Around 4 o'clock in the afternoon along the central California coast, the winter sun gets low on the horizon, giving a few minutes of lengthened shadows and rich, golden light, before it disappears behind a fog bank shortly afterward. The resulting decrease in light marks a premature sunset that can be barely workable sometimes. Winter field work is difficult even in California due to the shortened days, extreme tide fluctuations (even worse in Northern California), stormy weather, muddy trails, and low amount of sand on the beach (which results in a decrease in the number of access points and thus, fewer choices in access route). Oh, and not to mention poison oak, which during the winter, lacks its distinctive leaves). In this case, one of our access points was a small canyon which opens up towards the beach; during the winter, the stream fills the landward side of the canyon up with fetid, organic rich water while waves buildup a barrier bar, which dams the creek and forms a nice, disgusting little lagoon. When we arrived at this locality, the creek had pooled up, and was extremely cold as it had still been in the shade when we got there. The creek water hovered just over freezing, and was a good ten degrees colder than the ocean. It was still just as cold when we left; by the time we were done with the jacket, it was twilight. Oddly enough, on our way out, we came across a couple teenagers going down to the beach (the hard way, staying dry, but going up above the water-filled canyon on the side of a cliff) with only their cellphones for light. They must have made it out safely, although I'm not sure how (I never read in the paper about anyone dying out there).
Naw, I'm not complaining - there are certain aspects of coastal fieldwork that are unusual and hazardous, and sometimes just kind of a real drag (i.e. tides and the access limits they pose).
ReplyDeleteThe combination of the scenery and the fossils makes it totally worth it, though.