Sunday March 30, 2008 – History, Trash and Movies
(0 miles)
It was 10 am and despite the high angle of the sun, the light struggled to pierce the thick canopy of leaves that hung over my head. Behind me in the distance I could hear ocean waves crashing on the shell covered beaches of Tanguissan. A thin mist hovered just above the surface of the jungle floor as I pushed further into the darkness. I lowered the brim of my hat and there, concealed in the shadows alongside a fallen palm leaf, I found what I had come to see, an ancient pottery shard from over 500 years ago. Essentially, ancient trash. As I moved forward for a closer look, a single beam of light pierced the rustling leaves and illuminated the weathered artifact that had been constructed by the taotaomo’na or ‘ancestors’ of Guam.
CRUNCH! I stumbled as my foot pressed down on an empty beer can concealed on the jungle floor.
CRACK! Startled by the noise I jumped only to land on a half broken glass bottle.
SQUISH…POP! To regain my balance I stepped backwards landing my foot and all my body weight firmly on a three day old, disposable diaper; the festering contents of which exploded from the seams threatening to spackle my shoes and lower legs.
It is a Chamorro belief that the jungle needs to be respected. It is believed that before even entering the jungle one has to ask permission. But of course on this particular day I entered the jungle to find it littered, not with the artifacts of Guam’s forepeople but instead with the artificats of twenty first century.
Beverage cans, styrofoam plates, batteries, laminated chip bags, toilet paper and dirty diapers all littered the floor of the jungle. This area, supposedly a sacred area where the taotaomo’na spirits live, is now a trash dump.
Today members of the Beachwalk Project gathered together with Underwater World, students of the Marine Mania Biology Club and students of Sharks M.A.D.E.(Making a Difference in the Environment) to clean up Tanguissan Beach. With about twenty volunteers and four hours, the small group filled over eighty trash bags and thirty bags with recyclable bottles.
“My grandfather taught me to ask permission just to enter the jungle.” said Evelyn to Lacee Martinez of the Pacific Daily News, “today people just use it as a place to bring their trash.”
The future, however looks promising. Of those picking up trash today, the majority of the participants were high school students participating in clubs such as Marine Mania mentored by individuals like Linda Tatreau who have found there is a large group of students in Guam who feel compelled to, “to promote marine awareness and to protect the environment.”
Later that evening as the sun fell below the horizon and the sky became dark Evelyn and I found ourselves at Asan Beach for Movies in the Park to present photos of our travels along the coastlines of America. Our last photo was of the trash at Tanguissan Beach. Our challenge is to take the same photo, in the same spot next year. Will there still be the trash? Or will the actions of people like Linda Tatreau, and the students of Marine Mania and M.A.D.E. inspire others to demonstrate respect for the jungles of Guam which serve as the home for not just the ancestors of our past like the taotaomo’na but more importantly for the people of our future like our children.
Sunday March 30, 2008 – History, Trash and Movies
Saturday March 29, 2008 – Day at the Races!
Saturday March 29, 2008 – Day at the Races!
(0 miles)
Today we went to the races in Tumon Bay. Starting early at 7 am, the Interscholastic High School Paddling Races launched the outrigger racing season. The day began with the traditional blessing of a new outrigger added to a fleet of outrigger canoes at Matapang beach. Although the students attempted to stand still and show respect for this event, they shifted and struggled to suppress the tension of competition that hung in warm, humid air.
As the sun slipped higher into the horizon the first of the 6 person canoes headed off the beach and into the clear waters of Tumon Bay. As the remaining boats pushed off, I closed my eyes and imagined the crafts that had departed from this very spot hundreds of years before the Spanish had even arrived.
It was organized chaos as the 500 meter races began and the silhoettes of the first canoes approached from the South. Commands coming from the canoe teams echoed across the still water to the onlookers on the beach, who began to stir and murmur as the canoes neared the finish line. Coaches in their wide-brimmed straw hatts trotted barefoot in ankle deep water keeping pace with the boats of their team. A cheer erupted as the first team passed the finish line while other coaches encouraged the remaining teams to continue to paddle hard for the finish. 500 meters was covered in times as fast as 2 minutes 20 seconds which translates into an average boat speed of about 7.5 miles an hour. Could you wakeboard behind that?
The action continued for much of the morning as the they ran Girls, Boys and Mixed heats. Evelyn and I toured the tents that lined the beach to meet with the various teams hiding from the hot sun including her old school, JFK and the Simon Sanchez Sharks whose school we had presented to earlier this week.
I wondered what these students would be doing on this particular Saturday if the races did not exist. Where would they be? I admire the principal supported by Guam Kayak and Canoe Federation which encourages an appreciation for the environmental and cultural traditions of the island through the promotion of both recreational and competitive paddling sports.
Steve Kasperbauer for Alupang Beach Club agrees.
“The more people get out on this water and see how incredible it is, the more they will want to get involved in the protection of it.” said Steve when I talked with him earlier this week.
Our team has also discovered that paddlers, windsurfers, surfers and fishers alike are more invested and aware of the importance of protecting waters in the regions where they pursue their recreation.
As the midday sun reached high into the sky, and the races came to a close for the day, another paddle entered the water. It was that of Sean Pangelinan. His craft was a narrow, kevlar fiber olympic canoe. Quietly kneeling, Sean paddled swifty across the glassy waters of the bay practicing what is a relatively new sport for him but has been a medal sport in the Olympics since 1936. Onlookers paused from their games in the water to watch as this curious craft drifted by, barely creating ripples in the water. Passing by the High School competitors, his paddling was an inspiration for them just as current Olympians stand as an inspiration for him.
I think to myself, “Where will Sean be twenty years from now? Where will his love for water and competition in these beautiful boats take him and how will he use this unique talent and passion to make a difference in the lives of the people he meets along the way?”
I am clearly not destined to be an Olympian and chances are that many of the High School competitors will experience a fate similar to mine. What I do hope is that each of us will consider what gifts and what passions we do have and use them in a way that makes this funny place called earth a little better than we found it.
