />
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Ms. Catalina is as happy and healthy as any other grandmother -- it depends how alive she feels. This is true for any living being - after all, being feeling "alive" is what makes them a "living" being! If you wonder whether an island is alive or not, think about how much life is pulsating on Catalina.<br />
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How alive we feel, or <i>aliveness</i>, directly relates to our health and happiness. Then why is it not well measured in our health system? The same is true for ecology. Maybe aliveness should be measured? <br />
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If I had to guess what makes Ms. Catalina feel more or less alive, it's probably similar to what makes me feel more or less alive. That is a hypothesis which I wanted to investigate as I cruised the islands.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6H6L6II2NjM/U5HbSS9hdnI/AAAAAAAANqw/m_A0otIoO5Y/s1600/DSCN5761.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6H6L6II2NjM/U5HbSS9hdnI/AAAAAAAANqw/m_A0otIoO5Y/s1600/DSCN5761.JPG" height="364" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Playful barbed wire at the top of Two Harbors, Catalina Island</i></td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-87497060704146744512014-02-19T09:47:00.000-08:002014-06-06T07:33:57.341-07:00Stroke Victims and Islands -- reflections on recovery<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LH7jf-z5ajE/U5CJmurt4rI/AAAAAAAANps/usudrybumzc/s1600/DSCN6296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LH7jf-z5ajE/U5CJmurt4rI/AAAAAAAANps/usudrybumzc/s1600/DSCN6296.jpg" height="400" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Navy facilities on San Clemente Island</i></td></tr>
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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. </div>
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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:</div>
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<b>The Environmentalist Voice</b></div>
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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. </div>
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<b>The Conservative Voice</b></div>
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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. </div>
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<b>A Holistic Approach?</b></div>
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The voices seem to contradict one another, but it is in their union that lies strength. </div>
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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. </div>
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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. </div>
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The strange thing is that <u>both</u> 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. </div>
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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.</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-33210056517801036792014-01-22T18:29:00.000-08:002014-06-04T08:57:59.837-07:00Circumnavigating San Clemente Island, part 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"Don't anchor anywhere on the east side, you'll put a hole in your boat," said a few lobster guys. "It is deceptively calm and you'll just drive into a rock."<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-71KRGkENfnY/U45vQO6lRjI/AAAAAAAANpQ/4pkG-6a5g4s/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-06-03+at+5.57.09+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-71KRGkENfnY/U45vQO6lRjI/AAAAAAAANpQ/4pkG-6a5g4s/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-06-03+at+5.57.09+PM.png" height="211" width="320" /></a>We wanted to spend a night on the lee side of the island. It is a 15 mile expanse of unchanging, flat, intensely bold coastline. Why bother trying to anchor for the night? To get a better feel for the island, the land and its cultural history, I wanted to spend time in that side. Plus, we wanted to break up the 38nm return trip to Avalon, which is a long haul at 6 knots. </div>
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But... the chart shows deep water (100ft+) right next to the cliffs for miles on end. Brian Fagan's cruising guide listed no anchorages. The locals lobstermen advised us against it. The prospects were glum. </div>
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Then we came across <a href="http://www.arcadiapublishing.com/9780738595085/The-California-Channel-Islands" target="_blank">this book</a>: </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gHgRAgnY8v4/U45uXhzNYEI/AAAAAAAANpI/fq-qr5sfxyA/s1600/Screen+shot+2014-06-03+at+5.54.34+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gHgRAgnY8v4/U45uXhzNYEI/AAAAAAAANpI/fq-qr5sfxyA/s1600/Screen+shot+2014-06-03+at+5.54.34+PM.png" height="320" width="220" /></a>In "The California Channel Islands", author Marla Daily relates the fascinating history of pioneer ranchers, entrepid businessmen, and hermits. We read about a German man who lived alone on the east side of San Clemente island for 30 years around the turn of the century. He had a fish camp for anglers and would do tours of native american artifacts. He lived at "Mosquito Cove". That is where we should go. If people visited him regularly, I figured, there must be a good landing site; possibly even a sandy beach. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TctEMlpphXE/U45kVexB81I/AAAAAAAANmo/Dpxh-XZUjAo/s1600/DSC_0457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TctEMlpphXE/U45kVexB81I/AAAAAAAANmo/Dpxh-XZUjAo/s1600/DSC_0457.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>The coastline was eerie. The entire east side of the island is a blank wall of cliffs with flat water like a lake. Rocks near the surface show no indication of their presence, through ripples or otherwise, because the sea is so calm. Hence the warning of the lobstermen. </div>
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We found Mosquito Cove by GPS - there was hardly any geographic feature to distinguish it. There was in fact a small cobblestone-sand beach on the shore. We approached with the depth sounder carefully; luckily the visibility was excellent and our watch on the bow could warn of shallow reefs that protruded out of the depths. We anchored in 55ft of water, with just enough distance to shore for our boat to swing. </div>
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It was ominously silent and strangely claustrophobic. With their mass, the cliffs seemed to dampen any sound -- creating the type of quiet anxiety one might have felt stuck in the still airs of the doldrums while crossing the Atlantic under sail. The ravines cut deep into the land; we imagined the German man living here for decades, and it made me shiver. </div>
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Day 4.<br />
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We motored back towards Wilson Cove, where the main Navy base is located (keeping a safe distance of 3nm). Fortified ships drove into the harbor. Trucks drove in meandering roads in the distance, with barracks lining the hillside.<br />
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The Northwest anchorage was closed for Navy activity; so we hoisted sail and crossed the channel back to Catalina. We'd have to return to see that last piece of the island, one that looked so intriguing as well.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-88390962036906256442014-01-07T17:38:00.000-08:002014-06-04T08:57:59.846-07:00Circumnavigating San Clemente Island, part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Like stumbling into a secret society, just before dark we found a little "village" of lobster boats anchored in the tiny cove in the West side of the San Clemente island. Deep golden light shone on the massive cliffs.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"How did you find this place??" they asked incredulous. I felt proud at following my instinct. "I heard a rumor from a friend of a friend... I guess you don't see too many cruising boats here?" The lobster guys grinned, as they ate steak cooked on their outdoor grill with thick BBQ sauce.</span><br />
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So you can have a better idea-- allow me to describe my three crew on board. </div>
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Second is Adam Jankhe, an artist and photog living in Santa Barbara. Intentionally using a print-film camera, he captures the dysfunctional, the trite, the majestic, and weaves it into a super-realistic view of the world. Being in this setting -- a pristine environment with Navy helicopter and bombs -- provides the sort of contrast he absolutely loves. A few of his island photos can be seen on his <a data-mce-href="www.admjahnke.com/work/photo-iiii/" href="https://aldebaran42.wordpress.com/wp-admin/www.admjahnke.com/work/photo-iiii/" target="_blank">site</a>.</div>
