Though not very good for the many sea lions around here, I am enjoying the warmer water up here. I've been seeing comb jellies and senorita fish cruise around the kelp forest in front of Lover's Point, and tons of juvenile rockfish. The alga and surf grass are so thick and verdant that the waterscape looks like a CG created environment -- especially with the light cutting through the water at polarized angles, sharp as a razor.
The other night, we went diving off of Breakwater when it started to get dark. The ocean was as calm as a lake, and we passed a small sea lion hiding in a cave in the concrete -- the Marine Mammal Center had already checked the little guy out.
On a side note, the MMC are completely swamped with calls right now. El Nino, the same phenomenon that makes the water a more pleasant temperature for us, is driving all of their food further offshore, resulting in a famine. The MMC must help the individuals who are in the worst shape, while helping the greatest number (just as Community Emergency Response Teams look to serve the greatest good for the greatest number of people during an emergency event). Though emaciated, this one at least is responsive and is able to take care of itself for now.
Out several hundred feet past the shore, we tuned on flashlights and descended next to the jetty. Turning off the lights, bioluminescent plankton lit up "lightsaber blue" whenever we moved. Some of the glowing chunks were a couple of millimeters in length, and I think simply swooshing water back and forth between my hands was the most fun I've had in a long time. Ooh! Sparkly light! I could have spent hours doing this, honestly.
The animals were out in force - rockfish, gobies, sculpin, sand dabs and perch seemed stunned by our flashlight beam. Moving slowly, I was able to get a half an inch within these fish. I think they only knew something was up by feeling the disturbances in water pressure as my hand got near.
Normally, I don't get excited watching sea cucumbers and sea start, but watching them on the dive was like being inside of Dr. Seuss' brain. Their branched feeding tentacles were stretched out like some sort of weird tropical plant. One by one, they inserted the feathery tentacles into its mouth, sucking off the plankton and other detritus-y goodness (mmm!) and then pulling the tentacle out (reminded me of the rabbit-in-the-hat trick for some reason. The sea stars seemed to be galloping about the rocks around anemones and other inverts, in search of food or something.
We moved out into the sand at around 20 feet of depth, amongst the tube anemones and worms. I dug in the sand and found a decent sized shrimp. A sheep crab the size of a child's head came bounding past us, looking like the giant mutant creatures that come out of the Fog in Stephen King's book. And then they appeared...
I had always wanted to see octopus on a dive -- on this night I saw probably 15 individuals. We found them crawling across the ocean floor. The light seemed to partially stun them, slowing their reflexes, but one of them shot out a mini-cloud of ink. Once they found a nearby hole in the sand, they sunk their arms in first and very slowly drew their whole body down. Reverse rabbit-in-the-hat trick. Contortionist masters of sleight of hand and deception -- Houdini could learn from these cephalopods.
Though the warmer waters are not so good for everything, they do bring warmer water species further north than you would normally see them. It would be awesome to see dorado around here (in deeper water), and yellowtails and sheepheads as well.