Friday March 28, 2008 – KaYACKERS of the BeachTALK Project
Friday March 28, 2008 – KaYACKERS of the BeachTALK Project
(0 miles)
Friday was a day when the BeachWALK Project became the BeachTALK Project. With special thanks to Jenn Farley of Underwater World our small team was scheduled to give presentations at two different schools: Guam High School and Simon Sanchez High School.
DDESS Guam High School sits on top of Nimitz Hill, in the former COMNAVMARIANAS headquarters. The total district enrollment is about 2400 students and out presentation was to about 300 students in the cafeteria. The students were very receptive as we told them about ourAtlantic Coast venture and some issues that we found common on both the Atlantic Coast in Guam. I only wish that we could spend a week with each of these classrooms to exchange ideas and to explore original, imaginative solutions to some of the problems our watersheds face today. At the end of our presentation we had our first interview with a High School film production team. I was inspired to discover the students that were performing such professional tasks were in tenth grade. What great assets they will be to the community.
After a short drive and two cans of Mr. Brown’s coffee we arrived a Simon Sanchez High School in the village of Yigo. Simon Sanchez, home of the Sharks, has incredible school spirit. This school is deeply involved in recycling (I-recycle), outrigger canoe racing and beach clean-ups. The nature of some of the questions following our presentation demonstrated that these student truly understood what needs to be done to protect Guam. Many of these students, coming from families with generations on Guam, offered perspectives to environmental stewardship that promoted a fine balance between sensitivity to cultural traditions and sophisticated sustainable practices.
Following our presentations and feeling re-energized, we visited some of our sponsors, including Katie Black from Continental Airlines, Kathy of Avis Rental Car and Government of Guam Credit Union to share with them our inspiration from the youth of Guam. These companies, like many other in Guam have been there to support youth programs. It is our hope that they will set the example for all companies to give back to the communities that they serve.
Thursday March 27, 2008 – Buni Search
Thursday March 27, 2008 – Buni Search
Various Dededo Farms (0 miles)
Feeling rather stiff and old, we opted to avoid paddling today. Besides, today was family day. Early in the morning we called Evelyn’s mother, the lovely Rosalina Tenorio Prog.
“Na, lets go find some Buni’is” said Evelyn on the phone to her mother.
Within minutes we were in the van, rolling toward Dededo to pick up Evelyn’s mom. Forty minutes and more than a dozen wrong turns later we arrived at an old friend’s farm in the hills of Dededo. A greeting party of several dogs, a few chickens, a mother pig and her piglets escorted us to the front door of the house, where we met with Evelyn’s friend Freddy Gangie and his mother Maria.
In an incredibly generous gesture Freddy handed Evelyn a bag full of the small, toxic and just downright angry Buni peppers.
“These…” said Evelyn, handing me the bag, “should be handled like a live explosives. Rub your eyes after touching these and they will melt. Eat them raw and you will DIE.”
I lifted a pepper out of the bag, faking to eat it.
“Go ahead. Eat it. Go ahead.” said Evelyn. “You have LIFE insurance. I’ll be okay.”
“Hmmm?” thought I. “Perhaps I should be a bit more careful.”
After rinsing my hands with fresh water in the van, I joined Freddy and Evelyn for a tour of the property. Scattered in small plots along the land we harvested delicious fruits from coconut, banana, papaya, and mandarin trees. We dug a small radish and visited robust pigs and chickens.
In serene irony this garden of eden emerged from fields littered with abandoned cars. The cinder block and reebar ruins of half finished pig pens quietly returned to the shadows of jungle overgrowth. I asked Freddy about the contrast of neatly planted trees, the unfinished buildings and the random debris on the property.
“Typhoons man.” he answered.
The destructive force of Typhoons definitely affect the psyche of the island locals. Each year typhoons threaten to wipe the slate clean by demolishing houses, submerging streets, and pulling the roots of thousands of trees and plants. Every year mother nature’s extreme form of spring cleaning threatens the locals to start over. Even developers in tourism, like Stever Kasperbaurer of Alupang Beach Club have had years of work and financial investment washed away by Typhoons.
“You have to plant local plants.” said Freddy with regards to agriculture. “They once had a coffee plantation here but it didn’t work. They grew real well, but the typhoons took the plants out.” Freddy, like many other farmers on the island have accidentally discovered the importance of permaculture, using native plants in sustainable agriculture and landscaping.
Other issues such as development of sustainable buildings and the disposal of consumer goods continue to be a challenge in Guam. The disposal of cars is not unique to Freddy’s property, but is an issue that is throughout the island. The unfinished construction of pig pens is small in scale to some hotel buildings that remain vacant and unrepaired from past typhoons.
Ultimately success on Guam is achieved through sustainable development and agriculture. Using native plants for food sources and to form a landscaping shield that protects building projects from the affects of erosion and high winds.
The small island of Guam is unique in its beauty. It is also unique in the strength and tenacity is must sustain when faced with the fury of the ocean.
Wednesday March 26, 2008 – Kayaking Lobsters
Wednesday March 26, 2008 – Kayaking Lobsters
Tumon Bay to Agat (20 miles)
“Amazing what I’ll do just for a hotel room!” said Beachwalk team member Moses Winston who had joined the Beachwalk Project for our Guam venture.
Our friends, Moses and Martha Winston from New Mexico had agreed nearly six months ago to assist the Beachwalk team with logistics for the Guam venture. Martha Winston, like Evelyn, grew up in Guam but now lives with her family far away in New Mexico. While Martha helped Evelyn with final planning for the project, Moses agreed to accompany me on some legs of the kayaking around Guam.
As it turns out Moses like Stein and I during the Atlantic Coast venture had had quite a bit of experience with the ocean but had very little previous experience with kayaking. As we pushed off from Tumon bay at 7 am, Moses spent the first ten minutes ‘familiarizing’ himself with this new watercraft. (‘Familiarizing’ being a fancy term for accidentally capsizing the craft and then awkwardly clammering back on board).
Per Rick Appleton’s advice we located the marked natural ‘cut’ in the reef and pushed out through the moderate surf. Moses paddled like a champ. Champ being a loose term.
Within the hour as the sun lifted into the sky a favorable tail wind picked up and pushed us towards our destination of Apra Harbor and eventual Agat Marina.
