Here the water is a capricious beauty, changing colors on a whim like outfits to suit her mood. Blues and greens are favorites, but I have also seen gloomy greys and the softest of pinks. And after every sunset she dons a jet black evening gown sparkling with sequins of bioluminescence. One might guess this mystical image was captured in the quiet tranquility of night—but it is merely a fluke of both light and dolphin.

A unique photo captured during our first day exploring Golfo Dulce; it is a reflection of the water’s magic.

Our boat engine repaired (with epoxy, a small but mighty step above duct tape), I am at last on the water, searching for and documenting marine life in this remote Costa Rican embayment. And I’m excited to share a peek at some of the animals and waterscapes that have already crossed my shutter.

This is a more clear picture of the Pantropical Spotted dolphin (Stenella attennata).

Gregarious family groups are prone to bow-riding and dancing in our wake.

Bottlenose dolphins (Turciops truncates) are residents here.

                             They tend to be more timid in nature and it is a rare treat to have them approach the boat like this.

            Endangered sea turtles nest on the beaches. 

The high season for Olive Ridleys has passed and right now we are seeing mostly Chelonias (regionally called Black sea turtles).

This is a Yellow-bellied sea snake (Pelamis platurus).

                                                                           It's one of the species I’m most interested in.

Golfo Dulce is home to a xanthic phase, too, which is completely and strikingly yellow! I have seen two such snakes drawing Ss on the surface of deep blue water but, so far, I’ve failed to snap a decent photo.

          To the northeast, near Piedras Blancas National Park there are remnants of a once-thriving coral reef with tiny  

                               colorful fish still active in the teal water.

 This is but one of the many soothing sights that compensate my effort.

I am working hard, endless hours. But, truth told, much of this project has been carried on the shoulders of Jorge.

Jorge, who has stood beside me for every fisherman interview, ready to clear up confusion my poor Spanish might cause… who has solved every mechanical crisis with incredible ingenuity (the delicate epoxy work was genius and the motor is running with good efficiency!)… who every day helps me haul a tremendous amount of gear and gasoline to and from the marina… who deftly captains our craft, managing the logistics of my destination requests… and who can reliably spot a dolphin dorsal from one kilometer over troubling seas.

           Above all his capability, Jorge is congenial, an ideal partner for my study.

We are also occasionally joined by Gareth,  a field biologist from the states whose parents live here, and who brings good sense, strong muscle and a steady demeanor to the survey.

Generally up at 4:30am, we are on the water before the sun makes her 6am entrance on Stage East.

Every performance is a little different and I could make a series of my morning shots.

               Occasionally the day brings a small surprise.

                              Like a tiny eel squirming strangely at the surface.

   Or a smooth deep-water current carrying several Portuguese Man-o-wars

                                                                           (Physalia physalis), blue stinging tentacles trailing in its drift.

         Of course we see gulls.  

Along with Brown pelicans…  

                     …and Brown boobies.

I, too, am turning brown (well, everything except my boobies). We spend 6-8 hours per day traversing the gulf, which we’ve divided into four Geographical Areas. By noon, the sun picks at our skin and eyes.

But the sense of freedom we find carving across the wild blue with sea breeze pouring over the bow is one of life’s most perfect sensations.

With 22 days remaining, I still want to photograph Humpback whales and whale sharks. It may happen. After all, the water is lovely and she lures many creatures…

                           …including hopeful humans (Homo sapien).

Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air… Ralph Waldo Emerson

   Dad and Marie-Laure have lived on an epic arch of California hillside for coming on thirty years. Their charming little ranch house is filled with wonderful food, books and artwork. The sitting area is held between a baby grand piano and a hospitable hearth—both are perfect for warming chilled bones.

                                          Yes, inside it’s always cozy and comfortable.

   Yet perhaps the most alluring aspect of this homestead is the surrounding landscape. Dad and Marie-Laure live in a wildlife wonderland. Their private acreage is bordered by miles of undeveloped parcels. Long grasses trip across rugged canyons, which twist like crumpled paper until they kiss the toes of Mount San Gorgonio, the highest peak in Southern California. Throughout the years, many wild animals have been seen and photographed on the property; Dad and Marie-Laure keep their cameras at the ready. This week they have been kind enough to share some of their favorite images/series. I hope you enjoy...

          a bobcat in the wildflowers - only ears at first sight

                                                         backlit raven collecting nest material

           a young bear next to the house     another adult treed by dogs

                           two fiesty ravens mob a red-tailed hawk                    

                                                          a marsh hawk's "skirt" blows

                                                                                 a male harrier (marsh) hawk in flight

one curious coyote     

                  a sweet little brown towhee, one of the many songbirds that brighten the air

         a great-horned owl   

                                     a mule deer leaping off into the distance

Wonderful sights, don't you agree? A giant thanks to my dad for collecting and sizing all the pictures for this special photo blog from the ranch. Gosh, looking at all these awesome animals, I just can't wait to go back over for another visit!

