Tag Archives: tidepools

Stranded sailors, and resting elephant seals.

family, nature, ocean, , , , , , ,

Daughter “Pippin” and her children were with me for a few happy days. The weather was not forecast to be friendly to our desire to be out of doors the way we like, but it cooperated in the end by bringing rain mostly while we slept, and we managed to go exploring all four days. It would take another full day of blogpost-crafting to tell you about everything that blessed my soul, but I want to share about two surprises we encountered.

At Point Reyes National Seashore, we made a wrong turn and ended up on Drakes Beach, where we thought we might as well get out for a minute and look, before we turned around to go to nearby Chimney Rock. The beach was mostly closed, because elephant seals were currently “pupping” there; several park staff were milling about near the temporary fence to tell us all about the animals. As of the 1st of March, this article says there were 870 weanlings on the Point Reyes beaches.

We watched this big guy above (4,000 to 5,000 pounds, they say) throwing sand onto his back to cool off, and wiggling his whole body down a little farther into his damp bed. It’s curious to watch oneself watching heavy animals doing mostly nothing; I think one reason we don’t get tired of staring is the principle of unpredictable rewards. They lie still for who knows how long — do I get vicarious enjoyment from just watching a seal seemingly sleeping like a log? — and it is rewarding to still be watching when suddenly they lumber across the beach a few feet, or merely lift their heads to check out how close the visitors are getting.

At one point a docent opened the fence and escorted us out on to the beach to get closer to the seals, while keeping at a safe distance. The gigantic males can move pretty quickly if they want, and we watched from afar as a couple of them challenged and threatened each other over territorial rights.

The day before our visit, the last female had left the beach after being impregnated, and it was expected that the males and pups would soon leave, too. In the meantime, they were resting, the pups living off their mothers’ milk of which they would get no more. They’d have to get out into the ocean pretty soon, and learn to find real food, not just whatever trash washed up on the beach. A volunteer was collecting trash even while we leaned against the fence, getting sunburned.

We didn’t go to Chimney Rock after that, but to visit the Point Reyes Lighthouse, where we walked down the 300+ steps and hiked back up again, after eating our picnic lunch beside the path.

Out there we looked at Leathery Polypody, Polypodium scouleri; and Orange Rock Hair, Trentepholia aurea.

The second surprise was the following day, when the ocean tides also were not as convenient as we might have hoped; the moderately low tide would not happen until about 7:00 p.m., and we went out to the coast again, hoping to find some tidepools to explore. At least, Daylight Savings Time was just recently in effect, so we would have sunlight.

What a wonder! After we’d hiked down the path, we realized that the dark ripples on the beach that we’d seen from above were fields of stranded Velella velella, or By-the-wind Sailors. Once upon a time I found one of these creatures on a beach, and it was very small. We never dreamed we’d see them like this, here on our North Coast beaches that are not typically so colorful.

They are described online thus: “This hydroid polyp remains afloat on the suface of the Pacific Ocean for most of its life. It never touches or even comes close to the ocean bottom, and the only stage in its life when it is completely submerged under water is the larval stage. The Velella velella begins its life in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, is brought by the wind to the shores, and is usually cast up on a beach where it dies and disentegrates.” source

Sailor with its sail up.

We had to wait around for a while for the tide to go out as far as it would, but what few tidepools we saw were mostly full of sailors.



Ivy and Jamie spent a lot of time collecting pebbles and pieces of shell, and sometimes running in the surf, which throughout the year ranges from 50-55 degrees in temperature.

When we returned home they left their treasures on the front walk, and in the morning sorted them carefully, asking me to choose some to keep. As they were packing up to leave for home, Jamie arranged mine where they will be a daily reminder of our beloved beach outings.

A story of creamcups and scouring pads.

nature, ocean, wildflowers, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The washcloth and the scouring pad were right there, and plenty of (salt) water, for cleaning up, but my grandson Scout and I didn’t need them for that, as our recent snacks had been eaten out of hand. We were at the third beach of that morning, earlier this week when he was down here by himself visiting all his grandparents.

Scouring Pad Alga

On the way we had traveled over “Wildflower Hill,” as I’d named it two weeks ago. Most of the April flowers had faded, but foxgloves were in bloom!

Our first stop at the coast was at my most frequently walked beach, where we spent the most time and effort around the adjoining lagoon, and climbing up and down the dunes.

Beach Wormwood

Our family and other homeschoolers used to play here 20 and 30 years ago. I found a few pictures showing us back then, when Kate was an infant:

Scout wanted to see the beaches that he’d gotten to know last summer, so next we went to one of those, where we noted the layers of different colors of sand, and the color of the ocean.

Yellow Sand Verbena

It was chilly and breezy, so we were glad to have our windbreakers. He was swimming in his borrowed jacket (but not in the ocean!), and I was squeezed into mine that I’ve outgrown, but they worked fine.

Creamcups

California Goldfields

At the last beach, after our snack, Scout wanted to explore “on the other side of those rocks,” and he soon came back to tell me it was urgent that I come, too, and see the tidepools.

I was so surprised. All the times I’ve been on that beach, and I never knew… It was the most interesting collection of creatures I’d ever seen in tidepools. And all around, new plants as well. Thousands of mussels grew crammed together on the rocks.

