Caring for one of our closest friends

CATHARINE COOPER

Twenty miles out, headed toward the coast and “she” begins to change

the world. Her scent lightly fills the air. She beckons -- a hint of

salt -- a dampness fragranced with kelp and broken shells. Twenty

miles out, yet my mind fleshes the shape and texture of her

surroundings. I know the edges of her body by heart. I’ve imprinted

her vocalizations and memorized her tidal flows. Closer still and the

muscles in my body relax. I sense her proximity, there, at the end of

a narrow eucalyptus-lined canyon. Always waiting, always constant:

the azure blue sea.

Funny how the ocean slides into your brain, and once wedged, is

impossible to dislodge. As if the body that first walked from the

waters remembers and is comforted by the proximity to its aqueous

origin. Those lucky enough to grow up on the coast, and those later

transplanted, find it difficult to leave.

We sacrifice to live here. We pay exorbitant prices for real

estate and rent. We struggle with traffic snakes and snarls that can

make a grown man cry. We are challenged for parking during the summer

crush when we share our treasured village with an onslaught of

curious tourists. We wait for these days -- the dog days of summer,

when the weather is spectacular and the bulk of the extra population

has moved on.

And quietly or noisily, we slip back into the waters. We toss our

surfboards into the waves, slide into our kayaks and drink of the

soothing effect of saltwater ions. The seas and coastline are once

again our own. Our dogs run the beaches, our children frolic in the

sand. What’s not to love about Laguna?

This space on the edge, this sparkling gem tucked in the southern

section of western America’s coastline, is indeed, a remarkable place

to live. And woven through it all -- the coast, and our mandate to

protect her. The city’s “Vision Laguna 2030” includes within the

Environmental Responsibility section, the formation of “Ocean Laguna”

or “Laguna Bluebelt,” a type of guidance system for the resource that

holds us all to this place. It’s goal: to “establish a ... nonprofit

organization to preserve and protect beaches, inter-tidal zone,

water-sheds and water quality.”

Urban run-off, sewage spills and toxic dumps affect not only us,

but the inhabitants of the blue waters. On a recent kayak journey I

was stunned to find myself in the midst of a slick of motor oil, its

stench turned my nostrils and its floating stickiness clung to the

sides of my boat. I quietly willed all sea birds away from substance

and cursed whichever human was responsible for the dump. While we can

choose to not enter the water, the creatures for whom the water is

home are not so lucky.

The Annual Water Quality Update, issued by the city in May, 2003,

includes notes about their comprehensive water quality management

plan, with stringent regulations for construction, grading and water

runoff. It identifies the three most common activities which produce

urban runoff as: 1) Washing down sidewalks and driveways to the

gutter, 2) Concrete spills and construction cleaning in the gutter,

and 3) Irrigation and sprinkler over watering to street gutters. The

document further describes easy solutions, such as using a broom,

instead of water, for clean-up, and properly directing sprinkler

systems off the streets -- easy steps that each of us can take to

protect the quality of our shared seashore.

The ocean has always been a source of great physical pleasure, as

well as emotional solace. The constancy of her ebb and flow, as well

as her seemingly limitless horizon, soothes and balances my psyche,

as it has since first we met. It’s true. I’ve been having an affair

with the ocean since my father first tossed me in the water at six

months of age. She is my friend, my lover, my confessor, my trainer

and my coach. She gently wakens with cool morning light and then

fiery, steps down to darkness with the setting sun. She marks my days

and my nights. I hold her closely, tucked within my heart.

* CATHARINE COOPER loves wild places. She can be reached at

[email protected] or (949) 497 5081.