Punching Through. November 2020

On my last day, I snorkeled three reefs off Laguna Beach with an old friend. The clarity was a good 15-20 ft. The wildlife wasn’t as great as Catalina of course, but still fun to snorkel. The last time I was here was about 5 years ago, time flies doesn’t it? I’d stay down south another day but I didn’t want to put on a wet wetsuit again. I had some amazing black cod for lunch at Bear Flag Fish Co., it was a great way to end the trip. 

All my problems seemed to go away temporarily the moment I entered the underwater world. No notifications, no deadlines, just the muffled noises in the water and focusing on what’s in front in the very moment. I usually feel reinvigorated after a ‘water moment’, drawing new inspiration and motivation. This year is different; I think being attached to my electronic devices every day for hours on end, I’m not able to completely clear my mind as I have in the past. Despite being happy with the spontaneous trip and the photos, the stress still lingers, but I think it was worth it. 

Giant Kelpfish & Garibaldi. November 2020

Casino Point. November 2020

It was another early and cold morning start the next day. Off to Catalina Island via the Catalina Express ferry. I carried about 30 pounds of gear on my back from the dock all the way to Casino Point, my shoulders were ready to give up but my mind said otherwise. The first group of divers were entering the water. There was a bit of texture from the wind waves and current, which was not preferred. The water looked pretty clear, and cold. I started seeing Garibaldi left and right, their bold orange color makes them easy to spot. I frantically set up my camera, put on my weights and fins, and jumped into the blue. Immediately I was mesmerized at all the different variety of fish just one step off the stair entry: Calico Bass, Sheephead, Garibaldi, and Zebra Perch just to name a few. They seemed incredibly fond of humans; only when I got within a foot or two they slowly drifted away. I saw an enormous school of Blacksmith, they surrounded me when I swam toward them. With the rough surface texture, it was very difficult to get a clean over under shot, I’ll have to come back on a calmer day. After about three hours in the water and filling up the memory card, my stomach started to feel uneasy due to the constant back and forth motion of the waves. Staring down at stationary objects while moving really throws off my equilibrium; it was time to get lunch and relax the rest of the afternoon. As I waited at the float for the departure boat, I was treated to a reverse sunset color gradient of pink, lavender, and periwinkle-blue, with the full moon rising over the channel. 

Urchin Barren. November 2020

The next morning, I stopped by Coal Oil Point hoping to snorkel it again with better visibility than last time. The forecasts showed the swell being only 0.5ft, but when I got out of my car, I knew the swell was much bigger without even seeing the waves; I could distinguish the decibels of the waves crashing just by ear. With no zoom lens and no handplane, I was forced to stare and salivate at the offshore surf and dolphins in the lineup. Maybe I should have brought the kitchen sink? Oh well, it doesn’t matter anyway. I met up with an old colleague for a socially distanced lunch, staring at more perfect waves. Not feeling content that my camera hasn’t been used, I booked it further south to a tide pool spot I had in mind before sundown. After a quick scope of the area, my eyes light up when I found a protected trench with sea urchins lined up the sides of the rocks. The water was surprisingly clear. Another debate ensued, was I going to just sit and stare again? I had maybe 30 minutes of light left, and this was my only chance at this spot for the trip. I raced back to car, suited up and jumped in. Immediately I saw the entire floor was covered in purple urchin. While displeasing knowing why  it was an urchin barren, the colors still amaze me. Bait fish surrounded me, and I spotted some shy Garibaldi in the rocks. As the light faded, the tide rising, I quickly maneuvered around trying to get a few decent photos. Shooting tide pools is one the most challenging forms of photography I have yet experienced. The extreme levels of light, dark underneath and bright over, strong current, waves, visibility, and virtually unlimited ways to compose an image, made most of my photos unpresentable. When one turns out though, I can stare at it indefinitely.