California Mussels
limpets
Gooseneck Barnacles
Lots of Feather Boa Kelp still rooted to its rocks.
Giant Green Anemones hiding in sand.
Turkish Washcloth
Black Pine Seaweed
Rockweed

Besides the plants and animals whose names I’ve mentioned in captions here, we also saw Black Oystercatchers, Bee Plant, Dogwinkles, Sea Thrift and Silverweed. These many evocative names began to swim in my brain and tried to form themselves into a fantastical story… but in the end all I could extract was the vision of me at the sink with those seaweed dishwashing tools, the Turkish Washcloth and the Scouring Pad Alga. We picked off the real live leaves of various kelps to bring home; I’ve yet to make soup out of it.


It was quite a stimulating day. Scout and I shared the feeling that our minds were buzzing, our hearts full with the excitement of such life and beauty lying quietly under a few inches of water or briefly exposed, shining with the glory of God. He’s already planning his next visit to this spot, and how his mother must join us to share the joy. Sounds good to me!

The usual blessed everydayness.

nature, quotes, writing, , , , , ,

My beach visits are challenging my writing skills, no doubt about that! The seashore and its constant change, my being on The Edge of such a vast expanse of water and sky, caressed or buffeted by forces of wind and waves… it’s thrilling. I could write that sentence every time I go, but it would convey sameness, when there is nothing the same, ever.

I was excited yesterday to be going when it was a minus tide, a term I hadn’t even heard until a month ago. These events seem to happen mostly at night; I hope to learn more about why that is, when I get the books I ordered online and from the library, about waves, tides, beaches and seashores.

Yesterday’s minus tide was at about 3:00 p.m. I was surprised at all of the puddles and pools in various places on the beach, not just at the north end where the rocks hide creatures. The receded tide revealed a wide expanse of flat beach that shone like glass.

Great heaps of every kind of sea plant, vegetable, and kelp had been left in swaths on the shore. I wished I had someone with me who knew the names of everything! And if I had thought of it, I could have taken home enough to make a giant kettle of seaweed soup.

One specimen of Flustrellidra was floating in a tidepool. I found that name while searching last night for the name of a seaweed that I did eat when I got home.

Floating Flustrellidra

In those rocky pools I didn’t see any hermit crabs or sea stars; only a few mussels clinging under rocks. My foot slipped a bit when I was looking down into the water — I think that was when I was still wearing my sandals, because I thought I would be steadier with them on — and when I shifted my gaze to the surface of the rocks on which I stood, I realized that they were all green, that is, where they weren’t covered with black seaweed hanging down like greasy hair. So everything I might grasp with hand or foot was slimy. I soon left that area.

One thing always fun is the way the texture of the sand underfoot changes every few yards. Where it was gravelly I sank down mid-calf; a short distance beyond, the surface was firm. My feet standing on that hard and flat “patio” were red and seemingly shrunken from their chilly bath.

It was when I was walking back from the rocks that the happiness peaked. I thought of my late husband and wished we could be walking in the waves together. Maybe I thought of him because I had been listening to The Aviator on the drive out, thinking with Innokenty about his finally having lost the only one who had shared the era and experiences of his previous life, who also remembered the important things. And there was this:

“Now, as life is settling into a routine little by little, happiness shows through everything, through the most common everydayness, no matter what I do. Everydayness is essentially happiness… finally, to simply live.”

As I was splashing through the shallow water it occurred to me that my husband does actually share this happiness with me. There is one happiness that is a gift from God. It is the same reality that “shows through” whenever and wherever it happens, and reveals itself as being unbounded by time. A gift of spiritual sunshine that warms the soul in such a way that it’s obvious nothing is lacking. Mere existence is huge and blessed, the moment fills everything, and all the happinesses that have ever been are in that fullness.

I found several things on the beach. First, two big sand dollars. The first one was almost perfect. It had only a little chip on the edge, and I put it carefully in my bag. Later, just after passing a very young family with a preschooler, who were playing in the sand, I found another dollar, truly pristine, and I offered it to them. From the looks on their faces, they had never seen one before.

A beautiful, snack sized piece of seaweed fell out of a wave on to the sand, and I put it in my bag, too. You can see it further down.

And then — I found this dolly.

“She actually likes being tossed in the waves,” I thought, when I saw the expression on her face. She is some surfer girl! I dropped her in my bag, too, without the slightest doubt that it was the right thing to do. I would take her home and clean the sand out of her hair….

I haven’t managed to clean her hair thoroughly; I don’t know if the plants are attached to her or just tangled in her tresses. After seeing how integrated with marine life she has become, I began to wonder if she belongs to the sea now. Is the missing half of her hair currently in suspension with the other microparticles of plastic that live there?

She seems a kindred spirit, and for the time being she sits on  my computer table reminding me of our common love for the ocean waves. I need to give her a name. Any ideas?

The piece of “lettuce” I collected, I washed very well at home, and thought I had identified it. I ate it raw in the evening — it was rubbery and fairly tasteless — and then searched in vain online for a name for it. I think it’s probably a red or brown algae. One article I found last week said that all the seaweeds are edible, and last night I read some people saying that you should be careful not to eat too much of any kind. Not too much danger of that in my case!

When I have published this post, I plan to add it to my new Page tabbed at the top of my site, titled Sea Log. I’m glad for the virtual companionship of any of you who would like to share in my seashore explorations. May they long continue, Please God.