 “C’mon!” I call from up by the chicken coop, “Time for ‘the family parade!’”

Ninety pounds of smiling dog muscle trots in my direction. Sweet gentle Meggie. With cheeks curled up at the corners and thick tail beating the air, she is ready to go. Moxie, her antithesis, two bold pounds of spotted Chihuahua, already wiggles at my feet.

“The family parade” is what I call our morning and evening walks around the property, a chance to stretch our legs and remember our good fortune for having such bountiful views in every direction.

                                                        As we stroll,  our steps kick up dirt on the tractor road that cuts out to the canyon and wraps neatly back around to the house. I have just let the fowl out for a day of pecking and in the peachy glow rising off the horizon we can hear the young roosters hollering their cock-a-doodle-good-mornings to anyone who will listen.

This place, my father’s 16-acre ranch in the dry scrub-covered hills of Southern California just west of Palm Springs is, for me, a place of great peace.

       Of collecting my thoughts.  Of escaping the day-to-day bustle of the city.

I am watching the property while Dad and Marie-Laure do some escaping of their own—a wedding anniversary trip to visit friends in the Pacific Northwest. So for now it is me,

                                                                                                   Moxie,

              Meggie,

                                                                                    Minou the cat,

       four French sheep,

                                                                                            several chickens and turkeys,  

          and a whole lot of fresh air.

Walking with the dogs settles my mind and binds me back to the earth, to the here-and-now. I relish their companionship. Indeed, they are essential to this heavenly sliver of life on the Banning Bench. But there is wildness here that simultaneously captures my heart. My eyes naturally scan for wildlife on the ranch, a shy coyote skimming a knoll or a hawk flushing prey from a stand of green bushes.

   As we reach the edge of the canyon   and pause to watch the valley below fill with golden light, I promise myself I will show you some of the ranch’s wildlife—the bears and bobcats and birds—I will show them to you in my next blog. Yes, a short photo essay from Dad and Marie-Laure’s extensive collection of images; that will be wonderful! They are great photographers and I know you'll be pleased.

“Let’s go, guys,” I rally the dogs, who have wandered off into the grasses, bored with my reverence for the sunrise. They come quickly and we turn toward home.

                                                                                                There are sheep to feed.

Let’s join forces and clean up aquatic habitats! Ocean Conservancy will hold their 24th annual Coastal Clean Up on September 19th, 2009. That’s a Saturday. And there are scheduled sites around the globe, including inland lakes and rivers, so even if you don’t live near the ocean, you can still do your part. The event is only a month away, so sign up with your family and friends at: http://www.signuptocleanup.org.

Last year 400,000 participants coordinated efforts in 100 countries to remove nearly 7 million pounds of trash—yes, 7 MILLION POUNDS of TRASH!

                     Mottled domes of shell wing slow and steady as time across vibrant reefs of coral.

                                Sea turtles of sweet mystery.

                     Wiggly bodies, all eye and color in soft pallets and neon flare nibble tender feathers of algae.

                                               Fish of our lifeblood.

                     Blue behemoths, a hundred feet of glorious blubber, heart and baleen gape krill in the crystalline space.

                                     Whales of living legend.

                     Divers, black neoprene and plexiglass, capture whisps of plastic, slick as jellies, and take them away.

                                                         Hero of all.

Kevin and I are planning to work at Lake Pleasant in Phoenix, Arizona to support the underwater cleanup there (see, there are even clean-up sites in the desert). We hope there will be lots of people diving with us and tidying the shore. Wherever you live, whatever river, lake or ocean you love best, whichever aquatic animals speak to your heart, please join this important effort.

       Alone, we can make a difference.  Together we can save the sea.

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It’s a perfect morning in Santa Barbara, cool and fogless. Salty smooth water laps the harbor wood just below my feet.     

                             Already my eye is drawn to the sea lions bobbing on buoys just beyond the pier, their dark wet pelts warming in the sun’s early light.

Dave sees me coming and smiles from the wheel house. I wave, hand high overhead, as I skip down the dock ramp,

and then up three swift steps to board the Condor Express.

