Winter Sunset With Sea Otters

After making my choice on flooring today (see previous post), I needed to get out into the wild and explore, so I grabbed my iPhone, my binoculars, some water and took off for an area I like south of Carmel that locals call Monastery Beach.  There's a State Park walk that is just south of the Carmel River Beach that extends from the monastery beach area north to the river and includes a rocky shore, south Carmel Bay and views of Pt Lobos.  Entrance is free and walking is very easy.

I parked at the entrance gate area and began to look for, well, whatever was there.  I like hiking the area this time of year because the ground is more moist, the grass is greening in and winter skies are far more interesting.  Wintering birds and local sea life are easy to spot, and most areas are usually not crowded.

The coast is ridiculously beautiful from Pebble Beach to points south of here extending another 70 miles or so - the storied Big Sur Coast.  At the time of day I walked, the tide was low, the intertidal zone was fairly exposed and there was only a whisper of a breeze in 65-degree air.  A few other people came and went but I felt like I was alone and free.

Bush bunnies made furtive dashes from one side of the trail to the other but mostly stayed hidden.  Wren tits, sparrows and crows were active but held their songs as they waited for sunset.  Exotic oxalis is blooming now, a vivid fluorescent yellow spot of color here or there.  I thought of pulling them up as they are an invasive species, but it would hardly matter, so I left them.

After gaining the beach in a matter of two minutes, it became obvious that high clouds might offer an interesting sunset later on.  Harbor seals, sea lions and sea otters were visible in the swells offshore, bobbing in a moderate chop and small swells.  Once again, the ocean was soothing after driving and doing errands.

On the distant juts of land that form Pt Lobos, big waves were galloping and surging to the jagged shore and exploding in tall sprays of white water.  On such an undulating coastline, it is common that one area will be protected and relatively tranquil while another area nearby will be getting pounded by much larger waves.  It all depends on the direction the swell is coming from.

The sun sank steadily into the west, now shining, now hidden behind layers of low clouds on the horizon, and as the anticipated time for sunset neared, sea life became more visible.  Egrets standing on rafts of kelp hunted for fish on the surface.  Cormorants dove and pounced on prey.  A pair of black oystercatchers pecked for small shelled creatures clinging to the rocks, and the ever-present gulls circled back and forth quietly.

I noticed a small persistent squalling call that at first sounded like a shorebird, but I located its source - a sea otter pup of a very small size.  Its mother was kept very busy diving for shellfish and returning quickly to the little one to satisfy its roaring appetite.  Sea otters eat something like a quarter of their weight in shellfish every day in order to fuel their metabolism.  They have intensely thick fur that they must groom with natural oils to keep supple and warm.  The otter pup was too small to dive for its own food and stayed put in a small raft of kelp, either busy eating or looking around for the female and squalling.  Each time she came back, he nuzzled her and climbed up on her belly to grab the food she held there while she floated on her back and fed herself and him.

After some time and a few dozen trips under to find food, the mother led her pup south a little way to an inlet and began searching once again.  I looked away for a while and realized I was hearing an alarm call and looked back.  The pup had drifted too close to the rocky shore and was caught in the surf now and had begun yelling loudly for help from the female.  She popped up from underwater and began her own alarm call, which sounded like a scream.  She torpedoed straight to the pup who was getting a good sloshing and tumbled in the waves helplessly.  She got to him in a flash, took him by the scruff of his neck and hauled him out to a point beyond the surf line.  Any lifeguard would have been completely impressed with her firm and decisive rescue.  They jostled each other, she making sure the pup was fine, he keeping very close to her.  She licked him all over before relaxing and resuming her search for food.

With the drama over and calm restored for the time being, the sun trimmed the treetops of Pt Lobos with gold and cast glimmers on the restlessly moving ocean.  Wren tits sang their descending call from the brush nearby.  The pair of black oystercatchers bobbed and peeped on an outcropping of beaten sandstone, and then beat their way powerfully to the north where a pink and lavender evening sky waited.

