Seriously though, a friend of Cynthia's caught this wonderful fish and gave it to her. Normally he would have let it go as he hates to bring fish aboard or have to deal with them, so we are glad he gave us this one.
Monday, July 20, 2015
Piscine surgery: RIP July 7, 2015.
On July 6th, a striped bass went under the knife for a fillet-ectomy at the hands of a capable surgeon. The procedure was completely successful and the bass will be remembered fondly. It has found its way into our memories and into our hearts (and other bits of us...) via chowder & omelets, as well as through more standard dishes. We hope that many other bass will follow in the path this one has taken. This creature did not die in vain.
Seriously though, a friend of Cynthia's caught this wonderful fish and gave it to her. Normally he would have let it go as he hates to bring fish aboard or have to deal with them, so we are glad he gave us this one.
Seriously though, a friend of Cynthia's caught this wonderful fish and gave it to her. Normally he would have let it go as he hates to bring fish aboard or have to deal with them, so we are glad he gave us this one.
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Cape Cod critters!
Around the end of June the toads change from tadpoles into tiny little toads and scatter across the landscape, but for a week or so hordes of the little hopping creatures infest the lawn. VERY cute! Maya helped me photograph a couple...
I love to come here in early May to see the forests just becoming green, so different from the dense green of summer. This year, however, there are areas where the trees are just as bare today as May 1: the gypsy moths have returned in force. Cute little creatures, but destructive as heck.
Cynthia and I swam in Hathaway Pond and I spotted some turtles, chased them with mask and snorkel until I caught up to them as they went to ground on the bottom (they gave up shortly before I had to surface) and brought them ashore. Lucy found them fascinating!
Finally, this creature seemed to enjoy relaxing in the back yard at my folks' place. We watched it for about ten minutes while it drowsed, watched us, yawned, stretched, drowsed some more, and finally wandered off.
Although there are many many more, this is enough for now. Maybe next time I'll talk about fish or birds....
I love to come here in early May to see the forests just becoming green, so different from the dense green of summer. This year, however, there are areas where the trees are just as bare today as May 1: the gypsy moths have returned in force. Cute little creatures, but destructive as heck.
Cynthia and I swam in Hathaway Pond and I spotted some turtles, chased them with mask and snorkel until I caught up to them as they went to ground on the bottom (they gave up shortly before I had to surface) and brought them ashore. Lucy found them fascinating!
Finally, this creature seemed to enjoy relaxing in the back yard at my folks' place. We watched it for about ten minutes while it drowsed, watched us, yawned, stretched, drowsed some more, and finally wandered off.
Although there are many many more, this is enough for now. Maybe next time I'll talk about fish or birds....
Sunday, June 21, 2015
back from a California wedding trip
I'm back on Cape Cod with the remains of the tropical storm Bill rumbling and raining outside. I STILL haven't held a tiller in my hand since last summer, but maybe tomorrow. Today I'll deal with cleaning up, freezing strawberries we picked yesterday, and generally catching up.
I enjoyed a good bit of the trip to California. My mom took me out to a little-known fish-and-chips shop where the food delighted me and a menu typo amused me.
I spent most of the two weeks trying to get rid of things left from my thirty years out west: tools and trailer and canoe and the piles of miscellany we collect over time... and sold the canoe and gave away various tools. I hate to throw it away and would prefer to sell or give it away. One could look at it as progress... or kick and moan at the fact that about 9/10 remains.
I also found time to visit some friends for a HOT hike (I've really missed these hikes and chats!), but didn't see about 95% of the friends I've left behind. Maybe next time...
Cynthia came out on Friday 6/12 for the rehearsal dinner. I picked her up in San Francisco at noon+ after a morning of errands in Santa Rosa (like getting a new piece of plexiglass for my cracked front hatch!) and we drove through the cool coastal fog and the roasting Sacramento Valley and into the sweet scented mountains, arriving just in time for a bit of socializing and a wonderful rehearsal dinner.
The wedding schedule left most of Saturday open (the excessive heat delayed the wedding until 5pm), so we hiked down, down, down to the Yuba River where others who had taken a shorter route already enjoyed the waters. I pointed out a species of blackberry I had never seen and Cynthia found a ripe one: I heard that it was tasty.
We swam through clear pools and light rapids, then hauled ourselves onto a gravel beach.
Squawfish (Sacramento pikeminnows) swam around our toes and snapped at midges dancing on the surface.
A father and son made their way down the rapids and chatted with us, the lad telling us that some of the fish in the big pool above us were two feet long! The father lent us his mask and we got to see the fish. Pretty nice fish, even though only about 18" long at most. Apparently they are a native fish and a BIG predator of young salmonids.
The hike back up the hill in the excessive heat really kicked butts and left us with some sore muscles.... still, we survived and enjoyed the day.
We did a similar thing Sunday in a more accessible spot, but Paul and Carey brought a big basket of wedding leftovers and we took turns leaping off rocks and into a nice deep pool. One had to careful when walking around: the rocks were polished to a nice gloss from millions of footsteps.
Monday we headed to a cabin with my folks and brother, his family, and my niece Maya. While they enjoyed a ropes course nearby Cynthia and I worked on an excellent dinner of black bass chowder, bread, salad, etc, etc, etc. Then she followed it with an excellent pancake/bacon/eggs/fruit breakfast.... a flicker watched us from the hole in a snag by the back deck as we ate.... then we left to catch our red-eye flight.
