Octopus's Garden

Leo Carrillo State Beach

Last Sunday we spent a glorious afternoon peering into the homes of starfish, crabs, anemones and octopi.

Exceptionally low tide exposed lots of rocky reef at Leo Carrillo (pictured in video above). Tufts of eelgrass made some rocks look like punk-rocker heads, i.e. topped with green hair. Ten-foot-long strands of giant kelp (Macrosystis pyrifera) lay limp, offering a good look at their holdfasts (the bottom of the plant that anchors to the seabed).

Giant kelp, I'm told, is the largest marine plant known on earth, capable of growing to 100 feet in about a year.

My son enjoyed gently touching Pacific sea stars (Pisaster ochraceus) and anemones (Anthopleura sola), as well as observing hermit crabs.

Mom was thrilled to see two tentacles of a two-spot octopus (Octopus bimaculoides) before it wedged itself more deeply under a rock. These little guys are great camouflage artists, as well as contortionists. So look for them in crevices. This species takes its name from two, eye-like spots on its hood.

If you visit tide pools, please tread with extreme care. It's easy to squash the animals--especially soft-bodied ones such as nudibranchs--and with so many people visiting the beach, the impact is considerable. Never remove anything from a tidepool, even an empty shell--for one thing, you'll be messing with the hermit crab housing market.

Check out our previous intertidal romp at El Matador State Beach.

Sierra Juarez, Baja

I recently returned from Baja on assignment for the radio program "The World."

After visiting Baja's first wind turbines and talking with members of a land cooperative (Ejido), I traveled the length of the Sierra Juarez, from La Rumorosa South 30 some miles on rutted dirt roads into Paque National Constitucion and the placid Laguna Hanson.

The range is topped by a gorgeous Jeffrey Pine forest and the Laguna, the lake pictured in this slide show below.

As you can see, the flora here is a fascinating mix of plants you might recognize from the US side of the border and some endemic species. Coastal sage scrub and chaparral intermingle with Sonoran species at lower elevations.

Manzanitas abound and are mixed with red shank--the shrub pictured here with manzanita-like bark and fine, needle-like leaves--and junipers.

Due to road conditions, my traveling companions and I had a bit of an adventure--prompting me to wonder if we could survive on frosted oatmeal cookies and pee. Video on this to come.

Click here for a large-screen version of the slide show.

Exploring the Intertidal

Trip to El Matador State Beach

A couple weeks ago, friends invited us to explore tide pools at El Matador State Beach during an unusually low tide. How could I pass?

My son has touched sea stars and other marine invertebrates at the Aquarium of the Pacific, but he's never seen them in the wild.

It was a long haul from the San Gabriel Valley, but the drive through the Santa Monica Mountains alone was worth it. I gasped at the view above, looking west from Decker Road (Highway 23). I thought, "Tuscany has nothing on these mountains."

This route isn't the quickest over the range, but it's a gorgeous drive. The white ceonothus studding the hillsides glittered like diamonds.

Sadly, much of the roadside is lined with invasive, nonnative fountain grass (Pennisetum sataceum) that has escaped gardens and threatens rare habitats.

At El Matador, Giant coreopsis (above), bladderpod, and California encelia were in bloom. Cormorants sunned themselves on the rocks, and brown pelicans took a few exciting turns over our heads.

I pointed out several ochre sea stars (Pisaster ochraceus) to my son. Don't be fooled by their sedentary appearance, these fellows are accomplished hunters. They travel around on their tubed feet, attach the little suction cups to mussels, and slowly pry open their prey.

Once it cracks an opening, the sea star injects its stomach into the mussel, chows down, and retrieves stomach.

We also saw quite a few anemones, but they had contracted their tentacles, blending in with the rocks.

If you visit intertidal ecosystems, do so very carefully. People I observed on this visit seemed unaware of the camouflaged anemones and likely stepped on some.

A few years ago, I interviewed UCLA ecologist Rich Ambrose about intertidal habitats in L.A. County. He told me people are collecting or stepping on just about every kind of animal in and around tidepools.

He pointed to a fluid, deep purple sea slug: "This is an animal that’s really heavily impacted by visitors because as you can see it’s very soft bodied. People don’t see them and step on them and they squish."

People are also taking starfish home as souvenirs. And they’re illegally snagging crabs, sea urchins, sea cucumbers and other animals for their own dinner tables, or to sell to restaurants and aquarium stores. Ambrose’s research has found that about six percent of visitors collect something. That doesn't sound like a lot, but consider about 30,000 to 50,000 people a year will visit a single site.

Ambrose has tried to educate people, but he says some just don't care:

When I’ve tried to talk to them they’re not interested in hearing it’s not legal. They’ll collect big crabs that are uncommon. At one point we saw somebody drive down a pick up truck and was just filling up the back of the pickup truck with sea urchins.

(I pause for you to grumble, mutter, swear.)

Needless to say, the state lacks sufficient game wardens and park rangers to protect resources. On our Saturday visit, El Matador was entirely unstaffed.

All the more reason for those of us who can't hold our tongues, to keep our eyes open.

El Matador is located in north Malibu at 32215 Pacific Coast Highway.

The day use fee is $8

Snow Play & Fishing

Last year, I somewhat foolishly plunked down the bucks to buy my not-quite two-year-old a snow suit and snow boots. I planned a surprise birthday trip to Big Bear for dad.

It was a memorable trip--but for the wrong reasons. Our pricey, so-called lake-view room abutted the main thoroughfare, which lit our room, unflaggingly, through the night.

A large storm left the town so snowy and icy, my son couldn't walk in his over-sized boots without slipping. The waterproof gloves were too big; the smaller gloves not waterproof. The sled was too scary. The visitor center was closed. The ski resort barred people from all snow recreation but skiing.

So we did the only thing our toddler enjoyed: drove the streets looking for snow plows.

This year, I was determined to use all that mini REI gear one more time before it was too small. Plus, our son had been asking for a mountain trip.

New Year's eve, we hastily packed the car and drove up Mt. Baldy (Yes, I know it's officially named Mt. San Antonio, but folks have been calling this highest peak in the San Gabriels Mount Baldy for more than a century.) There was far less snow than I'd expected (welcome to our warming world), but it was a gorgeous day atop the mountain.

The plan was to try out the Mt. Baldy Monster Tubing Park. But our son missed the (36") height cut-off by one inch. Still, he enjoyed the ride on the ski lift, and the cocoa at the lodge. I was grateful the Mt. Baldy Ski Resort management was relaxed about letting people play in snowy areas around the lodge.

After lunch, we headed back down the mountain to the Mount Baldy Trout Pools. My son enjoyed catching two rainbow trout. It was so quick and easy as to be anti-climactic for mom, but perfect for a toddler.

Finally, we crossed Mt. Baldy Road and idled alongside San Antonio Creek.

As I packed away the snow gear, I thought, if I keep the kid skinny enough he may be able to fit into that jumper for one more year.