About OCEAN

OCEAN Writing Contest

OCEAN Photography Contest


Contributors Guidelines


Advertisers & Retailers

OCEAN Associates


Your Comments and Questions

OCEAN Blog

OCEAN Magazine Spring 2009, Issue 22

  
   Visions: The Conservation Photography
   of Neil Ever Osborne
   by Diane Buccheri


   See Turtles: Baja California, Mexico Travelogue
   by Wallace J. Nichols


   Ancient Race to the Sea
   by
Lucille Dettor

   Harbor Seal Healing
   by C.J. Bahnsen

   Sea Glass Jewelry of Danielle Renée 
   by Diane Buccheri

   Sea Glasses
   by Diane Buccheri

   Neither Yet This Morning Have I Seen You,
   Nor Now
   by Tom Sheehan

   Circumnavigating the Galápagos of the North
   by Chuck Graham

   Slipping through the Surf
   by Amy Bernays

   In Memoriam Gemini Mei
   by Murray Alfredson
   
   Meditation in Mist
   by Diane Buccheri

   A Capital Idea
   by John Thomas Clark

   The Jet 14
   by Matthew Goldman

   Stomping on the Sand
   by Melba Milak


OCEAN is the first magazine cover to feature CONSERVATION PHOTOGRAPHY
Thanks to Neil Ever Osborne for contributing his Conservation Photography



A glimpse into this issue . . .


  

   “A single voice collectively heard as a symphony of many
   has strength in communicating a message of conservation.”

   Light, composition, and one moment come together to
   make an iconic image for conservation photographer Neil
   Ever Osborne. With that he tells a story, an intimate one that
   touches the hearts of viewers and remains in their minds. His
   vision becomes theirs.

   A series of related images gives many connected
   perspectives. With these he tells a longer, wider story, simple
   and unique, singing its tale, its essence blossoming and
   reaching out to its audience.

   Neil Ever Osborne documents and communicates his
   scientific experience of an environment or an animal with his
   photography. The every day portrait, unique in its moment
   and artistic perspective, resonates in the audience. A
   photograph connects or reconnects its audience with a
   place or animal. Through familiarization, Neil hopes to inspire
   caring, personal responsibility, and proactive conservation of
   biology and ecology.

   Photography is an international language. No words are
   needed. A photograph captures an intimate moment, an
   essence, and conveys that to all who see it.

   Modern day conservation concerns are international issues.
   A sea turtle that nests on a Japanese beach swims more
   than 3,000 miles between its breeding coast and the shores
   of Mexico during its migration cycle. If Baja citizens, for
   example take measures to allow sea turtles a healthy,
   productive,successful feeding region, it is hoped the same
   turtles swim past fishing nets across the Pacific and remain
   free from poachers, and in the Far East, return to their
   ancestral nesting beach, as instinct directs, to nest
   successfully. Conservation of these turtles is internationally
   dependent as with other animals and the world’s habitats...


   by Diane BuccherI

  
Read more in this issue.


  
Neil Ever Osborne Photography





   A couple of years ago we worked on a documentary project
   with Animal Planet called “Get Out There!” that highlighted
   Baja’s best ocean wildlife and natural protected areas while
   traveling with the Ellis family of Long Island on the trip of their lives.
   (http://tinyurl.c/got-baja)

   Out of that experience grew Ocean Revolution’s seeTURTLES.org
   Project. We call it “full immersion conservation tourism” and the
   idea is to connect great human experiences with ocean wildlife
   to saving these amazing animals and the special places they
   need.

   On our June expedition, we visited some of the important places
   where our partner organizations are working on the front lines to
   save sea turtles and their habitat. Our visit supported their work
   financially and helped grow the conservation tourism efforts that
   provide economic alternatives to fishermen and poachers.

   Our group rendezvoused in Loreto, where we spent the night.
   Loreto is a small charming colonial city on the Sea of Cortez, which
   recently held the annual International Sea Turtle Symposium for
   1,000 of the world’s leading turtle conservationists representing
   some 70 countries . . .

   The responses from the visitors and the film crew made it clear that
   the “conservation tourism” theme is obvious. Our crew was made
   up of former poachers, some who are working to find a new path.
   Julio himself has changed directions and is now a clear leader in
   conservation work in the region. Supporting this work through
   Ocean Revolution’s seeTURTLES.org Project has direct impacts on
   efforts to protect green turtles and the larger Bahia Magdalena
   ecosystem.It’s a sure cure for Nature Deficit Disorder, a truly
   memorable vacation, and part of the solution for bringing an
   endangered sea turtle back from the brink of extinction.

   by Wallace J. Nichols
   www.wallacejnichols.org


  
Read more in this issue.

  Neil Ever Osborne Photography




   Tumbled for decades by salt water, sand, and tide,
   sea glass becomes perfected: frosted and
   smoothed. The forces of ocean and elements
   interact with the the glass, once discarded as trash,
   to create valuable jewels of the sea –– valued
   sentimentally by those who comb the beaches
   finding them, and valued commercially as gems in
   their own right.