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<img alt="DCIM132GOPRO" class="alignleft wp-image-545 size-medium" data-mce-src="http://aldebaran42.files.wordpress.com/2014/06/gopr0293.jpg?w=300" src="http://aldebaran42.files.wordpress.com/2014/06/gopr0293.jpg?w=300" height="225" style="float: left;" width="300" />Third is Robby Seid, who is a traveler, fishes salmon in Alaska, and works in mechanical design. Every time he comes aboard Aldebaran he improves the boat -- whether it's the sunglass line, the guitar rack, or just a roll of non-skid tape. We met on the Oaxaca coast and I'm glad we stayed in touch.</div>
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The winds gusting off the land didn't upset Robby- he sprayed himself with soapy water to slide into his ultra-tight camouflage wetsuit. We free dove through the kelp beds with our hawaiian slings and caught a few surf perch for dinner.</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">We hunkered down inside the cabin as winds howled outside, and the anchor light of a large sailboat swayed behind us.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p8zO5Fjav9k/U45kbZrfmXI/AAAAAAAANnc/YHDU8_k__hM/s1600/GOPR0282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p8zO5Fjav9k/U45kbZrfmXI/AAAAAAAANnc/YHDU8_k__hM/s1600/GOPR0282.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Kayaking around the west side of San Clemente island</i></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gBwkfHpTkgM/U45kX98CfhI/AAAAAAAANm4/77rKcTWISa0/s1600/DSC_0750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gBwkfHpTkgM/U45kX98CfhI/AAAAAAAANm4/77rKcTWISa0/s1600/DSC_0750.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Dolphins join us on the way to Pyramid Cove</i></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"PROBABLY MY FAVORITE ISLAND. WEATHER, DIVING, ADVENTURE, AND DEALING WITH THE MILITARY!!!!!!!"</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Wrote my dad's friend a few days before we left for San Clemente Island. He had spent time there in the 1970s, and was excited we were exploring his "old stomping grounds". </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">But most of the island was closed, according to the Navy schedule. Where could we go?</span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uq_H6RTI9XQ/UqnsM5tNQSI/AAAAAAAALF4/gdNpKSXfViw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-12-12+at+8.41.19+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uq_H6RTI9XQ/UqnsM5tNQSI/AAAAAAAALF4/gdNpKSXfViw/s400/Screen+Shot+2013-12-12+at+8.41.19+AM.png" height="305" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>The closure zone map of San Clemente Island</i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Day 1.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">We loaded our crew on a Friday morning in Avalon, Catalina. A light north-east wind was causing a terrible lumpiness through the waters of the normally smooth harbor. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">We snapped an air vent as we dealt with slack-then-taut mooring lines. The "parking lot" of boats was </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">stressfully tight</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Filling diesel at $7.30/gallon was no easier in the rocking fuel dock, which threatened to crack our cleats with each roll of swell. </span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NQE-IyVv__Y/Uqnx1Oy0z3I/AAAAAAAALGI/DiYpBphAHTw/s1600/Avalon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NQE-IyVv__Y/Uqnx1Oy0z3I/AAAAAAAALGI/DiYpBphAHTw/s400/Avalon.jpg" height="297" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Leaving from Avalon, Catalina, with the Casino building behind us.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Underway at 11am. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We investigated the chart.
Should we go to the guaranteed anchorage at Pyramid Cove, 40nm away? Our friend had casually mentioned a cove on the exposed west side, about 32nm away. How bad could it be? The forecast called for moderate 15 knot NW winds. </span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cbxExC3vCL4/U45k6ybYmCI/AAAAAAAANo0/Er3qTSZHarw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-06-03+at+4.04.56+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cbxExC3vCL4/U45k6ybYmCI/AAAAAAAANo0/Er3qTSZHarw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-06-03+at+4.04.56+PM.png" height="198" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> It was a gamble. We'd arrive around sunset, so if it was a poor anchorage, we'd have to move in the dark. Not a great idea on our first visit.
Would the Navy kick us out? I was totally unsure what would happen. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I really wanted to see all the sides of the island. Aldebaran is a solid boat, with strong anchor gear. Our anchor windlass has been faulty, but I had 3 other crew to help. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> We decided to take the chance and head to the west side and find the cove we had heard about.</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R4eoxn7kZxI/U45kYn3oSFI/AAAAAAAANnM/hTjqD2uCATY/s1600/DSC_0778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R4eoxn7kZxI/U45kYn3oSFI/AAAAAAAANnM/hTjqD2uCATY/s1600/DSC_0778.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-37197836734803534762013-11-05T11:28:00.000-08:002014-06-04T08:58:23.335-07:00Silver Canyon and the Missing Water Bottles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pygmymammoths/10285114463/" title="Silver Canyon by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Silver Canyon" height="480" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2878/10285114463_e4d801506e_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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Appears a lot of people lost their plastic water bottles!<br />
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If you were one of them, you might want to look in Silver Canyon on the backside of Catalina.<br />
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Strange as it might be, this pristine, completely isolated beach is littered with plastic bottles, carried by the prevailing current and wind:<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wjrHmVSwuUc/UojtvB4DUnI/AAAAAAAALAw/Mzmd3mal7-E/s1600/catalina-eddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="336" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wjrHmVSwuUc/UojtvB4DUnI/AAAAAAAALAw/Mzmd3mal7-E/s400/catalina-eddy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>The "Catalina Eddy" effect.</i></div>
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<i>Predominant NW wind flow spins around in the Southern California Bight.</i></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><br />The busy ports of Catalina were remarkably clean, </span>despite the hoardes of people over the Buccaneer's weekend. So we were shocked when we sailed around the "remote", hardly visited South corner and came across piles of trash on the beach!</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pygmymammoths/10285007385/" title="Collecting Bottles by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Collecting Bottles" height="480" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3794/10285007385_b3bb304f68_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<i>The pygmy mammoth supervises the trash collection</i></div>
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We started picking up garbage. Action is a good remedy for this form of depression. We piled the bottles, styrofoam, and broken fishing rods into a handy City of Long Beach trash receptacle. We didn't feel great about ourselves, but we felt better.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pygmymammoths/10907435726/" title="Silver Canyon Pan by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Silver Canyon Pan" height="177" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7362/10907435726_9fce34dce2_c.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<i>The Silver Canyon and Palisades, seemingly pristine.</i><br />
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What's up with our society's acceptance of waste? It's absurd actually. Economic theory would suggest that "inefficiencies" should be reduced. One-time use plastic bottles are a ridiculous inefficiency.<br />
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Some of the resources wasted for a few gulps of water:<br />
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<ol>
<li>plastic manufacture with petroleum or alternatives</li>
<li>transportation with fossil fuel</li>
<li>disposal on landfills</li>
