Was erosion created by man?

Here's a short little consideration for the conscience...

The definition of erosion on the Surfrider Foundation's website is as follows:

Erosion: Physical removal of sand from the beach which is transported offshore, alongshore, or into bays and lagoons via inlets. Erosion results in shoreline recession—landward retreat of a shoreline indicator such as the high water line, vegetation line or dune line. Opposite of accretion.

Pretty basic...waves crash on beach...sand gets carried out to sea...sand travels with current...sand lands back on beach somewhere else (eventually).

So the question is simple; Was erosion a problem prior to development along our coasts?

I really believe that erosion solely exists in the mind of mankind, and unfortunately it has become an ridiculously expensive and often contentious issue in our modern society.

Let's consider the following so-called solutions for coastal erosion.

• Beach Nourishment - pumping sand from off-shore back to the beach (over and over and over and over and over...) This is exceptionally expensive, and seems a lot like fighting a forest fire with a garden hose.
  

• Shoreline Armoring - piling a lot of rocks in one place to protect an area only to rob sand from another place and allow erosion there
  

• Coastal Engineering - I do not believe that humans have ever created an ocean and/or beach.
  

"Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore. " ---Lord Byron

Look, listen, feel, (and leave only footprints in the sand, not foundations),
Ostrich

E.P.A. (a genuine protector of the environment)

Saturday, March 14, 2009
marked the 7,300th day since
Edward Paul Abbey
died.

"Do not burn yourself out. Be as I am-a reluctant enthusiast... a part time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it is still there. So get out there and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, encounter the grizz, climb the mountains. Run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, that lovely, mysterious and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to your body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much: I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies, over those deskbound people with their hearts in a safe deposit box and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators. I promise you this: you will outlive the bastards." ---E.P.A.

For the uninitiated, let me fill you in on old Ed. Ed is the author of many books, essays, letters, and even some poems. He is often credited with being the founder, impetus, instigator, and/or creator of the environmental activist movement known as Earth First.

Some works from the "Thoreau of the West":
The Monkey Wrench Gang
The Fool's Progress
Desert Solitaire
The Brave Cowboy
Fire on the Mountain
Hayduke Lives

The Pennsylvania native spent the majority of his life in the southwest, particularly the magical four corners area, and ultimately passing near Oracle, Arizona.

The bearded bard of the wilderness was beyond "rough" around the edges, offensive some would even say. However, he loved the wilderness, and he eloquently and coarsely described it for us in hopes of getting us even a little piqued about caring for it.

He was illegally buried (and I am certain with a salty grin on his face) somewhere in the desert amongst the sand, saguaros, and rocks.

So, get outside...take your T.V. with you and shoot it. Pick up a book. Hike a trail. Pick up some trash. Listen to a river. Watch a wave peel. Teach your kid about a raptor. Get your hands dirty. Stop just thinking about Earth's peril. Stop being lazy. Remember you are part of the food chain too. Dream. Run aimlessly through a woods. Jump across a creek. Jump off a rock. Feel bark. Smell the pine. Be amazed by the full moon peeking over the rim. Stop existing and start living.

To find a link to hear Ed read and listen to an annual memorial show about EPA, visit Patagonia's blog The Cleanest Line and click on the Risky Biscuit Hayseed Hoot section of the entry.

"Feet on earth, knock on wood, touch stone, good luck to all."
---Edward Paul Abbey / 1927-1989

Look, listen, feel,
Ostrich

Yes, Does My Insurance Plan Cover Search and Rescue?

"Life is an error-making and an error-correcting process, and nature in marking man's papers will grade him for wisdom as measured both by survival and by the quality of life of those who survive.” --- Jonas Salk







I thoroughly enjoy an adventure. Be it a backcountry kayak campout, a multi-day backpacking trip, or simply a scramble up a talus slope, adventure awaits.


The Norwegian arctic and antarctic explorer Roald Amundsen said that, "Adventure is just bad planning."


I'd agree with this statement in some regard, however everything on an excursion cannot be planned for. For example:

• The interface between your head and a random falling tree limb or rock.


• The involuntary (and unnoticed) exchange of bodily fluids with a poisonous insect.


• Toothless weilders of banjos in the wilderness.

Some things just happen...tis life.

Adventure is typically a physical experience that consists of risky, uncertain, and perhaps dangerous activities. Training, good health, and sound judgement are the keys to successful adventuring.

I would however argue add that adventure (more appropriately misadventure) is not only a result of bad planning, but also a result of technological reliance and media propaganda.