Let's see.... have I forgotten anything? Oh, right! The wedding!Paul and Carey had a wonderful ceremony. Their daughter walked down the pathway as the flower girl. Dancing, dining, new and old friends, family.... good time: Carey and Paul did a heck of a job putting together an awesome event! Too bad I forgot my camera at the actual ceremony!! At least I have this one from the rehearsal dinner:
That nearest tree trunk looks like a sequoia, known for surviving for ages, despite hardships. I hope my brother and Carey's happiness with each other does the same...
Well, that's all for now.
I enjoyed a good bit of the trip to California. My mom took me out to a little-known fish-and-chips shop where the food delighted me and a menu typo amused me.
I spent most of the two weeks trying to get rid of things left from my thirty years out west: tools and trailer and canoe and the piles of miscellany we collect over time... and sold the canoe and gave away various tools. I hate to throw it away and would prefer to sell or give it away. One could look at it as progress... or kick and moan at the fact that about 9/10 remains.
I also found time to visit some friends for a HOT hike (I've really missed these hikes and chats!), but didn't see about 95% of the friends I've left behind. Maybe next time...
Cynthia came out on Friday 6/12 for the rehearsal dinner. I picked her up in San Francisco at noon+ after a morning of errands in Santa Rosa (like getting a new piece of plexiglass for my cracked front hatch!) and we drove through the cool coastal fog and the roasting Sacramento Valley and into the sweet scented mountains, arriving just in time for a bit of socializing and a wonderful rehearsal dinner.
The wedding schedule left most of Saturday open (the excessive heat delayed the wedding until 5pm), so we hiked down, down, down to the Yuba River where others who had taken a shorter route already enjoyed the waters. I pointed out a species of blackberry I had never seen and Cynthia found a ripe one: I heard that it was tasty.
A father and son made their way down the rapids and chatted with us, the lad telling us that some of the fish in the big pool above us were two feet long! The father lent us his mask and we got to see the fish. Pretty nice fish, even though only about 18" long at most. Apparently they are a native fish and a BIG predator of young salmonids.
The hike back up the hill in the excessive heat really kicked butts and left us with some sore muscles.... still, we survived and enjoyed the day.
We did a similar thing Sunday in a more accessible spot, but Paul and Carey brought a big basket of wedding leftovers and we took turns leaping off rocks and into a nice deep pool. One had to careful when walking around: the rocks were polished to a nice gloss from millions of footsteps.
Monday we headed to a cabin with my folks and brother, his family, and my niece Maya. While they enjoyed a ropes course nearby Cynthia and I worked on an excellent dinner of black bass chowder, bread, salad, etc, etc, etc. Then she followed it with an excellent pancake/bacon/eggs/fruit breakfast.... a flicker watched us from the hole in a snag by the back deck as we ate.... then we left to catch our red-eye flight.
Let's see.... have I forgotten anything? Oh, right! The wedding!Paul and Carey had a wonderful ceremony. Their daughter walked down the pathway as the flower girl. Dancing, dining, new and old friends, family.... good time: Carey and Paul did a heck of a job putting together an awesome event! Too bad I forgot my camera at the actual ceremony!! At least I have this one from the rehearsal dinner:
That nearest tree trunk looks like a sequoia, known for surviving for ages, despite hardships. I hope my brother and Carey's happiness with each other does the same...
Well, that's all for now.
Friday, May 29, 2015
Back to Cape Cod, but worrying about the mooring.
After Stewart departed I needed to get ready to take off: after all, I am not planning to be back much (if at all) before November. This means that I need to get Dorado safely and securely settled.
So... I talked to various folks: Peter, Alan, etc. Peter says put the boat in a hurricane anchorage near shore, right up near the mangroves. Only problem is that it is illegal to have the boat there (even though enforcement is unlikely: boats have been there for years). Another problem is that I don't want to damage the mangroves and worry I might. Other folks might have claims on "their" illegal spot and get pissed at me... and I am a conciliator, not someone who enjoys conflict. Finally, I was told that rats and cockroaches infest any boats that are left by the mangroves for long. This final one really pushed Cynthia and me to look hard at other options.
The other option is to leave it on a mooring. Mine is .... questionable. The chain is secured around an old bulldozer track (or some big sharpish piece of steel mostly buried in the mud), and I fear that it is getting dragged back toward Gigi. I do not want Gigi bashing a hole in my stern in a hurricane! So, I designed a much better setup that would use my extra anchors to help secure the mooring chain farther away and help prevent dragging. But... I talked to Dickie, the local mooring guy, and he said he could take care of it. I pulled the one anchor I had down there, preferring to leave things cleaner for him. On the last day he came boating by and said he had hurt his back, but would be better soon. I've talked since, but he does not sound happy with his healing.
So.... I've set up two big anchors with nice long lines and arranged with a friend to place them if a hurricane comes. I'll cross fingers that it does not, that Dickie heals and installs my mooring, and that all is well. I'm kind of tempted to get a scuba certification, fly down, rent some scuba stuff, and spend a day setting up the mooring. Peace of mind is good...
