Ain't No Big Thing

Coastal Cleanup.  Third Saturday of September.  An opportunity, an excuse, to get down to the sea and walk.  And pick up trash.   This year, rather than walking the same beach with dozens of other people, I decided I would head to the South Spit.  My occasional lunch-hour walks always produce trash and I presumed there would be fewer people heading that way.  I was not wrong - I was IT.  I had this beautiful stretch all to myself. In the grand scheme of things, not such a bad thing.

 The air was thick.  Drippy.  It got a little difficult to see my way with the spectacles covered as they were.

 I watched these guys huddle.  And land.  And sprint.  And flow.  Amazing ballet, stop on a dime as a group.

I have found that this beach collects most of it's debris high up.  As folks come to "appreciate" the serenity, they build lovely little dwellings and leave their trash behind, which is gently nudged by the rising tides as if to prevent its being swept out to be be consumed by the creatures who live there.  This means I have to trudge in the soft sand to find the trash.  Not as much fun as the water's edge where the cold can lap at my toes.

Gratefully, there were no large items.  No big things.  Just many many small ones.  As my bucket got fuller, and I would think, "that's it, nothing else will fit", I would find one more thing and tuck it in amongst the other small pieces.  As I neared the parking lot, I spotted a beer box filled with paper, probably left behind from a bonfire, so finally had to break down and use the feed bag I brought.  

I sorted and counted and will report my findings to be included in the count.  Multiply that by the hundreds of others who were out in Humboldt and California and the northwest and the right coast and we kept a lot of trash out of the ocean.  My final tally:

• 61 cigarette butts
• 1 chew can
• 2 coffee cups/1 lid
• 5 beverage bottle lids
• 1 CD
• 17 pieces of dense foam from floats and floatables
• 15 pieces of foam meat trays
• 1 shoe
• 28 pieces of plastic from buckets, tubs and such
• 19 pieces of plastic bags and wrappers
• 9 shotgun "innards"... wadding...whatever
• 1 cardboard box of paper
• 1 shoelace
• 1 bag of poop

I have to say this last one boggles my mind.  Someone took the time to carry a bag to the beach to clean up after their dog.  They picked up the poop.  Then left it.  Thank you people...almost. You were this close to being responsible....

If you didn't make it out this year, it's not too late.  Go out to the street in front of your home or business and pick up the litter there that will flow to the storm drains in the next rain and will end up in the sea.  Look at the cigarette butts and candy wrappers the next time you walk down the street.  They WILL end up in the bay if someone doesn't stop them.  And put the third Saturday in September on your calendar for 2013.

The Tide Is High and I'm Holdin' On

Tides have been running pretty high or, as we call it..."the ocean is full". Once again, it's been ages since I've been on the water and, as always, I wonder if I remember how. It doesn't take long being afloat when it all comes back. Paddling is relaxing for me and I do it for me. As much as I like it, it's not my only entertainment. I took a week off earlier this month and never got on the water, though I got in the garden and on the beach. On the beach, I tend to augment my walks with litter collection (you take a bag to the beach, too, don't you?). And like my beach walks, my paddles tend to be a opportunity to keep trash from endangering marine life. Not far from launch, I spotted something sparkling in the water. At first, I thought it might be the head of a harbor seal. Or a bobber of some sort attached to a fishing line in the rowboat that passed. As I approached, it became clear that it was a bottle...a 40-ounce beer bottle, bobbing happily. I tossed it at my feet in the boat...my first "catch" of the day.
It was a stunning day on the water. With the water level so high, it was safe to explore up Eureka Slough, behind Jacobs Avenue towards Murray Field, without worry of 'beaching' when I take my eyes and mind from what I'm doing. Wildlife was limited to a couple egrets and a heron who stood by only moments then left in a squawky huff when I dallied too long trying to loosen another bottle from the water's edge. After just a couple hours on the water, I ended up with two 40-ouncers (what is it with the people who drink 40's of Steel Reserve?!), a couple chunks of foam, a bag of/from sunflower seeds, a rubber glove, a small blue ball of some sort...and a cigarette pack. Could have gotten more, including a soccer ball but I hesitate to get too far into the shallows when I'm alone, lest I get stuck and have no one to pull me out.

I will leave you with one last shot, taken at the surface as I approached the railroad trestle coming home. A gorgeous October day on the water. If I did it more often, it wouldn't be as special.

