On this Mother’s Day I am especially grateful to loggerhead sea turtle mothers who give me incentive to awaken before dawn, drive to the beach and walk along the Gulf just before, during and after sunrise. It gives me opportunities to photograph pure, rich color.
There are a very few moments in which to capture the richest, most precious light. Between the pre-dawn gray and post-dawn white there is a sweetness where color bursts forth from the water, earth and sky and everything the sacred sunrise kisses. The muted, soft pastels are transformed momentarily into rich colors of incredible depth. Then the harshness of daylight washes them into a faded expression of what they once were reminding me of the impermanence of life.
Ambitious architects from the day before provided a perfect surface for the perfect light to illuminate and I arrived at their castle at the perfect moment, when the light was at its richest. Some times things work out exactly as you would hope.
There were no sea turtle tracks on the section of beach I patrol but that’s only part of the reason I volunteer. I go for the sunrise because sweet is the light.
“Sea turtle nesting season has begun?” the gentleman asked. “Yes. Today’s the first day and isn’t it lovely,” I replied. We conversed a few moments and then he walked east, I walked west and each of us continued our tasks. He with his trash bag and pick-up stick to aid in his cleaning the beach, me looking for sea turtle tracks with my camera and green Share the Beach shirt that identifies me as a sea turtle volunteer.
What a glorious morning. Not just because of the soft sunrise, gentle breeze and waves pushing on to the shore. For the first time in four years there were no tents, chairs, fishing rods or other entanglement hazards (for wildlife) left on the beach. The new effort by the cities of Gulf Shores and Orange Beach has turned progressively trashed beaches into place that felt welcoming to humans and wildlife. Leave Only Footprints!
As I continued my walk, looking for sea turtle tracks near the wrack line, I thought how wonderful it felt to have so many groups and individuals on board to help our beaches and the wildlife that inhabits them. The US Fish & Wildlife Service, Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge, Cities of Gulf Shores and Orange Beach, volunteers who walk all Alabama coastline from May 1st to September 1st, individuals who use their morning stroll to clean up debris left or washed in by the tide. It takes all of us working together to make it work.
The dunes are building with sea oats that the city planted a couple years ago. These small plants are anchors for small dunes to build in front of the primary dune line. People are working together. It felt like balance returning to our beaches.
This is good news. This is what it takes to make positive change….working together.
Wednesday–After pre-dawn yoga on the deck, I went up to the flying bridge and danced to the Ocean Mother, to whales and to life as the sun rose. I feel the sea living through me more each day. I sometimes feel like the wild, baby humpback yesterday. Antsy, funny, just learning what it means to be alive in a body. Playful yet not quite sure how to proceed in life. But I’m going to sing and dance and be One with the Ocean.
The group of whales at the old wreck were active early in the day, their exhalations golden in the early morning light. Joyful, joyful are they!
Mother and baby swim side-by-side
All morning on our small boat we watched mother humpbacks and babies quite near our moorings. Everywhere we looked there were mothers and babies and it appeared to be boot camp for babies. Moms were teaching their newly born how to fin slap, tail lob and breach. There is only a small window of opportunity to build the strength of their young before they begin their migration to northern feeding waters. As I observed today, it seemed there was a common theme of training their offspring.
Mother fin-slapping while baby watches from her side
Once again I was struck with the tenderness and attention the mothers give the juveniles. Yesterday I watched a mother follow her baby as he rose to the surface to breathe. Not with her body but with her eyes. Every move he made she watched, ready to assist if he needed help or if danger threatened. One of the biggest mistakes humans have ever made is to assume that any creature not in human form is somehow less intelligent, less caring, less sentient.
Juvenile attempting to fin slap…note her eye in the far right of the image
The mothers were far too busy training their young to be distracted by our desire to be in the water with them. One of the rules of the sanctuary is that only when whales are settled can human visitors enter the water. When they are fin slapping, tail lobbing or breaching it’s simply unsafe for all concerned. An adult pectoral fin is 15 feet in length…the force involved when it slams into the water’s surface is significant and can be heard from far away.
