Into the Octopus's Garden

It has been quite a whirlwind, to say the least. The training has continued and I've barely been able to find the time to breathe for the past two weeks, but I can’t refuse the constant stimulation of adventuring through this archipelago. I just got back from doing two 3-day camping trips back-to-back. The first was a training trip with one of the staff members and 8 very lucky guests. On the second trip, I was on my own with one other fellow guide. We departed from San Juan Island early on Day 1 and paddled around Pelagic Cormorant nesting grounds, were followed by curious harbor seals, and watched the Dall’s Porpoises feed around the eddy lines of passing currents. To get to Stuart Island, our camping destination, we have to do a somewhat major crossing where the currents can get strong enough to sweep kayaks into Haro Strait and right into the shipping lanes of major freighters with no ability to stop. In order to avoid this, the strategy is to overshoot your mark and “ferry glide” with the current by heading at about a 45 degree angle from where you want to go and letting the current push you the rest of the way. If it sounds complicated, it is, especially when you get a weather rip from opposing winds and are trying to avoid all the fishing boats crossing your path. But, we worked as a team to keep the group of guests together and safely made it to Stuart Island.

The extended feeding tentacles of the
California Sea Cucumber
 (photo cred: walla walla)

Once we arrived, we set up camp and indulged in a well-earned meal (we don’t mess around with our food on Sea Quest tours, it is a fine dining experience that takes “waterfront view” to whole new level). Stuart Island itself is a fascinating place- home to only about 30 year-round residents who live totally off the grid. There is no access to the island except by private boat and all supplies must be brought in under your own power. Each home has a beautiful array of solar panels and taps into the shallow aquifer. There is a one-room schoolhouse that has won many awards for its innovative architecture and even used old-time logging methods with horses and plows to clear space for the soccer field. We walked into the library and read a note from Jordyn, age 15 who was very sorry to write that she would be moving and therefore no longer able to collect donations for sea turtle conservation and that any contributions could be sent directly to her organization to save the sea turtles. The school operates on a “No Child Left Inside” motto and is entirely impressive.   On Day 2 we were fortunate enough to have favorable tides and hardly any wind so we were able to drift through the kelp forests with our eyes fixated on the life below. Like a lazy river, we let the current carry us across Ochre Sea Stars, Purple Sea Urchins, and California Sea Cucumbers whose bright orange retractable tentacles reach out into the nutrient-dense sea water to filter through delicious drifting sediment.

Just as we drifted into a daytime dream of underwater serenity, one of my coworkers shouted, “Octopus!” We quickly paddled over, and sure enough, a giant Pacific Octopus glanced up from her bulbous head from the kelp down below. These guys can reach lengths of 15 feet across, but this one was probably about 5-6 feet when extended. Her pink skin flexed to match the red algae bed she laid in by adjusting the size of his chromatophores- skin pigments that contract to show a varying range of pigment to match their surroundings. We stayed with her for about 15 minutes, trying to glide as gracefully in our kayaks as he did with her long tentacles. It was truly a remarkable experience and a great reminder of why I love the ocean so deeply (as if I need one).

Giant Pacific Octopus
(photo cred: alertdiver)

 Later that day we hiked to the westernmost point of the island for an astounding sunset. The fog rolled in, hovering around the base of surrounding islands, but revealing their summits so it looked like they were floating in the red-orange reflection that the sun cast on the sea. The other six kayak guides and I huddled together on the bluff, joking and laughing, in complete disbelief that we get to experience such beauty and in such good company. Fireside stories were told, hot cocoa was sipped, and all was right in the world. We made the crossing home the next day and watched a spectacular fight take place between three bald eagles fighting each other for a fish- dodging and darting, flying just barely high enough to miss our heads.

After unloading all the gear, my coworker and I geared up to do it all again the next day!! And, as you may guess, we had another fabulous trip with a great family from Portland. Although we still hadn’t seen any orca whales yet, we had a wonderful time getting to know each other and just getting to experience the nature of this place. I took them on a journey through the tidepools where we felt the stinging nematocysts of anenomes and caught tidepool sculpin with our bare hands. My intertidal invertebrate friends awakened my passion for teaching once again. At the end of the day, we hiked to the highest point on the island, known as Tip Top hill, which is essentially a sustained vertical climb from camp. Being careful to avoid the roaming goats, we finally made it to the top and were again greeted by amazing views of the archipelago, with the snow-capped Olympic mountains floating in the hazy distance. I often go through seasons of my life where I am routinely struck by a single world until I create a meaning for it that resonates. While I was in Guatemala, I discovered what perfection is: that which we cannot expect to create but can only be fortunate enough to recognize if we have the presence of mind to observe it. For the past few weeks, I have been dwelling on peace, trying to figure out how we come to name peace and more importantly, how to create it in each space we come to inhabit. I’m still working on it, but I’ve decided that peace is far from just being a lack of negativity. It is absolutely a presence. It is something you can sense, a feeling that comes over you when you slip into its entity. It is the presence of goodness. It cannot exist without Truth and without the desire to know Truth. When I hiked the verdant mountains of Oregon on my road trip, I sat under a waterfall and let the coolness of the air coat me in peace. When I sat at the top of Tip Top hill and gazed out into the glacier-cut fjordlands that have become home to my mysterious ocean creatures, I was a part of the peace. But it’s one thing to feel peace and quite another to carry it. If peace is the presence of goodness, and pure goodness can only come from the ultimate Truth and fullness of Love, then surely we cannot expect to carry peace within us without personally knowing each of these. For me, the Truth is most tangibly in the water- in the waves that never stop coming, letting me know that the ocean is still alive and pulsing and pushing me to do the same.