Category Archives: Beach Living

The Look of Love

Posted on by

Update on osprey love story and nesting development.

First, they need a new architect. This nest, well, the truth is, they’ve never finished the nest. My guess, and I’m only an observational scientist, is that they are likely two-year old birds, at least the male. He has definitely chosen a nesting site, made an honest attempt to attract a mate, found a willing female, and then wasn’t quite sure what to do next. The photo above is either a look of love, or a look of “I don’t know, do you?”

Second, it’s VERY late in the season for mating. While other nests have hungry chicks demanding constant nutrition, ‘our’ birds (my neighbors deeply involved in what has been a challenging love triangle), come and go, more like dating than mating. Although they do coo (if you can call an osprey call a coo), neck a bit, as in rubbing beaks, and spend some afternoons simply hanging out together.

Male #1, who Ii will give a name, has certainly secured his nesting site. He is present in the mornings, brings his fish breakfast or lunch back to sup on site, and occasionallly adds a stick or piece of seawood to his abode. Afternoons, he’ll call until the female shows up and then they just sit for a while, watching, always alert to the surrounding sounds and activites.

Male #2 continues his attemps to usurp the nest. When the pair is together, he will fly in, swoop down on them, ‘glare’ from the neighbors attention perch above, and do his best to disrupt the romance in progress.

As I type, Male #1 has returned with a fish and is hard at work consuming his lunch. The drama of the love saga and the joy of watching certainly interferes with my other ‘work’, as I can’t seem to stop watching. I love getting to know them, identifying their unique characteristics, and learning their behaviors, all by observation. It’s the best kind of science I can imagine and hugely rewarding.

Solace by the Sea …

Posted on by

Quietly, I sit on the sand, and watch as the earth turns toward the edge of the eastern horizon, and paints the sky in shades of pink and salmon. The shoreline glistens, replete with wind waves from the evening blow, and the dancing antics of pelicans as they dive for bait fish.

I realize this is a refuge, this morning ritual I’ve created of sitting next to the sea. It is here I let my mind clear the clutter of worry and the weight of the assault on much of what i hold dear. I realize that I am blessed in my ability to retreat to this seashore, and I never take it for granted. What I have learned in my own life, is that to the ocean I return, for solace, for healing, for a reset.

I lean back on Mary Oliver, a poet who has been lodged in my heart since my first reading of her work.

She writes:

“I am in love with Ocean

lifting her thousands of white hats

in the chop of the storm,

or lying smooth and blue, the

loveliest bed in the world.

In the personal life, there is

always grief more than enough,

a heart-load for each of us

on the dusty road. I suppose

there is a reason for this, so I will be

patient, acquiescent. But I will live

nowhere except here, by Ocean, trusting

equally in all the blast and welcome of her sorrowless, salt self.”

–Mary Oliver, Ocean

I share Mary Oliver’s trust in the watery world that encases the planet. The ocean actually unites the shores of all the continents and connects us together.

I don’t understand the world right now. I don’t understand hate, or demonizing those of different color or race or opportunity. I don’t understand the spewing of lies repeated until somehow they become some alter truth. I don’t understand where critical thinking fell off the cliff, like watching a horrific accident in slow motion. Special interests and those with the most money are tearing us apart.

I don’t understand lack of empathy or a misunderstanding of all that is human. I don’t understand those who choose not to see that working together – this misshapen ungainly world of disparate parts and regions and cultures – we can be so much more, gain so much more, make all of our lives so much better.

It is my hope, that you, too, can find that space where for a moment, you can take a breath, let your shoulders slip down and root yourself in your own best essence. Hold on to what you love. It is the best antidote to toxins and hate.

The Rise of Wave Pools: Surfing’s New Frontier

Posted on by
A day with no swell ….

Sometimes there are waves, and sometimes, not so much. Nothing quite as entertaining than a group of surfers after days of a no-show swell, sitting around grousing, as if the ocean gods were punishing them.

Of course, we’d all love a consistent flow of rideable fun surf, but then, would we truly appreciate the wonder when the waves show up? When we can say to ourselves and our friends, “That sure was a fun session!” or “What an epic wave!”

To solve the problem (ha) of fickle surf, wave pools are springing up across the country and the globe. This past week, a long board competition was held in Abu Dhabi on perfectly formed mechanical waves. I watched in wonder as wave after wave challenged the contestants, not to pick and choose a wave, but to demonstrate their skill sets, back to back on exactly the same surface and faces. You can watch a replay of this contest here: https://www.worldsurfleague.com/events/2024/lt/313/abu-dhabi-longboard-classic/main

I was trying to wrap my head around a wave pool in Saudi Arabia, https://www.surfer.com/news/wave-pools/20-years-making-kelly-slater-abu-dhabi-wave-pool, created by Kelly Slater, whose first pool, “The Surf Ranch,” set the bar and started a trend toward mechanically produced perfect waves. The technology to create the waves can alter the shape and size for different types of acrobatic performances, from a pro-level “WSL Competition,”to a famiily beginner called “Waikiki.”