<li>water pollution affecting fish, sea birds, turtles, marine life in general; which we depend on for protein and countless benefits. </li>
</ol>
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What are some alternatives to plastic water bottles? <br />
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<ul>
<li>Britta water filters in the sink</li>
<li>Nalgene / Klean Kanteens. </li>
<li>Sparkletts-type 5 gallons jugs of water, delivered to your home or refilled at 25 cents per gallon with reverse osmosis.</li>
</ul>
At the very least, make darn sure the plastic bottles get to the recycling center, if you must use the little devils.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OMZcpKfuBj0/UokAMCjkC6I/AAAAAAAALBA/jPRjT-ndOW0/s1600/Catalina+circumnav+to+Silver+Canyon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="475" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OMZcpKfuBj0/UokAMCjkC6I/AAAAAAAALBA/jPRjT-ndOW0/s640/Catalina+circumnav+to+Silver+Canyon.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>From Little Harbor to Silver Canyon: about 8 nautical miles</i></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-36495865897681736582013-10-28T22:43:00.000-07:002014-06-04T08:58:23.329-07:00Glorious sunset at Little Harbor / Imagining the past<div style="text-align: center;">
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Tongva indians sent out a greeting party for the Chumash paddlers on their canoes, bringing oak acorns and carvings to exchange for island soapstone.<br />
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One hundred years later, Cabrillo and his Spanish ships arrived with mirrors and leather packs.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pygmymammoths/10284900224/" title="Untitled by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="480" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2821/10284900224_960b155682_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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Two hundred years later, the island is passed into ownership to ranchers, gold miners, real estate speculators, and eventually, chewing gum magnate William Wrigley, Jr.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pygmymammoths/10284972596/" title="Untitled by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="480" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3734/10284972596_93c5ca836f_z.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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Now, yachts pull into Little Harbor, which has a campground, horse ranch, and palm trees.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pygmymammoths/10285102313/" title="Untitled by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="480" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7305/10285102313_4690fa2aec_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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The colors saturated the sky during the 90 minutes of this fantastic sunset at Little Harbor. I thought of the many eras this perfect settlement had experienced, their shifts and evolution. Beauty was created; pressure was put on resources; newcomers arrived; civilizations changed.<br />
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Did the native tribes live in harmony with the island? Perhaps they were good stewards on some levels, but there is also archeological evidence that localized overfishing occurred. Hard to believe, given the small population. <br />
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How can we be good stewards of this land? What are the best role models?<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMxAKPdgNG4/UocLfOL5NCI/AAAAAAAALAc/Bi2N5rCEIjs/s1600/Catalina+circumnav+with+arrows+to+Little+Harbor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMxAKPdgNG4/UocLfOL5NCI/AAAAAAAALAc/Bi2N5rCEIjs/s400/Catalina+circumnav+with+arrows+to+Little+Harbor.jpg" width="328" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>From Catalina Harbor to Little Harbor: 3 nautical miles</i></td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-69425797774696959762013-10-19T09:37:00.000-07:002014-06-04T08:58:23.338-07:00Buccaneer Festival and the Pirate Myth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pygmymammoths/10870422405/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="buccaneers1 by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="buccaneers1" height="504" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3674/10870422405_6b46e4436b_c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><i>Crowds of scantily clad wenches, Jack Sparrow look-alikes, and scallywags of all types were milling about the Two Harbors area on October 5th.</i></i></div>
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"What IS it about pirates," I wondered, marveling at the riff-raff, "that infatuates us so?"<br />
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I was searching for my sweetheart Sabrina, who was meeting us here. We had been in radio silence while visiting the remote Santa Barbara island; the only communication she had received in several days was a text message to the effect of:<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> "We're alive, see you Saturday sometime"</span></div>
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Very telegram-esque, and appropriately pre-modern, I thought, for "getting into character".<br />
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Sabrina wasn't entirely amused by this lack of information-- but she was not stymied. She was dressed in the splendor of maritime rags from the moment she jumped on the ferry at 7am, along with a hundred other enthusiasts in costume.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Hc52ykQc_-0/UobEd8mJ42I/AAAAAAAAK_8/xa_ZqWLYziM/s1600/Portraits.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="436" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Hc52ykQc_-0/UobEd8mJ42I/AAAAAAAAK_8/xa_ZqWLYziM/s640/Portraits.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b><br />From Villains to Roguish Heroes</b><br />
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Pirates are murderers and thieves, basically sea-going criminals of the worse variety. How did they turn into roguish heroes ? Blaim the writers!<br />
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The first portrayal of a pirate as a noble outlaw was possibly Lord Byron's poem "The Corsair" in 1814; but it was Rafael Sabatini's early 20th century <i>Scaramouche </i>and <i>Captain Blood </i>that turned the pirate into a romantic hero. The latter was a story of a good hearted physician who, through ill fortune, is captured into slavery, makes a dramatic escape, and leads pirate crews in wondrous exploits. <br />
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The idea of a gentleman-rogue is candy for the popular imagination: one who lives with high ethics outside the laws of society, free to roam the high seas, explore tropical destinations, and discover great treasures. <br />
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This was perfect escapism for the majority of people who find their city lives menial and un-inspiring. It captures the inner child who longs for adventure and day-to-day excitement. This is a part of us who we sometimes neglect as we grow older and manage many obligations.<br />
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<b>The Island's Hedonistic Spirit </b><br />
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The Buccaneer Festival gave people three days of belligerent madness to entertain their escapist, inner child; and an excuse to drink copious amounts of alcohol.<br />
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The people-watching was good entertainment, but we retreated early to the good ship <i>Aldebaran. </i>The mayhem was not entirely our cup of tea. But it was the perfect introduction to Catalina, in my book, and a fine contrast with the first island we visited.<br />
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Santa Barbara Island is a lonely rock in the ocean; it has a defiant spirit that comes with its visitors, the pioneer ranchers, the lonely biologists, the sea lions and the sea birds.<br />
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Catalina Island is entirely different. It is an island playground for the gigantic population of Los Angeles, with a blessed geography and underwater world.<br />
