For Old Time's Sake...



Looking at a P-51 Mustang and B-17 from inside a B-24



As the title states, for old time's sake and not simply because our topic has a bit of history but in my case I'm thinking, "For old time's sake because I used to be a blogger."  More and more lately, I'm trying to come to terms with the idea that perhaps after almost ten years, life-changing events, and countless new friends thanks to the blogoshpere... perhaps, I am no longer a blogger.  Sigh...

For tonight at least I'm a blogger.  So, back to the topic at hand.  Today, on the Mississippi Coast we had a visit from some WW2 Flying Machines.  The Finman and I wandered over to the airport this afternoon for a look.

This was the conversation as we were leaving the car, "I guess I should check my camera battery."  Fin replied, "Good idea."  "I have 41%, that ought to get me through," I said.  Fin affirmed 41% would be enough.  "Of course," I continued, "I may not even take any pictures.  Planes are like waterfalls, you can only have so many photos of planes."  (Fin and I know this to be true because a few years ago while driving in Maui from Lahaina to Hana we pulled over for the 50th time to take photos of yet another breathtakingly beautiful waterfall, in front of which we needed a photo, and we looked at each other and knew, enough was enough.  You can only have "so many" photos of breathtakingly beautiful waterfalls.  After awhile, it's just overwhelming.) 

Since I met Fin, I've taken LOTS of photos of airplanes.  So, you would think I have enough and that actually would be true. I do have enough. Fin and I walked away from the airport 70 photos later.

Title-less

I'm making a definite effort to keep my online life from "being all oil spill, all the time."

This is more difficult than one would imagine. I'm just so appalled by the oil. I know that by the end of the summer, when BP finally gets their relief well drilled, and the oil is finally (hopefully) done surging freely to the surface (or floating away in plumes under the surface) that the rest of the world will be burned out on coastal crisis. I know that the short attention span of the general public both national and international will be turned to other things. I know that some camps are tired of hearing about oil even as I type. I know that there will be other disasters and and it is natural for the world to move on.

Yet, when I think about the oil, all I can see are the least terns diving and fishing off Ocean Springs East Beach. I see how free and lovely they looked last Friday as Fin and I kayaked.

I think about Louisiana Congressman Charles Melancon emotional in front of his peers as he said, "Everything I know and love is at risk".

I think about my frustration with our government at both state and federal levels. A government busily singing a refrain similar to that of Little Orphan Annie, "The sun will come out tomorrow" and glossing over and sitting on real information about the oil spill, from the amount of oil actually polluting the Gulf to the real number of animals already impacted by the spill.

When I think about the oil, I have a very difficult time not allowing it to dominate my online life.

Tonight, I sat down to write a non-oil entry. Yet, the non-oil words don't come. When I contemplate how so much in my adopted home, so much of what I "know and love is at risk" the words about oil can't help but dominate.

Camping

The Finman and I went camping last weekend on Dauphin Island. Dauphin Island is a small island right off the coast of Alabama and right down the road. Since moving to coastal Mississippi this little island has become one of my favorite places to visit.

It has a charming atmosphere, a great bike path, beautiful areas to kayak, and white sand beaches. What a nice chance to get away and thanks to some clever packing and bikes that come in pieces we were able to take all our camping gear, two kayaks, and two bikes in a tiny little gas saving car.

Of course, Dauphin Island is threatened by the Oil Spill just like the rest of the coast. In fact, when Fin saw the photo above he immediately noted the symbolism inherent in the mixed images. If you look behind the fishing boat you'll notice an oil platform. Then, you have the birds flocking around the boat. Two of the things most threatened in the spill and a symbol of the industry that created it. Sad.

However, I will say that our weekend was unmarred by oil. It is was good, in even a small way to contribute to the economy of a favorite island as it struggles through a tourist slump.

Oil and Water

I don''t think anyone will find it surprising that I'm very focused on oil at the moment. Specifically, the oil pumping into the Gulf of Mexico threatening nesting seabirds, countless wildlife and in a lesser comparison, my own way of life.

I don't live on the water, but the water is central to my daily life. Every weekday, on my commute I cross the mouth of the Singing River and drive by the port of Pascagoula. I almost absentmindedly note which NOAA ships are tied up in port. I watch seagulls and the occasional osprey wheel over the parking lot of the library at lunch, just blocks from the Gulf of Mexico. On the weekends, I often take my kayak to the National Seashore Park or load the Hound Dawg in the car for a walk on Ocean Springs beach. The water and family are what brought me to the coast of Mississippi.

With these things in mind, I've watched this BP engineered crises unfold in horror. As a Master Naturalist, I'm terrified for the ramifications to nesting shore birds, migrating birds, our local fisheries, and a fragile ecosystem still recovering from Hurricane Katrina.

I'm a pretty moderate person and I've never been able to generate the proper eco-worry generated angst toward offshore drilling that I've known is almost requisite for one concerned with and caring for the environment. I'm a pretty practical person and know that as we have a nation currently dependent on oil, then oil we must have and that means drilling somewhere. Sometimes, "somewhere" means in your own backyard.

However, in light of British Petroleum's cavalier and in my opinion reckless attitude about drilling a well to the depth of 18,000 feet 5,000 feet below the surface of the water without seemingly an even rudimentary contingency plan in case the unthinkable happened, I think my moderate position is changing. The Associated Press printed this statement about BP's plans:

"BP suggested in a 2009 exploration plan and environmental impact analysis for the well that an accident leading to a giant crude oil spill - and serious damage to beaches, fish and mammals - was unlikely, or virtually impossible.

The plan for theDeepwater Horizon well, filed with the federal Minerals Management Service, said repeatedly that it was 'unlikely that an accidental surface or subsurface oil spill would occur from the proposed activities.' "

In light of the "unlikely" now floating in on the tide, I'm not feeling in any way moderate. In fact, I'm gearing up to angry and as I've already stated, terrified. I'm worried for all those that depend on the health of the Gulf for their livelihoods, the shrimpers, fisherman, and tourism industry. I'm fearful for local wildlife. I'm concerned about my own way of life and I'm reminded again, that you can't mix oil and water.

A Photo Note: The above photo is from East Beach in Ocean Springs, taken in March of this year on a walk with the Hound Dawg.

Day Trippin'

Yesterday, the Finman and I loaded up and headed to Gulfport to catch the noon ferry to Ship Island and Fort Massachusettes.

During our trip across and due to Fin's extraordinary abilities (charm), we found ourselves in the midst of the action chatting with Captain Buck about having a wheelhouse for an office, whether or not he watched Deadliest Catch, learning the history of the particular ferry boat on which we traveled, and looking at the more-impressive-than-ours GPS. Most of the time, it is very good to be a passive southerner in the wake of a more determined "New Yorker". (Don't tell Fin I called him a New Yorker. He has a very concise answer for why he is not one in actuality.)

Once on Ship Island, we took a quick ramble around the Fort and then in an unusual role reversal, Fin stayed for the actual tour while I headed down to the water for a quick dip in the Gulf of Mexico. Generally, I'm the one waiting around for the tour while Fin either finds something else to do or trails along humoring me.
As we weren't interested in a toasty sun soaked afternoon we soon gathered everything up and headed back for the 2:30 ferry ride back home. It turned out to be the perfect mix (for us) of water and history without sunburn. This trip definitely adds Ship Island to our recommended visiting sites on the Gulf Coast.