Blue
I knew it would be bright but I didn’t think it would be blue. Electric! From the cliffs, my first sight of the crashing surf was such a shock I gasped.
On the beach, I hopped about behind Eric and watched the ground light up beneath his feet. Water splashed around us like blue highlighter ink. Even a crab’s tiny, pointed legs were enough to illuminate the sand.
I realised: not just the sea, but every bit of space between each grain of sand on this waterlogged beach was filled with something living.
Lots of living things make their own light. The type of bioluminescence we see along the coast in Southern California and Baja happens because of plankton blooms. In daytime, the plankton colours the water reddish. At night, we see the light that the plankton emits when it becomes agitated, as it is by waves – or our feet. The point is to startle any lurking predators.
I was surprised but hardly startled… just mesmerised. The sight of glowing waves stirred memories of bioluminescent nature elsewhere, at other times. As a kid in New Zealand, I recall jumping off the boat at night and sensing that the splash was luminous. In Kenya, Eric and I paddled across an inky black lagoon and saw tiny sparks leap away from the canoe, mixing with reflected stars.
What I'd give to live on Earth if I didn't already...
The bioluminescence showed me what I could not see about how water moves. I saw it splash across the surface of a tide pool in radiating jets now the colour of blue milk. I mistook the edge of a wave for an incandescent dolphin.
When I close my eyes now, I see blue. A blue line on the horizon behind my eyelids. Blue auroras. I dreamt that a sea dragon was made from wisps of cerulean light.
I wanted to get into the water. If walking over wet sand was enough to trigger this light show, then what about swimming? We returned a third time and ran along the beach as the evening darkened to warm ourselves. Then, as the surf began to shine once more, we waded in. It took less than three feet of water for me to realise that I was totally freaked out by the ocean at night. Even the sluggish whitewash seemed like it would carry me away. Near the beach the water was dark. Maybe the moon was too full, or maybe the brightest band of plankton was further out. I just couldn’t imagine diving into water that black and coming back up again. We backtracked and resumed our run. The plankton are made of magic and I’m mortal. I can live with that.
Stars, like salt. 