I FELL INTO A BURNIN' RING OF FIRE

I really didn't fall in but had to keep reminding myself where I was which was on a beautiful stretch of beach at Mad River. Others who had been there were enjoying the beach by the warmth of a bonfire. Many of the bonfires were built from pallets. Pallets have nails...LOTS of nails.
Along with other members of the Surfrider Foundation - Humboldt County Chapter, I spent my bit of the annual Coastal Cleanup with a rake, a magnet and a bucket. There were plenty of others out and about, bags in hand, picking up after those who don't. Like them, we collected plenty of cigarette butts and beverage containers but our focus was in and around the fire pits. From one fire to the next we'd carry our tools then plop down to rake out the coals, drag the magnet through, clear off the magnet and do it again. And again. And again. Five buckets of nails were removed and we didn't make a dent. Personally, I consider this a bit of a penance since I know our girls have been involved in many a beach bonfire fueled by pallets and, truthfully, until a Ranger brought it to their attention, I never even thought about it. After that, we sent them with proper wood to start the fire. Mad River is a party beach, fueled by awesome sunsets and a "ya gotta know where you're going" location. Ironically, partiers enjoy the ambiance without even thinking of what they were leaving behind. We all knew we had been guilty of the same in our youth but we're hoping the kids out there now will be more aware of the environment. As someone who has stepped on my share of nails and has 28 stitches in one foot, courtesy of a beer bottle that cut through to my tendon, I really hate to think of the children running on these beaches , their tender little feet encountering sharp shards of beach trash. So, here's hoping everyone will reconsider using pallets as beach fire fuel. Pack your trash and mark your calender to join us next September on the third Saturday for another Coastal Cleanup either by yourself or with a group. Remember where you live. Listen to your Mother.

I BELIEVE THERE IS A TIME FOR MEDITATION IN CATHEDRALS OF OUR OWN

Yeah, I know I've been a blog-slacker. I've actually had something written but it was a rant and I really hate ranting. I'm saving it till the subject comes up again. I'm sure it will.

I took part in my second Coast Cleanup today. It seems I usually find out about it AFTER the fact so I've begun marking the third Saturday of September on my new calendar. I often collect trash whenever I walk the beach but it's nice to be out there with a group with the same purpose and an official tally sheet. I didn't know where to go to find a group. but found a listing of dumpster sites donated by Les Schwab on the Northcoast Environment Center website. I took a chance and headed to Power Poles on the North Spit and found a crew there, passing out collection bags, tally sheets and rubber gloves.

It always seems to me that the Saturday following the Fourth of July would be a good time for the annual cleaning of the coast since days before and weeks after Independence Day, you will find remains of holiday explosives. I'm guessing, however, that September was chosen for a reason. The seasonal high tides bring on a productive flushing of the ocean, as Mother Nature regurgitates on shore the remnants of the meals she has ingested, thanks to slovenly humans.

Possibly because this beach is more a surf spot and less a party spot, I didn't find a lot of party trash though I talked to one girl who trudged up about the same time I did and her bag most definitely contained cans and bottles. I took advantage of the morning and started my walk at the water line. The tides have been high of late and there were more treasures to be found than normal for that stretch of beach. Of course, I also collected flotsam ... or is it jetsam? Most of what I collected was small so my bag didn't fill quickly. Pieces of nylon rope, a few shotgun shells, cups and straws (I HATE plastic straws). I contented myself knowing that these items would not return to the sea to be eaten by some unsuspecting creature. I actually found quite a lot of rope, including this coil, covered with barnacles from its time in the brine. Likely it had been connected to the remains of a crab pot collected by another team I met. What I didn't find was cigarette butts. Very surprising, though I suppose the aforementioned high tides may have already collected the soggy filters and floated them out on the tide. I'm guessing there has been some churning going on in the depths. A car frame surfaced that I was told shows up when tides are high. It would take a tractor to pull it up since it is upside down and hopefully someone so equipped will do that. Also found, the carcass of a sunfish. I left my lovely toes in the shot to give you an idea of it's size. It was a ways up the beach so the water has been carrying a lot of weight.I was rewarded with some beach treasures. A few nice chunks of agate and jasper. Four sand dollars, intact if not perfect and a wadded up dollar bill. That makes five bucks, right?Following my really long walk on the beach (I always forget to factor in the return trip when I stroll), I headed to the North Country Fair for some sun, a brew, the scent of patchouli and some Christmas shopping. All in all, a perfectly Humboldt day.

Tomorrow? The Bloggers Picnic.

