Jennie
As of Fall, 1998: jsl31445@darkwing.uoregon.edu
This is a mid-1995 photo of Jennie standing on a teahouse roof in northern Nepal where she was trekking with her boyfriend Keith. They climbed to the base camp at Anapurna, and while hiking down under the moonlight had an avalanche pass a few hundred yards away. Jen said the cold air washing over them as the avalanche passed scared her more than the sight and sounds...
During the spring/summber of 1996 Jennie worked for the Caribbean Conservation Corp. in Costa Rica, doing reasearch on sea turtles. Here's some exerpts from a few of her letters...
Our job is to not only tag the turtles, but if given the opportunity we measure their shell , and count and measure their eggs. I can faithfully say that there is no rush like the one that you get laying behind the end of a leatherback turtle while she is depositing her eggs! The one that I went through the entire process with was amazing.
The eggs look like perfect cue balls and come out in a soupy Jell-O. She also throws in a few unformed eggs that come in most any shape or size — mainly they reminded me of styro-foam balls gone awry. Those eggs will not hatch because the have yolks and they make up about 1/4 of the nest. But what an effort for this animal to put her 100 eggs or so into the pit she laboriously digs with her seafaring flippers. Her breath comes in grunts and sighs. We are talking about an animal that weighs anywhere from 1,000 to 2,000 lbs and when she breathes you can hardly help but pay attention. I was told that underwater they can hold their breaths up to 1/2 hour at a time. The effort of laying eggs is so great that when we timed her breaths they were deep and full and about every 10 seconds!
I held her back fin slightly away from her whiny to see and count the eggs as they dropped in her hole! Yowza! Words fail me. There is only a little sweet smell and otherwise I was absolutely engrossed in the process as if I was laying those eggs myself. One can hardly fathom that this species has lived on the planet virtually unchanged since the time of the dinosaurs (some even speculate a time earlier that that).
There is also something rather mind boggling to be that close to an animal that knows the depths of the ocean so intimately. She reeks of mystery and strength. And yet there on the beach in the moonlight, you also sense her vulnerability and that of her kind. All these emotions wash over you and the task of learning her ways takes on a profound importance. A secret that helps us touch our history and the history of our planet. To touch her skin in all its leathery smoothness reminds me of a fully inflated basketball and her flippers are generally torn and marked by scars. Too many stories to even imagine.
One of the girls had two ropes tied about her hind flippers. We struggled to remove them but we had both neglected to carry our knives and the knots were so thick and the rope had become a part of her body. At that moment I think I hated every human. And I ached to restore some semblance of balance to our world. Our work is part of the very small body of knowledge we have about leatherbacks.
This is only the 2nd year of a full fledged tagging effort in Costa Rica and still little is known about where they choose to nest and how often they return to a certain beach. We have had a few reemergence and that is exciting. We found one that had a tag that appeared to be from 4 years ago! So few have been tagged and every tiny tidbit of info is crucial to our understanding. We dont even know where these turtle mate and how long they carry their eggs. It is plausible that they may carry them for a rather long period of time, unlike the green turtles that mate off shore through the nesting season. We are collecting barnacles off the shells to see if we can find some information about where these turtles have traveled. I like their mysteriousness. It is humbling and a fine reminder of truly how little we understand about life that goes on around us.
I am so grateful for this opportunity to see and experience these graceful beings. After they cover their nests by flinging sand in about every direction, they slowly move towards the sea. That is the part I love the most — the surf hits their bodies and then I just get a glimpse of how lovely and powerful they are in the sea. Its a feeling that takes your breath away. I almost want to cling to their backs and travel to their world. Thus far, I have refrained. It is indeed tempting!
Well what more can I say? I feel absolutely blessed. I also saw one green turtle and about 5 green turtle tracks. The greens are smaller and look more like the turtles of childrens story books. They nest towards the vegetation, unlike the leatherbacks. Getting up to them is a bit of a task depending on how thick the vines and trees happen to be surrounding her. We don't count their eggs for now, which would be more difficult than with the leatherbacks because of the depth of their body pit they dig in the sand and the way they hold their flippers to protect the eggs they are depositing. We tag them on their front flippers and apparently they don't enjoy the process much and flail about. I hate to think of hurting them and yet I tell myself that it is only momentary — like an ear piercing or something.
In the end the more we understand their way of life, the easier it is to protect them and their(our) habitat. The taggers are pliers that have a special space to slide a tag that is metal and 3 inches long. When the clamp is closed it bends the metal through a loop that will hold it in its place. We put the tag in the soft flesh next to the shell, its kind of like the flesh between your thumb and index finger — so I suppose that it wouldn't be too painful.
