Poached egg, anyone?
This beauty showed herself to me a few weeks ago.
As the crabbing season is short in our marine zone, just over a month long and only allowed Sundays and Mondays, I made the most of the first open weekend to drop pots both days, my shiny new crabbing license in hand. We pulled up pots crawling with decent size rock crabs, (no Dungeness) and spent hours after cooking, cleaning, picking and eating our harvest. Good meat, but a lot of work!
The crab was worth the effort, but after a busy weekend pulling pots I was ready for a leisurely row with my dog and maybe a short swim.
Rocky and I rowed the bay, and oogled this beauty from the safety of the aluminum boat. This white and yellow jellyfish, though a close cousin to the Lion’s Mane, being equal in size and mystery, supposedly does not carry as powerful a punch to unsuspecting swimmers that cross its stringy tentacles.
Though I appreciate this information, I was in no mood to test this theory, having been on the receiving end of a mighty Lion’s Mane once this summer. If these white masses can deliver a sting even remotely close to its cousin, I will steer clear at all costs.
But from the boat, it was indeed beautiful. It hovered a bit like a strange accident, a creature with no well defined edges, beginning or end, almost like a partly finished project by Mother Nature—almost as if she just got tired trying to sort the mess out. Still, she was lovely in that unpolished, hairy way. Suspended in lime green water, riding the outgoing tide.
We slowly drifted apart on the quiet bay and I sat silent with my furry companion, transfixed and rudderless, watching two feathers float along the green surface, dancing and spinning like tiny clouds.
We eventually reached the spit, beached the boat and my happy dog leapt out to follow his nose. A buffet of smells greeted him as he zigzagged nearby, his white-tipped tail wagging wildly.
With the boat safely beached, I tucked my shorts and phone on the seat and stepped into the water. A quick dive under and refreshed as ever, I reached up to my face. No glasses. No glasses in the boat.
After a fruitless and slightly frantic 10 minute search in the water, the tide pulling water past my bare feet, taking my glasses with it, I accepted my losses. The glasses by now were probably nestled among the clams or in the clutches of a startled crab.
As we hopped back into the boat a moon snail shell caught my eye.
The Salish Sea and I made an unscheduled trade—my glasses (that I typically wear all the time, except when swimming) for this fantastic viewing of a massive yellow jellyfish and a moon snail shell to add to my collection.
It was a pretty good trade.
I can replace my glasses, and until then I thankfully have a spare pair to stumble around in. I’m certain I’m at least a good year overdue for an eye exam anyway.
I guess I do kind of lose myself when I swim in the sea—and it’s worth it.
That’s the whole point.
Mary Swims 