OCEAN Archives - Page 12 of 38 -

Sea Turtle Mania

By Simone Lipscomb | June 2, 2016

As I hopped into the car, silver strands of spider webs swirled around me. After an 18 mile bike ride I was headed to help the sea turtle team with our three nests this morning. THREE!

Was on the bike just after 5.30am and enjoying the beautiful sunrise and cool temperature when my phone rang at 6.01am. It was a turtle team friend. She knows to call me before the ALL CALL goes out because I live 20 miles from our Laguna Key team beach. Rather than fumble with it I just let it go to voice mail and continued the ride.

When you are in the back of the state park on a backcountry trail, it’s going to take a while to get back to the car anyway. Why not finish my ride?

The Share the Beach ALL-CALL came in at 6.22am. I had already turned around to head back to the car so I’d check it when I finished riding. But at 6.31am my friend Cathy, who had called me earlier, texted me so I knew something was up. It wasn’t just one nest. Her text read: THREEEE NESTS!

So I forwarded my iPod to Prince and Michael Franti and put the after-burner on full blast. So much for a leisurely pedal back to finish the third day in a row of cycling fun. I texted Cathy: Cycling. Be there in a bit. There is an art to texting and cycling which I don’t recommend.

Back to the car by 7.10am and called to find out their location. Just starting the first nest at the far end of our section. Nice, I thought. By the time I drive from the state park to the beach they will have found eggs at the first nest and I’ll help with the other two.

Unfortunately that wasn’t the case and in fact our team was split into two groups, each digging to find eggs on two nests within 100 yards of each other. I knew it was bad when I arrived and all I saw was the top of their heads sticking out from the hole. No eggs yet.

I joined in and it took us until 8.30 am to find eggs. The nest was right on the edge of the water and had to be moved by 9am. The other diggers still had no luck with their nest.

You might wonder how we know for sure there are eggs and it’s not just a false crawl. A false crawl is when we have tracks that generally are in and out of the water with no body pit or spray. An indicator of a nest is of course the crawl, an indentation or body pit and sand spray. Both nests had body pits and spray. The other nest was even closer to the water. A high tide would most likely take it out.

Deb found the eggs and ran to help the other group while Jan, one of our team leaders, and I started removing and counting eggs. Meanwhile Ken, the other team leader, went due north of us to dig a hole that would have the same depth and dimensions as the original nest dug by mama turtle.

We finished moving the eggs, putting the predator screen and stakes in place and marking it and headed for the third nest further east. We left the rest of our team trying their best to find eggs before 9am.

Nest three of the day was wonderfully placed by the mother turtle so we only had to find the eggs, not move them. And do all the measurements and GPS readings that we do.

I began digging…by digging I mean carefully using the side of my hand to gently scrap layers of sand somewhere in the spray zone of the nest. Ken and Jan started the measurements of crawl, placement and such. I hadn’t been digging long when the rest of our team showed up and helped. It was getting hot and none of us had eaten breakfast so we were quite anxious to find the eggs, take the GPS reading, erect the protective gadgetry and head home.

*This is where the mother turned. Notice her body pit. Spray is to the left.*

Every mother turtle has her own, unique way of placing her nests so there isn’t a formula that takes into consideration her crawl in and out of the water, the spray zone or placement of the body pit. Every one is different so that makes finding the eggs a chore.

*Another view of the crawl, body pit and spray. Spray is to the left.*

Thankfully, I found them within 15 minutes of scooping sand. All of our knees were nearly blistered from kneeling and scooping sand for hours. Also, our team isn’t made up of young adults. We are all middle aged plus so it really takes a team effort to do the work.

This past Sunday we had two nests, yesterday we had two nests and today three. I predict a really bad hurricane along our coast some time late August or early September. These turtles have a way of knowing when to lay their nests. I hope this isn’t the case but we’ve seen it before. Or they know the satellite tag team is about to began their work and they are wanting to avoid the capture and tagging process.

We were exhausted after our morning's work. — *We were exhausted after our morning’s work.*

About 55 days from now, we will be recruiting volunteers to help us with these nests. We erect black tarps behind and along the side to keep light from the houses and street out, but we really need to be present to make sure they don’t get out and crawl under houses or into the street. Surprise hatchings have yielded this result and it’s sad to see the carnage of baby turtles if they crawl the wrong way out of their nest. Third week of July if you’d like to become a volunteer we can get a free shirt and training for you. The nights sitting out under stars while the Gulf of Mexico laps gently along the shore….it’s just hard to beat. Seeing the tiny turtles in the black out conditions make their way to the water is amazing. Once in a while there is phosphorescence in the sand and their small flippers create little star-bursts of light as they touch the sand. Have I sold you on volunteering yet?

