Showing posts with label lynn canal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lynn canal. Show all posts
23 September 2009
18 September 2009
15 September 2009
12 September 2009
the hunt
Awoken at midnight in a war zone. Distant musket blasts rumbled in the still, moonless air. I cautiously climbed the cold, iron ladder tightly grasping each gray rung where chipped paint revealed spots rusted by the damp, salty environment.
Exposed and wishing I'd not left the cozy comfort of my bunk below, or at least that I'd put on pants, I gazed across the dark waters and into the fog banks drifting like sleeping ghosts, gently pushed by the fragile breeze.
The shots came closer. Echoes crossed the flat sea, passed through my body, and continued for the island behind me. And with them signals of misty smoke rose vertically from the water's surface. An underwater bunker of hidden humpbacks. Firing bursts of oxygen followed by fumes of wet, fishy eruptions.
I crawled back down into the fo'c'sle burrowing deeper into my bed, disappearing under a patch of scratchy, crimson wool to sounds of breathing, nighttime exhalations, steady and rhythmic in the inky gloom. And the echoes bounced off the walls of my cave as my eyes gave in.
A gray day marred by lingering fog masked my surroundings. A magician versed in misdirection deftly camouflaged rocky beaches with smokescreens and threw noises from contradictory directions. "Now you see it, now you don't," murmured the morning as ships vanished and shores materialized.
Yet the battle outside the bay waged on despite the poor visibility. One, two, three blows announced a presence in the canal. Boasting, warning neighbors.
As the day marched on, a mirror fell across the sea. And looking into this glass I saw an azure sky flanked by billowy clouds made somber only by hints of remaining, sooty moisture. Clouds above an eerie calm. Complete stillness abruptly broken by hushed gasps. Long, sputtering puffs moving nearby.
A sudden explosion. A 40-ton torpedo surfaced with a mighty spray and fell clapping the water. The roar hit my ears with the force of trees snapping like twigs, gunshots cracking in the tranquil afternoon.
Were the giants surrendering or celebrating?
Mammoth heads rose bearing chins pocked with pallid tubercles. Spyhopping to reveal half of their bodies, only to bellyflop with a whooshing splash. Breaching and rolling like dizzy children, playfully misting one another with gushing blows. Long pectoral fins sliced while white bellies gleamed triumphantly in the shimmering waters.
Feeding, whirling, dancing, twirling. "This is just a game," they declared. And once they'd tired of their victory cavalcade, raised flukes receded below the sea and the troop swam on.
Exposed and wishing I'd not left the cozy comfort of my bunk below, or at least that I'd put on pants, I gazed across the dark waters and into the fog banks drifting like sleeping ghosts, gently pushed by the fragile breeze.
The shots came closer. Echoes crossed the flat sea, passed through my body, and continued for the island behind me. And with them signals of misty smoke rose vertically from the water's surface. An underwater bunker of hidden humpbacks. Firing bursts of oxygen followed by fumes of wet, fishy eruptions.
I crawled back down into the fo'c'sle burrowing deeper into my bed, disappearing under a patch of scratchy, crimson wool to sounds of breathing, nighttime exhalations, steady and rhythmic in the inky gloom. And the echoes bounced off the walls of my cave as my eyes gave in.
A gray day marred by lingering fog masked my surroundings. A magician versed in misdirection deftly camouflaged rocky beaches with smokescreens and threw noises from contradictory directions. "Now you see it, now you don't," murmured the morning as ships vanished and shores materialized.
Yet the battle outside the bay waged on despite the poor visibility. One, two, three blows announced a presence in the canal. Boasting, warning neighbors.
As the day marched on, a mirror fell across the sea. And looking into this glass I saw an azure sky flanked by billowy clouds made somber only by hints of remaining, sooty moisture. Clouds above an eerie calm. Complete stillness abruptly broken by hushed gasps. Long, sputtering puffs moving nearby.
A sudden explosion. A 40-ton torpedo surfaced with a mighty spray and fell clapping the water. The roar hit my ears with the force of trees snapping like twigs, gunshots cracking in the tranquil afternoon.
Were the giants surrendering or celebrating?
Mammoth heads rose bearing chins pocked with pallid tubercles. Spyhopping to reveal half of their bodies, only to bellyflop with a whooshing splash. Breaching and rolling like dizzy children, playfully misting one another with gushing blows. Long pectoral fins sliced while white bellies gleamed triumphantly in the shimmering waters.
Feeding, whirling, dancing, twirling. "This is just a game," they declared. And once they'd tired of their victory cavalcade, raised flukes receded below the sea and the troop swam on.
10 September 2009
07 September 2009
05 September 2009
the sea bleeds green
And it's not that mysterious sea green of unknown, emerald depths but an artificial toxic green. Waves of toxicity, a wholly unnatural slick of luminescent green in the pitch night.
Her undulating surface is a magic tablet, a touch screen of life where every slight depression creates a living, glowing reaction.
Every tear of misting rain punctures the sea, stimulating thousands of pressure points and triggering her to come alive, radiating pinpricks of synthetic green and gold.
Each perforation is a miniature underwater mine blast. A living fireshow complete with pyrotechnic explosions and invisible hands waving sparklers, painting vanishing pictures, writing hidden names beneath the sea. Emotive flashes that last just fractions of a second. And quickly dissolve.
Just the moon playing a nighttime trick? Making refracted light masquerade before my eyes?
