Moonstones

I still have some moon-snails, still looking for my moonstones.

When I was young and foolish, I once hiked out to Arch Rock, or was it Double Point, I don’t remember which, I was hiking south along the deserted shore below Alamere Falls, when I came to a rocky outcrop and I couldn’t get to the other side. So I climbed up it and there was a big sinkhole down to the beach, and the arch looking out to sea—Double Point, I assumed. There are several arches along that part of the seashore. 

So I jumped down into the sinkhole to the beach below and went out the second arch and continued on exploring the isolated southern strand. Moonstones and moon shells galore. A treasure trove. By the time I returned at sunset, the tide was coming in and time was running out. What I hadn’t planned on, was the problem of climbing back up out of the concave walls of hole. For a while there I thought I was a goner.

Luckily when I jumped up I could just reach the lip overhang of the sinkhole with my hands, I held on for dear life, but I was sweating it trying to gain purchase on the eroded, not to mention slippery, concave walls of that sinkhole. A vertical wall would’ve been a piece of cake. I hadn’t counted on the curved walls. 

I utilized all my gymnastic moves and rock climbing skills, with a lot of adrenaline—which helped. I pulled myself up via a chin-up and hoisted an elbow over the edge. Victory. But getting my much heavier legs up to rim level without anything to use as leverage was much harder. As I flailed my legs, I thought for sure I was a goner. 

And yes, I was a little more than a teenager, so I guess we could blame my prefrontal lobes. Luckily, I had massive upper body strength, and I didn’t weigh very much. I pretended the cave lip was a horse, and eventually got a leg up and wriggled myself to the top. I was more than a bit shaken. I lay facedown on the rock counting my lucky stars. 

I remember the utter thrill of jumping down from the cliff into the sand. I felt like an intrepid explorer on an adventure. I never once thought about my personal safety. I’m sure there were moonstones in the sand egging me on as I was collecting them at the time. I felt invincible, it was a real Robinson Crusoe moment. Until I had to return the same way I came. Oops! Then, the long hike back along the Palomarin Trail to Highway One in the dusk.

Notes on Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring

Maria Popova of Brain Pickings, renamed the Marginalian, posted an essay on Rachel Carson, who wrote Silent Spring. I had no idea that that Carson was a poet who became a biologist. Makes perfect sense. She was channeling the music of the hemispheres. 

When I was a child, I noticed the disappearance of bluebirds. I was confused, thinking they were a kind of robin because of their red breasts. But the robins abided. How was that so? Were the blue ones boy robins? That idea was a conundrum.

As a child, I was always making similes and mixing metaphors, but I sorrowed for the loss of the bluebirds from the ecosystem. And for a long time, the spring was silent as avian populations plummeted because of the long-term cumulative effects of DDT in the ecosystem. Hardest hit were the apex avian predators. I’m not sure why bluebirds were on that list, but they were.

I had to wait until I was nearly 30 before I saw another bluebird again. One time we were trespassing in a rancher’s field near Goat Rock in Sonoma County, when suddenly bluebirds burst into a cloud around us. I was transfixed. This was about the same time when I took up the mantle of poetry. (I was a late bloomer—as dyslexia dictated what I could do.) 

I remember puzzling over an article on Carson in the Sunday paper supplement explaining the effects of Silent Spring—which also already had profoundly affected me, though I was a child. A convergence of time and place, as it were, though I wasn’t yet ten.

And, of course it wasn’t just the bluebirds that were disappearing, but also the peregrine falcons, the hawks and the eagles too. A classmate’s father, Mr. McBride, had captive peregrine falcons, and sometimes he brought them to the marshy wetlands below Lagunitas School in San Geronimo. 

I remember him unhooding the peregrine, whose little hood bells tinkled like distant water, and I love the way they soared into the blueness of sky and then dived down faster than the eye could see, to strike down a pigeon mid-flight. I was transfixed.

At a summer party in Point Reyes, I met Brian Kervin’s father, Monte, who single-handedly saved the peregrines from extinction. Monty was a biologist who was an expert on the plight of the peregrine falcons. While he was doing a bird count, he noticed that when the birds sat on their nests, their thin eggs collapsed because of the cumulative effects of DDT in their systems.

Monte set out to save the peregrines from extinction. He scaled treacherous cliffs, stealing peregrine eggs from their eyries, and replacing them with marble eggs, invoking their wrath, as they dive-bombed him as he rappelled down the cliffs. He hatched peregrine chicks in incubators, and returned them to the wild—thus saving the species from the brink of extinction.

When I met Monte, I had come full circle. Of course, I had read Carson’s work in the 1970s, but I didn’t pick up the poetry connection, and I’m delighted to know that poetry is the foundation of her beginnings her underpinnings—because my love of science and the natural world is what led me to writing poetry. 

And of course, poetry is what saved me, giving me access to my poor locked brain, my intellect, hobbled by the chains dyslexia. And all the bluebirds, how they soared!

See THE MAN WHO LOVED FALCONS

• TWO BLUEBIRD MORNING
• baby bluebird (photos)

• BLUE COYOTE, 2/4/04

• Journal entry, 4/21/92 housesitting

Artichoke fields of West Marin

I remember seeing the artichoke fields of Olema—near the pasture of the donkey, the goose and caboose (which was the Pt. Reyes library car). There were still abandoned artichoke fields from Point Reyes to Petaluma through the 1960s. The shock of deep green amid the pale oat grasses, and the jewel-like purple blossoms in late summer.

Tule elk cull at Pt. Reyes

In general I am in love with the Golden Gate National Park. However, what has happened out on the Pt Reyes National Seashore, with the National Park Service falsifying reports in regards to the Drake’s Bay Oyster Farm in 2012, and now the same thing seems to be happening with the elk versus the cattle on the point, I am disillusioned with the NPS. One of the reasons why the Pt Reyes National Park was created, was to prevent rampant development, and also preserve the historic dairy ranches operating on the point. Currently ranching occupies 30% of the land, 70% of that land is wilderness. The rancher are not against elk. That’s a false narrative cooked up by eco justice warriors.

This schism that has developed between the historic agricultural use versus wildlife is a deep grievance because I witnessed the beginning of the Pt Reyes National Seashore. I know the backstory. And for this reason I cannot support the Center for Biological Diversity’s claims, and I now also distrust the NPS or GGNPS in regards to Pt Reyes because the larger agenda is to destroy the historic ranches on the point, in favor of urban recreationists, and to hell with historic facts. Remember the Drake’s Bay oyster fiasco? We’ve seen them in action and they re not above twisting the facts and ecological reports to suit their agendas.

The imported tule elk are diseased. And yet protestors are making such a racket over the culling of a handful of elk at Drake’s Bay, when there are more than 700 elk on the point, and the point was only supposed to sustain 300 elk? I don’t like the double-speak, and the manipulation of facts to suit a political agenda. 

