.
The men who lived in the huts that lined the barren rocky stretch of land above the beach went out in their boats to fish in the morning but apart from that necessary endeavour declined to go near the water, and plainly thought anyone who wished to do so must be crazy. They spent much of the day working on their nets and floats in front of their huts. Their wives in dark shawls, accompanied by silent children, bundled the family rubbish down to the rocks above the beach and, through a hole in the rocks, dumped everything into the sea. The rubbish floated free of the rocks, bobbed briefly on the grey surface of the water, and then drifted out with the current and disappeared, swallowed up by advancing whitecaps. The water was very cold.
For several hours in the middle of the day, everyone, men, women and children, seemed to disappear. They were in their huts, eating and sleeping.
Fifty yards out the Cyanea capillata extended its salutation invisibly in the dark water. At first there was simply the sensation, familiar from swimming in coastal bays, of a kelplike entanglement of one's limbs, a sinuous attachment, momently becoming a sharp entrapment -- hardly nostalgic this, which in turn quite quickly changed again into a ligature of tiny stings, each a bright little pain explosion, a hundred small fireworks going off all over one's body.
What seemed an eternity, then, to flail one's way out of the surf, livid red welts already emerging. The beach was deserted. It was not yet morning.
Playa de los Muertos en el Parque Natural de Cabo de Gata, Almería, near Carboneres, Spain: photo by Jsanchezes, 2003
Lion's Mane Jellyfish (Cyanea capillata): photo by derekkats, 2006
Lion's Mane Jellyfish (Cyanea capillata), capturing a ctenophore: photo by U.S. Geological Service, 2007
Parque Natural de Cabo de Gata, Almería, Spain: photo by José Marco de la Rosa, 2006
Lion's Mane Jellyfish (Cyanea capillata): photo by Dan Hershman 2006
Lion's Mane Jellyfish (Cyanea capillata): photo by Dan Hershman 2006
9 comments:
This is wonderful on a lot of levels, even if it brought my lifelong jellyfish fear right back. "Electric whips", "each a bright little pain explosion", "to flail one's way out of the surf, livid red welts already emerging". This really feels and looks like the ocean.
Tom,
Thanks for this on 4th of July, the beach will not be deserted here (alas), the men, women and children will not be in their huts. . . .
7.4
first light coming into sky above ridge,
moon to the left of planet above branch
in foreground, sound of wave in channel
therefore follows that, that
configuration of bodies
corresponds to gravitational
mass, assumption, shown
cloudless blue sky reflected in channel,
whiteness of moon above point across it
One perhaps owes these beauteous creatures an apology. Under the water, it's their world, and anyone who butts in deserves what he gets.
I love watching them in motion. What sublime grace. For example, here are some huge fuchsia jellyfish more beautiful than Esther Williams ever was.
Tom, I spent every day from dawn to dusk in the ocean down the Jersey shore as a boy at my maternal grandmother's place. I caught small fish off the jetty and scaled and gutted it etc. for my crippled grandma to prepare for our meal when my ma and other siblings were away somewhere. I'd come home from the day with blue lips and teeth chattering, but you couldn't get me to give it up any earlier. Even the day the jellyfish came in closer to the shore than usual and I was warned not to swim out, but I did and ended up like in your post, covered in red welts that first stung and then ached and eventually faded. I remember feeling slightly betrayed by our mother the sea that day, but not by the jellyfish who were, as you point out in a comment above, just being their natural selves and protecting themselves. I was back in the water as soon as the pain left, just much closer to shore and more careful. I still love the mystery and power and beauty and most of all the uniqueness of jellyfish and their seeming simplicity hiding one of nature's most complex creatures.
I have been stung but it was my fault. Simple vinegar helps a great deal. For those of us who spend too much time watching and ache to touch.
One perhaps owes these beauteous creatures an apology. Under the water, it's their world, and anyone who butts in deserves what he gets.
This is precisely how I feel.
xo
I used to surf and there were whole summer I spent covered in jellyfish stings. They never deterred me. They were the cost of the ticket, and you know, a boy's gotta ride!
John, I think we're reaching a consensus here. We're pretty much in it for the ride. At least virtaully. And how wonderful to be able to move that way. Talk about poetry in motion.
"Stay fluid", my friend Ayman once quoted to me (I think maybe this was apropos life in general as well as whatever matter of the moment). He has a wonderful dry sense of humour, so one never knows. Who said that? I asked. "Joe Frazier," he said. I think now he was really talking about one of those big slinky jellyfish divinities. I think they have those where he comes from. Joe Frazier v Cyanea capillata, my money's not on Joe. For fluidity that is.
Were there choices in such matters I believe I would have elected, among all species, to be pelagic.
Fewer joint issues, at least. One imagines a smoother ride. (Rose-coloured Blogger window on the Deeps.)
Michael, Rebecca, it is an honour to be swimming, if only with one fin, in which case I should perhaps say floating, in the same tank with such distinguished jellyfish cognoscenti.
(Housemate, reading Curtis's quote of the line about "to flail one's way through the surf", and then Stephen's allusion to legendary Bolinasian 4th of July fleshtivities, nods and says, "Yeah, right".
(And continues further, "What's this with the 'one' stuff. How do you expect people to know it's YOU this happened to, and that it's not just something somebody told you, like in Paul Bowles?" And I think: "Would that one were so fortunate.")
yes, "legendary Bolinasian 4th of July fleshtivities," you wouldn't believe what's become of what used to be --town choked w/ cars and people (no where to park even up here on Overlook, "a good day to hide under the bed" as Bob said yesterday. But we survived here in the backyard, and Joanne sends her greetings. . . .
The Blogger idiot gremlin disappeared much of this comment thread. I've been dragging my ancient brain through the night trying to find them. As though life were not hard enough already.
Here's one.
___
STEPHEN RATCLIFFE has left a new comment on your post "Fireworks in the Sea":
yes, "legendary Bolinasian 4th of July fleshtivities," you wouldn't believe what's become of what used to be --town choked w/ cars and people (no where to park even up here on Overlook, "a good day to hide under the bed" as Bob said yesterday. But we survived here in the backyard, and Joanne sends her greetings. . . .
Posted by STEPHEN RATCLIFFE to TOM CLARK at 5 July 2010 07:31
Post a Comment