Picnic Walk at Carmel Meadows Shore

With a small tasty snack (sliced pineapple, cheese, chocolate) and some water, we went south to Carmel River State Beach to walk.  There is an unnamed trail on State Park land that you can access by car, or by bike if you ride down there.  Look for a little red schoolhouse called Bay School -- a Montessori school -- that serves as a landmark about two miles south of Rio Rd along Highway 1.  It lies just north of Monastery Beach along the coast.  It's a sharp right turn.  You don't slow down, you end up in the sandbox upside down at the school.  So, easy does it.  

Park along the little road, lock up your car, and start walking west through a simple opening in the fence you'll see there.  Says dogs must be on leash and no forest fires and no camping and no to a couple of other things, too.  But, it's good, free, very pretty.  The trail is impossible to miss and mostly flat.  Generally, I would say the area is called Carmel Meadows Trails, named after a housing area that flanks it on the east side. 

You walk along on the gently curving trail through stretches of local chaparral like coyote brush, wild radish, alyssum gone wild and fragrant as honey perfume, sage, and California poppies.  Almost immediately, you get big stunning panoramic views of Monastery Beach, the Hudson Ranch and Pt Lobos to the south and west.  And the ocean of course. 

The storm surf that has been so heavy lately is still pounding the shore, roaring and rumbling.  As we walked along the trail heading north along the bluffs to Carmel River State Beach, the surf was tremendously distracting and beautiful in the winter light.  The stretch of trail has been punctuated through the years by thoughtful placement of viewing benches that face west.  At sunset, I'm sure all the benches are occupied as besotted happy people gaze at the hammered gold and amber art painted across the sky. 

It's very pleasant to find a spot on the wild shore to stretch out a towel, set up some beach chairs and enjoy a picnic.  Most areas are secluded with easy access and eye-popping beauty in every direction.  Today when we were on our walk, we saw a few groups setting up spots for the afternoon, steadying chairs and spreading blankets, easing themselves down with happy sighs of delight.   

When we'd reached our destination -- the Carmel River outflow -- we sat on a few boulders below the bluffs and watched the confluence of the river and sea.  Some waves were monsters and washed way up the river, around our rocks.  I felt as though we could have been set loose on the current and carried out to sea to sail away.  It was a fine day, an invigorating walk and spectacular waves.  Got a few good pictures, too.   

 

 

Beyond Begonias

The sun came right out and said "Off with you!" to the fog today, and, amazingly enough, he went. So, the sun's out and she's having a great conversation with the summer breeze, who must be doing most of the talking because it's a little brisk out there. No clouds; they've run off somewhere, probably just hanging out, texting friends, planning a party or whatever clouds do in the summer.

I took a quick look at my flowers just now and they're looking pretty dandy, doing their best to attract bees. But, I believe the bees are napping or possibly in watching Wimbledon. They prefer to do their work in the morning before the breeze takes a walk around town. I have some begonias that are looking pretty awful and may just need a little nudge to the great beyond. They are a little long in the tooth, and I should replace them, but you know how that goes. Old guys need a little respect in their final days, give them a chance to recount former glory, teach the young blooms a thing or two. Generally, you kind of know when it's time to say good-bye for good, and I'm not quite there yet with those gents.

Like a lot of gardeners in the area, I am gradually adding more natives to the mix. They resist drought and invading hordes of insects much better than exotics do. Though it's better to plant natives in October or so, I'm heading over to Monterey this afternoon to the Native Plant Nursery for a good look at what they have in stock.

The biggest challenge for we who live on the Peninsula is a very definite paucity of water. Even in more lush years, rainfall barely replenishes the underground aquifer we are tapped into. The Carmel River, which runs the length of Carmel Valley, supplies water for what seems like a zillion people and their pets. Water diverted from the San Joaquin River delta goes to almost the entire state, especially southern California, but we here in this corner of the left coast, get our water from the local rivers and aquifers that are supposed to be recharged by seasonal rainfall every winter. The balance is in favor of we humans, not the rivers, so water levels drop and we are held on alert for possible rationing in dry years.

So, when we plant natives -- the wise plants who know how to survive with virtually no summer watering -- it helps decrease the impact on the water supply. If the human population were static or declining, we'd be in fine shape, but that isn't the case.

When I roam around in my garden listening to the idle talk between the blossoms out there, I try to imagine fewer of them, but that's a difficult vision to conjure. They're handsome and proud of their good looks. My plan is to let them live full lives, and when they finally pass on I'll replace them with natives, one by one.