Kelly Slater Surf Ranch

There are wave pools in Palm Springs, CA. https://palmspringssurfclub.com/, South Korea, Australia, England, Switzerland, Japan, Brazil and there is even a wave pool in Ewa Beach, Hawaii. https://www.waikai.com/wai-kai-wave-oahu, which seems almost counterintuitive. I mean, isn’t Hawaii the homeland of surf?

Palm Springs Surf Club

Aside from yet another man-made attempt to upstage nature, these mechanically formed waves are changing both the nature of surfing as well as the location. As of this moment, research indicate that there are 346 mechanically generated wave pools either open, under construction or in the planning stages across the globe.

While Slater opened the door with Surf Ranch, the creative minds hungry for wave experiences outside the ocean continue to push the mechanical door. While Surf Ranch and Abu Dhabi use a one-of-a-kind soliton generating hydrofoil to displace standing water, other technologies include turbine driven pushed water which creates ‘standing’ waves, akin to what. one might find in a river, a plunge technique, currently found at Surf Lake in Australia, and an air piston system, like the one found in Palm Springs.

The sticker shock for the bulk of these waves will limit most action to professional surfers intent on honing their skills. Hourly rates begin around $50USD for group sessions of beginners, and rise from there. Surf Ranch can be rented for the day for $70,000, or a daily per person rate (at 10 surfers) for $5K to $7K, a sure indication of the exclusivity for the best wave creation and the most individual opportunities. Wave costs at Wai Kai range from $175 per session for the 100-foot wave, $140 per session for th 65-foot wave, and $90 per session for the 30-foot wave. Multipack discounts are available.

Wai Kai Wave

I was lucky enough to enjoy a session at Wai Kai, and found the standing wave to be challenging and fun. Several crashes and a couple of successful rides, and i gave the pool over to the kids. I still prefer paddling out into the deep blue sea, but for some family fun on discounted days, and training grounds for tomorrows (and today’s) pros, the possibilities seem endless.

Lucky Catharine Cooper on Wai Kai wave in Ewa Beach, HI.

Migrants

Posted on by

The pintails arrived a few weeks ago, taking up residence in the local mangrove pond. Somehow, they crossed the border without passports or any other form of ID. Just drifted in on winds and chose their winter home. My normally ponderous mind, grabbed hold of the idea of borders, about how they are constructs, power structures, and quite out of step with the innate rhythms of our blue planet.

I harken back to American Indian tribes, who believed that no one owned the land (at least that was what i was taught), that the earth belonged to everyone. Seems the birds have it right. So I ponder and go about my day.

Northern pintails are long, slender ducks with long, narrow wings, earning them the nickname “greyhound of the air.” Pintails are named for their elongated central tail feathers, which constitute one-fourth of the drake’s body length. (Duck’s Unlimited)

They nest in seasonal wetlands, croplands, grasslands, wet meadows, and shortgrass prairies. They forage in nearby shallow wetlands, lakes, and ponds. They spend the nonbreeding season in wetlands, ponds, lakes, bays, tidal marshes, and flooded agricultural fields. (© Timothy Barksdale | Macaulay Library)

Dabbling ducks, they filter out seeds and insects from the surface of the water with their bills. They also waddle at the edges of wetlands and through agricultural fields feeding on grain and insects. They form large groups and readily associate with other ducks during the nonbreeding season.

They can be found on every continent except Antartica, which i suppose means they have a true GLOBAL ENTRY certificate. In any case, I enjoy watching the two pairs, and hope that their mating brings some ducklings to our watery pond.

’tis the season ….

Posted on by

Wintry sunrises set the tone for southern Baja mornings. By wintry, meaning the early temperatures hover in the mid-50s and I may need to put on a sweatshirt for my walk with Loki. My neighbor, Ernst, without fail, slips into the water for his morning swim. He’ll do this even when the water temps drop into the 60s, somewhere in February.

The nine-days of Mexican Christmas are in full swing, so decorations, pinatas, Christmas carols continue to ring through our city of Loreto, and the tourist season has begun. A wide-ranging palate of foreign tongues – German, Italian, dare i say Canadian? – can be heard on the street and in restaurants. A outward expression of the love for our waterfront location.

Yet even with the arrival of our foreign guests, there is a tranquility, a peaceful quality of life here, that feeds anyone’s need for quiet contemplation. Perfect for greeting the New Year, which is now a mere inhale/exhale away.

The Aftermath of Kay

Posted on by
Hurricane Kay’s arms extended 600 miles

Water water everywhere. That’s Kay’s swan song, with arroyos washing out roads along the entire peninsula. She wasn’t even a strong hurricane – a category 2 in her heaviest moment – but she was grand – huge arms nearly 600 miles across. Her winds ran as high as 72mph in various locations, but her water. The rain. The desperately needed rain came all at once, the ground crusty dry. No way to absorb, but rush and run down the mountain faces and arroyos.