I don’t mind the Conservancy, or some of the work that the Center for Biological Diversity has done, but I dislike their gaming and hidden political agendas. Once upon a time I thought the NPS and environmental groups could do no wrong.To my naive way of thinking they were upholding the vision that Teddy Roosevelt had put in place, but now the NPS too has become a self-serving organization. It saddens me to no end. Ditto that with many of the eco-warrior groups—especially the Center for Biological Diversity, and another group closer to home, SPAWN, has joined the ranks of manipulating facts and misrepresenting ecological reports  to suit their political agendas.

https://sanfrancisco.cbslocal.com/2019/08/09/point-reyes-ranching-elk-culling-proposals/

https://www.mercurynews.com/2019/08/09/point-reyes-national-seashore-proposes-20-year-ranch-leases-culling-tule-elk/

https://www.marinij.com/2019/09/23/point-reyes-elk-advocates-claim-censorship-by-park-service/

https://www.sacbee.com/news/local/environment/article233662527.html the Sacramento Bee article, if you can call it that, is the most biased of all. It really is an opinion piece parading in elk’s clothing.

Black Mountain after the fire (colored pencil drawing)

Feeling more than a little blue today, so I drew yet another view of Elephant, or Black Mountain....it kept me in the present tense. This view is from a hike I took with my cousin on Olema Ridge, to the old McIsaac Ranch, Point Reyes. We went to see the extent of the fire damage on Mt Barnabe, and this was behind my left shoulder—I actually gasped. It took me by surprise to see it so close, and from this angle. So sensual, so stark. From a photo I took in September—before the relationship shit began hitting the fan.

Elephant Mountain & fog, (colored pencil drawing)

Elephant Mountain in fog, colored pencil. Still learning the blending and layering process. Yes, I’m working in a series, I took lots of photos in September, and am using them as models as a backlog. so I’ll keep using them until I’ve figured it out. Electronically enhanced plein air painting—er, drawing. I prefer to paint, but I don’t have my art supplies. Quickie sketch below was done after the above drawing. I was explaining the concept of landscape layers and triangular shapes to a very young artist.

Elephant Mountain, 4 views (tempera paintings)

Elephant Mountain & fog, (tempera on cardboard)

While waiting to present a poetry workshop, I chanced upon an arts workshop at the Jewish elder home and I painted the morning away. Five visions of Black Mountain. This is the only way I know how to heal after tragedy. Art has always been my first language. Tempera, or cheap gouache on cardboard. Yes, cardboard. I'd run out of painting surfaces, this was supposed to be my painting palette.

Palm Sunday, Gallagher Ranch, Theo the bull, photos

Theo the Bull, Gallagher Ranch, Palm Sunday ©Maureen Hurley 2017

Theodore the Bull, was no Ferdinand, he was all bull, and that's no bull. When I rounded the bend to the upper pasture, he pulled his pink pecker in, and began to threaten me....I thought he was bluffing, but apparently not. He got all prancy like a horse but I didn't take him seriously until he began to drop his head and paw.... It was sort of like a cartoon two-step as I had just passed the last fencepost, expecting to sneak behind him. Not. It was more like a do-si-dos. He didn't take kindly to my trespass. I didn't know I could dive through barbed wire that fast. Ripped my favorite down vest to shreds. He is rather handsome. Angus cattle are so docile I wasn't expecting Mr. Testosterone to turn me into a Minoan Vapio cup dancer. Threat averted. I submitted, that's all he cared about. He was a bit turfy. And no, I had no designs on his harem. Theo was nothing like the old bulls I knew when I was a kid. They were rather gentle, seasoned hands. When I was a kid, Ole Grandad, the Herfie in the upper pasture on Mt. Barnabe, was friendly, and loved to be itched—not that we wanted to—as he always pizzled on his own head. I guess. Old Grandad was very nonchalant about spring and all. Maybe he was a bit too nonchalant. I suspect he became somebody’s rump steak. I always thought the rampaging bull theme was a bit of a myth. Only one young bull ever treed me up a poison oak laden telephone pole. It could be because we named him Thelma. We ate his heart wrapped in bay leaves.

Declining coho run on Lagunitas Creek: It's the damned dams, Stoopid!

An Open Letter to Alastair Bland:

Who, in an article, Big Rains Bring Both Good and Bad News for Salmon, for of newsdeeply.com, wrote that: "Lagunitas Creek and its lower tributaries, have been lined with bank fortifications and berms that confine the streams to their main channels..." are the real problem for failing coho salmon runs ... Not.

Hmm, Mr. Bland, and there are few berms on Lagunitas Creek. Unless you're referring to the dams on upper Lagunitas Creek, they are called, you know, flat-out dams, not berms. I  ridden every inch of that creekbed from the Inkwell to Tócaloma. There are berms at Jewel, but that’s about it.

As to your reference to all the damage to the lower tributaries, you're way off mark (have you ever heard of primary investigation vs using Wiki as a reference, bolstered by a Marin Municipal Water District quotes. Nice touch, BTW. Lends a real air of authenticity.

Has it also ever occurred to you that MMWD just MIGHT be part of the main problem? Not exactly an unbiased source. Think about that for a moment. I'll wait. Five dams. Has the penny dropped? Oh, right. Dams! MMWD's bread and butter. Ka-ching!

One main tributary to Lagunitas Creek (other than Olema Creek), the San Geronimo/Creamery Creek does not have extensive berms either, and certainly not any new channeling, and the fish runs were huge when I was a kid. There was a fish ladder at the golf course (see below), but it didn’t impede the fish run. The golf course (and pesticides) did.

I know damned near every bend of these creeks. (And most of the tributaries). And I have swum in, or ridden most of the streambeds. On Lagunitas Creek, south of Kent Lake Dam, Devil's Gulch Creek, another main tributary, has NO berms whatsoever... never had them, so this is bogus info. Total bullshit. Olema Creek, ditto. Cowshit might contribute to the problem in Point Reyes. But I have seen silver salmon runs where the water was roiling with fish in cowshitted water.

There was a fish ladder (at Roy's Dam) on the San Geronimo Creek in San Geronimo. Unless the fish ladder was later removed, SPAWN's claim to fame is somewhat hyperbolic. The fact, that in 1997, the fish were still navigating San Geronimo Creek, suggests it wasn't a problem. I distinctly remember going to the ladders to watch the coho navigate the steps in the 1970s.

It is possible that the SGV Golf Course radically changed the structure of the ladder ca. the late 1980s, early 1990s, and I wouldn't have witnessed it. (From what I can gather, upon further sleuthing, the fish ladder was in disrepair, and fixed in 1999 and Roy's Dam—if you can call it a dam— was removed). But I’ll also mention again that the golf course used pesticides to keep the weeds off the course. 

Maybe Andy Giddings has more specific info on the SGV creek fishladder as his father was Fish & Game Warden for the San Geronimo Valley during the 1950s-1980s?

BTW, Fish also made it all the way up to our tertiary creeks, Barranca and Arroyo during the 1960s. 

