We managed to make it out of Cape Town and head east, hugging the southern coast of Africa. The drive was, in a word, stunning. Rugged mountains loom over fields the color of tennis balls, and cliffs plunge dramatically into deep-blue ocean.
All seven of us turned just as a black and white subway train burst from under the water, not eight feet from the bow of my kayak. It was a mammoth orca, blowing a full blast of spray. This wasn't just a whale, it was the entire ocean, exhaling right in my ear.
After a scare, I am happy to say that the Koreans have seen the error of their ways and have decided to not begin "scientific" whaling. So why can't we reach Japan?
Moose, mountains and mankind. I recently experienced all that and more as my wife and I explored the wonders of Newfoundland.
Sometimes the Discovery Channel just isn't enough. Sometimes you just want to go wild. Whether you're hankering to hang with massive elephant seals or ride a horse, you'll find it all and more in our picks for the best "wild" bay area adventures.
Animals are very good at what they do or they wouldn't have made it through the process of natural selection, let alone the spread of humanity across the earth. If what an animal does is kill things, then unless it's a very small animal, I don't get close to it.
Here, I share with you a four-minute excerpt from the film Echoes of Creation. While you watch, you will have the opportunity to contemplate a dream of well-being for the fathers of our world.
Like Janus, the Roman god of gates and doorways, the Provincetown I love has two faces: there's the hustle and bustle of Commercial Street, with its street performers, shops, restaurants, bars, and traffic. And then there's the quieter, contemplative side, the one less readily revealed.
We walk around whale jawbones the size of building beams, skulls larger than people, improbable ribs and vertebrae the size of hassocks. It's a garden of death. It is bleak poverty to pick through what others discarded centuries ago, when the now-silent bay should be full of whales.
Has the time really come when people are the dominant force on the planetary surface?
When humans offer allomothering to other species, it often requires remarkable adaptability and advocacy. It's natural to love one's birth child. But what if the creature you are trying to mother is covered with hair, or bites you, or claws you, or has a grasping tail?
The same week news broke that Facebook would acquire Instagram, two travelers used the app to shoot their Baja California expedition, capturing a $1 billion memory of a gorgeous wilderness.
We humans are merely passengers on the spaceship Earth. We produce nothing important for a healthy planet, but certainly spare no expense at taking what we need and then some. We are the ultimate planetary narcissists.
In recent years, human threats to endangered right whales have increased, and given their fragile population status, the loss of even one of these marine mammals can have a massive impact on the fate of the species.
This is not as radical an idea as it may sound. The law is fully capable of making and unmaking "persons" in the strictly legal sense. But that would be unlikely to happen with whales, dolphins, or even great apes.
Animals -- marine or otherwise -- do not confine themselves to national boundaries. It's vital that all governments take ownership and pride in their biodiversity and ecosystems, and live up to their responsibilities both moral and legal.