Oceans Away

Abstract

Oceans Away David Gessner David Gessner, essay, ocean, Miami ________ The dolphins cut back and forth in front of our bow, rolling and jumping and twisting. They spotted our boat and began to chase it as we chased false albacore, and before we knew it a half dozen of them had caught up with us and were darting through the slipstream of our bow. The three of us on the boat are laughing and smiling and pointing. The dolphins seem like sleek packages of exhilaration. Joy embodied. It is November 2, 2021, and this is the first stop in a trip south to Florida that I am taking with my frequent traveling companion and old friend Mark Honerkamp. Hones, as I have forever called him, lives to fish and today he is in heaven. We launched from the dock in front of my friend Douglas's house. Douglas Cutting, a former student of mine and former fishing guide, is part owner of an old but beautifully restored wooden house that stares out at the Intracoastal Waterway in McClellanville, South Carolina, a small fishing village about three hours south of Wilmington, North Carolina, where I live. Before the day is over Hones and Douglas will have caught spotted sea-trout, red snapper, black sea bass, gag grouper, pinfish, and an oyster toadfish. The fish they don't catch, the false albacore, or albies, will provide them the most excitement, rippling the surface with their sleek backs as they devour pods of baitfish, but refusing to take the lures we offer. Even I, a nonfisherman, get into the pursuit of the albies, standing up as the lookout in the crow's nest as I scan the waters with my binoculars. On top of all the fish we are treated to the sight of bald eagles, a loggerhead turtle, and a vast variety of birds from scoters to little blue herons. But for me it is the sight of the dolphins bowriding that will remain the day's highlight. When we first moved to Wilmington, I told people that I felt like I had moved onto the set of Flipper. One of the best things about moving south was suddenly having dolphins as neighbors. It turned out that my new home was not just the center for a large community of dolphins, but a hotbed of dolphin research. One of the most exciting discoveries was recently made by three scientists, [End Page 9] one of whom, Laela Sayigh, lived only a twenty-minute paddle from me when I first moved South. Laela coauthored a paper that concluded that bottlenose dolphins convey identity information with individually distinctive signature whistles. This may not seem particularly eye-opening until you stop and think that this is just a fancy scientific way of saying that they call each other by name. There are those who deny the world beyond the human. But face to face with dolphins it is harder. ________ I have spent the last year traveling to places where the climate crisis has hit hard, and have been writing as I go, but have somehow failed to mention the large, wet elephant in the room. That is, I have mostly ignored the three-quarters of the globe that is covered by water. Thematically there is no excuse for this, but stylistically there is. I have tried to make climate small and personal, and what is larger and less personal than an ocean? But if the ocean's story is large and impersonal, it is also vital. And if we are overheating the world, this is where most of the heat is going. The heat and acidification of our ocean waters do not get the big headlines. Yet. Dolphins, I suppose, are one way of making the watery and vague more specific. But if the oceans go, so do they. After Douglas has docked and cleaned the boat, we stand around the kitchen island and drink cold beer while feasting on the fish we have caught and on the stone crabs he has prepared. We are joined by Greg, another of the house's co-owners, and his friend Drew, who has served as Greg's...