I'm enjoying the cold here on Cape Cod. The heat in the islands enervates me, leaving me feeling weak and confused. Perhaps heat exhaustion? Whatever, ice water helps and so does swimming, but I don't want to need to keep ice at all times. Then again, perhaps I could beef-up one of my coolers so it holds ice longer.... and I have a long-term plan to get my refrigeration unit running again... but that will probably take another $1000 or so! "Boat"="bring over another thousand".
Leaving is not easy. I found myself mourning, perhaps sad at leaving this simple life on the water that I love so well. I took one final sail at the crack of dawn,
sailed out to Leduck Island, and dropped anchor on a patch of sand among the coral heads. Wearing mask, snorkel, dive socks, and fins; I swam around the south side of the island, the ocean swell sweeping me back and forth even in 20' of water, enjoying new vistas. Not the most interesting dive, but I enjoyed the adventure and the time in the water. Then back to the mooring where I dropped my jib, folded it, and stowed it away. I struggled with the main, but ended up with a neat roll of sail that fits well below. Any stale nuts or other stuff went ashore to the chickens who flocked in excitement. And I sat outside eating my usual weird mixed rice/lentils/peas/onions and enjoyed a final sunset over the hills.
I showered on the last morning, then soaked all my clothes and squeezed them well, leaving me nice cool damp clothes to counteract the heat of the day.
And here I am in (mostly) gray, chilly, windy Cape Cod. I've been here for a bit over a week so far. Sometimes, when the sun emerges and the air warms, I can smell the inchworms devouring the young oak leaves. Life bursting forth fills the air with rich, interesting, sometimes spicy smells as it tries to pack a year of living into the few months of warm weather. Golden pine pollen coats the leeward side of ponds. Poison ivy spreads its reddish glossy leaves and ticks are busy hitching rides.... and meals. Stewart and Alex found an awesome place to dig steamers,
although enough other folks are digging there to wipe it out in weeks. Being up here gives me a chance to be with Cynthia and friends and family: I like it!
Now, what to do about the mooring? Hmmm....
So... I talked to various folks: Peter, Alan, etc. Peter says put the boat in a hurricane anchorage near shore, right up near the mangroves. Only problem is that it is illegal to have the boat there (even though enforcement is unlikely: boats have been there for years). Another problem is that I don't want to damage the mangroves and worry I might. Other folks might have claims on "their" illegal spot and get pissed at me... and I am a conciliator, not someone who enjoys conflict. Finally, I was told that rats and cockroaches infest any boats that are left by the mangroves for long. This final one really pushed Cynthia and me to look hard at other options.
The other option is to leave it on a mooring. Mine is .... questionable. The chain is secured around an old bulldozer track (or some big sharpish piece of steel mostly buried in the mud), and I fear that it is getting dragged back toward Gigi. I do not want Gigi bashing a hole in my stern in a hurricane! So, I designed a much better setup that would use my extra anchors to help secure the mooring chain farther away and help prevent dragging. But... I talked to Dickie, the local mooring guy, and he said he could take care of it. I pulled the one anchor I had down there, preferring to leave things cleaner for him. On the last day he came boating by and said he had hurt his back, but would be better soon. I've talked since, but he does not sound happy with his healing.
So.... I've set up two big anchors with nice long lines and arranged with a friend to place them if a hurricane comes. I'll cross fingers that it does not, that Dickie heals and installs my mooring, and that all is well. I'm kind of tempted to get a scuba certification, fly down, rent some scuba stuff, and spend a day setting up the mooring. Peace of mind is good...
I'm enjoying the cold here on Cape Cod. The heat in the islands enervates me, leaving me feeling weak and confused. Perhaps heat exhaustion? Whatever, ice water helps and so does swimming, but I don't want to need to keep ice at all times. Then again, perhaps I could beef-up one of my coolers so it holds ice longer.... and I have a long-term plan to get my refrigeration unit running again... but that will probably take another $1000 or so! "Boat"="bring over another thousand".
Leaving is not easy. I found myself mourning, perhaps sad at leaving this simple life on the water that I love so well. I took one final sail at the crack of dawn,
I showered on the last morning, then soaked all my clothes and squeezed them well, leaving me nice cool damp clothes to counteract the heat of the day.
And here I am in (mostly) gray, chilly, windy Cape Cod. I've been here for a bit over a week so far. Sometimes, when the sun emerges and the air warms, I can smell the inchworms devouring the young oak leaves. Life bursting forth fills the air with rich, interesting, sometimes spicy smells as it tries to pack a year of living into the few months of warm weather. Golden pine pollen coats the leeward side of ponds. Poison ivy spreads its reddish glossy leaves and ticks are busy hitching rides.... and meals. Stewart and Alex found an awesome place to dig steamers,
Now, what to do about the mooring? Hmmm....
Monday, May 11, 2015
Stewart visits: lionfish, deep dives, porpoises, and other adventures.... all in only 44 hours.
My good friend Stewart and his wife, Alex, just spent a week in the BVIs before she headed home and he remained to spend the weekend with me.
Friday morning, before he arrived, I did errands on shore and, as I paddled out past Angel's Rest (Peter's house/bar) I saw a gray back appear for a moment about ten yards away. A minute later it appeared again. I kept station, paddling gently against the wind, and waited.... and saw two porpoises. They hung around about 20' from me, practically performing with a close tandem "stitching" for a couple minutes, swimming slowly above and below every few seconds. So cool! These are the first wild ones I have ever seen near by.