   The smoothness is “soulful and calming” sea glass
   jewelry artist Danielle Renée Mullen says. “We get
   tossed and we get tumbled, we get tossed and we
   get tumbled. With all our hardships –– inside, our
   soul, how are we perfected?”

   Mimi, her paternal grandmother, a mother of ten
   children, purchased a camp near the mouth of
   Massachusetts’ Merrimack River where the
   undertow and currents are rugged. There, first on
   Seabrook Beach and later on Salisbury Beach,
   Danielle and her nine sisters and brothers played
   during the 1960s. With their grandmother, they
   combed the beach for treasures. Their findings found
   a home in their grandmother’s humble beach
   abode. A lobster trap served as a coffee table. A fish
   net hung on the wall held shells and, of course, sea
   glass. Dumped overboard from Newburyport’s deep
   fishing boats, bottles and glassware had been tossed
   and tumbled to shore through time.

   Grandmother Mimi knew how to make something
   beautiful from nothing special. Their summertime
   ramblings and discoveries on the beach made a
   lasting impression upon Danielle . . .



   by Diane Buccheri


   
Read more in this issue.


    Jewelry By Danielle Renee 
  



   I am focusing on the dark, cobalt blue ripples of relentless wind shear. Each time they appear, I lean forward in
   my kayak. With a death grip on my paddle, I brace for the impending slam. A constant northwest wind howls
   over Channel Islands National Park, off Santa Barbara, California, which gains in intensity as it funnels through
   each drainage canyon. The wind shear ripples like a bait ball of sleek silverfish breaching the surface. Each time
   a gust hits, my paddle is nearly ripped from my grip as the sea threatens to capsize me. I fight to stay on course ––
   Jolla Vieja Canyon –– located on the backside of Santa Rosa Island.
  
   A quarter mile behind me, my friend Craig Fernandez labors in the heaving gusts. “We’re almost there,” I whisper
   to myself. I am thinking about what to do . . . Do I wait for him and lose my momentum? He appears to be
   making progress so I press on, repeatedly glancing over my right shoulder, keeping him in my sights.
  
   Then, the cobbled shore of Jolla Vieja appears on the immediate horizon. I aim for the cove, turn into the wind
   and paddle like hell for shore.Craig follows suit. Sapped of most of our strength after the arduous 14-mile paddle,
   the cattailed arroyo offers a natural wind block. Getting there means rest, and a sip from a fresh water spring.

   After reaching the only patch of sand, I wave Craig in through a narrow channel. Craig comes in, avoiding the
   cresting waves on both sides of him. Once out of his boat, blood will flow into his cold, stiffened legs. Forget about
   weather radios and late night weather forecasts. This unique archipelago has its own microclimate, which makes
   navigating these islands challenging. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. To enjoy its beauty, I accept its
   challenges.

   This area is one of the most exposed sections that we’ll experience during our 175 mile circumnavigation. In the
   past, I completed 1 solo circumnavigation of the 4 northern islands and several others with 2 friends I convinced
   to paddle with me. Many of the trips have been pleasurable, easy paddles where I have my feet up on the port
   and starboard sides of my kayak, as favorable currents carry me to yet another deserted cove. Other occasions
   have presented me with gale force winds, dense fog, and rogue waves breaking on reefs over shark infested
   waters.

   But the Channel Islands are rugged and breathtaking, an area steeped in natural history, always beckoning me
   to come back and discover more . . . 



   by Chuck Graham


  
Read more in this issue.

   Chuck Graham Photography







  
   Ears flat, the pink of the inside of his exploding nostrils spluttering like a seashell,
   he was drowning.

   What would we do? Wait for the body to wash ashore or would it just sink, and
   how would I explain a missing horse? Mouse floundered in the surf, as waves
   churned foam in his eyes.

   Then he started to swim. Pounding the water, gripping with teach and muscle
   and fear to life. I would feel the push and surge of the dark water pass me as
   we both started to cut through the sea.

   We were headed out, away from land.

   “Help me” as I held on to a frantic Mouse.

   I had to turn him into shore. I pulled on the rein; the pressure turned the
   pounding barrel of the swimming horse. But as a wave swung over us slowly,
   like a sailboat at summer camp, Mouse began to capsize.

   He started to slip to the right. With no yaw in his leg movements, and his rotund
   body, Mouse was tipping over like timber.

   Terror in his eyes and another wave coming, my cold skin prickled with fear, I
   had to do something. Why shouldn’t a horse work like a small sailboat? So I
   slipped off the left hand side of him, holding onto his straggled mane. Using
   my weight, I pulled him straight as he completed the turn.

   Now, faced directly to shore, he focused. He pounded for his life out of this
   water. I held onto him like he was an orca whale, slipping through the surf.

   by Amy Bernays

   www.bernays.moonfruit.com



And more!


Shopping Cart
Your cart is empty.



SpeakDolphin
Research Expeditions


Join us for incredible
experiences conducting
dolphin research in Mexico.

July 28 –– August 4