Lost Coast, Part I
Yesterday kicked off a trip to an as yet undecided destination and for an as yet undetermined time. The first leg, at least, is already known -- visiting Kris & Vanessa's place just south of Willits. We left around 6:15 pm on Saturday, after damn near a full day of laundry, packing, and cleaning. Preperations were somewhat delayed by us preparing and eating a full dinner for lunch, pork marinated in a carribean (sp?) sauce, some fancy rice with coconut milk and something else that's already lost to the mists of my memory (corn on the cob, it turns out). Eventually got out the door and arrived in Willits in the vicinity of 9:00 pm. Prepped sleeping arrangements, talked a bit, and crashed out in preparation for the next day's events.
Sunday was a blast. Out the door at first light, bound for the coast and Fort Bragg. Visited the dive shop (cool place!) and got equipped for a) swimming in that damned cold ocean and b) abalone diving and c) spearfishing. Properly prepared for all three, the ocean wasn't the least bit unconfortable -- and harbored surprisingly soft, kelpy rocks, the abalone were quickly caught -- 3 only, as I didn't get tags myself, and the spearfishing was an absolute blast. Float along the surface, staring down at the ocean floor and kelp, and breathing through the snorkel. Fold over and dive down to check under interesting rock shelves, or to just kick along the floor for a while. Surface and blow, clearing your snorkel like a whale clears it's pipes. Repeat until you come across a fish lurking temptingly large and close, or small and too damned convienant to pass on.
A moment to describe the spear itself. We were using a style called an Hawaiian sling, which is a 5 ft long metal pole with a three pronged tip, the tips splayed slightly to form a triangle pattern. On the back of the pole was a thick band of rubber or surgical tubing, which forms a loop, either end of the loop attached to the back end of the pole. To fire the spear, the tubing is held with one hand, while the other graps the shaft and pulls it back until the tubing is stretched nearly to the tip. The shaft is released, and the band propels it forward 4-5 feet... hopefully right through a fish.
I never caught one.
Didn't matter. Not that I didn't try, but I never got a clean shot. Regardless, just stalking the things, watching them close was interesting enough. They'd flick around in the kelp, holding low and moving lazily. Disturbed, they'd swim off at half speed, expending just enough energy to stay at a comfortable range away from you. Only when really disturbed would they kick into high gear, jetting off with a startled (and startling) burst of energy. Where we were, they were mostly big, blue perch (or perch-like, at any rate) fish with maybe a foot in length. Kris spotted (and nailed) a light and dark brown cabazone (again, sp?) lurking under the overhang of a rock.
Sunday was a blast. Out the door at first light, bound for the coast and Fort Bragg. Visited the dive shop (cool place!) and got equipped for a) swimming in that damned cold ocean and b) abalone diving and c) spearfishing. Properly prepared for all three, the ocean wasn't the least bit unconfortable -- and harbored surprisingly soft, kelpy rocks, the abalone were quickly caught -- 3 only, as I didn't get tags myself, and the spearfishing was an absolute blast. Float along the surface, staring down at the ocean floor and kelp, and breathing through the snorkel. Fold over and dive down to check under interesting rock shelves, or to just kick along the floor for a while. Surface and blow, clearing your snorkel like a whale clears it's pipes. Repeat until you come across a fish lurking temptingly large and close, or small and too damned convienant to pass on.
A moment to describe the spear itself. We were using a style called an Hawaiian sling, which is a 5 ft long metal pole with a three pronged tip, the tips splayed slightly to form a triangle pattern. On the back of the pole was a thick band of rubber or surgical tubing, which forms a loop, either end of the loop attached to the back end of the pole. To fire the spear, the tubing is held with one hand, while the other graps the shaft and pulls it back until the tubing is stretched nearly to the tip. The shaft is released, and the band propels it forward 4-5 feet... hopefully right through a fish.
I never caught one.
Didn't matter. Not that I didn't try, but I never got a clean shot. Regardless, just stalking the things, watching them close was interesting enough. They'd flick around in the kelp, holding low and moving lazily. Disturbed, they'd swim off at half speed, expending just enough energy to stay at a comfortable range away from you. Only when really disturbed would they kick into high gear, jetting off with a startled (and startling) burst of energy. Where we were, they were mostly big, blue perch (or perch-like, at any rate) fish with maybe a foot in length. Kris spotted (and nailed) a light and dark brown cabazone (again, sp?) lurking under the overhang of a rock.
posted by Dan at 10:40 AM
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