By the Sea: A Photographic Voyage Around the Blue Planet PDF
Preview By the Sea: A Photographic Voyage Around the Blue Planet
Lovingly dedicated to my buoyant, inspiring mom Judith, who nurtured me while afloat on a prenatal maiden voyage, then accompanied me on my earliest oceanic crossing, and always offered welcome harbor during a lifetime of following my own compass. BY THE SEA CONTENTS VISIONS SAILING LIVING WORKING PLAYING EATING WILDLIFE INTRODUCTION Waves crash onto shore. They surge atop shallow waters and dump a briny load upon the ragged edges of a continent. Tendrils of opalescent foam scrub the clattering rocks, their repetitive erosion promising future eons an inheritance of sandy beach. From great distances, relentless columns of swelling currents break with a sonorous roar. Their hypnotic rhythm hums a soundtrack that entertains sun-tanners, bolsters seaside yoga meditation, and muffles the insistent cry of gulls catching the winds. The gusts that generated this pounding surf might well have originated thousands of miles offshore, and those same salty breezes have, throughout millennia, powered sailing vessels commuting across hemispheres to shape the stories of civilization. As populations migrated across our globe, maritime trading routes stitched together distant coastal seaports, offering prosperity through exchanges of prized goods and knowledge. A thirst for gold, silver, spices, and, sadly, free human labor fostered a burgeoning capitalism, fueled the development of sailing technology, and prompted an ever-growing network of seaward traffic. Competition to guard these nautical highways eventually led to marine warfare, the construction of forts to protect harbors, and the erection of lighthouses to aid in navigation. Ports became coveted geopolitical prizes, spawning urban hubs that beckoned increasing settlement and spurred a growing fleet of navigable vessels. Ships plying crowded maritime lanes are now digitally ushered by satellite-guided GPS, but were for centuries dependent upon the astrolabe, sextant, and calculations derived from the sun and the stars. A quarter million miles away, the moon bleaches earth’s nighttime darkness and yanks at the sea with a gravitational tug that’s responsible for the tides pulsing from oceans into bays, through coves, and up winding rivers. As the earth spins, these throbbing waters provide the framework for a bounty of maritime activities. Fishing schedules, coral growth, tidal mills, birding patterns, cargo movements, walrus haul-outs, and the adrenal glands of surfing aficionados are all set in motion by the rhythmic dance of the tide. Twice daily, these high tides appear in a pattern of syncopation with the daily sunrise and sunset, marking the passage of time and the pages of our memory. My own very earliest memory was as a two-year-old, awed and mesmerized by the vast expanse of horizon oscillating beyond the portholes of a cruise liner’s transoceanic voyage. Though most of my adolescence was spent navigating both neighborhood playgrounds and the hallways of academia, I returned to the sea in my thirties, working aboard snug expedition ships and majestic sailing vessels. Hooked in with a safety belt for protection from rogue waves, I’ve slept in the rocking netting of a tall ship’s bowsprit, put to sleep by a South Pacific moon ping-ponging across the towering foremast, and awakened to a pod of squealing dolphins surfing the bow wave. I’ve photographed sailors setting the canvas beneath me while atop the world’s highest mizzenmast, clinging tightly to the wrong end of the great wooden pendulum as it swayed to the beat of the restless surf. In a more stationary position amidst a frozen ocean, I’ve looked down onto technicians working on an icebreaker’s radar tower at the North Pole, recording photographic proof that my own location was higher atop the planet’s surface than all of the 5.2 billion humans inhabiting it at that time. I’ve paddled a miniature outrigger through a floating market bouncing past the impossibly remote coastline of Ali Island in New Guinea and sailed a bangka through pirate- infested channels and beneath soaring limestone cliffs in the Palawan archipelago of the Philippines. Amongst goats and chickens, I’ve received premature wake-up calls aboard a pint-sized mailboat weaving its way through a cluster of forgotten islands in the Bahamas. I’ve occupied the bridge of a hurricane-tossed vessel in the menacing Irish Sea as its captain clenched his fist and cursed defiantly at the towering formations of violent breakers and hair- raising maelstroms. All the while, I’ve pondered the deeply emotional pull that the high seas can exert on those who thrive amidst the bounding main. It seems our ineffable connection with the sea has been spawned by a pragmatic need for survival and forged by a materialistic desire for its treasures. The soothing sensations of the shoreline can alter brain waves, promoting a healing neuropsychology, and provide an aquatic stadium for our athletic prowess, a playground for childhood development, and a luxury amenity for resorts and home owners. The sea has stirred romantic instincts that flowered with the epic poetry of Homer, the exotic legends of Sinbad, the exquisite maritime landscapes
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