Now I will tell you about the 3rd option and the one I utilised on my first venture in. The Casa Baula is located in the middle of the park zone and hence not a store or any peopled place for many a mile. We pack in our supplies. My pack was not stuffed, but certainly a good 10 to 15 lbs as our journey began. The following is what was written in my journal on the May 1.
After some uncomfortable debate with Peter, Matt (a greener who hales from Oklahoma) and I were taken by Scott in our panga to the entrance of the Jungle trail. We are talking about some dense jungle which lines the sides of the canal. My untrained eye couldnt even find the break in the trees that indicated the trail existence. It was about 5:30pm when I donned Jennifers skin diving boots and headed into the jungle. As dense as it appeared from the canal — it was. A little path was semi clear and mucky beyond belief. I had never expected it to be so difficult to follow.Many a mud puddle reached beyond my thighs even when I was successful at remaining balanced on the submerged logs used for crossings. Of course, it wasn't long before we were short on light. The beams of our head lamps reduced our frames of reference down to that which was directly before us and simultaneously magnified the sounds of the jungle. My pack was heavy for the rough terrain and the artless booties. A number of times I got tangled in vines and they pulled me backwards into puddles — turtle gurl.
An 1 hour and a half had when I realized Matt may not have the trail memorized. The Orange flags seemed elusive at best and we were doing more and more wading. Steeling myself to the slime, I bound through mucky water and my bare legs were covered with mud and dead foliage. The intensity of the jungle noise increased with the intensity of the darkness. Too many times I looked around and was absolutely astounded that it was me walking through the thick forest with a flashlight. Matt had me wait by the flags as he pursued alternate routes hoping one would be the path. It would rain on and off.
At the edge of a particularly murky puddle while I perch by an enormous decomposing tree, I noticed that in the water below me was a bright yellow spider the size of a dinner plate with reddish brown spots. It was squarely located where my next footfall would have gone, I shuddered and yelped. It wasnt so much the individual spider who made me squirm, (although I won't deny squirming) but the thought of future puddles I had to cross and the other creatures awaiting my stumbling. They my not have been waiting but surely my stumbling could annoy and even encourage attack!
The sound of the ocean finally began to make its way through the vegetation and signs of other passersby even appeared. Jubilantly Matt was promised a foot rub. The rains started then, the kind of rain that pummels and drowns all other sounds. That is probably why we didn/t notice how distant the sound of the sea had become. We did keep finding orange flags just as our hope would dwindle and then we would push onward.
The rain ceased and then came the unfortunate realization that we were turned around and heading back to the canal. In fact it seemed clear to both of us that we were closer to the canal than to the sea. We turned our lights off to reduce the onslaught of insects and held conference. Matt wanted to head back towards the sea and the depths of the jungle and I was leaning towards sleeping at the canals edge and not enduring another hour of wandering. Sleeping at the canals edge did not seem like a picnic by any stretch of the imagination.
We had food, but no bedding aside from sheets. The bugs would certainly join us. Matt prevailed and we headed towards the ocean we could no longer hear. The 1st dead end — we had to conference again. Close to 3 hours of walking now and the thin rubber soles of Jens booties and I had contorted my ankles and feet into all kinds of directions. We turned back to hunt tor the last flag and in the not so distant distance, I heard the motor of a boat passing through the canal.
It was probably the gang heading towards mile 18 to walk in. Had we gone to the edge of the canal at the close of our 1st debate and we would have flagged them down — maybe. My head ached with the frightening but realistic possibility of wandering until dawn. Matts encouragement helped. He is a quiet sort and he rose to the task of keeping the chatter I requested going. I truly am not sure how I kept myself going — I did. The sound of the ocean came again and we moved towards it.
The path even had its moments of unmistakable identity. When we heard the clicking shaking of something in the bush Mat wanted to stop and find the creature. I was ready to be at the station. We never saw the animal 2 feet infront of us — but judging by the amount of foliage that parted as it moved on — it was big! Probably a snake. Shortly after the snake sound — which Peter our leader and Herpetologist said it was more that likely a Fer de Lance. Yikes — big poison dude. The spider was also a carnivorous sort focusing on frogs and lizards — not small mucky gurls. Anyway this was a scary and unsafe adventure. Not well thought out.
After doing the presentation the kids have begun to smile and greet me in the town. That is fantastic. I have got to figure out a way to give more back to this lovely place. Lives here are so simple and yet I know that there are many problems with hard drugs, alcoholism, and domestic violence. Humans are indeed too complcated for their own good. Wouldn't it be a blessing to somehow strip away the complications and put the joy back into the explorations of life? And if only I could pray what I preach.