And One Seal Starts Sliding Down To The Water

Flying the Flag

I don't worry too much about fitting in, but a sense of community still feels good. Among the communities that have made me feel good, I have to rank the beachside parking lot full of divers fairly highly. I recall how my buddy Keith and I did our (old-school) diver training back in the late 70s and we went diving up and down Northern California, but we wouldn't put stickers on our cars or wear dive t-shirts until we felt we earned the right after a year or so. Then, we each put a modest diver-flag on our bumpers. (I think my dad gave me one that read "Think Deep.") And, we kept diving fairly frequently, at least for a few years before English grad school and law school distracted us. Nowadays, I like walking up the beach, in a soaking wetsuit, pulling that kayak with the rocket fins and weightbelt and other gear secured properly, getting and sharing the nods and smiles of like-minded souls in pursuit of salty experiences. I shoot my fish and creatures with a camera, but I still can talk abalone and spearfishing, and I like hearing those stories.

Crystal Ball

Well-glazed pneumatocyst.

Low Tide Wall-Shots, The Alley, and a Watchful Seal

I first saw this seal as he floated two feet beneath my kayak, watching me as I paddled slowly about his rock garden, though I didn't get that photo.  He moved off and away, watching me from the surface as I put more distance between us.  I don't want to get too close and infringe on such creatures.  (Close shots can be taken from far-enough-away; that's why I have the zoom on the camera.)

Arch Rock Locals: Paddle and Zoom

The same group from a different angle.

A Seal's View of Traffic

In The Fog

Four Friends Fog-Fishing,
Hope and a Hook,
or Existential Crisis #4?

Mendocino Locals

Where Are You Headed?

Mendocino Paddling

Apologies for the fuzzy shots and the waterspots.  I've better pictures of the same scenes and creatures in entries from past summers, but I decided to post the imperfect shots as documentation and good vibes.

Anchoring Reflections

On Thursday, I was free diving from the kayak in Mendocino waters, and I anchored my kayak to a strand of kelp as usual. I swam about for 10 minutes, and at that point I noticed my kayak floating past me. Obviously, my careful securing had failed. Luckily, the kayak had not been pulled in the opposite direction by currents or by tide, but the kayak seemed to be following me, which I appreciated. The sea urchins had done such a number eating all of the usual kelp in the area that I ended up clamping my kayak's kelp-anchor line to my weight belt instead and pulling the kayak behind me as I swam about, taking photos of the urchins and the kelp and what have you. Fortunately, the surge had calmed and this cove was out of the main line of the swell, or I could easily have ended up getting brained by the kayak as I surfaced for breath. Only as I swam in the shallows looking for bits of mother-of-pearl did I realize (as I should have previously) how much my rather weighty kayak could have done me damage just from the action of the surge. At that point, the rather cold water had penetrated the rather thin wetsuit, and I realized that I was quite cold. So, I climbed onto my kayak, pulled out the wool cap and the fleece I'd packed, and attempted to warm up. I need a new wetsuit, I think, and I need to consider more carefully how I anchor my boat.

I Have A Kelp Tattoo

I love kelp.

Free Diving: Mendocino Grab-Bag