On San Geronimo Creek, where it meet Lagunitas Creek, Shafter's Pool was dammed during the summer, but that practice stopped in the late 50s, early 60s. It was a seasonal dam, a summer swimming hole for kids. It had zero impact on coho runs. And the salmon were still plentiful. No other dams on the creek. So what exactly are you talking about?

The silver salmon and the coho runs declined in the 80s-90s, there's something else at work: like over-fishing and lack of spawning grounds. Oh, and the biggest "berm" of all, Kent Lake Dam—is probably the biggest reason of all why critical fish habitat was destroyed. Add Nicasio Dam to that list. Most of the Mt. Tam dams date back to the 'teens" so they didn't have a huge recent impact on failing coho runs of the 1990s.

Lake Lagunitas dam was built 1872, Alpine Dam 1917, Bon Tempe 1948, Kent Lake (Peter's) Dam, the largest reservoir, in 1954—it was still filling up in the late 50s. The dam was raised 45 feet in 1982, after the drought of the 70s. Nicasio Dam was added in 1962.) And then there was the drought. Did I mention drought. As in several back-to-back long-term drought cycles?

So, to be clear, Lagunitas Creek (and its three forks) is dammed at Lake Lagunitas, becomes Lagunitas Creek the First, which drains into Bon Tempe Lake, then to Alpine Dam, (with a name change to Big Carson), then to Kent Lake Dam, then to Lagunitas Creek the Second, at the confluence of San Geronimo Creek. Note: they are full blown DAMS not berms.

And then there's Nicasio Creek, which flows from the Nicasio Reservoir (1962), to Platform Bridge, where it joins Lagunitas Creek— another damned dam, to the mix. That's the source of the problem. All the damned dams.

FYI: From Kent Lake to the sea, Lagunitas Creek is a wild creek through Samuel P.Taylor Park, through Jewel, around the bend, past Devil's Gulch, past McIsaac's Ranch, my cousin's Gallagher Ranch at Elephant/Black Mountain, to Point Reyes Station, to the Point Reyes bridge....still NO channels or berms, on to White House Pool, that I can recall—then it empties into Tomales Bay... Even Olema Creek is not bermed. So, what are you talking about?

Seriously, this sounds like a spin from the self-serving organization, SPAWN (litigious Todd Steiner's Salmon Protection and Watershed Network) which began its alternative truth campaign in 1997, and has been wildly successful at obfuscation and litigation...probably leading to some of the factoids in your article, a case in point. It's the damned dams that are the problem. And droughts. Did I mention the droughts???

Otherwise, a good article...

Google Maps screenshot of San Geronimo Creek headwaters. Roy's Dam was at the golf course, where SGV Rd turns up to Nicasio road.

Day of the Dead, Farallones, from a photo 2015

 

A photo from the last day of the year, 2015: the Farallones, 20 miles out from Point Reyes, seemed so close, I could almost touch them. A last gasp from a dying camera; its swan song. Farallón means "pillar" or "sea cliff," once aka "Devil's Teeth Islands," for the treacherous shoals. Part of the Sierras, a block of rifted granitic continental crust thrusted up. A place where, as a child, I though the dead dwelled. I had no idea that the islands were the abode of spirits, called "Islands of the Dead" by the Ohlones.

The Farallones are home to 400 species of birds, many of then rare, or endangered. I once saw a tufted puffin wing his way off Point Reyes. A small clownish football of a bird winging home with a beakfull of fish.

Vizcaíno's friar, Antonio de la Ascencion called the islands los Farallónes. Probably why San Francisco Bay was never discovered by Vizcaíno or by Drake, who called them the Islands of Saint James. A place of treacherous shoals. A place of many shipwrecks.

The American whalers, and Russian explorers built sealing stations there, manned by Alaskan Kodiak Islanders, until there were no more northern fur seals left. Whether Northern, or Guadalupe fur seals, we will never know. One of the largest seabird colonies in the U.S. Then the Gold Rush—millions of seabird eggs (500,000 a month) collected, led to the San Francisco Egg Wars.

Then it was Rum Row during the Prohibition, and a nuclear waste dump during the 1940s to the 1970s; 50,000 radioactive drums, and 44,000 shipyard containers were scuttled, and are rusting away—we still don't know what is in them. But it can't be good. Stories of massive sponges growing in the littoral zones.

Yes, and here we are, still dancing on the brink of the world.

uxar-at kai pire.
On the cliff, on the edge,
on the brink of the world,
we are dancing.

Day of the Dead, All Soul's Day, The beginning and the end of the Celtic year. My grandmother, brother and mother all died right before Samhain. So, Samhain, All Souls' Day, and El Día de los Muertos is a three-fold sorrow.

Thinking of my mother who wanted her ashes scattered off the Golden Gate, to drift to the Farallones. Maybe I should give her back to the sea.

Fitting image for El Día de los Muertos. 

Last sunset of the year (photo)

 Last sunset of the year,2015,  the Farallones from Point Reyes

A macaw-colored sky. Last sunset of the year, 2015, floating islands of the Farallones from the tip of Point Reyes, The air was so clear, it looked like you could touch them. They're part of Point Reyes' lost siblings. Soon the Point will become an island too. Island moving north.

It was the day I killed my camera, all the photos I took on Dec. 31, 2015, came out too dark, and were loaded with sunspots. but this one, with a lot of doctoring, gaudy as it is, worked. It breaks the rules. Never divide a photo directly in half, it's too static (unless it's the Farallones). Don't shoot clichés like sunsets and islands (unless it's the Farallones). 

Don't shoot in low light sans tripod, avoid pixellation and noise. Image was loaded with burned sunspots from pointing it at the sun, burning the processor. I don't think it'll recover. I was able to clone the sunspots out of the sky. But not the pixellation. Spots before my eyes in more ways than one.

I left one sunspot in the lower left corner as a reminder. The upper left corner of the photo looked like a pong table gone mad. Who knew that reflected water off Schooner Creek after 4 PM on one of the shortest afternoon of the year, would completely fry my camera in multiple corners? 

Nothing to be done about the whacked light meter, though. Fritz is its middle name. So even if I can save some of the photos, the digital noise renders them useless. Luckily with this photo, it doesn't matter. But just look at that water. Lovely pixellation. Which made it even harder to clone the sunspots out of it. You can see several patch jobs.

I've fried other cameras before, and undoubtably will fry more cameras in the future, and since the sunspots are usually in the upper corners of the sky, I took to shooting pohotos upside down(the camera, not me) to avoid the sunspots. 

Damage control was not possible this time. I was so distressed I didn't even look at the photos until six months later—hence the late posting. Editing was a nightmare. So this is a salvage job, at best.

from a Facebook post
February 4, 2016

Johnson's Oyster Farm—aka—Drake's Bay Oyster Farm requiem

This was the place where I thoroughly fried my camera shooting a low winter sun over Schooner Creek (it was a Johnson's Oyster Farm—aka—Drake's Bay Oyster Farm homage and requiem). 

