North by Northwest

A month after finding ourselves at the southernmost point in the 50 states, we happened upon the most northwesterly point in the continental 48: Cape Flattery, WA. With time in this beautiful part of the world growing shorter, my best buddy and my salty buddy and I headed for the coast to do some 'splorin'.


We set out to do a little walking, beach strolling, and sightseeing. When we got to Hobuck Beach, our destination for the night, it was clear that we had brought a lack of gear. Well, okay there were the few things that got accidentally left behind by the car-packer (like my boots and warm clothes and the like), but there was some gear we didn't even plan on bringing that was lacking--big gear, like surfboards and kayaks and stuff. A week ago, as Rhody Run XXX took place just beyond the reaches of my driveway, I was all verklempt as I watched the runners pass by, wondering why I didn't drag my own ass out there to join the fun (and pain). Now with a lack of toys at the beach, I had the same feeling. Yes, beach walks are great, but surfing sounded a lot more exciting--especially given the wee little waves that would have been perfect for me. But, once the sun started to set, showing all kinds of glorious reds, the beach in and of itself was enough of an attraction. As another happy beach-goer shouted out, "Yea Nature!"


We definitely were not in luxury car-camping mode, but had remembered some foam pads for sitting on the ground and toasting marshmallows, and The Salty One was more happy roaming around seeing what everyone else was eating for dinner than she would have been curled up on a comfy bed. Red sky at night dawned crystal clear blue the next morning and we set off on a wake-up stroll to the far north of the beach. The highlight was a gaggle of black oystercatchers hanging out by some rocks, protected from the exuberant dog by an outgoing tide and a rivulet with a good current--they seemed to know they had it made.

Next stop was Shi Shi Beach and a muddy walk out to do some tidepooling. The tide was low and we had lots of area to explore. Gooseneck barnacles, anemones, and lots of mussels were the extent of our wildlife sitings, but that's pretty much what you expect on the rocky coast.


We rounded out the trip with a walk out to Cape Flattery with its stunning view of Tatoosh Island and awesome cliffs, complete with pelagic cormorants flying in and out. This is truly one of those magical places, despite the well-beaten path to the viewing platform.

The drive back along the north coast couldn't have been more beautiful, with patches of snow lingering on Vancouver Island, clear blue skies, and the Straits about as calm as they get. A few stops along the way to let the salty dog run around and commune with the copepods completed the quick trip.

"I want to say one word to you. Just one word...Plastics."

On a recent trip to Ka Lae, the southernmost point in the US on the Big Island of Hawaii, I found out how truly disgusting we, as a species, can be. After driving for what seemed like forever to get there, passing lots of fields, derelict and working wind farms, as well as some seemingly super-secret alien communication devices, we watched a few fishermen at work and the building seas crashing on the rocks and headed out on a walk for Papakolea Beach, the green sand beach. It was about mid-day when we set out with our friends over some dry, dry ground with not a swimming spot in site. I love the heat, but I only love the heat when there's a promise of a refreshing dip--with the current sea state, that didn't seem like much of an option. But we walked.

We hadn't walked 15 minutes when we veered off the jeep trail onto a lava rock beach trail. We were drawn in by a big green mass piled up on the beach. We had happened upon what must be the dirtiest beach in America. The green mass was an entangled wad of derelict fishing nets--monofilament, twine, plastic webbing, you name it, it was in there. Along with millions of tiny little chunks of plastic. That's right, Benjamin, "Plastics."

Now, as one who dabbles in the marine realm more than just occasionally and more than just as an innocent bystander, of course I have heard a lot about plastics in the ocean. But, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words, so here goes:

I really had to see it with my own eyes. An instant depression hit me as we started to walk along this line of litter--it made me sad. Here we were miles from anywhere (a later look at Google Earth showed more than 1500 kilometers between us and the next closest landmasses beyond Hawaii, Johnston and Palmyra Atolls), and the filthiness of my fellow beings was overwhelming. So much for the last great places being in the middle of nowhere, "untouched" by human development.

A lot has been written about the different Pacific gyres and the "Garbage Patch" of plastic somewhere between Midway and the Pacific Coast of the mainland US. But we weren't even in that zone! The isolation of the beach we were on probably means limited clean-up by local groups, so whether the accumulated material is any more profound than on any of the surrounding beaches is unclear, but the sheer volume of plastic particles and unrecognizable chunks of items discarded left me wondering where the hell it's all coming from. Can this much plastic be discarded at sea? Or is it washing down rivers from points in the US, Mexico, Asia, etc.? One thing is for certain: plastic is persistent.