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The ideal "health" of the island, a subjective concept that is evolving, is affected by this spirit of hedonism. Bison, for example, roam the slops of Catalina thanks to a Hollywood movie! More on that later.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pygmymammoths/10285095763/" title="Untitled by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="451" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3748/10285095763_15d7082a18_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<i>The "parking lot" during Buccaneer's was at max capacity. </i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-36982312581721202452013-10-15T20:09:00.003-07:002014-06-04T08:58:23.332-07:00Dodging the Santa Ana Winds, and Arrival in Catalina<div class="p1">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bKI1Vjj2ids/Ul3xsjPZbZI/AAAAAAAAK-Q/qPGJUem0tSY/s1600/Santa+Ana+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="408" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bKI1Vjj2ids/Ul3xsjPZbZI/AAAAAAAAK-Q/qPGJUem0tSY/s640/Santa+Ana+collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>The various faces of the deceptive "Santa Ana"</i></div>
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"We're heading back to Ventura. The Santa Anas are supposed to get a bit nasty," said the fisherman. </div>
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Better not tell Ed, I thought. He was worried enough already.</div>
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The Santa Ana winds are dry, gusty winds that blow from the land in the fall and winter in southern California. It means beach weather to some, or fire danger to others. To sailors, it means stay away from the islands.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/104988599@N03/10201760515/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Untitled by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="426" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3710/10201760515_dc15f75b48_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>The backside of Santa Barbara Island, where vessels go in case of Santa Ana winds</i></div>
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In a matter of 15 minutes, the winds can transform a calm, blissful day into a very dangerous mess. Most anchorages provide shelter from the predominant North-West wind; during a Santa Ana event, windswell and gale force winds can rise up from the opposite direction, the East, pushing boats into shore. The results can be catastrophic.<br />
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"Maybe we should head to Long Beach," Ed argued when we heard the forecast. A reasonable idea. </div>
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"Heck, let's wait for it and sail downwind to San Nicolas," said Bob. My dad is the opposite to Ed -- he likes to ride the 'edge' whenever possible. </div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/104988599@N03/10201652004/" title="Untitled by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="386" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8127/10201652004_340b16cc55_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<i>The crew, when we're not listening to the weather radio</i></div>
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After listening to the monotonic NOAA forecast for the twentieth time, we decided that staying in Santa Barbara Island made sense. We spent an anxious night with mild East winds threatening to strengthen at any moment. In the morning, we went to the backside of the island to seek shelter, but the groundswell was intense.<br />
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So we pointed the ship towards Catalina, 26 nautical miles away. The head wind slowly dissipated into a calm. We went to the best refuge anchorage, a place ominously called "Ironbound Cove". Steep cliffs surrounded us in a horseshoe bay with deep water. </div>
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Nobody was nearby. On the horizon, yatch after yatch went by in a procession. They were headed for Catalina Harbor. Were they indifferent and foolish, or were we excessively cautious?<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/104988599@N03/10302352434/" title="Untitled by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="333" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3733/10302352434_0fea3c3884_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<i>Hunkered down at Ironbound Cove... </i></div>
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At 8:39pm the wind began to howl. The rigging shook and water splashed the hull of the boat. Our anchor held and the boat was steady. During the dawn hours, the wind relaxed. Is it over, I wondered? </div>
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Then in the morning, it raged again with 25kt gusts. Our enclosed cockpit felt like a cozy greenhouse, while the breeze whipped outside. Finally it subsided around 11:30am. We were eager to get going, and leave "Ironbound".<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/104988599@N03/10284963066/" title="Untitled by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="480" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5512/10284963066_61ed8e7248_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Smooth water in Cat Harbor. Note the haze of the Santa Ana dust in the distance.</i></div>
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We pulled into Catalina Harbor past noon on Saturday. The moorings were jam-packed with boats. We felt sure we would have to anchor far away. But luckily, it was a case of "late bird gets the worm"…!
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The harbor patrol sent us directly to the front of the line, since our trimaran only drafts 4 feet of water. During low tide, the keel rested gently on the mud. The water was flat as a lake, and the dock was a 2 minute kayak ride away. </div>
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We felt that peculiar combination of exhaustion and excitement: when apprehension melts away to relief, and good fortune comes in spades. The first part of our journey was done.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RR2Llj7-Uis/Ul3xzD0XC3I/AAAAAAAAK-Y/VA2E_Dow4KA/s1600/Catalina+Harbor+with+arrow+to+boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="304" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RR2Llj7-Uis/Ul3xzD0XC3I/AAAAAAAAK-Y/VA2E_Dow4KA/s640/Catalina+Harbor+with+arrow+to+boat.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RR2Llj7-Uis/Ul3xzD0XC3I/AAAAAAAAK-Y/VA2E_Dow4KA/s1600/Catalina+Harbor+with+arrow+to+boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><br />
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<i><b>Day 5-6: </b>Passage from Santa Barbara island to Catalina, 25nm to Cat Harbor via Ironbound Cove</i><br />
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<b>Sources:</b><br />
<a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&docid=MuIaUKEkl6wfOM&tbnid=NT8NXn07w3yHJM:&ved=&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.csmonitor.com%2FScience%2F2011%2F1202%2FSanta-Ana-winds-How-the-West-was-hit-by-hurricane-speed-winds&ei=XwJeUuOdDMqaigL1p4GQAw&psig=AFQjCNF-hufCHTsE9FcUxVcC1YLXSaxlwQ&ust=1381979103279426">CS Monitor</a><br />
<a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&docid=HMYd8iHmaIdJVM&tbnid=4GptwKRnKVUBmM:&ved=&url=http%3A%2F%2Flatimesblogs.latimes.com%2Flanow%2F2009%2F01%2Fthe-santa-ana-w.html&ei=pQJeUqv0MIqPigKapoC4BQ&psig=AFQjCNF6NbBTSuuH8oB--TilpW1G_6iHaQ&ust=1381979173881227">LA Times blogs</a><br />
<a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&docid=e7S2zHMQhC07RM&tbnid=KW_OkYh_9UebxM:&ved=&url=http%3A%2F%2Fbackyard.weatherbug.com%2Fprofiles%2Fblogs%2Fthe-south-central-texas-weekend-weather-and-tides-forecast-12-2-4&ei=PQJeUu2tNoWtigKZp4CIDg&psig=AFQjCNG0ZETgTfiLj1-VsUMO8h-IQmHFIA&ust=1381979069984952">Weatherbug.com</a><br />
<a href="http://surfine.com/">Surfine.com</a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-60065977653862500372013-10-14T22:42:00.001-07:002014-06-04T08:58:40.056-07:00Cats and Ice Plants<div class="p1">
"HELLO." I called out, a little nervous that I might get kicked off the island. </div>
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Pete had long hair and a maroon sweatshirt. He regarded me with suspicion, explaining the facility was closed (due to the government shutdown). Luckily, the Pygmy Mammoth charmed him, and he decided to give me a short tour.</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/104988599@N03/10201836953/" title="Untitled by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="396" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3754/10201836953_bc887368f0_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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Pete is a contractor for native plant restoration on Santa Barbara island. "All the plants look dry and dead, but they are just hibernating." He explained, spanning his arm around the landscape. </div>
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Then he pointed to a green patch with yellow flowers below the nursery. "Except right below the nursery irrigation, where the Giant Coriopsis are constantly blooming." </div>