My camera lost its mind. You can see a few sunspots in this photo. But it was so outrageous, I shot several photos, each image added to the overall sunspottiness. Not only that, after these shots, the light meter also went south. Or maybe it was north. Everything was underexposed. Nearly black images. Hundreds of them. Not much to be done about it. Except cry.

It was a suck it up Buttercup kind of moment. I used to cry whenever my cameras died...Quivery-lipped, I buried the images in deep dark folders. I still haven't edited this batch...

The Farallones photo and comment were from an old Facebook post, that I rediscovered and revised. Hence the odd posting date.

Day of the Dead, All Soul's Day, The beginning and the end of the Celtic year. Halloween is always hard, my grandmother, brother and mother all died right before Samhain. So, Samhain, All Souls' Day, and El Dia de los Muertos is a three-fold sorrow.

Thinking of my mother who wanted me to scatter her ashes off the Golden Gate, to drift to the Farallones. Maybe I should get someone to sail me out there, and be done with it, give her back to the sea. Who has a boat?

See also
Tomales Bay Photo I managed to save a few photos from hundreds.

RIP, SS Pt. Reyes, victim of arson (photos)

RIP, SS Pt. Reyes, victim of arson.

Iconic Tomales Bay shipwreck, the "S.S. Point Reyes," an old military transport cum salmon fishing boat, has been a photographer's wet dream since at least 1998. The fishing boat snoozing on a sandspit behind the Inverness market, was a real fixer-upper. You know how the story goes. One man's manaña complex is now a tourist destination. Supposedly it was pulled up onto the sandbar during the 1980s for a little R&R and renovation that never happened. It became an iconic destination. The "S.S. Point Reyes” was slated to be removed by the NPS, but thundering hordes of irate photographers rallied round the vessel, and saved it for pixellated posterity. 

It reminds me of that other rustbucket, the S.S. Minnow stranded on Hwy 58 in the Mojave Desert near Tehachapi. Ironic that this iconic boat was burnt to the ground by an overzealous photographer, intent upon snagging a spookily lit night shot, he back-lit the wreck by lighting spun steel wool, And the resulting sparks ignited the bone-dry punky wood. What was he thinking? 

I can’t find original photo, from the PT. Reyes Light. Merrel Rocca Sr.

Last day of the year, Farallones, photo

 

A macaw-colored sky. Last sunset of the year, floating islands of the Farallones from the tip of Point Reyes, The air was so clear, it looked like you could touch them. They're part of Point Reyes' lost siblings. Soon the Point will become an island too. Island moving north. Think I finally killed my camera, all the photos came out too dark, but this one, gaudy as it is, worked. It breaks the rules. Never divide a photo directly in half, it's static (unless it's the Farallones). Don't shoot clichés like sunsets and islands (unless it's the Farallones). Don't shoot in low light sans tripod, avoid pixellation and noise. Image was loaded with burned sunspots from pointing it at the sun, burning the processor. I don't think it'll recover. I was able to clone the sunspots out of the sky. I left one sunspot in the lower left corner as a reminder. The upper left corner looked like a pong table gone mad. Who knew that reflected water off Schooner Creek after 4 PM on one of the shortest afternoon of the year would completely fry my camera in multiple corners? I've fried other cameras before, and undoubtably will fry more cameras in the future, and since the sunspots are usually in the upper corners of the sky, I took to shooting pohotos upside down (the camera, not me) to avoid the sunspots. Damage control was not possible this time. I was so distressed I didn't even look at the photos the next year. Editing was a nightmare. So this is a salvage job.

© Maureen Hurley 2015

Marconi's Oranges

One dreary winter afternoon we drove out to the coast along the eastern shore of Tomales Bay with our Norwegian neighbor Agnes, and her sister Borg Haugen, who both loved the sea. The Haugen sisters also drank like Vikings, hitting the bottle after breakfast was not unheard of during the holidays.

We pretended we didn't notice, we played along with Toofta, an invisible wight (similar to our leipreachán), who had a fondness for screwdrivers and spiked eggnog. After a morning's liberal libation, the sisters grew restive, and longed to be in sight of the sea. So we piled into the green Packard and would often wind up somewhere along the coast.

As we headed out to Marconi Station near Marshall, my grannie who sailed over from Bantry Bay on the world's largest passenger ship, the Lusitania, Lady of Inverclyde (it was torpedoed in 1915), told us a story about Valentia Island, off the coast of Kerry. She said that Valentia Island was hooked up to the Marconi Station in Tomales Bay. (The KPH receiving station is in Marshall, and the transmitting station is in at RCA Beach near Bolinas.) 

Somehow Hawaii was also involved with my childish equation of Marconi Station, as Agnes received ship-to-shore calls from her husband Lucien, a merchant marine. No matter that I thought those sea cliffs of the Farallon Islands were Hawaii. Borg said that she sailed to Waikiki on a Cunard ship and it took days to get there, yet I could see the islands from the Golden Gate Bridge.

Sunday evenings we'd gather round Agnes's radio and listen to Hawaii Calls on the radio. The idea of Pearly shells from the ocean, shining in the sun....crackled across the sea, fired my imagination.

As my grandmother elaborated upon the stringing of those transatlantic cables, the wonderous Guglielmo Marconi, Morse Code, telegrams, or marconigrams, I was confounded. I envisioned those really long cables stretched under the oceans still being used a hundred years later.

Though I was only a child, even I knew that Ireland was a long way from the shores of Americay, and that we were due west of west. And the world was a really big place, Hawaii aside. Not only was there the Atlantic ocean to cross, but the entire continent of North America in the way.

The old ship-to-shore Marconi telegraph receiving station was built after my grannie had left Ireland for good, in 1912. After a mishap, she was late and missed the boat, which happened to be the good ship Titanic, laden with Irish immigrants—otherwise I wouldn't be there to tell you this story.

The old Marconi Station, near the site of the old Coast Miwok village Echa-kolum, had been closed since 1939. During the early 1960s, it was converted to a drug rehabilitation center called Synanon. It seemed like a good idea at the time. A sober utopia. There was a big spread on it in the Sunday Paper. We had no idea that Synanon would become synonymous with evilness incarnate, but that's another story. It should've been renamed Narconi Station.

It must've been mid-winter when we took that drive north along Tomales Bay toward Dillon Beach. It could've been a day straddling either side of Christmas. The sky was overcast. Perhaps it was drizzling. A soft Irish day, my grannnie would always say. 

Perhaps I was grousing over a lack of adequate Christmas gifts, or perhaps I was was ever hopeful for pie in the sky kind of Christmas. Seeding the field, so to speak, for Christmases to come. Christmas was a meager affair, as my grannie's small pension barely covered the necessities. I was dependent upon our neighbors for gifts.

My grannie also told me that every Christmas her brothers and sisters each got one sweet Valentia orange wrapped in foil for Christmas. That was it. It was something to be savored, its seeds duly counted. One for each member of the family, if luck would have it. The trick was to hold out and eat it after everyone else had eaten theirs. Then eat it in front of them. Slowly.