The boats, supplied by Steve Kasperbauer from Alupang Beach Club proved to be both comfortable and fast. Despite using sit-inside kayaks from Old Town during our Atlantic Coast venture last year, we chose to experiment with sit-on-top kayaks for the warm waters of Guam. Alupang Beach Club, the principal retailer of Ocean Kayaks in Micronesia worked with our team to supply two sit-on-top kayaks, paddles and PFD’s for our Guam venture.
“These boats are affordable, easy to paddle and so versatile that the whole family can share the same boat.” said Steve of Alupang Beach Club, who is currently exploring the possibility of incorporating kayaking into school intramural programs in Guam. Steve hopes that the kayaks, which are made largely from recycled plastic could also eventually serve as a principal vehicle for many waterway based societies in Micronesia. “The sit-on-top kayaks offer a huge work surface for fishing, transporting supplies, or sharing the ride with the whole family.”
Moses proved to be a fast learner and soon was paddling at a surprising pace. With the added help of flying a Kayak kite, Moses and I manage to reach the Glass Break of Apra Harbor at about 11 am.
Of course travel on the ocean is rarely predictable and just when you think you have it figured out, you’re reminded that best laid plans can quickly change on the deep blue sea.
Foolishly feeling optimistic about our hero rate of travel I called Evelyn on the phone.
“Hi Evelyn.” I greeted her with confident enthusiasm. “Listen, we’re cranking along here. I expect we’ll be in Agat Marina in less than two hours.”
Minutes after hanging up with Evelyn we rounded the corner of Apra Harbour. Pa-wow! We were blasted with a sustained, 10-15 knot headwind. I recalled some simple kayak arithmetic: Tailwind=good, Headwind=bad. Suddenly our comfortable, Cadillac pace of 4 knots was slowed to a rather painful, no break pace of 2 knots per hour. That’s about as fast as a one legged frog dragging a five pound coconut.
Hiding in what wind shadow we could find, Moses and I paddled up close to the base of the 200 foot cliffs of Orote Peninsula, passing over the famous Guam diving spots of The Wall, Blue Hole and Sharks Pit. Considering the water just a deer’s leep from the shoreline is over six hundred feet deep, this would be a bad place to drop your wrist watch.
Passing under the sound of gunfire from the Naval Reserve we continued our struggle to Agat Marina.
I flinched at each volley of gunfire.
“Don’t worry bout the sound Bob.” Shouted Moses over the din. “It’s the pluck plucks in the water that you want to be concerned about!”
A few well earned miles later, our desicated hides drifted in to Agat Marina. Big celebrations ensued with our arrival as Evelyn and Martha presented us with fresh mangos, bananas, and eebac fruit that a local Chamorro had allowed them to pick from trees in his front yard.
Moses stumbled stiffly from the kayak, staggered to his wife, devoured the fruit, swallowed a few tablets of Alleve and discussed the need for a future back rub. I myself rolled awkwardly from my own boat and staggered toward my wife. A hug from Evelyn gave me the rather burning revelation that my sunscreen application had been somewhat inadequate earlier that day. I had become the proverbial red lobster. A victim of equatorial sun exposure ignorance. Ouch.
Several pints of Aloe later I found myself with Evelyn, Moses, and Martha in Chamorro Village devouring beef kelaguin, and drinking melon juice. Locals paused to stare at my red, blistering legs and forearms. Japanese tourists paused to take pictures but I requested they not use the flash. Me, I just burned, ached and smiled. Twenty miles for Beachwalk, a belly full of great Chamorro food, awesome Chamorro music, and just a small cup of Tuba by my side.
Tuesday March 25, 2008 – Trash, Springs and other things
Tuesday March 25, 2008 – Trash, Springs and other things
Today, was still zero miles travelled but great progress was made. After an early morning swim in the bay I headed over to Underwater World to meet with a group of individuals from several organizations interested in starting a Waterkeeper Program in Guam.
After my twenty minute presentation about how a Waterkeeper program could be helpful here in Guam we moved into an open discussion which quickly revealed to me that perhaps my twenty minutes introduction was unneeded.
What soon became evident to me is that the watershed problems in Guam may have their own unique details but they do not stand unique in their stories. Many of the situations that Guam is facing today have been overcome by other Waterkeeper programs throughout the US and internationally.
Using these past situations as case studies for situations unique to Guam will empower concerned citizens with the information they need to win and resolve many of the issues with Guam’s watersheds.
I invite anyone concerned with the Watersheds in Guam to contact the education program at Underwater World or contact Waterkeeper Alliance (www.waterkeeper.org) directly to learn about the efforts being made in Guam to establish a Waterkeeper Office.
In the afternoon, the Beachwalk team visited nearby (well…everything is nearby in Guam) Asan and Agana Springs to learn more about problems they face in preserving these unique water resources and what is being done currently to revitalize them.
Not being an incredible biologist or scientist myself there was one problem common between both of these locations that I thought could be very quickly resolved. Trash! Trash is the first indicator of a community’s interest in pride and ownership in the quality of the environment where they work and play. Old cars, food wrappers, beverage cans and oil cans were present at both sites, and Asan springs in particular. It would be great to see some signs put up at Asan springs to suggest no dumping and no littering.
The trash we saw was not specific to any age group or culture. From Spam cans to old cars, it was everybody’s trash. It would be great to see everyone who lives in or visits Guam to take ownership in this beautiful island and work together to preserve it and to educate the next generation on what they can do to make it cleaner.
That evening on Peggy Denney’s radio program, “Where We Live.” we had an opportunity to thank the programs that are making a difference in Guam, including the student based, I-Recycle program which is gathering plastic and aluminum cans in Guam to raise money for Guam based schools. When compared to bottle bills (bottle deposit) these programs have proven to have much greater results and positive effects for communities nationwide. http://www.guampdn.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080408/OPINION02/804080313
Monday March 24, 2008 – Errands, Hermits, Fruit bats and Kayaks
Monday March 24, 2008 – Errands, Hermits, Fruit bats and Kayaks
(0 miles)
Some days are just destined to be errand days. After an early morning swim in Tumon Bay I regrouped with our team, hopped in the van and headed out to to meet with Steve Kasperbauer from Alupang Beach Club (ABC). We arrived to find the place ‘jam-pak’ with tourists wanting to get out on the water.