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Giant Cori-op-sis… I rolled the name in my tongue. It sounded like (and looked like) a Dr. Seuss creation.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/104988599@N03/10285182004/" title="Screen shot 2013-10-14 at 10.09.42 PM by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Screen shot 2013-10-14 at 10.09.42 PM" height="431" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2883/10285182004_7bc933dc2e_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<i>The Giant Coriopsis in bloom at the bottom of the leach field</i></div>
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"Where do you get your freshwater?" I asked. </div>
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Pete explained that the National Park Service boat brings large vats of fresh water from the mainland, and they pump it up to tanks on the top of the hill. </div>
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Do they get hot showers with such limited water? No way. They save the precious water for the native plant nursery. Bathing was done directly under the pier, in the 60 degree ocean water.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/104988599@N03/10201644964/" title="Screen shot 2013-10-05 at 6.44.01 PM by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Screen shot 2013-10-05 at 6.44.01 PM" height="476" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3821/10201644964_2f6a2c39c4_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<i>A meticulous nursery!</i></div>
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"Sounds like the boat!" I laughed. At least on the boat we use a solar shower -- a black bag of fresh water with a spigot, that heats up during the course of the day. Surely they could afford a few gallons a day for that basic of luxury? </div>
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Katie walked up from the Ranger station. She is a bird biologist. Her organization is funded by the <a href="http://www.montroserestoration.noaa.gov/restoration/seabirds/" target="_blank">Montrose Settlement</a>, the result of a DDT chemical spill in the Santa Barbara channel. This settlement has funded millions of dollars of restoration work in the five islands in the National Park system. </div>
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"The funding ends in 2017. Just like that, it will be over," she looked towards the center of the island, and nodded optimistically. "But I think we will make it."</div>
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"What do you mean?" I asked, wondering what the goal was. </div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/104988599@N03/10201839543/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Untitled by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="480" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2867/10201839543_a02b67a17b_z.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Nesting seabirds get right of way</i></div>
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"We just want the island to be self-sustaining. The native vegetation needs to be well-established, to provide good habitat for the nesting sea birds. We used to have one of the largest populations of Scripp's Murrelet's here."</div>
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Scripp's Murrelet's are fascinating little seabirds that travel in pairs. One of their main homes is Santa Barbara Island. <br />
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Pretend your whole extended family lives in one village. Then it is invaded by large furry animals who like to eat your kids. </div>
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"The cats were eating all the eggs, since the seabirds nest on the land. It was easy pickings. Not a very fair match. We did a big program to capture the feral cats, originally brought in by the sheep ranchers. The last ones were hiding in the southern valley of the island -- that's why it's called Cat Canyon," Katie said.</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/104988599@N03/10201757716/" title="Screen shot 2013-10-05 at 6.45.18 PM by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Screen shot 2013-10-05 at 6.45.18 PM" height="412" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3808/10201757716_d2b94f7b22_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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<i>The view from Katie's office</i></div>
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I turned to Pete. "What about the plants?" </div>
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"Ice plant is the main culprit," he began. "It's an annual plant that releases a lot of salt into the ground. This has drastic effects on soil chemistry. It becomes a great environment for ice plant but terrible for native plants. We've physically removed tons of ice plant, but it's tough to get ahead."</div>
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The equation is pretty simple. Cats + ice plants = bad for sea birds. Native vegetation = good for sea birds. </div>
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Its simplicity and small size means Santa Barbara Island might become a success story. It is also a fascinating place to start my trip comparing the restoration of the eight Channel Islands. It raised 2 big questions in my mind. Maybe these could be guideposts for the rest of the trip.</div>
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<b>1) What is the goal of restoration?</b></div>
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The islands were different 100 years ago, 500 years ago, and 20.000 years ago. Are we trying to restore the Island Fox or bring back the extinct Pygmy Mammoth? </div>
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There are 4 years left of funding to finish the restoration work. What does a healthy relationship with the islands ultimately look like?</div>
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<b>2) What caused these sudden changes?</b></div>
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Ranchers innocently brought cats to the island. Small cause --> huge effect. Why are dogs less "bad"? What is the mechanism that causes sudden changes, and how we do prevent them from happening?</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/104988599@N03/10201656214/" title="Untitled by pygmymammoths, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="420" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7422/10201656214_cb51c28ed3_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
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Chris and I paddled the kayak back to <i>Aldebaran</i>. As we pulled anchor, we saw our biologist friends walking along the steep ridgeline towards a restoration site. Just two of them in this isolated island. </div>
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I looked forward to our return to Santa Barbara Island on our trip back North. Perhaps the grass will be lush and green if the rains come before our return. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-20266797403370499312013-10-10T22:41:00.000-07:002014-06-04T08:58:40.048-07:00When Sea Lions Climb Hillsides (and swim with humans later)<object classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" data="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=109786" height="300" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400"> <param name="flashvars" value="intl_lang=en-us&photo_secret=a98fcee327&photo_id=10201897446"></param>
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"Go swim with the sea lions at the Reserve," said Andy from the harbor dive shop.<br />
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I was in for a surprise. Sure enough, they got amazingly close. But what I didn't expect to see were the sea lions <i>on top of the hill -- </i>way way above the water!<br />
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Dirt darkened by their shuffling flippers, carving out terraces and pathways, they milled around the hillside. What were they doing way up there?<br />
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On the opposite northwest side of the island, we observed these Hillside-Dwelling Sea Lions in a chaotic display:<br />
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<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/RbriXirr_42hrzGq3Rd9C9MTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite"><img height="384" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ezaxm4A-oYk/UlIp9736HPI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/aVtZhlRf38o/s640/DSC_0329.JPG" width="640" /></a>
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Scores of sea lions were on the ridgeline. They made their way down to the rocks. Their "highway" was like a natural Slip & Slide, which went through a huge flock of cormorants. The birds grew restless, flapping their wings. Poor things, they can't fly from a standing start. So they intersected the path of the sea lions in order to jump off the cliff, like hangliders. This caused a massive traffic jam. A flurry of flapping wings and barking sea lions ensued for ten minutes.<br />
