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Perspectives from Paradise.
by Gary Mayer
It is a source of cause some amazement to me. We live on a relatively quiet stretch of the coast that
has thankfully been pretty much bypassed by the builders and pavers. (So Far) We are in the heart of the off
season doldrums, and yet, there's still all kinds of stuff happening.
Max has return from his summer hiatus to some dreary place north of "The Border". ("The Border", for
most South Beachers is drawn somewhere in the vicinity of the county line - true beach derelicts place it close to
Seaway Drive.) Max reports he is happy to be back to a place where people don't think a beach is what just had a litter
and palms are for self amusement. Welcome home Max, get a grip!
Whale Ho!! One evening, several weeks back, I noticed quite a commotion at the beach access across
the street. TV news trucks, police cars, people milling about, what's going on? - My inquiring mind had to know.
Grabbing up on the basic necessities, (smokes + a beer) I strolled across to discover what warranted of all the attention.
The pretty technician in the "Live on 5" van informed me a whale had beached itself. I immediately returned across
the street and informed my "Significant Other" in my best Long John Silver Nauticalese, "Aaar Matey, Thar be a whale
on the beach"!
Upon arriving at the scene we discovered a large number of newsfolk and assorted bystanders watching a
few folk trying to wrestle a whale out of the choppy surf and into a canvas sling. The whale was small I suppose, by
whale standards anyway, - about ten feet long and about twelve hundred pounds. It was obvious the situation was in need
of more hands and less supervision and sympathy. Handing my necessities to my "Significant Other" I took my place
with the other wet, sand covered do gooders and collectively we managed to get the creature into the sling and out of
the pounding surf.
There were several people present associated with Harbor Branch who were directing efforts to rescue
the beast. I was feeling like the bandaged puppy who was asked "What we you going to do with the car when you
caught it? When the chief rescuer informed us we needed to carry the whale up the beach! I cursed the beach
renourishment project. -Twelve hundred pounds of blubber through 50 yards of sand. A feat not accomplished since Jenny
Craig threw a beach party
Fortunately, more hands arrived. Women brought buckets of water in ice (Donated by the good folk at
your friendly Circle K) to help keep Willie the whale cool while the strong back/week minded gender huffed and
puffed Willie up the beach. We placed Willie in the back of a pickup truck and were informed that he would be
transported to a recovery tank in Miami. We waved goodbye, wished him well and headed home for a shower and a cold one.
No one knows why they beach themselves although, there are all kinds of theories. Some say it's
because their sick, some say it is that they losing their sense of direction. My own theory is that they get a blow hole full
of something designed for human consumption and get really stupid.
In any case, it's still just another day in Paradise. Remember to support your local derelicts and keep
your blow holes clean.
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