Now, this abalone is undersized, in legal terms, about 5 or 6 inches across that shell, I'd guess. (I'm holding the camera quite close here.) And, while I learned to dive while "chasing abalone", as we used to joke, I tend to look and appreciate and not take these days. Good eating, yes, but also good thriving.
"Kiss my ab" was the motto we'd throw at each other while abalone-diving. The good old days. (You know, driving three hours and then limiting out in 10 minutes of water-time. Or, better, taking our time to find the best abalone we could there off Salt Point or Kruse Ranch, imitating the harbor seals in the surge channels, diving deep into the kelp again and again, and dealing with those rocky shore exits, no matter how much the swell had risen.) Those days were too short and too few, but golden while they lasted, silver in memory. I'll toast those days -- and my dive buddy Keith -- with some rum in the evening after the next time I go free diving, and I'll go free diving soon just to be toasting those days, that friend.