I quickly lost focus myself and started inquiring about other activities Alupang offers on the water. I filled my hands with pamphlets on Dolphin watching, Parasailing, and Underwater Eco-tours.
“Focus Bob.” said Evelyn. “Focus.”
“Right.” I said. “Back to work.”
Spotting a confused twenty something tourist with two cameras, flip-up sunglasses, oversized surf shorts, and white gobs of sunblock still oozing from the lobes of his ears; I walked up, smiled, handed him the pile of brochures and made towards the door.
“One day only.” I said over my shoulder. “Special price.”
The tourist held the brochures up to the light and examined them. Were they coupons? Did he miss a deal?
Across the parking lot I found the main offices for ABC and stepped in. I was greeted by comfortable air conditioning, a young salesman and another middle aged man from Pohnpei Islands who was there to buy some kayaks.
“Kayaks are an ideal resource for these islands.” Steve told me later. “I’d love to see schools use these crafts in intramural sports. It is an affordable, easy to learn craft that can be used in so many activities including scuba diving, fishing, racing, swimming or even commuting to work and grocery shopping in some of the island communities.”
Needless to say, Steve is excited about working with any group that is interested in using these kayaks for recreation or tranportation. He proved to be very supportive of the Beachwalk Project. Minutes after my arrival Steve popped in greeted me and the man from Pohnpei.
Asking the other man to wait a minute, he led me to a room filled with different kayaks, and kayaking accessories, handed me a brochure and said, “Pick out what you need.” Can you say candy store?
Hours later I had made my decision. No, really…it was hours later. I’m a slow thinker. Evelyn and the rest of the team were able to go have breakfast, rent diving gear and do some grocery shopping in the time it took me to pick out gear.
Steve was very patient and made arrangements with his crew to prepare the equipment for me to pick up later that evening.
That afternoon Evelyn went with her friend Martha to visit family while Beachwalk team member Moses and I drove down to the areas of Tarague and Ritidian Beach. These beaches proved to be the magical beaches that I had envisioned from Evelyn’s many stories of her island home. White beaches composed of washed up shells and coral, lined by massive cliffs, lush jungle and flanked by the hissing, rolling waves just beyond the shore line. Every local needs to see these beaches. These are the types of beaches that inspire legends. I could only imagine what they look like when the seas are stormy and a steady wind brings massive ocean swells crashing in on their narrow reefs.
At Ritidian I squatted down to take a photo of the horizon. Despite the seclusion of the beach;I had the uncanny feeling that I was being watched. After looking over my shoulders and seeing no-one; I looked down and was greeted by the probing eyes of a single hermit crab. As I continued to shoot my photo I realzed that he was not alone as nearly fifteen other crabs emerged from their shells and began migrating down the beach like a convoy of RV’ers. I wonder if they ever have races? Perhaps every so often they gather in a circle and have a bonfire. Or perhaps they invite each other over for a new shell warming party and a game of cards.
At the end of the day we visited Chris Bandy at the Guam National Wildlife Refuge and discussed another shelled creature which visits Guam’s shores from time to time, the sea turtle. We also discussed the efforts being made to protect habitat for the threatened and endangered populations of Marianas Fruit Bat and Marianas Crow.
Finally home at night I tucked in the new kayaks from ABC, sipped a small glass of the locally made coconut wine called ‘Tuba’ and quickly fell into dreams of dancing coconut crabs and singing sea-cucumbers. Ahhh Guam.
Sunday March 23, 2008 – Egg Hunts from chicken to basket
Sunday March 23, 2008 – Egg Hunts from chicken to basket
(0 miles)
Sunday was an Easter Celebration-Chamorro Style. Moses and Martha Winston, also part of the Beachwalk Project invited us to Martha’s Family’s Easter Celebration near Dededo. Our team arrived uncharacteristically early at 2 in the afternoon to find that the party was not to happen until 4…awkward. Well, awkward anywhere else but Guam. The extra two hours were filled with conversation, sharing old stories and of course sampling some of the food destined to be part of the party. This included Octopus Kelaguin, Chicken Stefau, and one cannot forget the green papaya pickled in tuba (coconut vinegar-not the wine…that’s later).
Does it say something about Chamorro culture that the pickled papaya was stored in a container labeled ‘chocolate chip cookies’ and that the kids devoured the pickled treat like candy?
At about 4:30 cars began arriving and the small gathering soon grew to a fiesta of nearly fifty family members. I can’t begin to list the Chamorro dishes that arrived, but our team did our part to devour the corn chowder.
As the food settled, a traditional Easter Egg hunt ensued. Children sporting tiny Easter baskets scurried under cars, in bushes, up trees, and into eachother in search of hidden eggs. No chocolate sweets, no fancy prizes, no marshamallow, sticky, gewy or over marketed treats. Just simple, hard boiled eggs, laid by the many hens on the property and colored in crayon by the children themselves earlier that day.
There is something to be said about activities that we can follow from beginning to end. From the laying of the egg to the eventual hunt. This continuity creates a connection and greater appreciation for everything. Imagine if all of us personally caught our dinner from the sea, picked our vegetables from our garden, made our own vinegar from the coconuts or apples that grew on the property. Industrial farming puts food on our shelves but our connection, understanding and appreciation for the creation of that food is lost, disconnected and in many cases unhealthy.
A small island in the middle of the Pacific certainly has to import many items to satisfy modern demands for variety in consumer goods and foods. It is the things grown at the home, however, that prove to be the most genuine, most healthy and most Chamorro.
Saturday March 22, 2008 – Paddle like the locals do…well, sort of.
Saturday March 22, 2008 – Paddle like the locals do…well, sort of.
Inarajan to Agat (20 miles)
When in Guam paddle like Guam. On Saturday we did our first miles for the circumnavigation of this incredible island.
Instead of our usual mode of travel I chose to paddle a 2 person outrigger canoe (OC2) and participate in Guam Kayak and Canoe Federation’s annual Eastside Relay which covers about 20 miles of Southeastern coastline starting from Inarajan Bay and ending up in Agat Bay.