Every magazine and commercial on the tele seems to say, "Get this product and you too can huck a waterfall or attain spiritual enlightenment upon reaching summit of Mt. Elbrus." Some of these products are for things like chewing gum, luxury vehicles, and cholesterol pills.


Many in our society believe that their GPS and their cell phone are all they require to lead them safely into the wilderness (where they'll probably call/text you from) and back to their luxury SUV.


This reliance on technology has created a false sense of security for people.


I know of one climbing ranger in the Tetons who summed up what cell phone reliance does for adventure seekers. "It makes locating the body easier."


The recent hurricaine in Texas brought up an issue in my mind regarding search and rescue; WHO PAYS FOR YOUR RESCUE?


Scenario: I am climbing Mount Washington in New Hampshire. I fall and fracture my leg. I create a shelter, adminster self-aid, and send a member of my climbing team for help I am rescued by the National Park Service in cooperation with the local SAR group and the NH Air National Guard. I get billed by the government for my rescue a few weeks later.


Scenario: I live on the Gulf of Mexico. I watch the television and track a significant hurricaine heading right for my town. The local authorities order a mandatory evacuation. Some even go so far as to recommend that I write my Social Security Number on my body in permanent marker in case they recover my body. I decide to stay and safeguard my property. I use my cell phone to call for help hours into the storm. THE LARGEST SEARCH AND RESCUE EFFORT IN TEXAS' HISTORY TAKES PLACE. It doesn't cost me a penny.

See adventure awaits everyone...all you need is poor judgement and a cell phone.

Look, listen, feel,
Ostrich

DON'T FORGET:

Vote the Environment...without it, we'are all dead (money can't buy life).

For more information about the candidates and their positoins on the environmnet, visit www.patagonia.com and click on the environmentalism tab.

SHELTER FROM THE STORM (Part II)

“Most of the time it was probably real bad being stuck down in a dungeon. But some days, when there was a bad storm outside, you'd look out your little window and think, "Boy, I'm glad I'm not out in that." --- Jack Handy

DISCLAIMER: Due to significant isolation and the onset of potential bloodborne viruses, exact times of events described in this post may be slightly inaccurate.

Some folks may feel like Jack Handy about an impending storm, however others may almost find a solace in the elemental experience of nature, even in the stings of mosquitoes.

Scratch, slap, spray (eucalyptus spray that is)...scratch, slap, spray...scratch, slap, spray. This sequence of activity was rapidly becoming our new routine as clouds billowed to the east.

Approximately 5:45 p.m. EST / We could feel the gradual inhalation of the clouds and knew the storm would be upon us soon, so nourishment became the priority. Our menu for the evening consisted of Kashi bruschetta crackers topped with pesto from a tube, babybel cheese, spaghetti with tomato/basil sauce, and a Stone Brewing company Ruination IPA.

We enjoyed our delicious meal marsh-side as the wind picked up and the sky darkened to an ominous level. I strolled out the path leading towards the bay. The breeze not only brought with it imminent winds and rains but also relief from the unrelenting bugs.

We figured this would be a significant storm, yet brief in nature and then the night would create a planetarium of sorts in this dark Delmarva nook. About 6:45/7:00 p.m., we heard the distant thunder rapidly gaining volume and shortly after the first rain drops hit.

We had prepped our camp. Tent anchored. Surfboards in the "chateau". Kayak hatches on. Headlamps at the ready. Now, we could enjoy the show. Tom and Paul brought cameras and went paparazzi.

We decided as the heart of this first storm was over us to take shelter in the old cabin. There were some loud cracks and some good booms, but it wasn't too bad. We briefly entertained the idea of darting to the beach for a quick surf as the sun even poked through a bit.

Then the thunder rumbles began again. It was about dusk...the sky was getting dark and we were losing light fairly quickly, so we opted to stay put.

We crawled into our bags round 9:00 p.m. Paul crashed. Tom seemed to follow suit shortly. I drifted in and out, but around 10:15 p.m., the artillery fire set in. I could hear the thunder miles away inching towards our location.

It sounded like two things. One. A train moving closer and closer, which made me think of one thing....tornado??? The second sound it resembled was artillery fire. I felt as if I was sitting in a fox hole and the bad guys were "walking" their shells onto my position. The situation was extremely eerie, but absolutely fascinating.

I've never encountered such calmness in the immediate air around me, and such unruliness in such close proximity. It was surreal, but I was digging it.