The babies have far less control of their floppy tails but try hard to mimic mom with tail lobs..mom is in foreground watching from beneath the surface
After lunch and a squall that moved across the area, we went back out for more searching. There were many whales but none interested in us. As strange as that sounds, after this trip I am convinced that they choose the interactions we have. It’s always on their terms. There were many times when all small boats would be tied to their respective mother ships and the whales would be all around, watching us. As soon as the tenders would head back out, the whales would disappear and come up far away or stay just out of reach, as if toying with us and leading us further into rougher water. They have a wicked sense of humor I suspect.
Impressive tail breach by an adult
At the very end of the day, after hanging with and following a rowdy group for a while we were invited to our sister boat’s encounter with a mom and baby. The water was rough and the visibility not good so I didn’t take my camera into the water. Second time I regretted that decision.
At the very end of the encounter the frisky baby came incredibly close to our group of seven…within ten feet of us…cruising by and making eye contact. Truly an amazing experience; however, there will be no photo memories of it. Sometimes the imprint on my heart is much bigger than a photographic image on paper could ever be.
But still…..
Baby humpback’s head at the surface
Each day was different and the first two days of the trip were better than the entire week last year. There is no predicting what the whales will do or where they will be or if they will allow close proximity. I think they have learned the behaviors of the small boats and humans who visit and as mentioned above, I truly believe they choose who they wish to interact with, when and where. I hold no doubts of this.
Beautiful mother whale laying on her back fin slapping with baby nearby
My final journal entry for the day, “I’m so tired I can scarcely write anything. Only in reviewing images do I actually realize what great experiences I had each day. I. Am. Grateful.”
The usual situation of having at least three books going at once gave a strange coincidence last week. On the sofa I was reading, Telling Our Way to the Sea, by Aaron Hirsh. The book is about two college professors who take students to the Sea of Cortez via the Baja Peninsula. The quote that caught my eye? “We live amid wreckage yet we hardly notice that something has changed. Why are we so blind to the destruction–so forgetful of what was here? Knowing only the natural world we’ve encountered in the short interval of a life, we fail to notice the substantial transformations wrought by previous generations; and so we over look the absence of all that was already gone when we ourselves first arrived on the scene.”
Then migration to the bedroom and the book on the bedside table about the Amazon River, Mother of God, by Paul Rosolie, presents this quote on the same evening: “I have witnessed a kind of generational amnesia to ecological abundance. It is a sinister phenomenon whereby members of each generation seem to accept what they see around them as the way things ought to be. It is a problem of shifting baselines, a lowering of the standards by which we judge the condition of our environment. Over generations and across continents, this collective inability to accurately assess environmental change has become a serious problem.”
From May 1st through August 31st I walk one morning a week at sunrise looking for sea turtle tracks–evidence of a nest—as a sea turtle volunteer. The mile and a half section I walk begins at the wildlife refuge and goes eastward. The first part is in an exclusive, gated development but it isn’t immune to litter. And not just a plastic bottle here and there. Metal tent frames are abandoned here just like all along our Alabama beaches. People leave tents, ice chests, beer bottles and cans, plastic water bottles, chairs, plastic toys, cigarette butts, kites and string, fireworks, balloon remnants, diapers, condoms….it’s an endless list of nasty human waste and the weird thing is people walk by like it’s not even there.
Photograph Summer 2010…Shell Oil
Tar balls, oil containers, gas containers, antifreeze containers….doesn’t seem to faze our tourists or those that live on the beach.
Drilling in ocean water too deep to be safe…drilling in sensitive environments like the Arctic…fracking shale near homes, schools, playgrounds…clearcutting forests….overfishing…dumping sewage in the sea…violence against the planet, wildlife, humans….yet we seem numb, immune.
