Category: SUP Boarding

Wisdom of the Wild

Wisdom of the Wild

My first morning back on the Gulf Coast found me paddling my SUP board from Mobile Bay into Weeks Bay. Since it was a chilly 51 degrees, there was nobody else on the water in boats or other watercraft. It was just the bay, the sky, multitudes of shorebirds and me.

As I paddled through the mouth of Weeks Bay I saw cormorants and pelicans along with wintering ducks and gulls flying, floating and feasting in the brackish water. Moving further into the bay I noticed something floating ahead. It looked like a pelican but it wasn’t moving. The closer I got to it the more concern grew within me. It looked like the large bird was entangled in debris. When I slowly and quietly glided up to the bird I saw with horror and sadness the situation.

What I thought was debris was actually one of its huge wings trailing behind it as this regal bird’s long bill hung in the water. Her wing was completely broken in two and the large bone protruded from feathers and skin.

As I glided up to the bird I sat down and eased closer allowing her to understand I was not there to hurt her. Being on a paddle board I had nothing with which to perform a rescue operation. Plus, did the bird want rescuing? The stress would most likely kill the beautiful creature given her weakened state. Not knowing what to do, I simply drifted with her and asked what she needed.

As we drifted together on the surface of the bay I gently spoke to her while asking for guidance from any angels that might be about. I decided to steer her to the sandy beach to see if she could exit the water. I knew this would be the only place I could attempt to capture her, if that was the right action for me to take.

Slowly we drifted to the remote shore. When we arrived, the pelican walked out of the water and stood, barely able to support her weight. I beached my board and continued sitting on it and asking what to do. “What do you need? What can I do for you?”

With great effort this magnificent bird crawled to a small bunch of marsh grass and laid down. When she got settled she breathed deeply a few times and her body relaxed. I went to a deep place within and knew that the only action called for was to allow her to die in the sunshine among the grasses and sounds of life on Weeks Bay. Any attempt at rescue would kill her at this point. She would be better served by allowing a quiet passage rather than a traumatic one.

So I sat on my board weeping quietly, asking for angels to carry her across the rainbow bridge. After her breathing slowed I gently pushed off from shore and gave thanks to her for being a teacher for me.

Sometimes the best action is to take no action.

The next morning I paddled back into the bay. As I paddled along the shore I saw her, white head laid across her brownish-gray back. I envisioned her last breath with long bill pointed skyward as she gazed into the sky from which she had fallen.

Seasonal Teachings

Seasonal Teachings

This past week I had two perfect days of paddling my SUP board. Lake Lure was surrounded by mountains sprinkled with colorful autumn trees and smooth cliff faces crowned with yellow, orange and red ridges. Blue sky contained it all as I glided on cold lake water, which refreshed my feet if I got sloppy with my paddle.

I marveled at the patterns of light on the water’s surface. My soul slurped up the colors and patterns and beauty of the days like a person dying of thirst. And perhaps I had been starving myself of beauty, cutting myself off from the season and the many gifts it offers, too caught up in distractions. My experiences paddling and another day I spent in the Smokies, made me pause and reflect.

Living in the mountains of Western North Carolina has been such an amazing experience. Over the past five years I have come into harmony with nature’s seasonal rhythms. My home is on the side of a mountain and this time of year offers an opening view with every leaf that falls. Thirty foot windows frame a valley and mountain ridge that come into focus more each day as the season unfolds, as the leaves whirl away with windy gusts.

During every autumn, the curtain of green, then yellow and orange opens to reveal the majesty of the Blue Ridge Mountains. And in the spring the curtain offers green shade and cool days of mountain beauty. By living surrounded by these hardwoods, the full impact of seasonal shifts literally comes into my home and forces me to pay attention to the miracles happening in Nature every day.

And like seasons of Earth, our lives have seasons, too. This home and these magnificent mountains have cradled me for over five years now. My creativity has expanded, my path become more clear and my work has been launched into the world in increasingly bigger ways. For all of these things, I am profoundly grateful. The shedding of leaves from trees here reminds me that I must also let go and move forward, as the wheel of the year moves forward. Now the time has come to release this home, these mountains and trees…wild turkey, bear and all of my wildlife friends here and move to my next home.

While I feel sadness about saying goodbye to this place, this amazing place, I look forward with anticipation of new tree friends…wildlife, river, bay and Gulf friends that crawl, fly, swim and walk on four legs. Already the deep sense of place of Magnolia River calls me to come and commune with Her and be nurtured by fresh, clear water of this sacred place.