As the storm moved almost directly overhead, the Pink Floyd concert began. Lightning flashes illuminated the island. It was like we were on the inside of one of those electricity spheres looking out as arcs permeated in all directions.

We hunkered down in the tent for about 15 minutes, then Paul and I made break for the cabin with our sleeping bags. Tom stalled for a bit in the tent, however he shortly joined us.

From the cabin's doorway we watched the sky light up, and I am certain that numerous strikes hit the island. The intensity of the storm was initially a bit unsettling, however I got past that as the night lingered on.

One thing that did dwell in my subconscious a bit, that I must admit was partially due to the isolation and the darkness of the island but more likely a result of my imagination. As I gazed out the windows into the storm from the rustic old structure, I kept seeing that image of a flash of lightning, and then a crazed stranger standing outside of the window looking in.

Finally around 1:00 a.m., we crawled back into our bags in the refuge of our little tent, and we drifted off to the hum of skeeters peering in through the mesh.

The next morning provided us with glassy water conditions, a slight off shore wind and mostly blue skies. We broke camp in the most efficient manner to avoid being Sunday morning brunch and began the paddle for the main land.

Shelter comes in many forms; a sturdy cabin, the light of a headlamp, a good friend. In many ways, a trip like this provides one shelter from the daily storms of life.

Look, listen, feel, enjoy,

Ostrich

SHELTER FROM THE STORM (Part I)

“Remember what Bilbo used to say: It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.”

The Coast Guard vessel motored up along side of our kayaks...the young coastie said "You know there are severe thunderstorms today?" "Yeah, we know," was our response.

Tidal currents, firm headwinds, potentially infectious insects, and three venturesome friends in surfboard laden kayaks were the main ingredients needed for some Delmarva-based adventure gumbo.


There are 18 barrier islands ranging 60 miles from the Maryland/Virginia border to the tip of Cape Charles where the Chesapeake Bay meets the Atlantic Ocean. The plan was simple. Strap surfboards to the kayaks, stuff camping gear in the dry hatches, and paddle out to one of these islands in search of potential surf.


I drove south from Delaware with my friend Paul to the tiny fishing village of Wacheaprague, Virginia. Here we linked up with my friend Tom from Virginia Beach. We referenced the charts and discussed the impending "severe" weather...as long as we could make it out to the island before the weather set in, we concluded we'd be fine.


So, we commenced to stuff our kayaks like Thanksgiving turkeys. Tent, sleeping bags, headlamps, stove, grub, H2O, bug repellent, sunscreen, wetsuits, first aid gear, etc. We knew we'd encounter some "conditions" out there, so we wanted to be ready.


The paddle out went smooth for the most part. The outgoing tide pushed our yaks out nicely until the channel widened into numerous bays. There we had to earn our stripes and fight some firm headwinds. Needless to say, we made it out to the inlet between Cedar and Parramore Islands in good time. Our destination was the island to the south, Parramore.


We recognized the need to find shelter sooner than later since there were potentially menacing clouds to the west. We worked against an outgoing current and skirted the westward boundary of the island seeking a small waterway called Clubhouse Gut. The chart depicted a trail or path of sorts near the head of the gut, and we felt this was our best option to move into the interior of the island for some refuge.


The gut led us to an old dock. The tide was almost dead low which placed us about 8 feet below the top of the dock, thus forcing us to hoist our kayaks up a muddy bank to the path. An expeditious 1/4 mile carry to the edge of the woods was next in order due to the discovery of a "no trespassing, no camping, no fires, no hiking, no anything" sign that was on the dock. It was too late to attempt to return to the mainland, and we did not think anyone would question our decision to find a safe spot to weather the storm.


Upon strolling a mere step into the wooded area, our bodies were beset with mosquitos. Our quasi-pasty white skin turned blotchy as the fear of west nile virus and other exotic insect transmitted diseases coursed through our bodies.


We were seekers of surf, so we decided to make a run down the path and reap our bounty. This proofed to be a near fatal experience due to blood loss from the swarms and swarms and swarms and swarms of skeeters.


The island also proofed to be larger than we imagined as we ran for at least a solid 1/2 mile or more before arriving at the beach. The beach was amazing. It was a beach without development, without "nourishment" from man, and without litter or cigarette butts. My friend Paul commented that the beach looked like Indo with it's bleached and weathered trees scattered about or barely standing on eroded-away roots.


We had the majority of the afternoon to explore the beach, nap (as Tom enjoyed), and witness the slow migration eastward of stormy weather.