We will have seven nests hatching around the same time. That’s crazy….and there could be more.

You never know what the day will bring. Today it was sea turtle mania. Tomorrow…who knows!

Bless the Space

By Simone Lipscomb | May 26, 2016

A new book has just begun the process of being birthed. For a few weeks I’ve been organizing my mind and now the task of actually organizing the writing has begun. And of course my mind is searching for distractions.

Part of the creative process involves searching through journals and other writing I’ve done in the past so naturally there are many wonderful storylines to chase. I wasn’t looking for them and they aren’t related to the book I’m writing….but gee, it was fun to chase those rabbits.

Until I realized I was distracted. (Sigh).

One of the threads I chased, however, was actually one I was searching for and who can help getting a bit carried away with John O’Donohue?

I was looking for a journal entry on a manatee trip but couldn’t remember the date. Never found the journal but did find the blog post. So then I wanted to find the passage I was listening to on the trip that I was writing about and found the audio file, listened and then found myself following little threads of John’s teachings. Teachings that have blessed and assisted so many of us.

Here’s a few of the threads:

From an interview with Diane Covington in 2006: “Everyone of us dreams and a dream is a most sophisticated artistic document. When you were a child you lived in an imagined world and the child-like side of the self never dies. There is a relentless pulse of creativity within us.”

From Bless the Space Between Us: “To Come Home to Yourself–May all that is unforgiven in you be released. May your fears yield their deepest tranquilities. May all that is unlived in you blossom into a future graced with love.”

John said that fear blinds us and we see only one door, one possibility, when there might be seven or eight doors. Every person is the holder of incredible possibilities. Deep down, he said, we know exactly what is going on and we have to give that truth a chance. If we can drop into stillness, silence and solitude everything that needs to happen will happen. The key is recognizing the seeds planted by others, that we have watered and tended with attention, that overshadow the truth.

He tells of sitting at people’s bedsides while they are dying and finding that regret is one of the loneliest places humans can ever find themselves. What is it that your heart truly wants to do but you are too afraid to do, he asks? What seeds have others planted that have made you doubt your own heart’s voice? How does fear keep you from living your life the way you want to?

“Each day is the field of brightness where the invitation of our life unfolds. The writer goes to his desk each morning to meet the empty white page. As he settles himself, he is preparing for visitation and voyage. His memory, longing, and craft set the frame for what might emerge. He has no idea what will come. Yet despite his limitations, his creative work will find its own direction to form. Each of us is an artist of our days; the greater our integrity and awareness, the more original and creative our time will become.”

So I chased a few rabbits, followed a few threads, and wrote a few paragraphs. All of which is sacred space, creative space. And now this space between us, may it be blessed. Thank you John O’Donohue for the teachings you shared with us.

Whale Sharks

By Simone Lipscomb | May 21, 2016

One of the most beautiful creatures on the planet, in my opinion, is the whale shark. The patterns of each varies and are infinitely interesting.

Last year I had the opportunity to photograph them on two trips to the Sea of Cortez. The second trip, to the La Paz area, offered more experiences, better water clarity and more animals. But it’s not easy work photographing them.

Snorkeling, not scuba, encounters are allowed to protect the animals. The no flash photography rule is great because pushing a big underwater camera housing is tough enough without strobes. The added drag of two large strobes would make it more challenging when swimming fast.

These big guys and gals don’t appear to move fast but when y0u drop into the water ahead of them you have to swim hard to catch up and stay with them. Those massive tail fins propel them swiftly through the water. It’s hard swimming in long bursts.

Connecting with whale sharks was interesting as well. Their small eyes on the sides of their large heads don’t really make eye contact or connection like whales, manatees and dolphins, who seem to want to connect and make deep eye contact. It was like swimming beside a very aloof person who ignores you and goes about their business. Only once did a whale shark react to me and it’s when I was quite close and moved my arm suddenly. The animal flinched but kept on with his or her travel.

Photographing these spotted wonders was great fun and yielded some nice images but the soul connection I have with whales, dolphins and manatees was simply not there. It doesn’t make them any less amazing, beautiful and wondrous to behold…and treasure.