GETTING OUT AMONG THE PEOPLE

You may have read this post earlier this week and are wondering what happened...it changed. Yep, after I read it over a few times, I realized how cranky I really sounded and realized maybe I sound that way too often. No sense in hanging that out there for the word to get depressed over. So, lets focus on the positive things from the weekend.

I’ve always been okay with being alone when necessary, when I can’t find someone to go with me. Sometimes, though, I’d prefer company and occasionally that lack of company has kept me from trying new things. Not always but often. Well, this year I tried kayaking, something that has always intrigued me. Last weekend, I went on the Coastal Cleanup with a bunch of amazing, selfless young people (hell, that makes me sound ancient!) where we picked up the encampments of the homeless that live at the Palco Marsh. Eye opening and disgusting but an amazing day as we all trudged through what should be a beautiful wetland area to pick up trash and human waste. My most interesting find? Could be the skeleton mask... or the subpoena…or the prescription bottle…or the needle…or the 75 shopping carts heaped with belongings hoarded by an obviously mentally ill man. It wasn’t the beach which is what I had intended to clean and perhaps I’ll do that next year, but this year I’m glad I went out to the marsh with the AmeriCorp kids.

This past weekend, I went to the North Country Fair in Arcata. Hippie fest. Home. Reminds me of the Spring Fair they used to have on the banks of the San Lorenzo River in Santa Cruz. Do they still have the Spring Fair in Santa Cruz? I remember when Monica was tiny enough to put in the Snuggli (27 years ago?). Mark was away on a stag motorcycle ride so Monica and I rode the city bus to the Spring Fair. I remember walking around, smell of patchouli wafting on the breeze as we sat on the grass watching the Flying Karamazov Brothers juggle. The North Country Fair feels that way. Face painting. Booths with batik clothes. Farmers Market relocated around the corner. And a girl strolling ahead of me with a burning stick of incense. I didn't stay too long since I was there a little early for the music so I made a couple laps, I bought some pieces to make a necklace, some apples at the Farmers Market and came home. But it felt good to be among “my people” even for a little while.

Someday I will, as Mark has told me, likely be the little old lady that dances the “ethereal dance” in tennis shoes on the Plaza, though I’ll be barefoot, having kicked off my Birks to do a little ska.. Dancing to my drummer. Hippy at heart and not really concerned about it. But hopefully Mark will be dancing with me and we’ll finally pull off a decent waltz for the crowd.

I KNOW WHY THE INDIAN WAS CRYING...

Remember Iron Eyes Cody and the Keep America Beautiful campaign of the 70’s? OK, maybe some of you are too young but, trust me, it was a memorable campaign. Of course, NOW we learn that the old Indian, sitting on horseback with a tear streaming down his cheek as he looked over a land covered with trash wasn’t a Native American but rather an Italian American named Tony Conti... BUT, I digress.

On vacation this summer in British Columbia, I was walking along a little beach along a man-made lake and was shocked...OK not shocked but ... amazed by the trash left behind. How can people go on vacation to a beach then think nothing of leaving behind all sorts of crap…..otter pop wrappers, straws, bottles, paper, cigarette butts….ugh cigarette butts EVERYWHERE!? How can people justify leaving their shit behind and letting their children SEE them do it. Who exactly do they think will pick up after them?

Then, several weeks later, I took the puppy to the beach. Because it was just days after Independence Day, I presumed their would be fireworks debris so I took a heavy duty bag and good thing I did. By the time I came home, my tip bag was filled with mortar tubes and wrappers and the fallout from the beverages consumed along with them. While it seems like the beach is at least a relatively save place, fire wise, to shoot off incendiary devises, I sure wish the people that brought them would pack their trash. Needless to say, a walk on the beach anymore is a minefield of doggy stools (we take bags and try to be responsible….) and cigarette butts (did I mention…UGH!). Odd how people go to the beach to take in the beauty and leave such ugliness behind.

On that note, I’m finally on board for the local Coastal Cleanup. Seems like every year I hear about it AFTER it happens and I’ve never taken part. Last year, I made a note on the August page of my calendar to find out the date of this year's cleanup and it worked. I tracked down a website and was directed to the Northcoast Environment Center. There was the date (turned out it’s always on the third Saturday in September) – September 15 and a contact. Susan Penn contacted me and matched me up with AmeriCorp who will be cleaning the Palco Marsh this Saturday. Looks like I’ll be joining them in cleaning up after the hobos who, as it turns out are no better at cleaning up after themselves than the rest of “civilized” society.