Rick Appleton of the Federation was kind enough to let me crew on his OC2 with several women paddlers. I thought I had asked him to pass on the word requesting my crew members be easy on me. If this was ‘easy’ then I really need to get off the couch more often!
My first partner was a woman named Toni who proved to have a heart of a lion and the strength of a bear. We pushed out into the surf and followed some troughs for the 4 mile sprint. I enjoyed hyperventilating.
As we pulled into the first check point, I had just enough time to take a sip of water and dip my shirt into the water before Toni was replaced with Lalani Appleton, a petite Filipina 'drill sergeant'. The boat glided gracefully across the water as we surfed a modest swell through varying depths of coral shallows. I enjoyed the sting of salt in my eyes and paddling blindly while this quietly powerful woman kept us on course for the next 7 mile sprint. At some point the lure of the beautiful reef passing below us must have overwhelmed me and like an oafish, knuckle dragging gorilla I leaned a bit too far and hulied (capsized) us. Before the water even had time to penetrate my shirt we were back on board paddling.
“So that’s a hulie?” I asked.
Lalani politely chuckled then a short while later pointed out a rather large sting-ray gliding under the boat.
“Isn’t that beautiful?” she said. “You don’t want to land on one of them.”
I suspect she was ever so slightly encouraging me not to hulie again.
Pretending to be reluctant to do so I surrenderd my seat to Jenn, a 20 something year old rugby player from the local aquarium for the next 4 mile leg. Grabbing my small thermous of protein supplemented coffee I staggered onto the escort boat. "Whew"
Fully hydrated, caffienated, and filled with overdose levels of ibuprofen I hopped off the escort boat at the next checkpoint and waited for the OC2 to pull in. Another paddler stood on the beach waiting. Next to her was a small duffel bag filled with waterbottles, power gu and a large brown pill bottle that caught my eye.
"Whats in the bottle?" I asked
"Glucosomene…for the joints." she answered
She lifted the bottle out of the bag, unscrewed the cap and offered it to me.
"How many do you usually take?" I asked
"Two to four" she answered.
I took five.
My OC2 arrived just as the last remnants of the chalky glucosomene ball disolved in the back of my throat. The last leg, a nine mile sprint was going to be more relaxing, I thought, expecting that Jenn, a fairly new paddler would be accompanying me. Alas to my surprise Jenn debarked and in her place was Lalani again. Lifting her sunglasses for a moment I could see fire in her eyes as another OC2 with two young local bucks pulled in, grabbed some water and headed back out.
"Ready?" she said and lowered her glasses.
"Oh Cr**." was the reponse in my shoulders.
Inevitably the final leg was hot, and tiring but somewhere along the way I finally felt a sort of groove kick in. Not a fast or very well coordinated groove, mind you, but definately a groove. And a good enough of a groove to keep those local bucks at bay.
As we neared Agat bay for our final push of ‘speed’ a small pod of Dolphins glided past us, swimming effortlessly through the water without the aid of Power-gu, Gatorade, or Joint fuel. I think they were laughing. I can respect that.
Tomorrow, I am glad that it is Easter and in the name of my faith I can save face and take the day off.
Friday January 18, 2008 - Enjoy Explore and Protect
Hood River, OR
Coming back from Beachwalk Atlantic coast after five months we found ourselves enjoying the closeness of projects at home. One major project was the construction of a small swimming pond with a bio-filter. Unable to fit a backhoe in our backyard, I shovelled the darn hole myself with pick and shovel. Ahh, the joy of simple grunt work.
By September we had a fully functioning pond, complete with bio-filter and native aquatic plants, thanks to some advice from a local perma-culturist. (www.gorgegrown.com)
As we sat by our firepit enjoying the pond, I realized something was missing, but could put my finger on what.
Two months later we were back in my hometown of Lake George, NY. Fueled by turkey, stuffing and some suspicious egg-nog a few of us in the family decided to take a dunk in the cool waters of the lake. Donning shorts, underwear, and goofy hats we took the plunge, screamed then scurried back to the bonfire.
There was something magic about the waters of Lake George we all agreed as we warmed our shivering bodies by the fire. Something magic about the water, or perhaps something seriously wrong with us. It is said in our land that once you enter the waters of Lake George it gets in your blood and you need to always come back to the source.
One week later we were back in Oregon. I stood over my new pond as Evelyn sat by the bonfire. Quietly I opened a bottle that I had filled with Lake George water. Ceremoniously I poured it into the pond.
"Now its complete." I said to myself.
Water is certainly magic.
Tuesday January 14, 2008 - Where America's Day Begins
Hood River, OR
Cold sleet and 32 degrees Farenheit. I close my eyes and imagine sitting in my kayak in balmy 80 degree weather. I am in Guam. On March 20th I won't have to close my eyes, for we'll really be there. The original team of Stein, my wife Evelyn and I will be on the sandy shores of Guam, where America's day begins. It will mark the start of something that really began just less than a year ago as an idea somewhere off the coast of Georgia.
"Stein, what if we made this project more than just the Atlantic Coast?"
Despite the fact that we had just barely finished paddling the length of Florida and still had over 1000 miles to go to reach our destination in New York, I was feeling that the Beachwalk Project had to do more than just raise clean water awareness on the Atlantic Coast.
Stein, always open to new ideas and enthusiastically open to unrealistic ones, immediately began exploring our options. With each paddle stroke we tossed out possibilities, Coast of Africa, Alaska, Mediteranean, Black Sea, Greenland?
About two weeks later over dinner, I cautiously explored the idea with Evelyn. "Hey Evelyn, what if this project continued? What if next year we did the Pacific Coast or the Great Lakes with the same purpose?"
She paused for a moment, clutching a hot pepper and rice in her hand. She shook her head. "No." she said quickly stuffing the ball of rice and entire hot pepper into her mouth.
"But?"
Head shake from Evelyn, chew chew.
"But?"
Head shake, rice covered hand raising into the air with the 'talk to the hand' type gesture.
"What if?"
Her eyes and face become red and I can't tell if it is from the pepper, or frustration.
"Never mind." I sit back, and stare towards the sea imagining how awesome it would be to travel the coasts and talk to kids about protecting the water in their community. I feel so inspired by the sea, and the people we meet.