About 2pm or so Stewart showed up and we raised sails and headed to Hansen Bay, eager to pursue Peter to his favorite anchoring spot, sail, swim, and otherwise squeeze every bit of adventure from the little time we had.
As we approached Angel's Rest we noticed it moving: Peter had decided to pull anchor and head home for the evening. No worries: Peter would probably be out again Saturday. We dropped anchor and snorkeled a new "low-energy"* reef I've been enjoying, one with lots of little reef fish and live coral, Stewart enjoyed my hi-tech fresh-water rinse system,
and we enjoyed sunset and dinner.
In the morning I swam early, then we headed for Salt Pond. I figured this would allow us to get a nice sail, enjoy some large waves, see one of the nicest "energetic"* reefs I know, and enjoy some fairly clear water (the waves have been stirring up Hansen Bay and we could only see about 30'). Stewart took the helm while I relaxed a bit by the mast.
As we approached Salt Pond, the kayak surfed down a wave, then drifted back and hit the end of its line hard, pulling the shackle right out of the plastic. I can't recall if we swore, but we changed our plans and our course, choosing the pursue the drifting, blowing kayak. Here is where we ran into some trouble: we had our full mainsail up and, while we had been struggling to steer and planned to reef it in Salt Pond, found it very hard to do the fine steering we needed to retrieve the kayak.... or even keep it in sight. After about ten minutes we caught it on our third try (thank goodness for heaving-to and for the strap on the kayak stern) and tied it on a long nylon line (given to me by Seth, Stewart's father), and sailed into Salt Pond where we caught the mooring closest to the entrance reef.
Once there, we hauled the kayak aboard, installed shackle and a long bungee (nice shock absorber!), and relaunched it. Then we explored the reef for a half hour (during which I showed Stewart how to equalize pressure as one dives) and, when we returned, I scraped some oysters from the keel and fed them to the reef fish... and then managed to snap the handle right off the scraper. No worries: I still have two others.
Waves made the mooring spot a bit rough, so we decided to sail back to Hansen Bay for lunch
and anchored near Angel's Rest.
I cooked up a couple omelets, but could not find my ham, so they had onion, mushroom, swiss, and spam. Tasty! Then we swam over to Angel's Rest, bought a couple rum punches (tasty and strong: one each turned out to be a good limit for us lightweights), and admired the engineering and creativity of Peter's design. Then into the water to swim the hundred yards back home.
On the way one of us pointed off to our right, north-west, and said something to the effect of "what is that gray thing sticking up about 40' away?" We peered at it and realized it looked like a flipper and a porpoise nose... of one just lolling in the water, relaxing. It disappeared after a quarter minute or so, but I found it very exciting.
Once aboard, we relaxed, read, and rested, waiting for the it to be time for a sunset swim and letting the ethanol dissipate. By 5:30 we could wait no more and paddled to our dive spot and slipped in, anchoring the kayak. Beautiful reef... but a bit murky from the sediment stirred up by the weather. I tried diving down and swimming a few feet above the coral (I dove 20' and and Stewart definitely dove deeper than 15' quite easily) and the view went from flat and green to various colors and varied topography and loads of little fish.... and a lionfish.
I called Stewart and pointed it out to him, then dove again, pulled the marker ribbon from my pocket, and placed it several feet from the fish. From the surface one could hardly see the 9" fish 20' below us, but the ribbon made it far easier to locate in the chaos of coral. I thought for a few minutes and couldn't resist: "I want to get it now: are you up for going back to the boat and retrieving the spear with me?" I said. In five minutes we were back near the spot, dropped me off to find the ribbon on the edge of the drop-off to the depths, and, in another five, the fish rose out of the water on the end of the spear. We brought it home for measuring and photos,
then fed it back to the sea.
The next morning we paddled to the same reef as early as we could bear, after a cup of coffee hot from the (French) press, dropped anchor, and began to seriously scan the reef for lions out hunting for breakfast. After about a half hour I saw one, called to Stewart to come keep an eye on it for me, and swam off to retrieve the spear from the kayak. Approaching the kayak I spotted ANOTHER lionfish hunting.
"Stewart!" I yelled, "I've found another one! I'll shoot this one and then come over there to get that one!" He nodded and have me a thumbs-up, I quickly assembled the spear... dropping the point and having to dive for it just six feet from the lionfish... then regained my breath, dove, and speared it.
While Stewart watched the fish for me, he actually saw it attempt to ambush something, but could not tell if it was successful or not. Good hunters, those lionfish.
I swam to Stewart, towing the kayak with the dying fish in the bow; breathed and relaxed for a bit; then dove, stalked, speared the lovely, venomous, possibly poisonous, invasive predator; and set it beside the earlier catch.
"Um... did you know you have a nosebleed?" Stewart asked. "Your mask has a bunch of blood in it."
I pulled my mask off and emptied out the pink liquid. Apparently so many dives to such depth were stressing my sinuses a bit and mush have broken a few little blood vessels, but it didn't seem life threatening and sharks like fish blood, not mammal blood, so we kept searching for more beauty and more lionfish. We found lots of the former, but none of the latter... and I will return to that reef again, seeking both.
We headed back to Coral Bay, stopping at one of my favorite reefs for finding little lobsters, but the water was murky (6' visibility) and, I think, someone had taken all the lobsters, despite the fact that they were undersized AND in National Monument waters! I could really go on about this and the human tendency to use our intelligence to justify what we wish to believe and do rather than ... but I digress.