Sometimes my grannie and her siblings got a few walnuts and sultana raisins, or tiny currants—like the kind she added to Irish sodabread—too if her parents could afford it. Sweetmeats were considered luxuries in the west of Ireland at the end of 19th century.

There wasn't anything much to see at Marconi Station. Not even a plaque. A disappointment. I kicked the sand as they admired the pullout off Highway One. I didn't understand it was the end of an era. They had no camera, but the day is indelibly etched in memory.

Unraveling my grannie's convoluted stories is probably why I became a writer. I couldn't see or hear that silent 't" in Valentia, and confused it with Valencia oranges. The conundrum haunted me. See? Suits you to a "t," as my grannie might say as she handed me a proverbial orange. 

But then, adults were always doing inexplicable things—like driving up the coast on a  whim, not wanting to stop so we wound up in Gualala staying the night with not even a toothbrush between us, let alone pajamas.

What I learned was: Valencia is in Spain. Valencia, spelled with a "c" was once a river island. They grow Valencia oranges there. Apparently they wrapped them in gold foil for export, a real Christmas treasure. Valencia oranges came from India, or China. 

My grannie loved Valencia oranges. Too sweet for me. I prefer tangy tangerines or naval oranges—don't even ask me about the conflation of bellybutton (really a lost orange twin) and nautical equation). A good thing I didn't know about Valencia, California.

Valencia, located on the orange blossom coast of the Mediterranean Sea, was once spelled Valentia, in rough Latin, meaning strength/valor.  Its Moorish nickname was Medina bu-Tarab/Turab (either city of joy, or city sand, depending on the mis-translation.) However, a Marconi station was built in Aranjuez near Madrid, Spain. It means hawthorn in Basque. So, magic was afoot. It seems those Marconi stations were everywhere.

Valentia Island, spelled with a "t." is located in County Kerry, Ireland. Why they called it Valentia, after Valencia, Spain was a complete mystery. Maybe they really liked Christmas oranges, my ten-year-old mind reasoned. Or they liked Marconi. Of course, I confused Marconi with macaroni and wondered what pasta salad had to do with Yankee Doodle.

Then, there's one of the old Roman names for the fifth province (Northern England (Eboracum /York) and Southern Scotland), also called Valentia, either named after Valentinian, or his brother, the Eastern emperor Valens ("Land of Valens,"), or it's a wordplay on the Latin vallum ("wall"). Or it could be a wordplay off  the Welsh, as in Wal/Val.

Valentia Island is a malapropism, a corruption from Oilean Dairbhre—means the Island of the Oak Woods (pronounced dwervne). I was disappointed to discover that Valentia Island is not even remotely located in Spain, but it is one of Ireland's most westerly points off the Iveragh Peninsula in County Kerry.

Before the Transatlantic Cable was installed, it took a fortnight or longer for messages to reach North America from Europe by boat. Valentia was where transatlantic telegraph communications cables were laid from Telegraph Field, the "birthplace of global communications" at Foilhommerum Bay, Ireland, to Heart's Content, Newfoundland in 1866, some 2,300 nautical miles away—after six unsuccessful attempts (1857).

Valentia was formerly an island studded with oaks and apparently some rampant resident druids. The telegraph was one of history's game-changing moments, global telecommunications, the ancestor of the internet. That's pure wizardry at work. Imagine that. It was like a case of Marconi's oranges colliding on Christmas. 

On 16 August, 1858, transatlantic communication was established. The message: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, good will to men.” Unfortunately the overexcited engineer fried the cable. In 1866, the final cable was laid. The Valencia Transatlantic Cable Station was laid to rest in 1966. And in 2013 it was up for sale. I wonder who bought it?

I know I've wandered far and wide in this memoir, but that's the shape of memory. Back then, if I knew what he adults were up to, I wouldn't have had this story to tell now, would I? Perhaps that tangled up day was the first day of the rest of my life. A self-examined life, as told through memoir, itself, an oxymoron for truth, such as it is.

Writing too, is an addiction, from which there is no recovery, nor cure. I understand that full recovery is impossible. As I write these words, I discover anew, that today, as always, is the first day of the rest of my life.

TREMOR AT 3 AM

I was just north of Pt. Reyes Station
sleeping over in a friend's living room,
I got up for some water, I was feeling woozy
and then I fell back to sleep.

But the trees were whispering and shimmying.
The land around me moaned and roared
like a freight train through Tortilla Flats.
And I was nearly tossed off the couch.

I couldn't figure out someplace safe to go,

I was in a strange house, So I screamed.
Brian came running out and we shivered
on the front porch in our underwear

as the earth hissed and shook and the stars jigged.

I was positive it was San Andreas' fault
which is only a few feet away, and runs
the length of Tomales Bay, lapping, lapping.
Thought I was gonna be on a floating island,
drifting out to sea on this slippery raft of a couch.

I must've been wakened by an earlier tremor. 
In my dreams the earth was roaring so loud,
the hum seemed to be coming from inside my head,
then I realized it's the earth, deep inside, groaning.
Singing a primal earthquake song.

Next time I sleep over, I'm bringing a seatbelt.

8/24/14
rev 10/16

Oystergate: Drake's Bay Oyster Farm loses lease

"Clem Miller, a US Congressman from Marin County wrote and introduced the bill for the establishment of Point Reyes National Seashore in 1962 to protect the peninsula from residential development which was proposed at the time for the slopes above Drake's Bay. Miller's vision included the continuation of the historic ranching and oyster farming along with the preservation of the grasslands and open scenic vistas. The mix of commercial and recreational uses was the reason the area was designated a National Seashore rather than a National Park."

Schooner Bay, old Johnson's Oyster Point turnoff

I'm not sure if I agree with U.S. Department of the Interior Secretary Ken Salazar's decision to close historic Drake's Bay Oyster Farm on the Point Reyes National Seashore, in Northern California, in order to redistribute Drake's Estero "to the state of wilderness that Congress designated for it in 1976."

It seems that our local history has been suddenly rearranged to fit the needs of the present tense—with eco-justice warriors riding roughshod on our land, by changing the storyline.

(Map of Drake Estero and proposed wilderness.)

Salazar said, "I believe it is the right decision for Point Reyes National Seashore and for future generations who will enjoy this treasured landscape." Salazar also stated that:

The decision also ensures that, in keeping with the historic use of the land, existing sustainable ranching operations within the national park will continue.
In 1972, the National Park Service purchased the land that housed the oyster operation and the owner reserved a 40-year right to continue its activities through November 30, 2012. —Department of the Interior via Yubanet

Schooner Bay, Oyster Point turnoff

However, all is not how it sounds on paper. In a nutshell: Point Reyes rancher Kevin Lunny purchased the remainder of a 40-year lease on Johnson's historic oyster farm in 2005. Lunny maintained that the agreement he signed in 2005 held a renewal clause that was not accepted by the U.S. Department of the Interior. It specifically did not contain a non-renewable clause.