There are many scholarly articles about the implications of plastics in the environment, and specifically the ocean, ranging from impacts on seabird foraging (Copello and Quintana 2003) to plastics serving as a vector for dispersing harmful algal blooms (Maso et al. 2002). Those with a penchant for primary sources have no shortage to choose from, including articles in the more esteemed journals. For those less inclined toward small print, difficult to pronounce words, and agonizing layouts, many great blogs have pointed out the problem, including Fake Plastic Fish (http://www.fakeplasticfish.com) which is dedicated to the issue. But I can't say that this subject is really on the collective radar at this point judging by the lack of pressure to reduce the use of plastics.

As part of my strategy for the 2008 field season (whereby I spend my off-hours in enumerable crappy hotels with the same horrendous version of the American breakfast and too many sketchy pillows), I have pledged to pick up trash from the beaches and marshes I'm working in and dispose of it in the nearest trash receptacle. Yes, perhaps when you're out enjoying a day waterskiing with the boys, it's easier to toss the soda bottle overboard, but not only is that littering, it's contributing to the ugliness of some far flung beach that I would like to think of as "untouched." And if we, as scientists working in the marine realm, collectively did our part to clean up after others, we'd probably prevent a fair bit of trash from choking the very subjects of our studies.

Copello, S. and F. Quintana. 2003. Marine debris ingestion by Southern Giant Petrels and its potential relationship with fisheries in the Southern Atlantic Ocean. Marine Pollution Bulletin 46 (11): 1513-1515.

Maso, M., E. Garces, F. Pages, and J. Camp. 2002. Drifting plastic debris as a potential vector for dispersing Harmful Algal Bloom (HAB) Species. Scientia Marina 67 (1): 107-111.

The Saline Canine Debuts

The Saline Canine begins on this "unseasonably warm" Pacific Northwest spring day, inspired by nothing other than a long walk on our favorite local beach--just the well-salted dog and me, both wishing the third in our trio of life was with us, but content enough to be out doing something worth remembering.  

Perhaps it's the countdown to our new location and new life that has me pondering the finer points of the local "special places" and our life here of the last few years, or perhaps it's time to cash in on my promise to myself to write more that finally has me sitting down, shiny new laptop at hand, putting keystrokes to computer screen.  I hope to funnel some of the stories I wish I had written into this blog, while being inspired by new experiences along the way.

So, why The Saline Canine? Well, Salty Dog seemed to already be in use, and alas, I am heading down the road to academia anyway, so I might as well practice. And, wouldn't you know, Merriam-Webster even offers the alternate pronunciation of saline, with the long I, meaning the blog has a nice ring as well--we wouldn't want a bad ring. More to the point though, I'm addicted to the smell of the ocean: the decaying seaweed, briny water, deep blue unknown, zillions of zooplankton in each bucketful of water, and sandy and rocky coasts where the human world intersects with the sea. Water of any sort is a good thing, but salty water is where it's at. Trout are good, salmon are delicious--it's because of all that briny goodness they consume at sea. Just ask a steelhead.

In my 32 years of life I have never lived far from the salt water.  Okay, there were the 5 or so dark years just inland from the North Shore of Massachusetts, but beyond that, I've typically been just a walk away. You like what you know, I guess, and for me that's the ocean. Childhood spent tidepooling and beachcombing has stuck with me. It probably comes as no surprise then that my career of choice keeps me outside, in the marshes, bays, coastal and ocean waters where my natural curiosity for such can be channeled into something I'd like to think of as productivity. And while all the time I spend being productive might drive some to curl up on the couch with a good book, the thirst for the ocean usually has me swimming, diving, walking, or floating in the ocean or near it whenever I get the chance.  

Unfortunately, my canine companion (pictured above in all her glory) has a much too literal thirst for the sea. She loves it! Of course, she loves to play in the water, fetch balls from the water, and occasionally even surf some waves, but in addition, she cannot get enough of licking and drinking the briny goodness.  She is truly a Saline Canine. While the veterinary implications of her imbibing are not scientifically known, I can say from experience that too much of a good saline thing can be bad. It is unknown to me why the dog continually drinks up the ocean, but perhaps she is just personifying (caninefying?) my love for all things ocean. But like so many of her kind, her energy and enthusiasm is truly inspiring.

So, we begin here, after our epic beach walk along the shores of the Strait of Juan de Fuca--a grand way to spend a Sunday.  I'm sure in a year I will long to be back on this beach, with its majestic views of the Olympic Mountains, Protection Island, and the Straits, and for now I will savor it while I can--just the Saline Canine and me.