I will never go into space, but seated in a kayak that swarms gently wrapped in the dark so deep that I can only feel the world around me, then picking up a handful of brackish water to look at my hands in sparkling cup like stars, which look like a fairly close second.
The night is cool, still, almost silky, and I could stay right now forever, but from a nearby boat, I hear the guide to urge us, closer to the dark coasts where the northern California tomales bay is embarking on the Reyes Seashore national spur. “In this way,” she calls. “There is so much more.”
This long, thin bay at an hour north of San Francisco is a hidden jewel for bioluminescence. Organizations that create this Dinoflagelte glow and bioluminescent, are a type of plankton that is surprisingly common in the world. But to see more than “the radiance of the occasional sea – as sailors have been calling it for a long time – you need a lot of these small organisms in one place.
Todd Plummer, senior naturalist at Blue Waters Kayaking, explains that the tomal bay “concentrates dinoflagellates with his geometry. Due to the narrow mouth of the bay, bioluminescence is not cleaned or diluted during storms as in most Bays in C in California. ”
I pull the paddle in the water and I see an elegant blue-white-white sparkle trace a path to the surface. This clear night far from the city’s lights seems to withdraw the curtain from the universe. The dark sky above us rests as slightly as a veil stung by a tiny thousand pins to leave the flamboyant light of another universe throwing through.
Visit the bioluminescent kayak
Our group of biolumin tours of a dozen foreigners had gathered at dusk on the banks of the Tomal Bay, which floats at the top of the San Andreas Faille separating North America from the Pacific. Our naturalist guides have evolved the equipment and gave safety briefings at sunset, and we slipped our ocean kayaks in tandem in the water while the first stars appeared in the sky.
For many of us, it is the first time that we have seen bioluminescence, the most sparkling members of the Protiste kingdom. It is a group that shares ancestry with animals, plants and mushrooms, but has evolved independently. While some protists photosynthetize such as plants or decompose decomposition material such as fungi, these dinofagellates are more like tiny animals, hunting and eating trash in water. Directed by circadian rhythms, they are the most active at night and easier to see in places where it is really dark. Their glow is triggered by movement, paddles, fish, swimming, waves and the whirlwind of the hands in the water.
There are no other boats on the bay at this evening time, but we are not alone. As we pass Hog Island, we stop to watch the ink silhouettes of sea birds perch in the big trees. We follow the sounds of the Wapitis and owls to the cliffs on the point of Point Reyes de la Baie, our kayaks now a parade of small dark red lights that swing in the night.
Like darkness, calm looks like a revelation for someone accustomed to the constant buzzing of urban life. “It is so calm that sometimes we can hear rates washer breaking oyster shells on the shore, and from time to time, a seal will be curiously approaching – you can hear it haleter like a dog,” explains Plummer.
As we arrive in a shallow cove, I look down and I see shiny streaks of light, the fish trails that move. Lucky groups sometimes attract glimpses of bat shelves with five-foot wings swinging in the water, leaving blue-green diamonds in their awakenings.
Light as language
We note a bioluminescence near the surface, but science has only just started to learn the roles it plays more deeply in the ocean. Plummer notes a theory on the massive eyes of giant calmars; This can help protect them from predators. The sperm plunges deeply to hunt. “While whales descend, they create a bulge of bioluminescence.” The ability to see this glow from afar gives the calmars time to make a quick exit.
Here where the sky meets the ocean, I hang out my fingers in the water. The small sparks cling to the droplets on my fingers, in the cold fire in my hand, a code of fire. In these moments of fear, I am linked to a tradition of thousands of years. One of the oldest written descriptions of the bioluminescence comes from Pliny the elder, who detailed the Roman fashion to eat clams of raw piddock for their effect of a mouth and shiny hands.
Light is a language of time. In the above stars, it is old and in ephemeral shine below, instantaneous – billions of years and milliseconds in constant conversation. As I paddle towards a dark shore, pressed between countless stars and an ocean that shines up, something happens to my body. It is the full tingling which comes from a real display of rare magic.
If you leave
In recent years, the local bioluminescence season has extended, with chances of seeing it almost all year round. For the best odds and the best time, Plummer suggests going in September or October, while it is often less windy, there is lower rainy chances, and the previous sunsets mean that these visits do not end so late. Children aged 13 and over can join an adult.
Take pictures of Bioluminescence from a rocking boat varies from incredibly difficult to squarely impossible, especially if you use a photo phone. My advice: Bring the right equipment or simply store your phone and enjoy the moment, without technology.
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