Salazar said that his decision is “fulfilling Congressional vision for wilderness.” This is in conflict with the original congressional intent of land use which sought to protect the livelihood of the ranchers.

Schooner Bay

It seems there's a massive conflict of interest here: a collusion of fuzzy science, outdated ecological impact reports, and politics—the elephant seal in the room that nobody's addressing. 

Point Reyes National Seashore was designated as a unit of the national park system by Congress in 1962 to protect more than 80 miles of California coastline. —Department of the Interior via Yubanet

[The oyster farm] existed before the creation of the seashore, the permit applies to an area that is within the pastoral zone—“created cooperatively by the federal government and ranchers in the 1960s to protect the land from development and also to continue the tradition of ranching”—not a potential wilderness area. ”—Point Reyes Light

Holding pond; Drake's Estero

Although relatively unmodified by human interventions, especially as compared to highly developed portions of San Francisco Bay, Drakes Estero is not a pristine coastal lagoon. p19 ...other activities in the Point Reyes National Seashore (ranches and recreational use), the ecosystem of Drakes Estero will be affected by both legacy effects of earlier human interventions and also ongoing human activities, even if the oyster farm were closed and all the associated equipment removed. p23 Shellfish Mariculture in Drakes Estero, Point Reyes National Seashore, California, 2009

Salazar has singled out historic use of the land via mariculture. or sea-ranching—from ranching. To many folks, Drake's Bay Oyster Farm (DBOF—aka the old Johnson Oyster Farm) was viewed as a prime example of responsible stewardship. 

Lunny supporters and local businesses including Straus Family Creamery, seem to be in agreement that Lunny farmed oysters with integrity and cared for the environment. Lunny turned an ailing historic oyster farm into a clean, sustainable operation. Drake's Bay Oyster Farm attracts some 2.5 million visitors per year, and it's good for the economy—it brings in $85 million with its annual harvest of 460,000 lbs of oysters a year. Lunny claims that the National Park Service fabricated and misrepresented the scientific evidence

The National Park Service paints another darker picture—replete with old, bogus or skewed environmental studies, citing, for example an environmental report originally from New Jersey involving jet skis. . The National Academy of Science said the estero was healthier with the oysters. So, what's really going on here?

While NPS in all versions of Drake's Estero: A Sheltered Wilderness Estuary  (2006) accurately depicted the ecological significance and conservation value of Drake's Estero, in several instances the agency selectively presented, over-interpreted, or misrepresented the available scientific information on potential impacts of the oyster mariculture operation. Consequently, Drake's Estero: A Sheltered Wilderness Estuary did not present a rigorous and balanced synthesis of the mariculture impacts. Overall, the report gave an interpretation of the science that exaggerated the negative and overlooked potentially beneficial effects of the oyster culture operation. It appears that hasty responses to local stakeholder concerns by NPS led to the publication of inaccuracies and a subsequent series of retractions and clarifications during this process from 2007–2008, which cast doubt on the agency’s credibility and motivation. A lack of coordination among the multiple agencies regulating the mariculture operation also gave mixed messages to stakeholders, fueling the controversy.p71-3 Shellfish Mariculture in Drakes Estero, Point Reyes National Seashore, California, 2009

According to today's KQED blog report, "Feinstein and the National Academy of Sciences claimed the National Park Service is trying to get rid of the oyster farm by exaggerating its negative impacts on the environment." 

Not only that, it seems that the NPS Environmental Impact report is fictitious and loaded with flawed science and the required 30-day public comment period required by law has been axed. 

The final Environmental Impact Statement (EIS) is due out any day, according to Rachel Jacobson, acting assistant secretary for Fish and Wildlife and Parks.
The 30-day public comment period required by law will not have ended before November 30, the date the permit expires.
Secretary Salazar has the option of renewing the permit, however, with or without the EIS. His office said he expects to issue a decision next week.
Critics had called for a complete rewrite of draft EIS for a laundry list of reasons, citing scientific studies concluding the farm does no measurable harm to its natural surroundings and could, through adaptive management, continue to operate within a thriving ecosystem. —Point Reyes Light

One bone of contention may be that Lunny, like his oyster farm neighbors in Tomales Bay, expanded the oyster farm to include Manilla clams to make the business viable. But so did the Tomales bay oyster farms—so that can't be the reason.

Besides, the NPS is not in charge of fishing rights—the State of California is. When Johnson sold the lease in 2004, the oyster business was failing. Lunny revitalized it.

Lunny, who owns the historic "G" ranch lease, managed to turn the ailing oyster farm around. He schucked some serious oysters, and expanded the market to carry Drake's Bay Oysters in local grocery stores. DBOF is the last on-site shucking and packing facility in California.

The bivalve harvesting activities occur on about 1,000 acres of the estuary. DBOF, with a staff of 30 employees, operates the only on-site oyster canning facility in the state, and provides 40% of California's oysters. Or I should say: provided. Fukushima oysters, anyone?

Schooner Bay, Home Bay and Drake's Estero.

While some people don't think Lunny should've introduced Manila clam harvesting per se, I understand the concept of diversified farming. Tomales Bay oyster farms grow Manila clams too. BTW, those clams were originally exotic hitchhikers on the Pacific oyster shells during the 1930s, and someone discovered that they tasted good too. So Lunny didn't introduce them to the estero, but to the public.

After all, the oysters that are farmed in both Tomales Bay and Drake's Bay are non-native species. Most shellfish mariculture in the United States is based on non-native species, the Pacific oyster (Crassostrea gigas), the Kumamoto oyster (Crassostrea sicamea), and the Manila clam (Venerupis [Ruditapes] philippinarum).

So are the reintroduced Roosevelt elk—the native species, long since extinct.

I would like to have seen the reintroduction of California's native Olympia oysters (Ostrea lurida). I know, that confusing. Olympia oysters? Yep. Seed oysterbeds are in trouble in Oregon, due to ocean acidification, so California may be their last stand. The shell mounds in the Coast Miwok midden near DBOC are mostly Olympia oysters.

According to Linda Murphy, "Five types of oysters are grown in North America: The Pacific (Japanese Miyagi oyster); Eastern or Atlantic; European; and Kumamoto." As well as green mussels and Manila clams.

Native Olympia oysters became functionally extinct in the San Francisco Bay Area due to overharvesting and then siltation during the Gold Rush, and from logging finished them off, but in the 1990s, a colony of native oysters, was discovered and is thriving at Point Richmond.

Unfortunately, voracious non-native snails (introduced by oyster farmers) are devouring California's only native oyster in Tomales Bay.

Reintroduced Tule elk.