A mumble from Evelyn, and she catches my gaze. The redness has subsided in her face.
"Maybe." she says, "Maybe. But no matter what we start with GUAM first! We aren't doing anything until we do something for my home in Guam!"
Small island, big waves, coral reefs, big winds, typhoons surrounded by nothing but a big, big ocean? I think of the paddling. Would we be over our heads? Sure! But Stein loves unrealistic ideas, and so do I.
So now, nearly a year later since that conversation we make our final plans for Guam. Later this month Old Town Canoe and Kayak is sending our kayaks so we can begin training in the cold waters of the Pacific Ocean and the Columbia River. In March, through the generous support of Continental Airlines, our small team will be heading off to Guam for the first leg of a three year venture that, if all goes well will cover all the major coasts of the United States.
Until then, the sleet falls outside and I close my eyes and imagine I hear breaking of waves on a warm, sandy beach.
Thursday June 7, 2007 – Day – 93 - Our Final Day
Thursday June 7, 2007 – Day – 93 - Our Final Day
Liberty State Park – Pier A, Manhattan (2 miles, Round trip)
Unable to accept June 6th as the final day of the Beachwalk Project, we have delayed our arrival to Manhattan to today, June 7th which happens to be my father’s birthday. Fully energized with a pastrami sandwich from a Jersey City diner, I meet Kermit, Stein and our friend Jen outside my parents’ hotel at 6:00 AM. Although only a seven mile commute, our Jersey City navigation skills gets us back to Liberty State Park nearly thirty minutes later. Crossing three different bridges during our adventure, we explore the idea of the Bridgecross Race , which would be an anything goes bike race that starts in Central park and requires you to cross every bridge in NYC. One would have to be a master of traffic jam, mileage, toll and weather logistics. Swimming across rivers with bikes overhead would be permitted if deemed faster than fighting traffic.
Excited by the fuscia toned light still warming the Statue of Liberty, we prepare and board our kayaks quickly. Jen accompanies us and takes photos as we pass close to the white, restricted area buoys lining the perimeter of the statue. A silent but fast current quietly pulls her out into the channels close to the Staten Island ferry. Jen develops new levels of patience and persistence as she paddles back to Liberty State Park against the stubborn current.
With Jen safely en-route to the shoreline, Stein and I turn and begin our sprint to Manhattan and back. Passing behind Ellis Island we discuss immigration policy, and economic opportunity in America. I consider how environmental and employment policy have made it challenging for companies to continue to operate manufacturing facilities in the United States. Often it is difficult to see the benefit of sacrificing short term gains for a positive long term economic and environmental legacy. Pro-active environmental policy and participation depends on communicating the long term positive economic benefits and the potential economic cost of poor environmental policy.
Dodging current, high speed ferries, the Circle Fine ferry, and several barges Stein and I weave our way across the Hudson River to Pier A. We are greeted by Frank Wood Spavento on a blow horn. Bouncing with the waves I attach a bookmark to my paddle and hand it up to him past the six foot high bulkhead.
“Read it.” I say. Frank, a rock legend and entertainer by trade, does a little more than requested (as New Yorkers are prone to do). Turning on the blow horn he improvises from information on the bookmark and calls out, “Ladies and gentlemen, I have the pleasure of introducing the Beachwalk Project. All the way from Miami, Stein Kretsinger and Robert Weinman have paddled and walked over sixteen hundred miles to raise awareness and to encourage support for Waterkeeper Alliance and everyone’s right to clean water. Let’s welcome them to Pier A and New York City!”
Stein and I give each other a thumbs up, excited by the spontaneous fanfare from Ray. Unfortunately, the captive crowd, (who are mostly waiting for the next ferry) show no enthusiasm at all.
“Well,” I start, “If the crowd won’t come to us, then we’ll come to the crowd. Encouraged by Frank we climb out of our kayaks, up the bulkhead and into the crowd. Reaching into my pocket, I hand out the remaining bookmarks that I have for the trip. Perhaps desensitized by the constant urban barrage of information, coupons, and handouts; the tourists, teachers, and children all seem unconcerned, unimpressed or uninspired by the feat we have finally completed. Of Anger, Apathy and Ignorance, apathy is the greatest weapon against creative, collaborative solutions. I find it ironic, that these visitors, although excited to visit the Statue of Liberty have missed the point that Liberty and Democracy can only be possible when people stay informed and get involved.
Lowering ourselves back down a slippery ladder, Stein and I slide back into our kayaks and quietly paddle back to Liberty State Park listening to the tunes of a solitary steel drummer on the pier. We both agree the world needs the enthusiasm of more Frank Wood Spaventos.
Returning to the park, our welcoming party is small, consisting of my mother and father and Jen, who is still sleeping in the cockpit of our guest kayak. Awarding both Stein and I with foam Statue of Liberty crowns, my mother congratulates us on our achievement. My father shakes our hands and says, “You fellas should be proud. It’s a good thing you’ve done and you’ve done it well.” I feel inspired by his words and I think to myself. “I’m not quite done yet.” I may be done paddling, but my family and I are just getting started on the adventure of protecting clean water.
Wednesday June 6, 2007 – Day – 92 – Environmental Stewardship and Marshmallows
Wednesday June 6, 2007 – Day – 92 – Environmental Stewardship and Marshmallows
Sandy Hook – Liberty State Park (13 miles)
Morning: It is 7:00 am and I sit here waiting for Ray Fusco at Liberty State Park in full view of the Statue of Liberty. If all goes well we will end up here with our kayaks this afternoon. I hold in my hand a Sacajawea coin dollar given to me as change from the clerk at the toll booth this morning. Looking at this iconic Native American guide while sitting in the shadow of our own iconic woman of liberty I think of the historical cultural differences between the New American and Native American perspective of mans’ relationship with the environment and land. Before me stands the skyline of Manhattan, purchased from the Native Americans for a small amount of trade items. The reason for the ridiculously low price was directly related to the Native American’s belief that land cannot be owned. In their eyes they were receiving trade plunder in return for nothing. For the next few centuries the concept of land ownership became the greatest threat to the Native American.