We sailed into the harbor, wing-on-wing,
caught the mooring, and took Peter's dinghy to shore. A big (24"? 30"?) iguana relaxing in the water by the shore startled us as it swam away. Stewart bought us very good burgers at Skinny Legs, then started hitching (no buses on weekends) to Cruz Bay. It took about five minutes, but he snagged a ride, caught the 1pm ferry and the 5pm flight to Boston (same one I will be on May 20!), and, I assume, is now back at work.
I love having my friends and family visit! And I love having them depart and getting my space back. So far I enjoy each aspect rather than pining for company when alone and pining to be alone when company visits. It is so human (and probably drives us to great feats... and self destructive behavior) to think the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, but probably does not help our happiness.
* as of two minutes ago, I am tentatively classifying reefs by whether they are in quiet/deep water ("low-energy") or in places that receive a beating ("energetic"). The corals are VERY different
Friday morning, before he arrived, I did errands on shore and, as I paddled out past Angel's Rest (Peter's house/bar) I saw a gray back appear for a moment about ten yards away. A minute later it appeared again. I kept station, paddling gently against the wind, and waited.... and saw two porpoises. They hung around about 20' from me, practically performing with a close tandem "stitching" for a couple minutes, swimming slowly above and below every few seconds. So cool! These are the first wild ones I have ever seen near by.
About 2pm or so Stewart showed up and we raised sails and headed to Hansen Bay, eager to pursue Peter to his favorite anchoring spot, sail, swim, and otherwise squeeze every bit of adventure from the little time we had.
In the morning I swam early, then we headed for Salt Pond. I figured this would allow us to get a nice sail, enjoy some large waves, see one of the nicest "energetic"* reefs I know, and enjoy some fairly clear water (the waves have been stirring up Hansen Bay and we could only see about 30'). Stewart took the helm while I relaxed a bit by the mast.
As we approached Salt Pond, the kayak surfed down a wave, then drifted back and hit the end of its line hard, pulling the shackle right out of the plastic. I can't recall if we swore, but we changed our plans and our course, choosing the pursue the drifting, blowing kayak. Here is where we ran into some trouble: we had our full mainsail up and, while we had been struggling to steer and planned to reef it in Salt Pond, found it very hard to do the fine steering we needed to retrieve the kayak.... or even keep it in sight. After about ten minutes we caught it on our third try (thank goodness for heaving-to and for the strap on the kayak stern) and tied it on a long nylon line (given to me by Seth, Stewart's father), and sailed into Salt Pond where we caught the mooring closest to the entrance reef.
Once there, we hauled the kayak aboard, installed shackle and a long bungee (nice shock absorber!), and relaunched it. Then we explored the reef for a half hour (during which I showed Stewart how to equalize pressure as one dives) and, when we returned, I scraped some oysters from the keel and fed them to the reef fish... and then managed to snap the handle right off the scraper. No worries: I still have two others.
Waves made the mooring spot a bit rough, so we decided to sail back to Hansen Bay for lunch
I cooked up a couple omelets, but could not find my ham, so they had onion, mushroom, swiss, and spam. Tasty! Then we swam over to Angel's Rest, bought a couple rum punches (tasty and strong: one each turned out to be a good limit for us lightweights), and admired the engineering and creativity of Peter's design. Then into the water to swim the hundred yards back home.
On the way one of us pointed off to our right, north-west, and said something to the effect of "what is that gray thing sticking up about 40' away?" We peered at it and realized it looked like a flipper and a porpoise nose... of one just lolling in the water, relaxing. It disappeared after a quarter minute or so, but I found it very exciting.
Once aboard, we relaxed, read, and rested, waiting for the it to be time for a sunset swim and letting the ethanol dissipate. By 5:30 we could wait no more and paddled to our dive spot and slipped in, anchoring the kayak. Beautiful reef... but a bit murky from the sediment stirred up by the weather. I tried diving down and swimming a few feet above the coral (I dove 20' and and Stewart definitely dove deeper than 15' quite easily) and the view went from flat and green to various colors and varied topography and loads of little fish.... and a lionfish.
I called Stewart and pointed it out to him, then dove again, pulled the marker ribbon from my pocket, and placed it several feet from the fish. From the surface one could hardly see the 9" fish 20' below us, but the ribbon made it far easier to locate in the chaos of coral. I thought for a few minutes and couldn't resist: "I want to get it now: are you up for going back to the boat and retrieving the spear with me?" I said. In five minutes we were back near the spot, dropped me off to find the ribbon on the edge of the drop-off to the depths, and, in another five, the fish rose out of the water on the end of the spear. We brought it home for measuring and photos,
The next morning we paddled to the same reef as early as we could bear, after a cup of coffee hot from the (French) press, dropped anchor, and began to seriously scan the reef for lions out hunting for breakfast. After about a half hour I saw one, called to Stewart to come keep an eye on it for me, and swam off to retrieve the spear from the kayak. Approaching the kayak I spotted ANOTHER lionfish hunting.
"Stewart!" I yelled, "I've found another one! I'll shoot this one and then come over there to get that one!" He nodded and have me a thumbs-up, I quickly assembled the spear... dropping the point and having to dive for it just six feet from the lionfish... then regained my breath, dove, and speared it.
