Skates, jelly fish, and us

I was eye to eye with a clear nose skate yesterday. I was disappointed it was not a fluke, but the skate's distress outweighed mine.

Its rough skin brushed against my hand I as unhooked it, apparently no worse for the wear, but the skate's starry, unblinking eyes continue to haunt me.

Look at the picture. We share a planet, but not a universe.

***

Last night we paddled under a fading evening sky--the water was flat, and the dusk dissolved the division between air and water.

Thousands of jellies floated around us, like clouds under our kayaks, now sailing on air. The undulating bells spoke to purpose, their herd spoke to community.

We stared at their beauty, but know nothing of them, and they know nothing of us.
We share a planet, but not a universe.

The skate eyes photo is courtesy of Dr. Mark Terasaki, used with permission.
He has lots of great shots on his website.

Leslie took the other one--and part of the paddle is in the water--it really felt like flying....

Kayaking into the sunset

While Cape May island gets most of the press, we get the sunsets.

Fireworks

We live in North Cape May. An osprey flew over our home yesterday, I caught a few fluke from the kayak today.

Don't tell anyone, but we live in a natural paradise.

The fireworks are a (wonderful) bonus. What a show last night!

The new water tower leading into town proclaims that Lower Township is "home to the best sunsets."

After the last few nights, who could argue?

Ambergris?

Leslie and I took a walk along the edge of our world, as we do most Saturdays. The tide was out.

At the edge of our universe, we witness miracles. Today we saw a 1" horseshoe crab the color of sand, not quite a yearling, making the universal horseshoe crab tracking pattern. I rescued an older one, at least a decade old, flipped upside down, a gull nearby eying its gills.

The beach is littered with blue crabs recently dead, their murderers betrayed by the tracks of webbed feet.

The February wind whipped through our coats. It's still winter here.

And then I stumbled on this:




It's earthy marine aroma seduces me, and repulses Leslie.

I think I've found a good chunk of ambergris, worth something back in the days before chemists played gods. A decade or two ago, a sperm whale wrestled with a giant squid, perhaps a mile deep, and won. The squid's beak took one last stab at the whale's gut, which formed a protective coating of, well, whale excrement around the squid's last charge.

The beak was eventually expelled, either as poop or vomit, neither method particularly charming, and after years in the sea was tossed up on our beach.

If anyone wants to buy it, let me know. In the meantime, I'll keep sniffing it, drawing up images of death and delight in the deepest recesses of my hind brain.

Last day in January, 2010

North Cape May beach, off Roslyn.
Despite the cold and the slushy waters, the ferry (off to the right) still runs.

We saw a few sand pipers, one of them missing a leg, hopping as madly as its fellows.

Cape May is lovely in January....but don't tell anyone.

January thaw, blue claw

We just went through a patch of cold that left us chilled and the bay's edge frozen. We warmed up a bit, though banks of ice still lined the beaches Saturday.

We found clumps of blue crabs huddled together next to the jetties. A few were still alive, though chilled enough to pick up without getting pinched. We found a couple of live horseshoe crabs as well. I suspect the ice pushed some of the critters up from the mud below.

No sign of the sandhill crane at Beerworld (Ponderlodge) this week.

(And for those of you not fortunate enough to see blue crabs on their walks, they really are that blue.)

January sunset

January 9, 2010.

It's a bit chilly today, with the breeze gusting to 25 knots, but more than a handful of folks found time to walk along the edge of the bay.

Hard to believe we were just swimming here 3 months ago.