Known for both speed and comfort, this boat is considered by many naturalists to be the best whale-watching vessel on the entire Pacific coast. It runs out of the Santa Barbara marina, bearing tourists and locals to explore the region’s famous Channel Islands as well as an abundance of off-shore wildlife.

Dave Beezer, friend and today’s captain, has generously invited me along for the morning excursion. It’s been a while since my last visit and I’m excited to catch up with him.

I adore all the people on the Condor Express—Captain Mat Curto (who, sadly, isn’t around today), owner Fred Benko and the many naturalists who educate passengers have proven good friends and excellent purveyors of seafaring adventure. Fred and Dave also work with Channel Islands Marine and Wildlife Institute (http://www.cimwi.org), a marine wildlife rescue organization with medical facilities nearby.

With all ticketed passengers aboard, Dave slowly maneuvers our craft out of the harbor and I find myself looking back on Santa Barbara, tiers of red-roofed mission-style houses held in a frame of voluptuous mountains. I am always taken by the way the city’s charm spills down from the green hills to the wide sandy beach that spreads like a carpet before its crystalline cove. The cove we are now departing for deeper broth.

  It’s not long before we are surrounded by our first curious and playful pod of Delphinis: common dolphins. They arc over and over, folding the water like silver ribbons. Their dance leads us to a feeding site. Pelicans and gulls lift from the frenzy as we arrive.

Everyone loves marine mammals, but sea birds are equally divine!

The first time I met Captain Mat and the crew was in 2006—that was the year I worked with California condors down in Baja, Mexico, so naturally I inquired about the boat’s moniker. As the story goes, many moons ago, Fred was considering names for his first boat. He was relaxing with his then young son and they were staring into a crisp indigo sky when an enormous black bird inked out the sun overhead. It was a California condor! This was before the recovery effort came into play, when a few wild condors were still flying along mountainous coastal regions of Central California. (Thanks to biologists, condors have been returned to this range.)

That first boat, The Condor, later gave way to this larger, faster vessel, which Fred christened Condor Express. It's a good name.

 Dave motors the vessel west looking for Grey whales migrating from Baja to Alaska. Many have been seen in the previous days and we are hopeful. But, alas, no Greys today. Such is the predictable unpredictability of nature.

However, we do spot a sea otter.    His small brown body bobs in our wake as we turn about for a closer look. In typical otter fashion, he floats on his back, webbed hands resting across his chest like a man preparing for a nap.

Occasionally he tumbles and rolls before popping back into his prone position—otters do not have a layer of blubber to keep them warm; rather they have ~200 thousand strands of hair per centimeter and rely on an insulating layer of air trapped in their fur—the rolling is done to fluff up and blow air between hairs for thermal protection.

We are lucky—this handsome fellow is tolerant and allows us plenty of observation time before disappearing in search of peace and abalone.

We continue our search for whales. Humpbacks maybe? They’ve been around reliably this week, too. We search and search… but no joy. 

Then suddenly a large figure surfaces ahead on the port side—definitely a whale! Gasps and giggles bring us to our feet as a ragged thrill runs through the passengers. The whale, unbothered by our presence, casually dives.

Dave courses to the left and slows to idle when we arrive at the “footprint” (a slick patch of water made by a whale’s tail when diving). Our boat totters like a happy drunk, swaying over the gentle waves. Everyone is pinned against the railing in anticipation of the next inhalation.

The down time is counted. One minute. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. We wait.

At last a towering blow lifts to the sky just abeam the boat! Twin blow holes suck in an immense amount of air, followed into the sunlight by a long stretch of blackish skin, then a small sharp dorsal fin. It’s a Fin whale! What a treat! This is the second largest living species on the whole planet; only the Blue whale is bigger.

And this beautiful behemoth is in no rush. It takes several easy breaths at the surface, offering a wonderful close up view, before diving again. We remain patient and each breathing cycle delivers more opportunities to oogle the awesome size and splendor of this finback whale!

Time stretches and too soon we must go; Dave points the Condor Express toward the harbor. My heart is still a-pitter-patter from all that we have seen and a persistence smile pins my cheeks to my earlobes. Sea lions, dolphins, pelicans, otters and whales... all in just a few short hours. I am giddy. Caught in a natural high (quite literally).

I am ever thankful to be able go out with friends and see such spectacular wildlife sightings. And all I can think on the way back to shore is:

                                                  What extraordinary magic exists in this world!