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What motivated these sea lions, I wondered, to carry their heavy blubbery bodies up to the top of the hill? Perhaps it was a "King of the Hill" mating ritual that turned into a societal norm. Who knows, in 10.000 years they might have erected mud huts and thrones!<br />
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"On a small island, one cannot question the ways of evolution," says the Pygmy Mammoth.<br />
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<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/3R2Ml-tRY3XYYacjk84kydMTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite"><img height="494" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-fDgsp6wuBOY/UlIp9SpC-NI/AAAAAAAAAJs/SlKWbQMRqdo/s800/Screen%2520shot%25202013-10-05%2520at%25206.34.14%2520AM.png" width="604" /></a>
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Back in their natural element, they came to investigate when I jumped into the water with a snorkle. The juveniles kept swimming closer, making last minute turns, as if challenging each other to get closer to this foreign creature. Their eyes were big and bright. Maybe even having fun?<br />
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That joy made the island feel alive. I've been in places where things feel dead, decaying. This felt exuberant, flourishing. Maybe that is a measure of how healthy Nature is... alive-ness. <br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-47823989734248773172013-10-09T15:32:00.001-07:002014-06-04T08:58:40.052-07:00Imaginary Fences in the Ocean<br />
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<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/hEbUbR5z-qxTOdfjQlggfdMTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite"><img height="418" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-7vbwdlqdPLQ/UlIp5SKscHI/AAAAAAAAAJU/wu6FjZpA7mI/s640/Merlin%2520lobster%2520boat.png" width="640" /></a>
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<i>Father and son with lobster traps aboard the </i>Merlin</div>
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"It's been a weak start so far," said the captain of the <i>Merlin</i>, about the lobster season this year. He was pulling up a cage with 5 good sized lobster. He conceded: "Although today is looking more promising."</div>
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Seasonal closures are a costly limitation for fishermen, but they allow the lobster population to strengthen. They are accepted and well-regulated. However, there is a new rule in the game: marine protected areas (MPAs).<br />
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<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/sAEV0E2wXZkIlW3xLEFfRNMTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite"><img height="490" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-IrCCt3oDdYU/UlIp4WBQz-I/AAAAAAAAAJM/nbU-RWrvzI0/s640/GOPR0034.JPG" width="640" /></a>
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<i>The Pygmy Mammoth doesn't like fences, but understands they make good neighbors.</i></div>
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Check out the map: the Marine Protected Area is the red rectangle extending from the south-east corner of the island. There is no fishing in this area. Naturally, fishermen hate this. As a sailor, if someone told me I'm not allowed in some rectangle of coast, I would also be quite upset. That is what fishermen are experiencing. </div>
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Marine ecologists, however, tell us that MPAs are essential. Government policy has followed suit, and now there are lines in the ocean, shown by GPS coordinates. They are like imaginargy fences, where some or no fishing is allowed. </div>
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<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/d7qckbyibJxA2hHbuCfq3dMTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite"><img height="419" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-2VmNdV9abSU/UlIp6ypKbBI/AAAAAAAAAJc/6lXUzHeRT0U/s640/Screen%2520shot%25202013-10-05%2520at%25207.25.56%2520AM.png" width="640" /></a>
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<i>Kelp bed south of the main anchorage, with Arch Point in the background</i></div>
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Later in the day, Chris and I paddled the tandem kayak from the main anchorage towards a nice kelp bed. We dove with our hawaiian slings, and came up with 2 perch and 1 fat sheepshead. Needless to say, we were outside of the reserve! </div>
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After we gutted and scaled them, the fish turned into ceviche, a risotto, and a barbecue fillet dinner. It is good to be close to the source of our food, and get the atavistic feeling of a hunter-gatherer. That is a feeling that is vanishing from our world. Lobster fishermen like the captain of the <i>Merlin </i>are some of the last hunter-gatherers,<i> </i>living in the wild ocean to bring seafood to our plates. </div>
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<i>Sutil Island, on the right, is an rugged islet on the south-west corner of Santa Barbara Island</i></div>
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Sitting in <i>Aldebaran</i>, I looked south and imagined a fence running along the ocean with virtual "No Fishing" signs along it. </div>
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Fences -- like seasonal closures and MPAs -- are unwelcome constraints for the free spirited fishermen. As management techniques, none are perfect. But they are attempts to keep seafood on our plates (and a life in the ocean) into the future. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-86834925980597574372013-10-09T14:33:00.001-07:002014-06-04T08:58:40.060-07:00Government Shutdown and Arrival in SB isle <table style="width: auto;"><tbody>
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<i>Happy to get off </i>Aldebaran (<i>that little speck at anchor in the background), Pygmy Mammoth admitted to being a little sea sick.</i></div>
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The Pygmy Mammoth made it to Santa Barbara Island!<br />
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We were greeted with the following sign:</div>
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"Due to the federal government shutdown, this facility is closed."</div>
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Anarchy is not my forte, but after 11hrs of sailing, I wasn't about to turn back. I climbed the ladder to the rudimentary dock, the only landing on the island.</div>
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I first heard the news as we fueled Aldebaran in the harbor, just prior to departure: "Does this mean the IRS is also closed?" laughed the fuel dock attendant. We were raising sail ten minutes later, salt spray on our eyes, laying rest our worries about societal collapse. </div>
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<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/89Dy99s0j2Ohvndg9E6y6tMTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite"><img height="480" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6AhaUzad4e0/UlIpzUoPU_I/AAAAAAAAAIU/wNc1Z6AohMM/s640/GOPR0072.JPG" width="640" /></a>
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<i>A warm welcome from one of our nation's most inaccessible National Parks</i></div>
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The bureaucratic beast would rear up its head soon enough -- we were still applying for access to the Navy-controlled San Clemente and San Nicolas islands. But this caught me off guard. A beloved National Park, closed, after all this effort!</div>
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"What do you think about all this?" I spoke aloud to the island, now solidly under my feet. </div>
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A memory came to me. Do you know that book about how Nature comes back when humans are gone? That possibility is fertile in this isolated chunk of land. But is that what the island wants? Should we be good stewards of the land; is our restoration work bringing real benefit?</div>
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<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/SLNhKwdU3i6mjPj2S7jTENMTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite"><img height="480" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-kK0GCLhsFcs/UlIp0SI8VDI/AAAAAAAAAIc/eGPNrKq3kn4/s640/DSCN5517.JPG" width="640" /></a>
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Prompted by our government's vacation, these were good questions to start the journey. Restoration costs millions of dollars. We need to know why we are doing this.<br />