Aside from the continuous skirmishes with mosquitos and the abundance of ticks invading our bodies; our main concern was for the weather and at what time to dine. The path had led to the ocean (which unfortunately did not afford a surf opportunity this time), however it originated next to an uninhabited old home. This home would be our sanctuary, our shelter from the storm.

To be continued...

Look, listen, feel,
Ostrich

A Prophecy Fulfilled: My Underoos Weren't Lame After All

"No matter how many times you save the world, it always manages to get back in jeopardy again. Sometimes I just want it to stay saved! You know, for a little bit? I feel like the maid; I just cleaned up this mess! Can we keep it clean for... for ten minutes!" ---Mr. Incredible

We all have periods of our childhood that stand out. I can remember a time when villains wreaked havoc within the walls of my aunt's basement, and my cousins, my brother, and I fought valiantly against them to save the world from certain doom.

That basement was the lair of my imagination for many a day and night. It was the home to our very own Justice League of America (JLA). It was where kids ranged freely in their underwear fighting for right and good.

Many can remember what I am talking about; you know, the era of Under Roos. I had two pairs. Aquaman and Iron Man. Aquaman I could relate too, after all I am a Pisces. Now, Iron Man was a mystery to me, and he has remained so for decades.

My fellow JLA superheros consisted of Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, and Flash. These heroes were well-known and their powers both admired and loathed.

Iron Man. Let's see a metallic figure that was really only bulletproof. Now, that's pretty lame I thought. I was always bummed when my Aquaman suit was in the laundry, and I had to dress as Iron Man. I felt inadequate. I was essentially a perfect example of ignorance. For if I had read an Iron Man comic, I would have been fascinated by the capabilities of this super hero. I stress capabilities, because unlike Aquaman, who had the superpower to communicate with marine life, Iron Man was a result of the mind and technology.

This knowledge came to me last night after viewing the new Iron Man movie starring Robert Downey, Jr. (an excellent job as the superhero I must say) and Gyneth Paltrow (oh what a versatile and adorable actor she is).

Essentially, I learned that Iron Man is pretty bad ass. He can fly, shoot, and think.

I now feel a lot better about those red briefs with the gold waistband. Yeah, I could have kicked Superman's butt instead of just acting like his human shield as we fought the bad guys.

Oh well, I'll sleep well tonight knowing Iron Man is in the basement.

Look, listen, feel, (and fight the bad guys),
Ostrich

Dad, this is a good book

Yesterday, my daughter Jade, my son Heron, and I went over to my parents house to play outside for a bit; as they have a woods, a crystal-clear, winding branch, and perhaps most importantly in Jade's eyes, a tree house.

The sky was brilliantly blue. Fields were wavy green. Tree buds exploded everywhere. Birds were jamming in the treetops. It was sweatshirt weather....not too hot, not too cold...a great day to lie in the grass and observe absolutely nothing but your own imagination.

Of course with a 1 and 1/2 year old and an almost 3 year old, my observations of the imagination were limited to about a minute per year of age....I almost made it to five. Regardless, hanging with the kids is a constant rebirth if you will. We hung out in the tree fort, bounced on the trampoline, made helicopters out of maple buds, dug a hole, filled in a hole, swung, ran aimlessly at high speeds, ate goldfish, waved to an airplane, got chased by a puppy, hid from mom-mom, and played tractors. All of this was completed in about a half-an-hour.

Jade found a part of an old bird ID book in the tree fort. I can remember this exact book from when I was only a tad bigger than she. She was holding maybe 1/4 of the actual book. There was no cover. A few pages in the middle were hanging loosely. The pages were faded from exposure to the elements. She turned to me as we walked towards the pond, and she said, "Dad, this is a good book."

"This is a good book." She said it with 100% percent seriousness. She wholeheartedly felt that her 1/4 of a book was perfect. She was excited to show me every page.

She made me think about two things. One is consumption. From now on before I think that I need something, I am going to say to myself..."this is a good_____." Then I am going to ask myself if it really needs replacing...most likely it'll still serve its purpose just fine.

The other thing that Jade taught me again for the thousandth time in her young life is that amazement abounds. Everything is amazing; sometimes it just takes looking at it from a different angle (perhaps from 3 feet high instead of 6'4").

Oh the wisdom of children.

"People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child -- our own two eyes. All is a miracle." Thich Nhat Hanh

Look, listen, feel, enjoy,
Ostrich