While Stewart watched the fish for me, he actually saw it attempt to ambush something, but could not tell if it was successful or not. Good hunters, those lionfish.
I swam to Stewart, towing the kayak with the dying fish in the bow; breathed and relaxed for a bit; then dove, stalked, speared the lovely, venomous, possibly poisonous, invasive predator; and set it beside the earlier catch.
"Um... did you know you have a nosebleed?" Stewart asked. "Your mask has a bunch of blood in it."
I pulled my mask off and emptied out the pink liquid. Apparently so many dives to such depth were stressing my sinuses a bit and mush have broken a few little blood vessels, but it didn't seem life threatening and sharks like fish blood, not mammal blood, so we kept searching for more beauty and more lionfish. We found lots of the former, but none of the latter... and I will return to that reef again, seeking both.
We headed back to Coral Bay, stopping at one of my favorite reefs for finding little lobsters, but the water was murky (6' visibility) and, I think, someone had taken all the lobsters, despite the fact that they were undersized AND in National Monument waters! I could really go on about this and the human tendency to use our intelligence to justify what we wish to believe and do rather than ... but I digress.
We sailed into the harbor, wing-on-wing,
I love having my friends and family visit! And I love having them depart and getting my space back. So far I enjoy each aspect rather than pining for company when alone and pining to be alone when company visits. It is so human (and probably drives us to great feats... and self destructive behavior) to think the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, but probably does not help our happiness.
* as of two minutes ago, I am tentatively classifying reefs by whether they are in quiet/deep water ("low-energy") or in places that receive a beating ("energetic"). The corals are VERY different
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Lionfish! Hunting with CORE, hunting reported lionfish, hunting on my own..
OK, I've been off the blogging for a bit... my neck/shoulders really hurt for nearly a week, perhaps due to diving down and digging around my mooring (hurricane season prep). Still, feeling 95% better and motivated... and am waiting for epoxy to set on my raised bathroom floor, but that is for another post.
So... lionfish. Last August I found my first and obeyed the injunction to report it rather than hunt it illegally in the national monument waters. In March I went back to the same spot and found the reef bare except for the lionfish... and shot the little bugger with great satisfaction. A week ago I visited the same spot and found a half-dozen lobsters, over a hundred little fish... and another lionfish in the same spot! When I left a little later three lobsters were contesting possession of the carcass.
I decided to head over the hill to Brown Bay to see if I could find any over there. Beautiful day: no wind, little waves, sun just rising as I stepped into the water... and there I saw little translucent bits of ribbon made up of double rows of little jellyfish(maybe). In some spots there might be only one every few feet, in other they were only a few inches apart... and SOMETHING stung my upper lip with an electric burn. I tried to avoid the concentrations, but after two more lip burns and one on my elbow (thank goodness for my wetsuit protection!) I managed to escape from the water and climb back to shore. *grumble grumble grumble!*. I returned empty-handed to my boat.
What to do? Well, the CORE organization is trying to reduce lionfish by encouraging folks to report sightings (http://www.corevi.org/submit.html) and getting the Park Service to let selected folks hunt them. I went online and checked the sightings (http://www.corevi.org/results.html) and found one fish in my area near Haulover. I sailed over there at first light and, after five minutes, found that beautiful predator hunting for breakfast!
Last Sunday CORE had a exploration hunt of Reef Bay, a place I love snorkeling, so I joined in and five of us did a pretty decent check, but found nothing. We did find some beautiful sharks, some sleeping, and all but one under 3'... but that last one was more like 8'... I am still quite tempted to snorkel the reef myself and pull in a couple lobsters.
Anything else lionfish related? Well, I snorkeled the north side of Hurricane Hole, from Turner Point to Water Creek and found none, but they could have been far back beneath a ledge. I did find a slipper lobster (googled pics) and dove down and caught it, but let it go unharmed since it is in the Monument. Also snorkeled another mile or so of shoreline and saw none. They really have strong preferences and never colonize certain spots while hardly being able to wait for other spots to become vacant. I think it has to do with requirements for specific shelter being the limiting factor, far more than food.
So... lionfish. Last August I found my first and obeyed the injunction to report it rather than hunt it illegally in the national monument waters. In March I went back to the same spot and found the reef bare except for the lionfish... and shot the little bugger with great satisfaction. A week ago I visited the same spot and found a half-dozen lobsters, over a hundred little fish... and another lionfish in the same spot! When I left a little later three lobsters were contesting possession of the carcass.
I decided to head over the hill to Brown Bay to see if I could find any over there. Beautiful day: no wind, little waves, sun just rising as I stepped into the water... and there I saw little translucent bits of ribbon made up of double rows of little jellyfish(maybe). In some spots there might be only one every few feet, in other they were only a few inches apart... and SOMETHING stung my upper lip with an electric burn. I tried to avoid the concentrations, but after two more lip burns and one on my elbow (thank goodness for my wetsuit protection!) I managed to escape from the water and climb back to shore. *grumble grumble grumble!*. I returned empty-handed to my boat.
What to do? Well, the CORE organization is trying to reduce lionfish by encouraging folks to report sightings (http://www.corevi.org/submit.html) and getting the Park Service to let selected folks hunt them. I went online and checked the sightings (http://www.corevi.org/results.html) and found one fish in my area near Haulover. I sailed over there at first light and, after five minutes, found that beautiful predator hunting for breakfast!