Today the concept of land ownership has become one of the greatest threats to the environment. Large land developers feel compelled to maximize return on their land investments often at the cost of considering responsible or sustainable development. Corporate land owners use land for storing and dumping hazardous by-products. Small private land owners choose landscaping that compromises the native ecology. The concept of land ownership seems to imply that if you own it, you may do with it as you want.
Ironically the Native Americans were right. Ownership, as permanent as it sounds is ultimately only temporary. Land owners sell, lose or die and the land again becomes public domain. Effectively, we are borrowing land from future generations just as previous generations borrowed from us. Regardless of duration we are all temporary stewards of a permanent resource. What do you want future generations to inherit from you?
Evening: It has been said that nothing in New York comes easy. Today did not disappoint. Feeling extra confident with our guide, Ray Fusco, we waved goodbye to our good friend Jen at Sandy Hook beach at 10:00 AM. Settling into the rhythm of our paddle strokes, Ray reviewed a well sequenced course for the morning that would take us safely across several major shipping channels while providing us maximum benefit from a building in-flow with the expected high tide at 1:00 pm. Fortunately nature was there to humble us again. Despite Ray’s careful planning and a promising weather forecast, nature decided to give us an unwelcome companion for the crossing. This companion, which boarded all three of our vessels, was a rather robust northwest wind.
“Try to sequence your paddle strokes to allow you to paddle down the backside of the waves.” shouted Ray above the din of the 15-20 knot wind.
“Try to take more ibuprofen in the morning.” shouted my back muscles.
A short lighthouse winked at us as we crossed the Asbury channel and angled our boats on a more Northwest vector. White caps began drumming on my weather beaten, and slightly leaky sea skirt and I asked Ray if there was a technique to reduce splash on the deck. The smile on his face was answer enough.
Ahead of us a small section of the city skyline seemed to drift into the channel below the Verazano bridge.
“Okay,” started Ray in a methodic, calm voice, “we have our first ship preparing to come down the channel”
“Ship?” I thought, “That thing is bigger than my hometown! Can we be more accurate and call it a small island?”
We headed slightly west outside the channel and watched with marvel as the tanker pushed a massive 15 foot standing wave ahead of its bow. Although daunted by the scale of this technology I was humbled by the fact that the seas have on many occasions submitted even the greatest of these massive tankers.
Pushing through chop and blasts of wind we entered the wind shadow of a small fishing beach southwest of the Verazano bridge. Plastic bottle caps and stir sticks outnumbered grains of sand on this secluded retreat.
“So…most of this debris comes from storm drains?” asked Stein as he unwrapped his peanut butter, jelly and marshmallow sandwich (a new culinary creation from Beachwalk Project).
Ray agreed but then pointed out that a large portion of the trash did not display the telltale weathering from traveling down storm drains. “These relatively unblemished pieces of trash are left here by people.” Ray pointed out that people are more likely to litter if they already see trash. Litter breeds more litter. Ray was not impressed by the marshmallow innovation with his sandwich. In trade, I provided him my reserve standard issue PBJ (without Marshmallow).
After the short lunch we pushed on for what Ray described as the more ‘active’ portion of our planned aquatrek. Passing under the Verazano bridge we entered a landscape distorted by ‘progress’. Massive tankers lined shores of steel and concrete. The wind pattern of waves dissolved into chaotic tumbling boat chop reverberating off shores and structures. Cries of seagulls were replaced with the drone of diesel motors and thunder of airplanes and helicopters. I call Stein on the cell phone to pull him back in formation as he is lured away from our pack for a closer look at the massive tankers moored along our route. The rhythm of our paddling is broken as we pause at channel crossings to make way for the zig-zag migration of fast moving ferries, tired tugboats, and corpulent containerships. In the dim distance I can finally see the raised hand of Lady Liberty. Standing still and oblivious she appears to me as an ignorant child stuck in the middle of a busy street, holding her ice cream high above her head to protect it from collision with the fast moving vehicles.
It is now 2:30 pm and Stein paddles with curbed frustration wanting to explore more, but aware that our crew is now in a race against headwind and the coming threat of a changing tidal current outflow. We have worked for so many months to reach this point and now we are rushed.
“All the more reason why adventure is learning to enjoy the voyage and not just the destination.” I think to myself.
In one last fleeting moment Stein proposes that our team paddles around the Statue of Liberty rather than taking the direct line it to the shores of Liberty State Park. Considering my waiting family, the changing currents and our pace I am not inspired by his proposal.
“Tomorrow is supposed to be still and calm.” suggests Ray still eager to provide us the best possible experience while in his home turf of NY Harbour. “I suggest, if you can, to come back here early tomorrow morning.”
The promise of still water, low angle light and low boat traffic confirms the proposal for Stein and I. With renewed vigor and no more boat traffic to compromise my pace, I sprint towards the shoreline. 100 yards offshore I spy my family. I turn back to find Stein far behind me. He is not eager to see the project come to a close and procrastinates with his pace. I am reminded of all our adventures together in the past four months and suddenly I feel the same melancholy. The adventure is coming to a close. Ray looks back and I give him the thumbs up indicating that he can sprint ahead without us. The Northwest wind quickly blows me back towards Stein. We talk very little but our paddle strokes clearly state our reluctance to end the adventure.
“Tomorrow.” starts Stein. “Let’s come back early tomorrow morning to paddle past the statue and touch Manhattan.”
I quickly agree. “Five AM?”
“Four thirty.” replies Stein.
Minutes later we’re on shore. We are greeted and cheered by the modest crowd of Ray, Jen, my parents and a few fishermen. No media. No bands. No politicians. The Beachwalk Project has come to an end as quietly as it started. I look on the pebble beach covered with monofilament line, beverage bottles and car parts. 1600 miles of shore? Did we influence anyone? Will any of those children take a leadership role in protecting the water quality in their communities? I think of the silent work that Waterkeeper programs do worldwide to protect our right to clean water. When it comes to protecting our water, noise and fanfare are not important, action is.
Tuesday June 5, 2007 – Day – 91: Final days and sleepless nights
Tuesday June 5, 2007 – Day – 91
Long Branch – Sandy Hook (12 miles)
11:30 pm and I can’t sleep. Tomorrow is the final day. I feel excited and sad at the same time. The crossing to the statue and completing this particular goal for our project is of course very exciting. The end of the paddling and the end of daily surprises in the ocean however makes me increasingly sad.