However, oyster farming in the estero is a long-standing tradition that dates back more than a hundred years. When I was a kid, the shallows of both Tomales Bay and Drake's Estero were lined with "Indian fences" laden with oysters. Now

[Tomales and Drakes Bay] oyster farmers use the French rack-and-bag method of farming. The process begins when they buy seedlings from hatcheries and transplant the seeds, called spats, onto pieces of shell. The fingernail-size spats are raised in mesh cylinders in an aqua nursery until they are about an inch long, then are transferred to mesh bags and tethered to racks and cables in the water to grow to a size of three to four inches — an 18-month-long process. —Linda Murphy

(See a photo of DBOF racks.)

Here's an interesting dilemma: since the native Olympia oysters are no longer filtering Drake Estero waters, the non-native species of bi-valves are scrubbing the Estero—with five finger bays and only one opening to the sea—clean. Remove them, then what? Watch the Estero cloud up and die? Want to clean up an estuary, create super-filtration systems—oyster reefs—that's what they did at Chesapeake Bay.

BTW, removing the oysters will also negatively impact the eelgrass (Zostera marina)—which is dependent on their pseudo-poop for nourishment. Eelgrass worldwide is dying off—except that it grows in abundance in Drake Estero.

... filtration by the cultured oysters could provide additional benefits to eelgrass production by lowering turbidity and adding nutrients because these limit eelgrass distribution and production even in relatively oligotrophic estuaries (Carroll et al., 2008). Thus, sedimentary anoxia induced by DBOC shellfish is unlikely. p27 Oyster enhancement and oyster reef restoration is a major and expanding component of estuarine restoration throughout the United States P28 Shellfish Mariculture in Drakes Estero, Point Reyes National Seashore, California 2009

Drake's Bay Oyster Farm was the last remaining oyster farm on the point. Lunny, who lost a five-year battle with the feds, wanted to extend his lease with the National Park Service for10 more years. Lunny had a legal right to ask for that extension-Congress, when it created the PRNS, stipulated that the farm leases were to be renewed.

Why is the NPS and Salazar singling out Lunny? Last I heard the Bureau of the Interior and the NPS were not in control of fishing rights in California. Something smells rotten in the state of ....

Oyster farming was an integral part of Marin history and will be deeply missed.

 "It's part of the history, the community and the tradition of a coastal community," Lunny said. "It's a national seashore where working landscapes, agriculture and farming were meant to co-exist."  —KQED

The lease expires on November 30, 2012. Lunny was given 90 days to dismantle his business.

Why I object: When I read several reports, I found that there were some shenanighans going on with either falsified, or vague catch-all ecological impact reports conducted on the eastern seaboard and then retailored to fir PRNS, then pressed into service, courtesy of the National Park Service, et al. It's a case of politics and science as corrupt bedfellows.

I've posted below some interesting articles on the ongoing battle between the Point Reyes National Seashore (PRNS) administered by the National Park Service (NPS) and the Drake's Bay Oyster Farm. Salazar's recent decision has made more than one rancher uneasy with their mercurial landlord, the NPS. Not if, but when will they be next on the chopping block?

The Interior secretary also has the power to lease the park's lands for dairy and cattle-ranching purposes. Currently there are 15 beef and dairy ranches operating along the Point Reyes seashore. Those ranches will remain open under the decision Thursday.
Oyster farm owner Kevin Lunny, whose family also operates one of the cattle ranches, said he was disappointed by the decision and was still trying to figure out his next move. He had been asking for a 10-year extension of his lease.
"This is going to be devastating to our families, our community and our county," Lunny said. "This is wrong beyond words in our opinion." —Sacramento Bee

Most of the news coverage has been biased towards developing a wilderness marine preserve—supported by the PRNS and the NPS (who are not necessarily the good guys in this case. I understand that, on paper it sounds fantastic. A marine preserve. But shooting the little guy is not the way to go about it. Nor is falsifying ecological reports.

It seems someone's tampered with data and offered blanket reports about the alleged destruction of eelgrass, hitchhiking non-native tunicates (Didemnum vexillum)—not due to human introduction, a non-native marsh snail (Batillaria attramentaria) (introduced by humans), and the possible introduction of invasive protozoan and microbial species (that could've arrived via the Roosevelt elk, cattle, or even someone's chickens)—and then there's the destruction of pinniped pupping habitat.

That is, the habitat of harbor seals—the most common and widely distributed species of the pinnipeds; yes, they are a protected, but hardly an endangered species, nor is Drake's Bay their only pupping grounds.)

...negative interactions between oyster harvest and seal attendance at these subsites do not provide a causal link." p43  None of the scientific research projects within Drakes Estero was designed specifically to assess whether the oyster farm operations were impacting the local harbor seal population..." p47 Shellfish Mariculture in Drakes Estero, Point Reyes National Seashore, California 2009

But a voracious wayward elephant seal swam into the estero and chomped his way through 40 harbor seals—before they fled the crimes cene.

The invasive species in question is a common tunicate that lives on hard substrate like oyster shells—not on the soft bottom of Drakes Estero—and one that scientists have said will do little damage to marine resources; the eelgrass has in fact doubled over the last several years.

…The multiple federally funded studies conducted in recent years have resoundingly exonerated the oyster farm of environmental harm. —Point Reyes Light

 I won't mention the recent introduction of the non-native snail into Tomales Bay that's drilling the life out of the native Olympia oysters. But the feds are not shutting them down.

Senator Feinstein pointed out that DBOF should be saved because it is a key part of the local rural economy. "The National Park Service's review process has been flawed from the beginning with false and misleading science," she said. We need to support responsible and sustainable farms, and grassroots businesses, not shut them down!

"Drake's Estero and the Point Reyes National Seashore have significant existence, option, and bequest value as protected environmental resources. It is likely that the presence of oyster farming in Drakes Estero has a marginal negative effect on the non-use values of the estero. P66 Shellfish Mariculture in Drakes Estero, Point Reyes National Seashore, California 2009

PRNS and the NPS have not been traditionally viewed as a good neighbor by many West Marinites. More like a big bully, than a big brother. When the PRNS was first proposed, ranchers were assured of a right to their livelihood via renewable leases. Many ranchers felt that it was either take the offered leases, or hit the road.

Tomales Bay Association sent a letter to Secretary Salazar reiterating those points. Noting that the group existed before the creation of the seashore, the authors emphasized that the permit applies to an area that is within the pastoral zone—“created cooperatively by the federal government and ranchers in the 1960s to protect the land from development and also to continue the tradition of ranching”—not a potential wilderness area. “Simply put, the continued operation of the oyster farm will promote the preservation of cultural heritage that has been part of the area for many generations.”—Point Reyes Light

Schooner Bay and Creamery Bay.

So ranchers accepted the NPS leases, rather than be displaced from their traditional lands. Maybe they should've fought harder for better leases, but when they were up against the federal government, many cowped, then folded. Some fought to keep their land and won. Most did not. Drake's Bay Oyster Farm, the last of its kind, operated on one of those original leases. Lunny wanted to extend his remaining lease 10 more years.

Drake's Bay from Point Reyes.

Outsiders just see the grandeur of the magnificent PRNS park, and know nothing of the countless families and small farms it displaced. What most people don't realize is that the NPS irrevocably changed our lives in West Marin when it created the PRNS—and not necessarily for the better.