But then the wind blows, and the ocean bleeds unmistakably. Every glacial chill touches a million points and she responds with fine lines of faint and brilliant luster. Silken cobwebs powder the blowing swells and flow along the ripples.
Hordes of aquatic lightening bugs buzz and surge across wave rips, each piercing, an acupuncture prick trickling one more incandescent lime drop into the waters. Trying to slowly cleanse and calm the restless.
It's no trick. And the moon plays along, disrupting her majesty sea all night long. Twirling his moonbeams across her beckoning curls while she flutters her flickering eyelashes, tossing, turning, tormented. Until he fades stealthily, she continues bleeding, only placating with the climbing, embracing sun.
Why she allows herself to suffer for such a careless voyeur, you can ask her tonight.
Her undulating surface is a magic tablet, a touch screen of life where every slight depression creates a living, glowing reaction.
Every tear of misting rain punctures the sea, stimulating thousands of pressure points and triggering her to come alive, radiating pinpricks of synthetic green and gold.
Each perforation is a miniature underwater mine blast. A living fireshow complete with pyrotechnic explosions and invisible hands waving sparklers, painting vanishing pictures, writing hidden names beneath the sea. Emotive flashes that last just fractions of a second. And quickly dissolve.
Just the moon playing a nighttime trick? Making refracted light masquerade before my eyes?
But then the wind blows, and the ocean bleeds unmistakably. Every glacial chill touches a million points and she responds with fine lines of faint and brilliant luster. Silken cobwebs powder the blowing swells and flow along the ripples.
Hordes of aquatic lightening bugs buzz and surge across wave rips, each piercing, an acupuncture prick trickling one more incandescent lime drop into the waters. Trying to slowly cleanse and calm the restless.
It's no trick. And the moon plays along, disrupting her majesty sea all night long. Twirling his moonbeams across her beckoning curls while she flutters her flickering eyelashes, tossing, turning, tormented. Until he fades stealthily, she continues bleeding, only placating with the climbing, embracing sun.
Why she allows herself to suffer for such a careless voyeur, you can ask her tonight.
02 September 2009
31 August 2009
blink
I've never looked a whale right in the eye. Really made eye contact, really bored into its soul.
I've never had enough time to see into that immense, glassy eye like a bowling ball. Really, they've never given me the time. Really, it's not their fault. I'm going my way and they're going theirs.
But I've heard staring into a whale's eye is a thrilling experience, an emotive moment. There's a connection. Communication. I've heard.
It's not like vapid adoration in the eyes of a labrador or the blank, winking stare of an iguana or the calculating, mischievous crescents of a calico cat that we're used to. Not like that at all. So they say.
That eye pierces. It's life changing, I've heard.
A behemoth mammal. Plodding along yet close enough to offer a salutation. Close enough to spot pallid barnacles like freckles across a flat nose. Close enough to see natural black rivets in the leathery hull ofa living submarine.
A dinosaur of a beast yet elegant. So large that each movement lasts for ages. A slick humpback breaking the surface followed by its boomerang tail gradually disappearing before diving deep.
The chance to glimpse that pupil is fleeting, passing. Just like the pod across my bow.
But for the chance to peer into that sphere, to share a connection, to watch synapses spark. Let that eye bore into mine. It's captivating, or so I've heard.
It captivates my thoughts.
I've never had enough time to see into that immense, glassy eye like a bowling ball. Really, they've never given me the time. Really, it's not their fault. I'm going my way and they're going theirs.
But I've heard staring into a whale's eye is a thrilling experience, an emotive moment. There's a connection. Communication. I've heard.
It's not like vapid adoration in the eyes of a labrador or the blank, winking stare of an iguana or the calculating, mischievous crescents of a calico cat that we're used to. Not like that at all. So they say.
That eye pierces. It's life changing, I've heard.
A behemoth mammal. Plodding along yet close enough to offer a salutation. Close enough to spot pallid barnacles like freckles across a flat nose. Close enough to see natural black rivets in the leathery hull ofa living submarine.
A dinosaur of a beast yet elegant. So large that each movement lasts for ages. A slick humpback breaking the surface followed by its boomerang tail gradually disappearing before diving deep.
The chance to glimpse that pupil is fleeting, passing. Just like the pod across my bow.
But for the chance to peer into that sphere, to share a connection, to watch synapses spark. Let that eye bore into mine. It's captivating, or so I've heard.
It captivates my thoughts.
29 August 2009
25 August 2009
21 August 2009
06 August 2009
24 July 2009
playful porpoises
Who knew a bowling pin was so graceful. Elegant even. Sleek, aerodynamic lines. Perfect for dancing ballet along the bow. Nose first, effortlessly matching our pace.
Pins that bounce erratically in an imaginary pinball machine just below the waves. Crocheting underwater patterns. Looping inside-out then outside-in. Crisscrossing before tearing seams with glossy, ebony dorsal fins.
All this natural weaving, even with a bit of proud dramatics. Three surfacing side-by-side into the salty air. Dipping, diving to do it again. Darting to and fro, zig-zagging above and below one another. And the ever grandiose side spin to bare that white belly.
Show offs.
Pins that bounce erratically in an imaginary pinball machine just below the waves. Crocheting underwater patterns. Looping inside-out then outside-in. Crisscrossing before tearing seams with glossy, ebony dorsal fins.
All this natural weaving, even with a bit of proud dramatics. Three surfacing side-by-side into the salty air. Dipping, diving to do it again. Darting to and fro, zig-zagging above and below one another. And the ever grandiose side spin to bare that white belly.
Show offs.
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