Nerding Out on Nature:

Because Earth is cooler than screens


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Oregon Spring Beach Cleanup Day

In what single place can you find a Russian vodka bottle, a Japanese fishing crate, and a Coke can from the United States?

On the Oregon coast!

This morning, we woke up early and headed to Florence, Oregon to join 4,800 volunteers taking part in Spring Beach Cleanup Day, sponsored by the non-profit organization, SOLVE Oregon. With gloves and buckets and our adventure terrier on a leash, we trekked over a sand dune to a long stretch of chilly beach dotted with other ocean-lovers and their gloves and buckets. Our goal: To remove as much litter as possible from the sand while other groups up and down the coast did exactly the same thing.

Oregon SOLV Beach Cleanup_0013_web

The Adventure Terrier. (Photo by Jonathan B. Smith)

SOLVE’s literature let us know that along with large pieces of debris, we’d need to be on the lookout for tiny bits of plastic that fish and other sea creatures ingest. We crouched in the damp sand and began to pick up fragments of pink and yellow, blue and green among the brown and white shells and rocks. The plastic shards made a beautiful mosaic at the bottom of our bucket (better there than in some poor fish’s stomach).

Almost immediately, we spotted a woman dragging a heavy tangle of netting and crates across the sand. We ran to help; the woman turned out to be Julie Daniel—a passionate sustainability leader and writer who has long been one of our local heroes. She taught us to identify the pelagic barnacles clinging to the side of a big blue bucket, and later, made several more trips from one end of the beach to the other, loaded down with crates and more bucket fragments and rope and netting.

Along with trash, we saw some pretty wonderful creatures on the beach. The terrier chased little white sand hoppers across giant strands of bull kelp. We marveled at tiny blue and white velella velella (see my short essay about them here) dotting the sand and gazed at an immature bald eagle that periodically sailed over our heads, flaunting its six-foot wingspan. We were glad to spare the raptor the agony of ingesting a plastic luncheon.

Oregon SOLV Beach Cleanup_0065_hr

Photo by Jonathan B. Smith

For three hours, we dropped rubbish into our bucket, surrounded by families and retired couples and high school students working to fulfill their volunteer hours. We learned that we loved getting outside in the gentle rain to help clean up the beach together. We learned that people discard an unbelievable number of plastic bottle caps. And we realized just how far litter can travel. We can only assume–after checking out the Russian and Japanese trash that washed up on our beach–that our debris washes up on theirs, as well.

Oregon SOLV Beach Cleanup_0074_hr

Photo by Jonathan B. Smith

We gathered together around dumpsters in the early afternoon, checking out each other’s hauls before moving on to picnic lunches and ice cream at B.J.s in Florence. At the end of the day, SOLVE sent us an e-mail report noting that volunteers had removed 90,000 pounds of litter from 363 miles of Oregon coastline. Sure, our bucket weighed only about 10 pounds, but we’re thrilled to be a part of the Spring Beach Cleanup.

Want to get involved ? SOLVE sponsors numerous Earth Day projects across the state. And don’t miss the Washed Ashore Gallery in Bandon, dedicated to making art from those interminable bottle caps and other plastic pieces. Visit the gallery and help create massive sculptures of fish and seals and sharks that go on display across the country.

See you on the beach!

 

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Kayaking on the Oregon Coast with a Terrier in a PFD

I’m not a Mother’s Day brunch kind of gal. Give me a river, a kayak and a beach full of tidepools–I’m good to go. A carving station? Not so much.

My husband, knowing better than to sit me down in front of an all-you-can eat seafood bar, researched the Siuslaw Estuary Water Trail near Florence, Oregon. “It’s an adventure!” he told me and our 8-year old daughter (aka The Spud). We presented our new dog, April, with a terrier-sized life vest and headed west.

April, the intrepid terrier.

April, the intrepid terrier.

You’ve got two choices when you park at Bender Landing at low tide; you can either slog with your kayak through knee-high mud and drop it in the water, or you can rig a line 10 feet up on a retaining wall and lower your boat and climb down a metal ladder to the river. Either way, you’re guaranteed awkward hilarity.

We opted for the ladder, lowered our paddles and peanut butter sandwiches and the terrier, and started off laughing and unmuddied upstream. Paddlers on the Siuslaw can kayak 30 river-miles between Mapleton and the Pacific Ocean. It’s pretty country, I decided, but nothing beats kayaking the Siltcoos River 14 miles south. That’s my true love river, with its old growth and sand dunes that give way to Snowy plover territory and the ocean. We turned our boats around after a while, observed by a preternaturally calm egret, and paddled with the tide.

Egret

Heading south on the North Fork of the Siuslaw, you’ll see farms in the distance, and tractors and horses. We spotted more egrets sailing overhead, and vultures, and what looked to be a Northern harrier skimming the fields. Nutria emerged at the shoreline and scuttled off into tall weeds. Below us, fallen trees stretched out in the water with delicate plants all around them. On this sunny Mother’s Day weekend, the water felt warm enough for a swim. The Spud jumped in to the delight of our new terrier and splashed around a while.

MaiaKayak

It’s possible to kayak to Old Town Florence and tie up in pursuit of a scoop of BJs Oregon Trail ice cream. But we had some serious tidepooling to do, and so we paddled back to our put in and circled around the ladder and the muddy shoreline, weighing our options. Not willing to drag my kayak one-handed up the ladder, I got out on the shore and sunk immediately up to my knees. A pristine kayaker, preparing for a paddle, gaped at me from a picnic table on the grass. “That the only way in?” he asked.

I nodded at the narrow metal ladder and broke into laughter at the sight of my husband mired in the mud.

Our giddy giggling continued later when we walked down to the beach outside the Adobe Resort and discovered two people in the distance gathering up something in bags. A budding journalist, The Spud ran over to investigate.

“Maggots,” she reported back as I bent over a tidepool full of hermit crabs and turquoise anenomes. “They’re collecting maggots.”

I’d spotted five-inch long translucent jelly-like tubes on the beach. Confused, I decided these were maggots of some sort, and the couple had found use for them. I wanted to know just what that use was.

Not maggots–squid eggs.

Not maggots . . . squid eggs.

Not maggots . . . squid eggs.

“What are you collecting?” I asked with a bemused smile.

The man who replied gave me a sober look.

“Agates,” he said.

Turns out this beach, like Bob Creek Wayside a few miles south, offers agates the size of fingernails and fists. The latter, he said, can be worth hundreds of dollars which accounts for the beachcombers who show up hours before low tide to start searching. Those five-inch long jelly-like things? Apparently, they’re squid eggs flung by ocean waves to land among the velella velella (By-the-Wind Sailors).  Here, read this!

Velella vellela (By-the-Wind Sailors)

Velella velella (By-the-Wind-Sailors)

Velella velella (By-the-Wind-Sailors)

By day’s end, I had mud between my toes and tiny amber agates in my pockets. I had the memory of a terrier in a life vest, a child in the river, and a lunch to look forward to the next day at our favorite Mexican food restaurant, Los Compadres in Florence.

A very fine Mother’s Day, indeed.

I’m teaching a two-day workshop 7/25-7/26 titled “Heal Yourself through Environmental Memoir” at the lovely Sitka Center for Art and Ecology near Lincoln City, OR. There’s still time to register; I’d love to work with you!