The federal government will not ensure employment for those who've lost their livelihood at the development of the PRNS preserve. They didn't do it in the past. Salazar's recent DBOF decision will displace some 35 families, and their homes will be razed.

At least Marin Agricultural Land Trust (MALT) tries to ensure that ranches and dairies can continue to be viable and operate in West Marin, thus preserving them. We need a more sensible approach to land stewardship along the Point Reyes Peninsula that includes and supports local farming endeavors—whether by land or by sea. Not a stewardship comprised of of outside politics and vested interests dressed in fabricated ecological raiments.

Schooner Creek, historic "G" Ranch.

Cicero said, Nature abhors annihilation. This closure is the annihilation of right livelihood. DPOF is the last remnant of an older way of life on the Point—and it has been found in violation of variable and often contradictory NPS statutes.

The NPS is often found in direct violation of its own statutes too. Power wielded by the beholder swinging a very big stick. I suspect that if the NPS wanted to oust some of the cattle ranchers on the point, they'd utilize the same statutes to void their leases. In other words, we don't trust the NPS to play fair.

(Here's a map of the power structure of the federal, state and local govenrnment agencies that Lunny has had to deal with.

Why I wrote this blog was because someone asked me what the local angle was. I admit that I'm biased—I have a vested interest in that I witnessed the transition of Point Reyes from traditional ranches, to that of an urban playground.

Overnight, our bucolic landscape was changed from viable dairies to a bizarre weekend warrior's retreat. Sir Francis Drake Boulevard became a parking lot Saturdays and Sundays. Traffic jams in the middle of nowhere.

Nothing says wilderness quite like hiking alone on a ridge trail only to get run over by a mad mountain biker freewheeling at 40 MPH.

Drake's Beach looking toward Limantour Spit.

I also admit that when the historic moment to turn the point into a national park in 1962, it was exciting. I saw the Air Force One helicopter fly overhead, with Ladybird Johnson enroute, to open the new park at Drake's Beach. But we locals weren't invited to the party. In fact, the Secret Service, practically closed off all the roads. So yes, I have mixed feelings on the decision to close the last remaining oyster farm at Drake's Estero.

Drake's Beach looking toward Pt. Reyes.

I suggest that you check out the weekly, the Point Reyes Light, that won a Pulitzer Prize for investigative journalism,  as it offers an alternative perspective to the idiotic one-sided ranting of the East Bay Express looking for another Oystergate in all the wrong places.

As I write this piece, I am reminded of a Nigerian saying. I am tempted to update it to: When two bull elephant seals fight, it's the eelgrass that loses.

FURTHER READING: Point Reyes Light
Salazar chooses to close Drakes Bay Oyster Company
Salazar visit provokes old and new arguments

Feds Deny Oyster Farm Lease Renewal | KQED News Fix

Drakes Bay Oyster Company Permit to Expire
Salazar pays visit to Point Reyes

From Straus Family Creamery—Please help support a small family farm and sign this petition to preserve Drake's Bay Oyster Farm

 Drakes Bay Oyster Company - Sustainable, environmentally friendly farming. Inverness, Marin County

 More information at http://www.drakesbayoyster.com

Shellfish Mariculture in Drakes Estero, Point Reyes National Seashore, California 2009 study: "The presence and biological activities of cultured oysters in Drakes Estero results in locally enhanced filtration of the water column and deposition of feces and pseudofeces onto the bottom. One study was conducted in which sediment cores were taken in eelgrass as a function of distance away from oyster culture racks in Drakes Estero and also in nearby Estero de Limantour, which lacks oyster culture. No enhancement of sediment organics and no reduction in oxygen content of sediments were detectable near the culture racks or in Drakes Estero as compared to Estero de Limantour, indicating a lack of detectable negative impacts of oyster biodeposition, probably because of relatively low oyster stocking densities and high tidal flushing, which disperses the deposits. Limited water quality sampling did not demonstrate elevated levels of nutrients." p67. Report published by the National Academies Press (NAP) created by the National Academies to publish the reports issued by the National Academy of Sciences, the National Academy of Engineering, the Institute of Medicine, and the National Research Council, all operating under a charter granted by the Congress of the United States.

Secretary of the Interior, Ken Salazar: Renew the lease for Drakes Bay Oyster Company

Feds deny oyster farm lease renewal in California

Read more here: http://www.sacbee.com/2012/11/29/5018900/ap-newsbreak-feds-deny-oyster.html#storylink=cpy

East Bay Express 

Dianne Feinstein's War | Feature | Oakland, Berkeley & Bay Area News & Arts Coverage

Drakes Bay Oyster Company Is Still Illegal | Eco Watch | The Bay Area Environment Column

Great synopsis in the WSJ by Michael Moritz: Welcome to the Salazar Wilderness—Shame on the Interior Department for trying to drum a family-owned enterprise out of business.

There's a great list of even more coverage posted at Bay Area Open Space Council's blog. Check it out. This blog made the list.

GET INVOLVED:

Sign Save Drake's bay Oyster Farm Petition
"The Drakes Bay Oyster Farm is a small, family run business employing 30 people providing fresh oysters to the San Francisco Bay Area restaurants and individual. Oyster farming has been going on in Drakes Bay for over 80 years and the oysters produced are some of the finest you will ever taste. Reversing this decision will allow this family business to continue to prosper and provide these great oysters to enjoy."

You'll need to create a White House email account in order to sign this petition. it needs 21,553 more signatures—please sign it. Don't let Big BullyBro (The National Park Service) illegally (they lied, falsified reports) to oust the Lunnys 30 more families employed at the DBOF—thus making them homeless, BTW! DBOF supplies 40% of CA's oysters. But it's not about the oysters as much as it is about the sanctioned illegal activities of the NPS and PRNS.

LIKE Drake's Bay Oyster Farm on Facebook

CALL: Howard Dillon in Bolinas has been encouraging people to call Steve Kinsey, West Marin county supervisor, to protest the decision: (415) 499-7331  

See Dispelling the Myths about the Drakes Bay Oyster Company conflict

Note bene: In case you're wondering what's in it for me—I write in order to learn what the real story, or what the backstory is. It seems there's another backstory that was not addressed by the media. The story of local people vs the NPS. Sort of like Pilgrims vs. Native Americans. Understand that it's an opinion piece, hopefully an informed one. And hopefully this blog has painted a broader picture of the problem. I will continue to revise as facts are uncovered so check back again. And thanks for reading this blog.—MH

Ken Salazar stepping down as Interior secretary

Judge upholds eviction of Drake's Bay oyster farm Looks like Ken Salazar and the NPS-PRNS dirty politics won after all.

Lunny continues legal fight to halt shut down Point Reyes oyster farm

Bringing Oysters Back to the SF Bay

Recycled oyster shells provide boost to ecosystem

You also might want to check out my blog entry on the demise of Marin dairies: 
Marin's Pastures of Plenty