_TSL7089 — *Juvenile whale shark with a photographer*

The Bottom Line is Love

By Simone Lipscomb | May 16, 2016

Into Great Silence: A Memoir of Discovery and Loss Among Vanishing Orcas, was written by Eva Saulitis. It’s a very personal story of over twenty-five years of connection with transient orcas in Alaska. In this touching account Eva shares the life and death of a pod of orcas that lived near the Exxon Valdez spill area. While it is beautifully written, it’s also incredibly sad for not only does she tell the story of their death, she tells the story of her untimely death due to cancer.

And it makes me wonder…..what about the Gulf Coast? What will happen to those of us who worked to clean up the spill or document its affects?

The BP Deepwater Horizon spill was far worse in volume that Valdez. The coverage area, humans exposed, wildlife exposed….what will be the long-term story that unfolds along the Gulf Coast?

While reading Into Great Silence, there were many times I paused to contemplate the profound love Eva had for the whales and their waters…the forests surrounding them…the bears….salmon….seals….dolphins. Here’s a excerpt from page 92:

9 July 1989–Yesterday, Mary and I hiked on Crafton Island, not realizing it had been heavily oiled. We found an oil-coated river otter skull. Even the grass above tide line was black. I told Mary about the first time I’d come there. One spring day in 1987, a fisherman friend had invited me for a skiff ride. It was an old, wooden skiff, and he’d perched atop the outboard’s cowling so the engine wouldn’t fall off. Here, I told Mary, was where we’d searched for glass balls among bleached driftwood. Here’s where we’d found wild irises. here’s where we’d sat on the wreck of an old boat and talked all afternoon. I’d never met anyone so earthy, so entirely of a place, embodying an all-out, organic love for the Sound. I’d only begun to recognize that in myself. “Why aren’t you married to him?” Mary asked. I told her I was married to the place.

I remember walking on a beach at the Alabama coast that was heavily oiled– my eyes and throat burning from the smell of crude oil and dispersant– asking myself why I was there. For a week of each month for a year I left my home in Asheville and my husband to travel to my place of birth to document through photography and writing the effects of the disaster. Why am I doing this? I asked.

It was grueling, depressing, hot, horrible work. I had the freedom to leave whenever I wanted to escape the black death that coated the beaches and the stench of hot fumes filling the air. Every time I began to drive into the mountains of North Georgia, on my way back to North Carolina, I remember feeling relief, feeling I could breathe again. It felt as if a weight lifted off of my chest as I made my way home. To safety. To clean air.

Adjusting to being away from the disaster was difficult though. I was so depressed it was almost impossible for me to invite laughter or pleasure into my life. I felt guilty for enjoying myself given the dire circumstances at the coast. It felt as if the world was ending and life as I had known it was gone due to a needless, careless catastrophe.

So back to the question: Why am I doing this?

The only answer that ever came was….someone needed to witness the disaster with an open heart and mind. Not as scientist or politician or oil company representative….just a witness that loved the place.

So I visited seven beaches for a year and walked them, photographed, took video footage of them and wrote about them. My tears mixed with the oily waters of the Gulf of Mexico and I stood as witness to the pain and suffering of life there.

This kind of experience changes a person. Something happens within the mind and heart that shifts the perspective so completely that life can never return to how it was before. A person cannot return to ‘not knowing’ what they know. They can’t un-see or un-feel the multitude of visual images and emotions that were experienced on those wounded shores.

My heart broke for the ghost crabs and blue crabs, the flounders, shrimp, fish, dolphins, string rays, sea gulls, terns, osprey, pelicans….for the humans that would eventually become sick from exposure to such high-levels of toxicity. Nothing is the same after witnessing this.

I was certain that humans would awaken and create immediate and lasting change after the spill, but it didn’t happen. This was incredibly disappointing to me.

After documenting the spill and its aftereffects I noticed people responded strongly to images of beauty and stories of nature depicting the profound relationship experienced with wild places and wild life. It felt like a natural evolution of my work and efforts to shift from death and destruction to beauty, specifically the beauty of the Ocean.

I haven’t forgotten what awakened my own sense of urgency to protect our planet, our Ocean. And the deep sense of place it instilled.

Eva reminded me of the love we develop for places that touch our lives. We become a part of these places and the more we invest our time, energy and work into them, the deeper the connection we have with them. Their wounding becomes our wounding. Their health, our health. Their death, our death…metaphorically and literally.

Why do we risk our own safety to help? The bottom line is love.

SimoneLipscomb (4) copy — Photograph by Brent Durand of me diving in the Sea of Cortez.

Cosmic Whale

By Simone Lipscomb | May 10, 2016

Sometimes…..words are not necessary.