Are we so used to trash, pollution and rape of the planet as the norm it no longer affects us? S.N.A.F.U. I suppose. Seriously S.N.A.F.U. Sadly so. I don’t like this new normal. How about you?
Photograph I took Summer 2010 during the BP Deepwater Horizon Disaster. It reminds me of a woman’s body and so I call it the Rape of Mother Earth
It was still dark as I pulled onto the highway and turned east. There, in the lightening sky hung venus while Dreamer’s Sky, Will Kimbrough’s song on the new Willie Sugarcapps CD eased me into the morning. The last sea turtle patrol of the season begins here, in my car, with music carrying me toward the Gulf of Mexico.
A turn south and another song, another turn east and there’s Venus again with Anthony Crawford‘s song, Love Be Good to Me, sweetly sung by Savana Lee Crawford. The planet of love and these lyrics…..”Love be good to me, Fill my heart again. Love, can you still hear me calling out to you?…..Everything happens in its own time.”
Another turn south and more wonderful music. Grayson Capps, Love, surrounds me with soulful words and notes. And finally, a turn west at the beach and the full moon hangs in a perfect square notch in a massive cloud as Will Kimbrough’s, Paradise Right Here, begins to play. For less than a breath the moon is cradled by the towering cloud and then it disappears.
The words of the song touched me deeply the first time I heard it at the Frog Pond. Tears streamed down my face as I listened to Will’s lyrics. Today, they touched me again as I thought of daily abuses to our planet that take more of the paradise away….the paradise that literally is in the palm of our hand, as Will sings. It is totally up to us if it remains or is destroyed.
I reach the beginning of my sea turtle patrol at the edge of the Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge and grab my camera as I exit the car. The full moon is still bright in the sky and the sun not yet risen. As I reach the water’s edge my faithful dolphin friend swims up and we journey east, toward the rising sun. He, swimming just offshore, and me, walking close to the water’s edge. The past several Sunday’s we have shared the sunrise together and the thought of not seeing him next Sunday saddens me.
The sky is in full sunrise celebration with crazy clouds and colors of phenomenal beauty. Joy leaps up within me as I frolic along the shore which seems to excite my cetacean buddy. As Will sings, “I’m glad to be alive and I’m thankful for this paradise right here, paradise right here. Right here, by the warm inviting water, right now with my bare feet in the sand, right here share it with your sons and daughters, paradise in the palm of your hand. Paradise in the palm of your hand. Paradise in the palm of your hand.”
So grateful for the paradise of this shoreline, the Alabama coast and the greater Gulf of Mexico….all life here…and hopeful that we can make it even better with efforts to be good stewards and approach our walk on this planet with love and compassion for all life.
The end of my walk neared and I saw two of my teammates approaching from their section. We celebrated the beauty of the morning and a successful patrol season and sea turtles. We remembered our loggerhead friends who lure us out each Sunday morning from May 1st through August 31st to chase the sunrise and re-discovered paradise…in the palm of our hand.
On this Mother’s Day I am especially grateful to loggerhead sea turtle mothers who give me incentive to awaken before dawn, drive to the beach and walk along the Gulf just before, during and after sunrise. It gives me opportunities to photograph pure, rich color.
There are a very few moments in which to capture the richest, most precious light. Between the pre-dawn gray and post-dawn white there is a sweetness where color bursts forth from the water, earth and sky and everything the sacred sunrise kisses. The muted, soft pastels are transformed momentarily into rich colors of incredible depth. Then the harshness of daylight washes them into a faded expression of what they once were reminding me of the impermanence of life.
Ambitious architects from the day before provided a perfect surface for the perfect light to illuminate and I arrived at their castle at the perfect moment, when the light was at its richest. Some times things work out exactly as you would hope.
There were no sea turtle tracks on the section of beach I patrol but that’s only part of the reason I volunteer. I go for the sunrise because sweet is the light.
