A group of us gathered to celebrate a friend and her birthday. Many of us had never met before, but we all shared similar viewpoints.
Some were arrived at independently, others were explored in conversation.
Some were found on the way up a mountain. They were all worth the trip.
The northern end of Zion canyon tapers to a region called “The Narrows,” where you can continue venturing but must do so through the icy, silty Virgin river. We stopped here, as did many others who had also ridden the bus shuttle to the last of 9 stops along the canyon. Keeping traffic to shuttles-only in summer (except for visitors staying at the Zion Lodge midway up the canyon) keeps the traffic reasonable. I can’t speak for high summer, but in late September when most American families are tied to the school schedule, the numbers of visitors seem reasonable, but still steady. This is when Europeans know to come.
Anyway, a lot of people collect at this point where some continue on in rented water boots, but many, like us, just hang out and try to not get our feet wet for the walk back to the shuttle. Ironically, I was just the other day explaining to James what the term “bottleneck” means.
Somehow, I never realized this was actually a thing.
We were walking the IB pier today and came upon this gentleman wagging a small mackerel at an osprey perched on a light pole.
She wasn’t interested in the small fish initially, but his whistles finally brought her down to grab at the meal. They have done this before.
Thanks to past experience, he knew how much those talons can hurt.
And he dropped the fish before she could grab it.
She swooped back around though, so he raised it again for another pass.
This time, success!
He hasn’t named her yet, but probably soon.
I was walking the pier and beach in IB as the fog cleared, and saw several people digging for something. They had laid out tape measures, and it appeared they probably weren’t searching for dinner. In fact, they were a professor and several students from Concordia University in Irvine, searching for the sometimes elusive Pismo Clam. They had found several, and one of the students took the time to show me one and explain what they were doing.
They had been in Newport Beach the day before, and only found two. They had already surpassed that feeble haul in a couple hours here.
The study of the clam populations in various places intended to explore responses to several variables, including climate change and the starfish wasting virus, which has led to an explosion in the mussel population in Mexico and probably elsewhere. It must be an exciting, albeit terrifying, time to be a scientist researching populations of species that are so rapidly affected by the slightest of changes in their ecosystem, when those changes are anything but subtle.
Meanwhile, it appears that at least on some beaches, the rest of us could rely on the Pismo Clam for dinner. I would take it if it were prepared in the way this article describes! Especially since who knows if 10 years from now that recipe will be an option for any of us.