And so I wait and listen and let my heart fill with gratitude for this place I say goodbye to and a new place already whispering my name.

Dance of the Dolphins

Dance of the Dolphins

Paddling my SUP board on Mobile Bay and Weeks Bay this morning was a fantastic two hours of saltwater delight. The water was calm, the sunrise soft and inviting and I had two hours of dolphin bliss. And people wonder why I’m moving back to this place–this sacred, holy place.

I started in Mobile Bay and paddled through the pass at Weeks Bay. As I was making my way up the bay, I heard a HUGE splash. I turned around and saw fast-moving rings of water moving away from a large bottlenose dolphin. Another joined him and swam along side my board. Of course, I greeted them, said good morning, sang to them and laughed at their antics. In their hunting they turned head-down and their tales stuck up out of the water as they feasted. Dolphin tales, large sighs of air coming from their blowhole, calm water…what else could I ask for?

I paddled about 20 minutes with them as they fed and finally turned and paddled back towards the mouth of the bay. As I neared the pass, I saw misty blows backlit by the sunrise as a larger pod swam across the bay. How could I possibly resist another encounter? So I paddled back up the bay at an angle to intersect this larger group.

There were seven or eight in this group and one leaped out of the water right beside me, close enough to splash my board. There was one baby but the rest were adults. More feeding, more tails all around me, more cruises beside me. So elated was I, I about levitated off the board. I knew the meaning of joy on a visceral level.

After another 30 minutes of watching dolphin dance in the brackish water, I paddled back down the bay, through the pass and on to mom’s beach. My day was so blessed, so totally made awesome by these brothers and sisters of the sea.

After cleaning up and having my breakfast, I read where four dolphins had washed up in Alabama during the past week. The dead cetaceans consisted of a pregnant female and unborn baby, and a mother and baby. The mysterious dolphin deaths continue, all the more reason I am grateful for healthy dolphins frolicking and feeding.

If you pray, please say a prayer for all wildlife on the Gulf Coast. We’re still dealing with a LOT of unknowns from the oil spill. And while you’re at it, please say a prayer for the people here as well.

To order my books on nature, please visit my website, Turtle Island Adventures. You’ll find a children’s book on the oil spill, a photography book of images from many beautiful places in nature along with prayerful descriptions and a book of essays on the relationship between humans and nature, full of funny and inspirational stories.

P.S. These are stock image photographs. I was too busy communing to take photos. Sometimes the best photographs are those I never take.

Beneath the Surface

Beneath the Surface

Dark edges of boards ripped from piers during a recent tropical storm rested vertically on the surface, the other end buried in the mud. As I paddled my SUP board yesterday afternoon and again this morning, I noticed how they look like dorsal triangles of shark or dolphin fins frozen in time.

After an hour of hard paddling this morning, I spotting a fin ahead but it disappeared. Hmmm. There weren’t waves washing over the fin-boards. Oh, I thought, It’s a dolphin! Sure enough, the fin headed straight toward my board. The big, gray animal circled me a couple of times and then continued with his feeding. What a nice encounter on this glorious autumn morning on Mobile Bay.

As I continued to paddle, I thought of all the things that were just under the surface of the muddy water that could only be seen by really looking, really paying attention. And I thought, Life is like that.

We might think of bad or difficult or even scary things that lie hidden, just beneath our conscious recognition, but I believe there are many gifts that are just beneath the surface and are waiting to be discovered–strengths we may not realize we have, talents wanting to be used to make a difference in the world.

As I paddled towards mom’s beach, two more fins came straight toward me. They circled me a few times before heading off to finish their breakfast hunt. I was left pondering the question: What lies just beneath the surface of my life that can be put into use to help the planet, to help others?

What about you. What talents, skills or ideas are waiting for you to discover and use for the common good?

I invite you to visit my web site, Turtle Island Adventures, to perhaps inspire or encourage your creative efforts. We are all part of the solution!

Salt Report–Gulf Coast August 2011

Salt Report–Gulf Coast August 2011

As I was driving back from paddling the Gulf of Mexico and the Sound at Johnson Beach this morning, I noticed I felt out of place off the water. This visit to the Gulf Coast has included many hours on the water. The 100 feet of land between me and Bon Secour Bay seems far too big as I sit and compose this report.

