My best friend is the man who in wishing me well wishes it for my sake.
Aristotle
Claiming there is no other life in the universe is like scooping up some water, looking at the cup and claiming there are no whales in the ocean.
Neil deGrasse Tyson
“Whale, well, well…. I see a pod off starboard!” Gnomeboy lifted his left eyebrow and smirked.
“Thanks,” as I scurried with the other sea dogs to watch humpback and blue whales spout rainbows.
“You’re Whalecome.” he smirked. He then whispered to himself, ” Whale… never make a wish you don’t want to come true.”
Just call me Ishmael. Some days this buccuneer craves the smell of salt air, to drift with the tides, and yell, “there she blows.” I want to see whales, not the large American car from the sixties, or the over the top casino gambler/ partier, but the right, blue, gray, humpback, sperm and occasionally a killer whale.
I am one of several well-wishing, whale watchers, bobbing over Monterey Bay on the Sea Wolf II (pic above). I’m jouncing on top of a subterranean canyon, Actually a deep well with steep canyon walls measuring a full 1 mile in height from bottom to top (pic below). The walls rival the Grand Canyon. It is the largest such submarine canyon along the West coast of North American. Geologists know the Salinas river did not create this and can only speculate as to the water source. Well well well.
The blue and humpback whales dive up to 90 minutes to feed in this nutrient rich bay. Before the water spouts and the pod of humpbacks reappear, hovering seabirds, screech, circle, and chaotically dive. The stars of the show slide into view, rolled, and then dive back to the bottom of the well. Whales in wells have every tourist wishing for that special black and blue photo op sketched by Dr. Suess.
I had been wishing for a killer whale to breach close by. None had been seen for several weeks. I could “message” the picture to my grandson Sam. His favorite mammal is the killer whale (Orcinus orca) and he still sleeps with a stuffed replica. The Naturalist explained that they hide in the canyon system and attack the grays whales on their trip north. I don’t mind whales eating anchovies but don’t want to see Orcas eating blubber today. Life is… well …wonderful if you don’t weaken. The ship idled as whales continued to surface one hundred yards away. Sea lions, dolphins, and seagulls ravaged the leftovers…a Monterey all you can eat seafood buffet.
After two hours of whale watching we returned to shore and the Cafe Fina. The Italian seafood restaurant on the wharf prepared sea to table entrees as recommended by the Seafood Watch ( Pic above). Well, well, well if the Fruity Di Mare wasn’t “delizioso.” The trip was well established, well done, and gave all a sense of well being. So it goes as it would.
Monterey Bay sparkles from the land and the sea. I left Santa Cruz at sunrise and had 42 miles to round the bay and reach the Monterey wharf for the one pm whale watching tour (pic above). The breezy coast weaved coastal farmland between Moss landing State Wildlife Area, Salinas River State Park and Fort Old Dunes State Park (pic below). During the morning ride, Monterey’s strand of land visibly sat in the southwestern quadrant of the bay. The sun, the sky, and the breeze weaved a spectacular ride.
Just a few miles to the East lay Salinas, the home of John Steinbeck, the author of The Grapes of Wrath, Of Mice and Men, East of Eden, and Cannery Row. Those books were set in the great depression and humanized dispossessed Americans. South of the Salinas River’s mouth, near Sand City, the homeless men and women were perched, parked, and packed in tent cities on the Monterey Peninsula recreational trail. With its warm Mediterranean climate, Pebble Beach, and the 17 Mile Drive, Monterey incorporated an endless succession of homelessness.
I encountered the same senerio on the Yolo Causeway between Sacramento and Davis. The richest land in the world unable or unwilling to solve homelessness on a county, state, or national level (pic below). Homeless were left to their own disheveled devices. Some hiked with backpacks, others pushed bikes loaded with possessions, while a few pushed shopping carts. A lost strand of Americans in California. I don’t have an answer to an entangling dilemma but we need to weave them back on to our ship, because no man should be an island.
Maisy shines both day and night. She has big brown eyes and flawless skin which can be hidden by her long brown unkept hair. Melanie taught me a trick to keep her hair out of her eyes and I don’t mean ribbons, a tiara or a crown for the little princess. Mom braided three strands of hair and then combines two of the strands before adding a third. The hair remains pulled away from her forehead as the little monkey rock climbed the local playground. The braiding remains so simple and so effective. Maisy is a sight for this old dog’s sore eyes (pic below). And I know that in the same manner, the American Dream can be woven back into every homeless California’s heart and soul. So it goes, as it would.
If that’s not nice I don’t know what is.
So on down the road I weave.