Last Sunday CORE had a exploration hunt of Reef Bay, a place I love snorkeling, so I joined in and five of us did a pretty decent check, but found nothing. We did find some beautiful sharks, some sleeping, and all but one under 3'... but that last one was more like 8'... I am still quite tempted to snorkel the reef myself and pull in a couple lobsters.
Anything else lionfish related? Well, I snorkeled the north side of Hurricane Hole, from Turner Point to Water Creek and found none, but they could have been far back beneath a ledge. I did find a slipper lobster (googled pics) and dove down and caught it, but let it go unharmed since it is in the Monument. Also snorkeled another mile or so of shoreline and saw none. They really have strong preferences and never colonize certain spots while hardly being able to wait for other spots to become vacant. I think it has to do with requirements for specific shelter being the limiting factor, far more than food.
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
St Croix, Buck Island National Monument, and back home
Argh! I'm on a downward slide, watching netflix and eating. Something is definitely missing and even sudoku seems rather meaningless. I've even removed all the rusty nuts from inside the boat and have cleaned them before replacing them... but it seems less fulfilling than I had expected.
So, let's review....
Cynthia just left yesterday. Yes, I suppose this COULD have something to do with my current lack of ambition and action. I definitely miss my partner in adventure, whether hunting lionfish together or fighting over who does the dishes ("Get out of my way! I get to do them!") or pointing out a lobster or a shark
Before she arrived on the 12th, I installed my new composting toilet. I love the fact that it has no pump and needs not be emptied for a couple months and that I could get rid of all the old smelly nasty plumbing. Despite the ventilation, it DOES, however, smell rather strongly like a compost heap: not the rotten nasty slimy type, but the sort with grass and leaves and other stuff decaying nicely. Still, I hope and expect that I will be able to find some sort of bacterial culture (perhaps scraped from soil, perhaps from a termite nest) that will assist in making everything even better. Tomorrow, perhaps.
Once she arrived, we took a day to recover from her flight, play,
and have dinner with Peter. Then we dropped the mooring at dawn and headed across the water to St Croix, the easternmost possession of the USA and the only bit of US soil ever touched by C. Columbus. Now, it turns out that this is a LONG sail, about 45 miles as we did it, and we reached Buck Island National Monument (NOT the Buck Island off St Thomas) at about 4pm, dropped anchor in the patch of water at the west end where anchoring is permitted, and, after a leap into the cool water
and a brief recovery nap, went exploring.
Buck Island satellite map
Wikipedia (but map is upside down!)
Shallows and reefs surround the island on all sides, sometimes reaching a half mile from the island. We paddled upwind, around the north side, wending our way around the coral heads brushing the surface in the eight-foot-deep water. I wanted to head offshore, figuring there would be better reefs there, but Cynthia pointed out birds plunging into the water by the shore and we paddled over, pulled on fins, masks, and snorkels, and slipped into the water.
Wonderful activity! A pack of tough-looking horse-eye jacks patrolled the edges of a school of 4" fish, picking off any easy ones that ventured out into deeper water. Birds picked off the bait that ventured near the surface or took shelter in the shallows.... and a gray shape about eight feet long swept by me in four feet of water and sped off in startled surprise: nurse shark? Lemon shark? Cool shark!
After a bit we left and swam among the coral heads and sand flats back to the boat, watched sunset and ate an incredible dinner,
and hit the hay.... and slept very well on the improved bed arrangement, rocking gently with a cool breeze blowing into the cabin.
At dawn we rose, ate first breakfast (pancakes, I think),
paddled a mile upwind to the underwater trail, and enjoyed a wonderful swim through the beautiful lagoon, full of healthy brain corals, reef fish, and barracudas, surrounded by a reef of elkhorn coral. We swam along the barrier reef toward home, then found a break and swam through into deep blue water over sand, the reef rising beside us looking like a peach orchard that had been bulldozed into a giant pile for burning. Impressive and beautiful and I wish we could have seen it when the elkhorn coral was alive. Gradually we made our way back toward our anchorage, pointing out cool things to each other, wishing we would see a sign of any lionfish.
Short on ice, we decided to head to Christianstead, Wending our way through the fringing reefs (all over the place in St Croix, not to be found in St John and St Thomas), catching a mooring at Susana Santana Park, paddling ashore and walking past the copious plantings of coconuts and tamarinds and other tropical species (including one that is very noisy in the wind),
happening upon a good hardware store where I could buy some plumbing for the composting head, before finally finding a grocery store and staggering back with groceries and ice.
The next AM we hiked around Christianstead some more and did more shopping, then headed back to Buck Island (I dropped the mooring line at one end of the sail and the anchor at the other and helped with navigation, but Cynthia is quite a competent sailor and handled the remainder). Once back, we decided to hike the one trail on the island. We went through coastal forests,
found a wonderful giant fallen tamarind that still survived,
hiked to the top of the island and visited the overlook,
and down, then swam and cleaned the boat bottom to cool off. We swam out into the reefs to the west and saw three nice lobsters crawling about: too bad it is a monument, but someone would have taken them otherwise. Still no lionfish.