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Spectacular and controversial programs have occurred in each of the eight channel islands, with varying levels of success and challenges. I hoped to learn the deeper Why and How of Restoration, by visiting them in my sailboat; ultimately, to appreciate these fantastic islands and to see what they teach us about the art of dealing with change.<br />
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Was there anyone on this island to discuss this question, or would I just keep talking to myself?<br />
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After walking up the hill, I found two people. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-10275743840151000262013-10-06T20:43:00.001-07:002014-06-04T09:00:27.002-07:00Four crew... 63 miles to SB islandHere's our crew and route for the first leg of the trip:<br />
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The voice of unreasonable wisdom was from my own dad, Bob Beadle, who joined us on the trip to "keep an eye on things."</div>
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He steered <i>Aldebaran</i> when we were flying at 8 knots enroute to Santa Cruz island, where we made a pitstop. When conditions aren't thrilling, he gets bored and can be found reading "Voyage for Madmen" inside the cabin. He makes a mean risotto and secret pancake recipe, as we discovered on days 2 and 4. </div>
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<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/QdENm3h_iBmOPr2wMGMo-9MTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite"><img height="287" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-i4_ihtRU6Zg/UlIp2BqJOZI/AAAAAAAAAI8/BfqkACJfkug/s400/DSC_0217.JPG" width="400" /></a>
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Chris Colajezzi is a lifeguard from Los Angeles joining us on the October cruise, a solid guy, chill, hard-working, good company. On the 7hr, 40mile stretch across lonely ocean to Santa Barbara Island, he was fixing the man-overboard pole and rigging the life ring. Safety first! Chris seems right at home repairing things underway; because that's how we roll on <i>Aldebaran.</i></div>
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<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/oRZCXYdwyZn1bebjo_kNy9MTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite"><img height="300" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-HS_5Oo0b7BM/UlIp1oQx5LI/AAAAAAAAAI4/WTuksegiPyM/s400/DSCN5457.JPG" width="400" /></a>
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The good ship <i>Aldebaran </i>wouldn't be sailing the high seas without Ed's persistence for "gumption", a quality he brings as director of the Santa Barbara Bicycle Coalition (and boat partner). Gumption is togetherness; it is lastingness; it is maintenance-free-ness. He grew up sailing with his dad in Catalina; the journey south is a long standing dream, uniting his past, environmental work, and life in Santa Barbara. </div>
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This is me. I remember the summers that I spent with my grandparents in a small cabin in an island. Since then, islands have always fascinated me. Surrounded by ocean, I felt butterflies in my stomach when I sighted Santa Barbara island in the haze. Then she grew in front of us. Just 63 miles south of Santa Barbara (the town), she is rarely visited, as most people sail straight to Catalina. It is a forlorn, water-less land. But like a poor man's oasis, it is full of life when we look closer. </div>
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<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/fL_gXpEUKLD8S4GIL-faItMTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite"><img height="219" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-zVBengyz_uA/UlItgAWO29I/AAAAAAAAAK8/3rw8utc5UyI/s400/Map%2520with%2520arrows-day%25201.jpg" width="400" /></a>
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<b><i>Day 1: </i></b><i>Santa Barbara to Santa Cruz Island (23nm). The wind was 12-15 knots, beautiful sailing, clear skies, departing 4pm, arriving 7:30pm at Smuggler's Cove. </i></div>
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<b><i>Day 2: </i></b><i>Santa Cruz Island to Santa Barbara Island (40nm). Light north breeze had us motor-sailing south to make sure we'd arrive before dark. Departure 10am, arriving 5pm at the main landing in Santa Barbara Island.</i></div>
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<b><i>Day 3-4: </i></b><i>In Santa Barbara Island, anchored at the Main Landing, we circumnavigated the island twice. </i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-76433953677085957412013-10-01T18:03:00.000-07:002013-10-04T13:47:14.403-07:00Departure Day! <p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VEzWb1kylrs/Uk8pUqsD03I/AAAAAAAAK9I/jRLSEr_7ysw/s1600/photo-734403.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VEzWb1kylrs/Uk8pUqsD03I/AAAAAAAAK9I/jRLSEr_7ysw/s320/photo-734403.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5931004669303444338" /></a></p>.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-16139989424657287452013-10-01T17:41:00.003-07:002014-06-04T08:59:46.270-07:0015 photos from Santa CruzAh... Santa Cruz island. A more pristine and gorgeous island would be hard to duplicate!<br />
One quarter National Park, three-quarters Nature Conservancy, this island is an amazing playground and fascinating story in restoration.<br />
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<embed flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=https%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2F103086164701159876522%2Falbumid%2F5929808914131339505%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Den_US" height="400" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="https://static.googleusercontent.com/external_content/picasaweb.googleusercontent.com/slideshow.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="600"></embed><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-72718813819791665412013-10-01T07:53:00.000-07:002014-06-04T08:59:57.378-07:0015 photos from Santa RosaSanta Rosa island is home to the famous 1994 excavation of the pygmy mammoth, the most complete skeletal remains found of the species!<br />
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It is also home to the oldest human remains found in North America, dating 13,000 B.C., discovered in 1959 (the "Arlington Springs Man"). The island is a remarkable place of archeology and history.<br />
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It takes the full brunt of the open ocean swell and wind, but is large enough to create a protected side where we can anchor in the (sometimes) calm conditions. Its anchorages are wider and less sheltered than those found on Santa Cruz island, but the abundant flora and fauna, and wild scenery makes it a fantastic place to visit.<br />
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<b>Where is Santa Rosa Island?</b><br />
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<li>26 miles south of the Gaviota coastline</li>
<li>6 miles west of Santa Cruz island</li>
<li>It is 15 miles wide by 10 miles long</li>
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<b>Two interesting facts:</b></div>
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<li>The Arlington Springs Man (the oldest human remains found in North America) shows that early Paleo-Indians had capable watercraft, and re-enforces the "coastal migration" theory of peopling the Americas from Asia. </li>
<li>The Chumash called the island "Wima" (driftwood) as they would find the valuable redwood logs from which they built <i>tomol</i> plank canoes to cross from the mainland to the islands. </li>
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<b>Sources:</b></div>
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<a href="http://travel.nationalgeographic.com/travel/national-parks/channel-islands-national-park/" target="_blank">National Geographic</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.nps.gov/chis/planyourvisit/santa-rosa-island.htm" target="_blank">National Park Service</a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-54925952541688217892013-09-26T10:41:00.002-07:002014-06-04T09:00:08.910-07:0015 photos from San MiguelOver the past year, we sailed Aldebaran to Santa Cruz, Santa Rosa, and San Miguel islands to get her ready.<br />
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I'll post 15 favorite photos from each island, our crew, and boat during this "shakedown" year. Check back for the next installments.<br />
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<i>(click this <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/103086164701159876522/15FromSanMiguel?authuser=0&feat=directlink" target="_blank">link</a> if the slideshow below doesn't load)
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<b>Where is San Miguel Island?
