OCEAN Magazine Spring 2013, Issue 38
Images and Words Tom Watson
Wavelengths Diane Buccheri
The Tides Roger Singer
Rays Diane Buccheri
Midnight Kayaking Emily Bright
From the Eyes of a Kayak Richard Roshon
Dancing Dolphins James Dorsey
Rhythming Diane Buccheri
Dolphin Brain Kathy Parra
The Color Blue Jeff Beyls
Westerly Again Tom Sheehan
Hamburg Cove Matthew Goldman
My Providence Michael Lombardi
Sea Monsters Melba Milak
Writing Contest Winner Shelli Armanes
Photography Contest Winner Robert Nowak
A glimpse into this issue . . .
by Tom Watson
The destination need not be any more than achieving a continuum beyond
that transitional moment within a paddler’s soul when being on the ocean
becomes being of the ocean. When all one’s senses of body, mind, and
surroundings mesh into one spiritual journey, encompassing everything.
See and Read the Photographic Essay
by Diane Buccheri
The 4 A.M. reality is different from the 12 noon reality. In the time
just before twilight, all takes on a deeper meaning, holographic.
In this darkness, light is shed on truths and mysteries are revealed.
In the glare of the sun high overhead, these are lost, lost to depths
within. Yet retrievable with a search in the dark.
It is here I go for answers.
Read the Article
by James Dorsey
We cheered and clapped. They jumped solo, then in pairs, in synch,
in opposite directions, almost forming a heart shaped arch as they
passed each other in mid-air. If ever an animal gave a gift to man,
this was ours.
They were almost onshore, not more than 20 feet from us in no more
than 5 to 10 feet of water, lifting their bodies skyward with little momentum.
Read the Story
FROM THE EYES OF A KAYAK
by Richard Roshon
She surfaces from under my kayak, swims alongside. I see my reflection in her eye.
I feel her sorrow, deep, deep sorrow with the passing of her calf.
She raises her pectoral fin and lays it ever so gently over the bow of my kayak.
A mother humpback bonds with her calf and creates a sense of security through
touch while living in a medium of seemingly no boundaries.
Since then, the late 1970s, this humpback whale, with each of her newborn calves,
lays alongside my kayak and follows along.
Frequently, my companion surfaces under my kayak. I slowly roll from her side and reach out to touch her. Her outer layers of skin wrinkle as she feels my touch.
Here in Hawai’i we call this chicken skin. On the mainland it is goosebumps.
Read the Story
And so much more!