Guillaume Mazille, photographer (via tragos, findout)
The third species I fell in love with, after kitties and ponies and before elephants, was the gray whale. When I look back on the two years we lived in San Francisco I remember big, California-size adventures: hiding inside red woods, tide pools teeming with fat anemones that pulled away from my touch, elephant seals bellowing their mating calls, and whole days devoted to whale watching. Hiking higher and higher, searching for the best vantage point, straining into the binoculars, scanning … scanning … scanning … until — the puff of steam, the humpback, the tail! The tail!
It was even better from sea. Oh how I loved to get on a boat and go! On one unforgettable trip that took us off the continental shelf, my dad, poor queasy dad, was in the back “feeding the pelicans” while me and my sea legs did a jig every time another species was spotted: blue shark! Sea lion! Orca! Whale! Thar she bloooooooows!
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The Great American Cooking Project
Notes from others: