Well Southern California had its first rain of the season. It was far from torrential, although to watch the local news one would think that somewhere a modern day Noah was herding animals onto his recently completed ark. In the end, the storm clouds shed enough of the wet stuff to achieve one noticeable accomplishment. They flushed the storm drains. Just like a toilet.
So that raises the question, would you swim in a toilet? It sounds rhetorical doesn't it? Who would actually desire a few laps in a human poo stew? (Well, excepting those fetishists who find their nucleus accumbens tickled by such an adventure.) And I am certainly not referring to a porcelain pool unnaturally blued by the first of 2000 flushes.
Straight up, who swims in their toilet?
Well if you are a beach bum or bunny or find yourself fancying a dip in Big Briny during your costal visit, you do. Oh boy do you.
And nothing makes that clearer than a season's first rain in traditionally sunny Southern California.
Why?
Well when it rains in California's lower third, it generally does so sometime between winter and early spring. Sure we get the occasional curve ball with a summer shower, but more often than not, Mother Nature follows a traditional script. Why is this important to this narrative? Well, the time in between the last rain of the previous season and the first rain of the next allows for all sorts of goodies to accumulate in the storm drains and river basins. Goodies that stack upon goodies. Which stack upon other goodies. And by goodies, I mean crap. And by crap I mean plastic bags, styrofoam cups, drinking straws, feces - human and animal, toxic chemicals, dead dogs, and everything that the local population is too lazy to toss in a rubbish bin. All these goodies are left to congeal, fester and rot for months in stagnant puddles and/or baked under the hot sun. They accumulate to a point where Mother Nature can no longer stand the sight and stink of our creation so she reaches for the handle and gives it yank. She sends a winter storm our way. And all those goodies, all that crap, are flushed right into the costal waters where we swim, surf, and fish. Trust me on this one, don't eat the local mussels - especially after a rain. They are filter feeders...
Now beach goers are supposed to remain out of the ocean for 72 hours after the rain has passed. I've sat in a tower during the first rain of the season. I've watched as the storm drains slowly open. I've watched as the storm moves inland and the trickle becomes a stream, and the stream becomes a sudden torrent of black water. It is as if the storm drains are overwhelmed by a late night of binge drinking and succumb to explosive, projectile vomiting. From their mouths issue an oily black fluid laden with chunks of the dry season's long lunch of refuse. I've watched as this black river snakes its way through the ocean's aqua hue - first as a finger, then as a swath, and soon the entire costal waters become an oleaginous mass.
72 hours of look but don't touch. Not everyone heeds the approach. I was one such individual.
Two stories spring to mind. The first finds me surfing at a river mouth - in the rain. The surf was perfect. The water, unsurprisingly, wasn't When the human turd bobbed on by, I paddled away from it, but not out of the water. Did I learn? Nope, remember - two stories.
Years later I came upon spitting barrels near a pier. The rain was heavy, the wind was off-shore but who cares, the surf again was perfect. I hit the water. I get shacked. I got stoked.
As I walked home, I kept noticing a smell. I kept noticing a bilge water smell. It was like human waste and diesel, with some other chemicals to add to the overall bouquet. It was on my wetsuit. I scrubbed my wetsuit. It was on my skin. I scrubbed my skin. I scrubbed my face, my hair, my everything but I couldn't shake the smell. It was inside my nose. It was inside my mouth. The next morning I awoke to a horrific sore throat and a sinus infection to boot. I wasn't stoked. And this time I paid heed.
I don't swim during or after a rain. I don't care how great the waves are, I'm staying out of the water (unless I have to make a rescue). And not just for 72 hours, certainly not after the season's first rain. I stay away for a week. Minimum. Instead, I take a walk on the beach. There's always plenty of trash to pick up.
But here is the larger issue. It rains and the result is that we shouldn't go into the ocean. I'll repeat that. It RAINS and we SHOULDN'T go into the ocean. Does anyone not see how wrong that is? It isn't the rain that is the problem here. It's us. We render the ocean inhospitable to human activity. We render the fish stocks inhospitable to human consumption. We spend all summer doing whatever ever the hell we want with no heed to the consequences. Then comes the winter and the the piper must be paid. Worst of all, folks, it is a closed system. Sure two thirds of this plant's surface is covered with the wet stuff. Yes, the abyssal plains and Mariana Trench run deep, but the ocean can only absorb so much before she starts throwing it back at us. She can only take so much before she says, "If you are going to sicken me, then I am going to sicken you." It used to take so much more. Now it only takes a rainstorm.
I would like to believe that if we can create multiple ways to effectively wipe ourselves off the face of this planet, we are equally as capable of finding a way to wipe our asses without causing a major environmental impact. There used to be a time not that long ago when the rains would bring nutrients to the costal ecosystem allowing them to flourish. Rains still bring nutrients but now the guys who enjoy these munchies are the microscopic types. The ones who cause the algal blooms commonly know as red tides (note: the term is misleading as the blooms are rarely red and have absolutely nothing to do with the tides).
No biggie, right? Wrong. When these guys get together and party several things happen. First the water turns an ugly shade of brown - almost a toxic shade if it could be so described. Speaking of toxic, their hardcore partying produces a toxin called domoic acid. Look it up. Its effects are not pretty, especially on sea lions. The bloom makes the acid. The fish eat the bloom. The sea lions eat the fish. The acid rots the sea lions' brains making them unpredictable, aggressive, as well as dangerous, and may ultimately kill them. And, if that isn't enough the blooms' population explosion ultimately deprives the water column of oxygen effectively rendering the area an anoxic dead zone to all the fish and their friends.
All this not because it rains, but because of what we do before the first drops fall.
I do wonder what is the last straw? I do wonder at what point will we as a global community finally say, "This shit has got to stop! I'm tired of swimming in a sewer!" I don't care if you are a flag waving member of the extreme left or right. The affiliation is irrelevant. Our actions effect us as a people. Our actions effect us as an individual. Our actions effect us. Period. We have created this mess. We can resolve it. Whether you are a wave rider or not, your actions determine our future. That piece of trash that is getting sweaty in your palm? Toss it in a rubbish bin, not it the gutter. It may be a cigarette butt. It may be a burrito wrapper. It may be a number you have no intention of calling. But this I can guarantee you, whatever it is, as small or as large as it may be, it will have an impact. You don't believe me? Just wait, it won't take long. It will only take a rainstorm.
© Copyright 2011 David S. Carpenter. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2011 David S. Carpenter. All Rights Reserved.
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