emergency harvest

A significant low pressure system in Western Australia pushed a solid swell northward, inciting  much rapture from the watermen, and stress for the seaweed farmers. Combined with high spring tides, the surges of water over the reef broke many ropes and stakes, threatening the security of the agar agar plots. As soon as the tide dropped, there was a frantic race to remove as much mature seaweed as possible before the high water returned and swept away their cash crop. The rubbery weed is sun dried on crude racks, then bagged up for sale and shipped to Surabaya for processing. From here, the white, odourless powder finds its way into cosmetics, food and petri dishes worldwide.  

Meanwhile, Aquaman was pulling into freight trains on his 7"6 gun with one unfortunate flight over the falls and into the rumbling darkness of the depths.  This was followed in rapid succession by two more set waves on the head. His lungs wanted to breathe, but he gently coaxed them to hold on a little longer. I'm relieved they did. 

low tide beach walk

During the spring tides of full and new moon, the sea level drops from a high of 2.5 metres to a low of 0.1 meters, leaving the lagoon as a series of large puddles and sand flats.  Locals gather to tend their seaweed plots and chip anything vaguely edible from the rocks and pools. Even the cows make it down for a wander and to drink from the fresh spring water that flows in rivulets under the beach sand to the ocean.

Boats are left to rest on their hulls and starfish are stranded, curling their arms in protest. 

Kids dig holes to gather skippers, shells and crabs. Their desire to capture and control brings to mind a poignant  paragraph from Beachcombing at Miramar (by Richard Bode)

Once we possess another creature, we alter forever the inherent nature of that creature. As children we think we own a crab.  As adults we think we own our husbands, our wives, our sons, our daughters.  But the only life we own, truly own, is our own.  

ladies in waiting

Our stand up boards live under the bedroom floor, waiting to be unleashed on the lagoon when wind and tide conditions align. Stand-up paddling is great rehabilitation after my knee operation and a most pleasant bonding experience with my hubby.  All hail the SUP (don't tell the boys I said that). 

all day low

 

During neap tides (half moon), the tidal variation is less than with spring tides (full and new moon), and the water level changes slowly.  For a couple of days each month the lagoon is empty from around 9am to 6pm, and so the “pool” is closed during the hottest part of the day. Oh the troubles of this island life.

the pool is open

Our days here are shaped by the action of the tide. Last night was full moon, generating large “spring tides” with a range of 2.6 meters. The reef frames a large lagoon that drains and fills twice a day. When the tide reaches 0.7 meters, the “pool” is open for swimming. Below this water level it is fit only for a wallow.

With spring tides, the water rushes through the lagoon, creating a jet-pool effect for swimming training. On the “neap tides”, the tidal range is less, the movement of the water slower, and the pool more subdued. To those of you rugged up against the winter chill, my condolences.