First, to those of you inquiring about specific areas and concerns. Fort Morgan beaches have small tar balls washing in with the surf. The sand on the Gulf side has built-up considerably this summer so I am not sure if the small tar balls covering the beach in April were picked up by clean-up workers or covered by the natural migration of the sand. The point at Ft. Morgan, where Mobile Bay and the Gulf of Mexico come together, has eroded significantly. The old fuel tank that was far up on the big dune (deposited most likely by a hurricane or other wave-producing storm) is now almost to the water line. It appears ready to launch its rusty-self back into the saltwater.

I wish I had better news to report from Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge. The beaches there are littered with hundreds of dead blue crabs. They are in various stages of decay from newly dead to bleached white from sun exposure. There were small tar balls rolling in the surf and tractors doing a surface cleaning of the sand on the mid-beach. The sand is stained there from oil, far up on the beach. The huge oily shelf was not visible. It could have been removed or covered by sand. Summer season is the time sand builds up on the beaches. We’ll know more when winter arrives and the sand shifts or a hurricane or tropical storm attacks the beach with large waves.

From the beginning of the oil spill, when they sprayed dispersant to sink the oil, we knew that bottom dwellers were going to suffer the most. Crabs, sting rays and other marine life that made a home on the bottom, would tell the real story. Seeing one or two crabs is not unusual. Seeing hundreds of dead crabs washing in where the beaches were so heavily oiled and where a large mat of oil sank just offshore, causes grave concern for this microcosm in the Gulf. I saw more than one dead sting ray on this visit.

And even though carcasses of crabs were everywhere at the beach, Great Blue Herons were enjoying the opportunity to find easy food sources. Unfortunately, if the crabs died of toxins associated with the spill, the herons will eventually be negatively affected as well. And that’s part of the frustration when I read in the local newspaper that ‘sea life is thriving.’ Nobody fished, shrimped or oystered last summer due to the spill. There was far fewer taken than usual. The harvests are big this year. But it takes at least three years for a species to tell their story of exposure and recovery to toxins such as crude oil.

Before the Exxon Valdese oil spill in Alaska, Pacific Herring populations were increasing in record numbers. In the year of the spill, egg mortalities and larval deformities were documented but the population effects of the spill were not established. Four years after the spill a dramatic collapse in the Pacific Herring population occurred and it has never rebounded.

How can ANYBODY hazard a guess as to how marine life in the Gulf will respond to oil and dispersants? To say that ‘all is well’ is absolutely irresponsible. We really don’t know what the long-term effects will be and we won’t know for at least three more years.

All areas I visited did not show such troubling signs. Ft. Pickens and Johnson Beach, both part of the Gulf Islands National Seashore in Florida, look really good. Although there are still small tar balls washing up, there was not dead marine creatures washed up like at BSNWR.

My early-morning SUP trips on Bon Secour Bay and Weeks Bay showed seemingly abundant marine life: shrimp jumped in front of my board, mullet leapt toward waiting mouths of brown pelicans, sea gulls and terns flew behind shrimp boats, waiting to eat their fill of discarded fish that would be thrown back into the water. It was encouraging and wonderful to experience.

My visit to the grass beds at Johnson Beach was also encouraging. I saw large schools of small fish, blue crabs, sting rays and large fish hunting in these nursery beds of the Gulf. And even the paddle in the Gulf was encouraging. I saw six bottlenose dolphin, large schools of sting rays and other small fish. I did, however, also see what appeared to be patches of sunken oil just offshore (probably the source of the tar balls). So yes, it does look better and unfortunately, we have to look deeper than appearances to begin to understand the impact of such an event.

For me or anyone to form a conclusion that everything is okay would be naive. I understand BP wants the world to know that there are fish and shrimp and dolphins still here. The Gulf Shores area had the best tourist season EVER this summer (according to many sources down here) and I understand that merchants don’t want a ‘gloom and doom’ prognosis about the Gulf waters or marine life. I get all that. But to ‘wish away’ the snapper covered in curious lesions and ‘cancers,’ ignore the hundreds of dead crabs washing up, or forget that dolphins found dead this spring have now been linked to the crude oil from MC252…..

Here’s a fact I’ll bet you haven’t read in the papers or seen on the news: Dauphin Island Sea Lab tests have shown a higher level of dispersant chemical than oil chemical in recent tests of salt marsh near Dauphin Island (reported to me by a worker there). Go back and read that sentence again. I really want you to take that in. And now….the questions begin.

Who do you think needs to answer questions about the high levels of dispersant? What about the new oil surfacing on MC252 now? Who can we trust to find out the real truth? These are questions we need to answer….and soon. I’d like to hear from you.