Jelly + Fish

A Good Catch

JP netting a good-sized lingcod.

Kelp-Time

Hold Your Breath II

I love kelp.

"I don't want to alarm you, but . . . ."

What you say to your kayaking-buddy when you're in 80 feet of salt water and your paddle contacts something moving beneath your boat.

(I think those were my words, but I kind of can't remember.)

______

P.S.  A friend wanted more . . . wanted the "end" of the story:

My kayak-buddy then had caught a lingcod, a predator fish, so I prefer to think that that lingcod had followed the last fish caught, had bumped my paddle, and then was caught himself.

Any other stories--and I have many in my head-- would cause anxiety.

So, happy ending for the kayakers.

(I really felt a moving body under my paddle: fish, seal, shark, other?  Mostly likely, a seal.  You tell me.)

_______

P.P.S.    So, the lingcod was 24 inches long, and at the time I figured he'd followed the hooked rockfish my pal Jeff was reeling in, but now I'm thinking I felt a seal or sea lion, most likely, following the rockfish instead.  (I've watched seals chase hooked salmon and bite off all but the head just before I could reel in the fish completely, for example.)  We hadn't seen any seals for hours, so we didn't think first about seals.  A shark is also possible, but I'd rather go with the seal.  I felt something solid but flexible, muscles shifting beneath skin, but that's describing the feeling I had while holding a paddle.

Feast

For the body and for the soul.

Excursion: Road, Water, Road

One Shiny-Clean Truck

I was happy to see CA Fish and Wildlife making their presence felt up north.  Too much poaching going on.

I didn't expect to find myself looking back at me, however.

I was taking a shot of the warden’s truck (for I admire the proud logo and the officer’s mission), yet his vehicle was so squeaky clean, I ended up with a rather good shot of my own truck—as my kayak-buddy JP pointed out.

Play-Date: Fish and Octo

Old clay pieces out in the world.
My version of building sand-castles, I guess.

Classroom Clay in the Wild

Three pieces from an experiment in last term's English 1A.

TBT: Fishing with Dad

Fishing trip.

I caught my first fish at age seven with my dad at my side.  I'm older here, obviously.

This trip out into Monterey Bay, oh, my father was miserable.
Seasick so much.
Still, the whirr of the reel would catch his attention . . . .

I'm not sure we caught those or if we were gifted by cousins on the same trip.  The conditions were raw that time, and we went out more than once.

1996?

Wish Upon a Wing

Today, while out buying fish in Berkeley, I was limping back to my truck (back & leg issues) when in front of me appeared a crow or raven also limping.

Was he making fun of me?  Showing sympathy?  Just a fellow creature with a hurt of his/her own?

Before I could ask, the black bird flew away.

I wish I had wings like that.

Note to a Friend

I have a hankering for a paddle at Mendocino, just for the sheer
practice and the place, but south and southwest swells make the north
route and even the south route both rough.  

The long drive, yes, but I
miss the caves and the specific landscape . . . .   Just mental
free-falling there.

Monterey has similar problems with a south swell, I think,
particularly if I am out of shape, as I am.  Hmmmmm.

So, I am thinking of good paddle-practice or paddle-experience.

What's your list of objectives or desires for a paddle outing this
coming weekend?

I would like to get wet and to sweat.

--MD

Clay-Gray Friday

Ill at home, waiting out the fever and fret.

Understory II