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<li>The most north-west of the Channel Islands</li>
<li>Located 26 miles from the nearest mainland (Point Conception)</li>
<li>About 8 miles long and 4 miles wide. </li>
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<b>Two incredible facts:</b><br />
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<li>One of the largest concentrations of wildlife in the world is found in San Miguel island: up to five different pinniped species and <i>over 30,000 individuals </i>cluster at Point Bennet on its western tip.</li>
<li>One of the oldest known American Indian archeological sites (<i>11,600 years ago</i>) is on the island.</li>
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<b>Sources:</b><br />
<a href="http://www.nps.gov/chis/planyourvisit/island-facts-san-miguel.htm">NPS</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-28424599646774595562013-09-25T07:40:00.001-07:002013-09-25T07:40:38.601-07:00The origins of Aldebaran, our good ship<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N9PvXZ_POGM/UkLwlJx24QI/AAAAAAAAK6k/0NuisDS9vCw/s1600/DSCN4394.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N9PvXZ_POGM/UkLwlJx24QI/AAAAAAAAK6k/0NuisDS9vCw/s320/DSCN4394.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Four years ago, I sent my family photos of the boat I was hoping to buy. It was called Aldebaran, a 42ft trimaran built in 1968. </div>
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My mom responded: "Amazing! That is the name of your great-uncle's boat!" </div>
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In fact, I later discovered that my great-uncle not only had one Aldebaran, but he also built Aldebaran II. He then sailed in an epic journey from Brazil to Greece and back.</div>
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The stars were aligned! (excuse the pun)</div>
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Still, I hesitated. This is a large boat for someone without deep pockets. It is very expensive to moor in marinas. It is extremely maintenance intensive, being made from a composite of plywood and fiberglass. </div>
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The main reason to purchase such a large boat was a stable platform for exploration and adventure ecology -- to have space for others such as scientists, artists, and lovers of the outdoors and the sea. This is what motivated me, and I went ahead. True to expectations I labored (along with my boat partner) for years with sweat and sawdust and stressful costs.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J9W5THprd0A/UkLvOE97q3I/AAAAAAAAK6Y/MuW8zj7hCX8/s1600/Final_const.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>Now the boat is finally finding its stride, and the vision is coming together. I look forward to sharing it. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J9W5THprd0A/UkLvOE97q3I/AAAAAAAAK6Y/MuW8zj7hCX8/s1600/Final_const.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J9W5THprd0A/UkLvOE97q3I/AAAAAAAAK6Y/MuW8zj7hCX8/s320/Final_const.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Easy to spot near Orion, Aldebaran is an extraordinary orange star on the top left of the "V" of Taurus, considered the "Bullseye"</i></div>
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<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hj1Ss9QUQD0/UkLwlU91qoI/AAAAAAAAK6o/NRFmw8VfyJw/s1600/IMG_1311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hj1Ss9QUQD0/UkLwlU91qoI/AAAAAAAAK6o/NRFmw8VfyJw/s320/IMG_1311.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-85090670196360522672013-09-24T10:00:00.000-07:002013-09-26T16:01:57.992-07:00Go West, Young Mammoth! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-76KyY4uSab4/UkGoeb-mbVI/AAAAAAAAK5g/OasASn9WA5c/s1600/pygmy+mammoth+pensive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="103" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-76KyY4uSab4/UkGoeb-mbVI/AAAAAAAAK5g/OasASn9WA5c/s320/pygmy+mammoth+pensive.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Did you know that elephants are the best swimmers among land animals? It is interesting that Mammoths became "pygmy" by swimming West. It reminds me of a story from my family.<br />
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My grandmother was born in North Dakota. She was a strong Norwegian woman. She once asked my dad why he decided to move to Hawaii. What was wrong with their idyllic life in sunny California, she wondered? <br />
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"It's simple," he responded. "I'm doing the same as you did -- I'm just heading further West."<br />
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Ah... the beacon call to head West, somewhere over the horizon. I have felt that tug, and bought a sailboat. It is the search for opportunity, for novelty, for 'greener fields'.<br />
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40,000 years ago, the Mammoths also felt that urge:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BDa5Rvj62BA/UkGocJur_gI/AAAAAAAAK5c/PK0OPow_i9s/s1600/pygmy+mammoth+solo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BDa5Rvj62BA/UkGocJur_gI/AAAAAAAAK5c/PK0OPow_i9s/s1600/pygmy+mammoth+solo.jpg" /></a><b><i>"Leaving the heavily grazed mainland behind, the mammoths swam towards the scents of abundant vegetation from the huge, mountainous island of Santarosae" (<a href="http://www.nps.gov/chis/historyculture/pygmymammoth.htm">National Park Service</a>)</i></b></div>
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Back in those icy times (with lower sea levels), the four northern Channel Islands were united into one large island, "Santarosae". The 14ft tall Columbian Mammoths smelled the fresh grass, and took a risk. They swam 4-6miles to the unexploited pastures. Was it their wooley version of Manifest Destiny? Or just a response to necessity, adventure, and spontaneity?<br />
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As the Earth warmed and sea level rose, the islands split up and became smaller. Less food became available. So the smaller mammoths began to live longer. They became smaller and smaller, until they had shrunk from 14ft to just 7ft tall. Over the course of time, they evolved into... Pygmy Mammoths, a species only found in the California Channel Islands.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J4-sG0lU9rA/UkGnhdc8zBI/AAAAAAAAK5Q/gu-WvHpc-no/s1600/From+Big+to+Pygmy+Mammoths.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J4-sG0lU9rA/UkGnhdc8zBI/AAAAAAAAK5Q/gu-WvHpc-no/s320/From+Big+to+Pygmy+Mammoths.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Different Mammoth and Elephant sizes</i></div>
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<i>(<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/nature/life/Elephantidae">BBC</a>)</i></div>
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Why is the Pygmy Mammoth the mascot for this sailing trip, you wonder? Besides being unique to the Channel Islands, they are an icon of Change -- and this is what we're trying to understand. What sudden changes have the islands dealt with, and where is restoration leading us? Who better to guide us than an invasive animal (they swam to the island) that turned endemic (found nowhere else)? At least, their paradoxical nature will help us ask fresh questions.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4181489814466039674.post-21733705840874251582013-09-24T09:39:00.001-07:002013-09-24T22:12:44.926-07:00What is this Project about? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XlIbIR8qG64/UkHESc9Yq9I/AAAAAAAAK6I/uX54vaI_9Ak/s1600/ChannelIslandsMap+-+scifoundation_edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XlIbIR8qG64/UkHESc9Yq9I/AAAAAAAAK6I/uX54vaI_9Ak/s320/ChannelIslandsMap+-+scifoundation_edited.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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There are eight California Channel Islands, drifting in the hazy horizon. Though only 20-60 miles offshore, they are a world away. Catalina is the only one with convenient access. What do we know about the rest?<br />
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What mysteries and changes have they captured over time? What is their current state, and what lies in their future?<br />
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As animals, plants, and humans have come and gone, the face of the islands has completed shifted. In "Sailing with Pygmy Mammoths", we will visit the eight islands (or try to, weather permitting!) and explore the radical restoration efforts happening today.<br />
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Vast pig eradications. Feral cat and goat removal. Rat poison. Sea otter embargoes. Extremely contentious marine reserves. <br />
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Why are we doing these hugely expensive and difficult restorations? What state of ecologic health are we hoping to return to? We need to look into the past, and visit the islands themselves, to understand this epic effort happening just over the horizon.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0