Day before Hurricane Kay heading toward Insurgentes
Same Road – two days after Hurricane Kay

Multiple towns took hard hits. The Mulege river once again breached its banks, flooding everyone and thing in proximity. San Felipe, usually a dry sandy desert, found itself with streets of rivers, more suited to kayaks or canoes.

The major effect of Kay was on MEX 1 the transpeninsular highway that transits between Tijuana and Cabo San Lucas. The road cut in so many places that traffic and commerce were actually halted for three days. Today, the 13th of September, most roads have some measure of passage, and the large double tractor trailers could be seen heading south. Below, some photographs, borrowed from various posts and publications, communicate what my words lack.

Between Vizcaino & Guerro Negro
San Felipe
Jesus Maria
Between Loreto & Santa Rosalia
Guerro Negro
Mex 1 North
Toward Mexicali
Jesus Maria

Close to home, or the home I cannot yet reach, the highway between Insurgentes and San Juanico washed out first in Insurgentes, and then the bridge was obliterated over the wash a few miles outside of town.

Arroyo crossing (or lack of) near San Juanico
Arroyo crossing (or lack of) near San Juanico

The townspeople came together, and with shovels and arms full of rock and mud, began the process of crafting a crossing. It’s this spirit of ‘can-do’ which continues to fuel my love for Baja.

Arroyo Work (photo: Jenny Smith)
Arroyo Work (photo: Jenny Smith)

Loki Look Out

Posted on by

At the edge of the Pacific, I am washed in my own personal solace. The heaviness of the larger world slips away and I am able to breathe. Loki, my silly sweet Australian Cobberdog, seems to be getting a taste. Or maybe he’s simply looking for lizards, or whales, or another dog passing that might be a playmate. His long legs balanced atop the wall, I love watching the search all that spreads before him.

My passion for the Pacific originated in my teens, when the beach became a refuge, bearing both a sandy towel or game of hearts, and a canvas mat or surfboard on a wave. When friends piled up in long summer days, the air perfumed with coconut oil and tuna fish sandwiches with lemonade and potato chips. When the long pause in and/or near the water could quell disquieted thoughts. Where family troubles or teen angst vanished.

Something in the persistence of the horizon. That deep cerulean blue line.

I laughingly say that my skin gets itchy if I’m more than 20 miles from the ocean, and when I get within 10, I can scent the pungent seaweeds and tossed shell fragments, as if carried on a particular air current designed for me. I climb back into my skin, my watery alter-self contented with the proximity.

When I’m immersed in the water, my body feels as if it is 12 years old. The aging muscles and bones suddenly young again. The exquisite weightlessness, the dolphin-like quality. The freedom. The fluidity.

Wallace J Nichols writes about the positive impact of the ocean on the human species. His award winning book, Blue Mind: The Surprising Science That Shows How Being Near, In, On, or Under Water Can Make You Happier, Healthier, More Connected, and Better at What You Do explores exactly what the title promises. Decades ago, a scientist friend said that ocean air bathes the body in negative ions, which in contrast to their name, have been shown to have a beneficial effect on the human psyche.

I no longer understand cities or their draw, and am sure that Loki has caught my ‘crowd allergy’ as he stares out and searches. Ah .. there .. an osprey with a fish. Ah .. there .. a pelican diving. Ah .. there … the chatter of a cactus wren, the slither of a lizard, the float of a cloud. Free from high-rises, traffic jams with road rage, sniper shootings …. We are out here on the edge, Loki and I, building a space where our thoughts are not boxed and our creativity flourishes.

Late Season Turtle Magic

Posted on by
45 Late Season Baby.Turtle Hatchlings

Report from Thomas Woodard:

“On the way into San Basilio on Saturday, Martin Castro and I were informed of a very late turtle nest hatch after 72 days of incubation (normally they hatch from 45 to 60 days). We hustled over to the nest site, where we have installed protectors that were designed by Martin to protect the nests from coyotes and raccoons, who can smell the buried eggs and will dig them up and eat them.

For the next three hours or so, We watched as Martin, who is the Director of the Sea Turtle Sanctuary at San Basilio expertly helped them through the hatch and to get into the sea successfully. His knowledge and care is really impressive! Over 60 hatchlings made the transition to their new environment.Since the late season hatches are almost exclusively males, this is the last time they will ever be back on land during their lives.

Under Martin’s leadership, this effort has seen over 500 hatchlings survive this year, up from only 88 the first year. I have seen this before, but never watched so many actually hatch, breathe for the first time, have their bodies expand into their normal shape as they take in breaths, and then launch out into the world, where only a few will survive to adulthood.”

(https://www.facebook.com/thomas.woodard.338/posts/10223788710578205)

Imagine

Posted on by

Imagine waking to the gentle slapping of sea water on cobble and sand. Hearing the chatter of terns overhead as they search for fish. Watching a flotilla of pelicans glide inches from the surface of the sea.

Imagine, your days transport for fishing or island hopping, a pangero, pulling up on the sand in front of your Casita.

More of the magical ways to begin a day in Loreto.

Click below for selfish self-promotion 🙂

https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/16338244