Somewhere, latent and unlikely in my Scottish ancestry, lies a profound affinity for turtles.
I was not aware of this until recently.
In early life, I was not drawn to turtles in any particular way.
Sure, there were occasional visits to the aquarium, when I would stand in front of the turtle tank, face pressed against the glass and grin and say things like;
"awwww....Turtles"-like everyone does.
But out here, in the big Baja, my 'turtle-sense" vibrates. It hums and I glow-faintly green, with turtle-stigmata.
I wake, in the middle of the night, drawn on deck by the electrifying moon and they surround the boat.
They burp and snort in the dark water and I know that they have called me.
I sit and watch and learn the Turtle Sutra, the Way of the warm sea.
The next morning, I paddle, on my own, around miles of coastline.
In the shallows, I follow a leopard sea eel winding his way across the white sand bottom.
An electric stingray glides under the shadow of my board and we watch one another with wary eyes.
I spot something ahead, it bobs on the shining mirror that reflects the Nothing and blue of a cloudless sky.
At first, I think it's a jellyfish.
In the Baja, the stingy and pokey things populate land and sea; bees and rays, cactus and snakes, armies of pufferfish-
constant reminders that we humans are a soft and shell-less species, ill equipped for permanent occupancy here.
What I see ahead, turns out to be nothing more than refuse (the trading blanket of our tribe), an empty plastic bag.
Watching nature shows with Kai has taught me that these things are deathtraps for turtles, they mistake them for jellyfish and when they eat them, they choke.
I paddle over to it, fish it from the water and stick it on my board.
I stand back up, look down and see a HUGE turtle sitting below me on the sandy bottom. We're in about four feet of crystal clear water and we can see each other perfectly.
I expect him to scoot away because usually they're very shy but this one just sits there, looking at me with his half-lidded Yoda-eyes and I know...
He is my turlte-guru.
I wonder if I should genuflect or something (i've never had a guru before) but since i'm on a stand-up-paddleboard, I opt for staying erect-and afloat.
The turtle tells me a story but there aren't any words.
I listen and when he has finished, the wind catches my board and spins me away.
I look over my shoulder, as I drift away and am surprised to see, he is following me.
I was not aware of this until recently.
In early life, I was not drawn to turtles in any particular way.
Sure, there were occasional visits to the aquarium, when I would stand in front of the turtle tank, face pressed against the glass and grin and say things like;
"awwww....Turtles"-like everyone does.
But out here, in the big Baja, my 'turtle-sense" vibrates. It hums and I glow-faintly green, with turtle-stigmata.
I wake, in the middle of the night, drawn on deck by the electrifying moon and they surround the boat.
They burp and snort in the dark water and I know that they have called me.
I sit and watch and learn the Turtle Sutra, the Way of the warm sea.
The next morning, I paddle, on my own, around miles of coastline.
In the shallows, I follow a leopard sea eel winding his way across the white sand bottom.
An electric stingray glides under the shadow of my board and we watch one another with wary eyes.
I spot something ahead, it bobs on the shining mirror that reflects the Nothing and blue of a cloudless sky.
At first, I think it's a jellyfish.
In the Baja, the stingy and pokey things populate land and sea; bees and rays, cactus and snakes, armies of pufferfish-
constant reminders that we humans are a soft and shell-less species, ill equipped for permanent occupancy here.
What I see ahead, turns out to be nothing more than refuse (the trading blanket of our tribe), an empty plastic bag.
Watching nature shows with Kai has taught me that these things are deathtraps for turtles, they mistake them for jellyfish and when they eat them, they choke.
I paddle over to it, fish it from the water and stick it on my board.
I stand back up, look down and see a HUGE turtle sitting below me on the sandy bottom. We're in about four feet of crystal clear water and we can see each other perfectly.
I expect him to scoot away because usually they're very shy but this one just sits there, looking at me with his half-lidded Yoda-eyes and I know...
He is my turlte-guru.
I wonder if I should genuflect or something (i've never had a guru before) but since i'm on a stand-up-paddleboard, I opt for staying erect-and afloat.
The turtle tells me a story but there aren't any words.
I listen and when he has finished, the wind catches my board and spins me away.
I look over my shoulder, as I drift away and am surprised to see, he is following me.
He has an urgent look on his turtle-face, as if he has forgotten to say something.
I pull my paddle gently back and he slides up beside me, raising his wise green head from the water...
"You stole my Jellyfish", he says.
I pull my paddle gently back and he slides up beside me, raising his wise green head from the water...
"You stole my Jellyfish", he says.
His English is perfect and he sounds a little like Jeff Bridges.
Then, with two strokes of his flippers, he disappears.
This is how it happened in the Baja.
Then, with two strokes of his flippers, he disappears.
This is how it happened in the Baja.
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| Hunter Om shanti |
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| My Guru is elusive |
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| Jon's morning hike |
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| Jon and Hunter return from taking out the trash-biodegradable only! |
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| Another perfect day ends |
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| proud fisherman come home with dinner |
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| It's never enough enough with fishing for Kai |
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| The crew goes looking for breakfast-trigger fish! |
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| looking for lunch |
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| Partida's perfect water |
WOW. When Don Gennaro shits the mountains tremble.
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