Rain poured in the night, first rinsing the salt from the deck, then filling buckets and both water tanks. Yes! In the morning we wanted to head home, but realized we were running short on ice, especially since we did not intend to hit a store for a couple days. We headed west to Christianstead again as the sun rose,
snagged the mooring at 7:30, bought (small and rather expensive) bags of ice at the local marina, and were sailing north by 8:45. I sailed a bit, but mostly read "Good Omens" aloud while the boat steered itself (nearly correctly) or Cynthia put her hand to the helm to adjust the course.
We spent the night in Lamesure Bay, then snorkeled in Salt Pond and delighted at the healthy specimens of elkhorn, staghorn, and other corals. We sailed back to Hansen Bay and sample Peter's rum punch (we bought two for the two of us... and it is delicious and knocks you on your butt. I'm sure I could find a metaphor there, but why?). We spent the night there and in the morning sailed to Hurricane hole and explored delightful areas we had not seen before: wonderful corals and fish and mangroves and sponges and giant crab claws and the shed shells of lobsters: so much to see, even in one's own back yard!
Then we sailed back to my mooring, finished "Good Omens", and packed, and slept well. In the morning, yesterday, we caught the bus to the noon ferry, hugged, and made our separate ways back home.... although I stopped into the store in Cruz Bay to buy my Coffee coffee buzz buzz buzz ice cream. Now she is home with her dogs and I am here without her.
*SIGH*
Well, I think I'll go and polish the rust off the welds on my anchor chain and reinstall the nuts on my jib sheet traveler. Keeping busy is good.... anyway, I'll be up at the Cape in four weeks. And, in the meantime there are things to do and people to see. Time to get busy and quit wasting time.
So, let's review....
Cynthia just left yesterday. Yes, I suppose this COULD have something to do with my current lack of ambition and action. I definitely miss my partner in adventure, whether hunting lionfish together or fighting over who does the dishes ("Get out of my way! I get to do them!") or pointing out a lobster or a shark
Before she arrived on the 12th, I installed my new composting toilet. I love the fact that it has no pump and needs not be emptied for a couple months and that I could get rid of all the old smelly nasty plumbing. Despite the ventilation, it DOES, however, smell rather strongly like a compost heap: not the rotten nasty slimy type, but the sort with grass and leaves and other stuff decaying nicely. Still, I hope and expect that I will be able to find some sort of bacterial culture (perhaps scraped from soil, perhaps from a termite nest) that will assist in making everything even better. Tomorrow, perhaps.
Once she arrived, we took a day to recover from her flight, play,
Buck Island satellite map
Wikipedia (but map is upside down!)
Shallows and reefs surround the island on all sides, sometimes reaching a half mile from the island. We paddled upwind, around the north side, wending our way around the coral heads brushing the surface in the eight-foot-deep water. I wanted to head offshore, figuring there would be better reefs there, but Cynthia pointed out birds plunging into the water by the shore and we paddled over, pulled on fins, masks, and snorkels, and slipped into the water.
Wonderful activity! A pack of tough-looking horse-eye jacks patrolled the edges of a school of 4" fish, picking off any easy ones that ventured out into deeper water. Birds picked off the bait that ventured near the surface or took shelter in the shallows.... and a gray shape about eight feet long swept by me in four feet of water and sped off in startled surprise: nurse shark? Lemon shark? Cool shark!
After a bit we left and swam among the coral heads and sand flats back to the boat, watched sunset and ate an incredible dinner,
At dawn we rose, ate first breakfast (pancakes, I think),
Short on ice, we decided to head to Christianstead, Wending our way through the fringing reefs (all over the place in St Croix, not to be found in St John and St Thomas), catching a mooring at Susana Santana Park, paddling ashore and walking past the copious plantings of coconuts and tamarinds and other tropical species (including one that is very noisy in the wind),
The next AM we hiked around Christianstead some more and did more shopping, then headed back to Buck Island (I dropped the mooring line at one end of the sail and the anchor at the other and helped with navigation, but Cynthia is quite a competent sailor and handled the remainder). Once back, we decided to hike the one trail on the island. We went through coastal forests,
Rain poured in the night, first rinsing the salt from the deck, then filling buckets and both water tanks. Yes! In the morning we wanted to head home, but realized we were running short on ice, especially since we did not intend to hit a store for a couple days. We headed west to Christianstead again as the sun rose,
We spent the night in Lamesure Bay, then snorkeled in Salt Pond and delighted at the healthy specimens of elkhorn, staghorn, and other corals. We sailed back to Hansen Bay and sample Peter's rum punch (we bought two for the two of us... and it is delicious and knocks you on your butt. I'm sure I could find a metaphor there, but why?). We spent the night there and in the morning sailed to Hurricane hole and explored delightful areas we had not seen before: wonderful corals and fish and mangroves and sponges and giant crab claws and the shed shells of lobsters: so much to see, even in one's own back yard!
Then we sailed back to my mooring, finished "Good Omens", and packed, and slept well. In the morning, yesterday, we caught the bus to the noon ferry, hugged, and made our separate ways back home.... although I stopped into the store in Cruz Bay to buy my Coffee coffee buzz buzz buzz ice cream. Now she is home with her dogs and I am here without her.
*SIGH*
Well, I think I'll go and polish the rust off the welds on my anchor chain and reinstall the nuts on my jib sheet traveler. Keeping busy is good.... anyway, I'll be up at the Cape in four weeks. And, in the meantime there are things to do and people to see. Time to get busy and quit wasting time.
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