I came to realize one measure of success for the project only accidentally today. At the start of this project we printed 5000 laminated bookmarks with information about the project and Waterkeeper Alliance. Our plan was to hand these out to people that we met on the beach in an effort to raise awareness for clean waters. Today when I went to retrieve more of the bookmarks to distribute at Liberty State park tomorrow, I realized that we only had about two hundred left. This means that over 4500 people received one of these bookmarks. Assuming that each of these people shared this information with at least 3 family members or friends, that would translate into 13,000 people learning more about Beachwalk Project, Waterkeeper Alliance and what it takes to keep our waters clean. What will these 13,000 people do with this new information? Will they forget about it? Or will they put it into action and get involved in their community and do what it takes to protect our right to clean water?
Today was interesting in the variety of people and events it offered. We unloaded our kayaks from the car about 7 am and began walking along the beach walk for Long Branch. I remained busy handing out bookmarks to joggers, bicyclists, and city employees. Our friend Jen photographed our progress as Stein scouted out a public restroom for us both before we put into the kayaks for the day. This, needless to say is a very important responsibility.
After having found a reasonable restroom, we watched the surfers ride some impressive waves while we prepared our kayaks on the beach. Seeing the crash of the 7 foot faces, I moved reluctantly. Saying a quick prayer we headed into the deep blue. Stein was first, got pushed back several times by about 4 different, frothing waves, but managed to get out beyond the breakers. I got lucky. Convincing myself to wait for the first surfer to go down a wave, I waited impatiently then paddled nervously out past the surfers and the breakers. I was fast, but quiet as a thief, hoping no waves might notice me and try to thwart my plans for getting offshore.
The wind was nonexistent so kite flying was not an option. (Although Stein tried on three different occasions to launch his kite). We paddled hard, enjoying the nudge of the surf which, coming out of the Southwest was helping us along. About two hours into the paddle we decided to come ashore and walk the last beach we would be able to. Stein was the candidate for power-washing today as he was tumbled over three times in a series of waves that snuck up on him during his exit to shore.
“That’s Okay” I told an on-looking lifeguard. “This is the only way we can get him cleaned up an hosed down…It would be helpful if it happened more often.”
Despite some contention about landing water craft on the Sandy Hook beach, we worked through that quite quickly with the local lifeguards and headed on our way, handing out our bookmarks as we walked. After about ten minutes of walking I could see a crowd of children and a big yellow school bus. We snuck up behind a teacher and offered to give a presentation. She was thrilled. The guided portion of their original field trip had been cancelled so we presented an opportunity to salvage the educational opportunity for the field trip.
The kids enjoyed our presentation and they all signed the boat after the presentation. The instructors walked away happy that their students had learned something new about the environment.
Continuing along our way, we had another one of our mystery moments. Looking in the distance in the past had sometimes rewarded us with discoveries of wild horses, large birds and even lemurs. “What is that ahead?” I asked Stein
“I think…” replied Stein, “That …is …a man.”
“A man with a very small bathing suit?” I asked.
“No…” replied Stein as we moved closer, “That is a man….with no pants at all.”
Indeed his observation was confirmed as we read a nearby sign confirming that we had entered a specific region of the beach where we could possibly ‘encounter nude sunbathers’. Stein and I passed through rather quickly and unfortunately were just a wee bit too shy to hand out our bookmarks.
Tomorrow will indeed be another day of surprises. We look forward to it. Now…I will try to get some sleep.
Sunday May 6, 2007 – Day 61 – Ban Bombs for Beautiful Beaches
Sunday May 6, 2007 – Day 61 – Ban Bombs for Beautiful Beaches
Ft. Macon – Emerald Isle (17 miles)
As we enter the land of winds we find our initial travel plans thwarted. The winds near Cape Lookout have increased to a sustained 20 knots with gust up to 35.
“Wind seems a bit squirrelly for the kites and kayaks.” I mention to Stein.
He purses his lips, scratches his chin and offers a solution, “I reckon it might be a good opportunity for land based travel.”
Our new acquisitions from Myrtle Beach, Princess and PT offer us new hope for our travel goals.
Princess, or Disney Princess comes from a thrift store where Stein purchased her for a whopping twenty dollars. She is a purple BMX bike designed for little girls standing about three foot tall and weighing in at about sixty pounds. With a few modifications to the seat post length the ‘little bike that could’ transports my 5’6” 165 pound frame with the greatest of ease. The nice thing about Princess is that she stows away in the cockpit of our guest kayak with no problem.
PT Cruiser or PT as we call him is an adult size beach cruiser co-branded with the Chrysler PT Cruiser name. His most distinguished markings are the flames emblazoned on his rusty chrome fenders. Stein found this proud 2 wheeler abandoned in the bushes and rusting before his time. Two cans of WD-40 (what is in that stuff really?) some twists of the Allen Wrench and PT was back in action.
Driving down to the Food Lion Grocery in Emerald Isle we are reunited with Vanna White and our two bikes. We throw them on the roof of Kermit and ferry them up to Ft. Macon.
Ft. Macon, built in 1862 is a civil war relic that also served during the Spanish American and WWII wars. I find the site fascinating. Although portions of the fort have been restored and fitted with museum exhibits, it is the original chambers and empty alcoves that intrigue me. Entering one such chamber I find that it is connected to the remaining chambers through narrow, arched passageways. In the shadows I imagine the life and history that has passed between these cold brick walls. The construction of the fort is exemplary of the best technology of its time. The armaments were the most powerful and innovative of their time. I think about the expense. I think about the amount of money, time and resources expended on our current war. It is an obvious and over-used example, but I still can’t help but speculate what could be done for the benefit of others and the environment if we could divert just a small portion of those resources to the protection of our environment.
Stein and I hop on our bikes. With the wind at our backs, we roll with ease toward our destination in Emerald Isle. For about three miles we travel on the beach. Sand, Wind and Water all move together. The sun tucks behind squadrons of clouds as they stack on top of each other over the horizon. The wind invigorates our enthusiasm for this trip and the beauty of the beach.
