“For those that don’t know it, I will say it now: the ocean, even when glassy smooth, has a pulse. Tatiana could not feel it, but in time, I knew she would. I felt it. I could hear the strain on the engine as it rose up what I imagined where flattened rollers that given the slightest provocation from the wind would not stay flat or smooth for long. And not that it showed in the tachometer, or reduced our speed in any way noticeable, but it was there, beating, like a faint jungle drum in the distance, softly booming, pulsing, alive, as if keeping track of time, ocean time. This was the timepiece that ultimately told whales when to head to the lower latitudes, to breed, or to the higher latitudes, like Tierra del Fuego to gorge and fatten up, told sea turtles when to leave the water and lay eggs in remote beaches around the world, and told fish and crabs when to spawn. I figured that ocean time regulated all life cycles on earth, regardless of what it was: human, animal, plants and insects, it didn’t matter. This was the initial clock, the grandfather of them all, and everything alive responded to it.”
A paragraph on my latest book (Into the Land of Fires), and one that is almost finished. I wanted to share it. I still have to check with Jim, but I think it (above) came out good and maybe he’ll agree.
I’ve been reading a lot about the ocean this week, and the changes it has suffered over the last two hundred plus years. I don’t know if there is anything we can do about it, except maybe be aware of it: we don’t have a good record of stewardship—dismal is the word that comes to mind.
In Jonestown, according to Captain John Smith, halibut was so plentiful, they only ate the heads and fins, throwing away the rest, and it took more than two man to get one in the boat. Halibut for all practical purposes, can no longer be found in those waters.
In Portland Maine, Lobsters during the 18th century were churned up, shell and all, then used for fertilizer in the fields.
English Cod: gone.
New York could have been called The Big Oyster once, but not now. The waters around Manhattan Island were once the cleanest in the world, as trillions of oysters acting like a living pool-pump, kept it crystal clear.
Where does it stop? Who knows? And if overpopulation is our future, as I think it is, it won’t stop, until the inevitable end.
mt