How Typical

I was thinking to myself this morning that it was awfully silly of me not to begin this blog at the beginning of the summer, instead of now, right before I leave. Surely most of the interesting developments happened weeks ago, and now I have to think back and try to recreate them. I was listing out all the different stories and events I should write about. I was also thinking about writing an ode to mist (in accompanyment to the fog dialogue from yesterday). I was thinking this as I was sitting on the cliffs at south, and realized that even my eyeballs were misted over and impossible to see through. But, the island had other ideas for this evening's topic.

So I went out to work in the fog early today, in hopes of making up some of our missed surveys. I came back around lunch time to find out that there was an oil spill in the harbor. Yes, our very own miniature Exxon Valdez experience. One of the barges punctured their fuel tank while they were loading or unloading in shallow water. For a brief while most of the harbor was covered in a slick, but things have vastly improved since then. By the time Ram and I made it over there, only the few feet closest to shore still had any real evidence of oil. Unfortunately the cleanup didn't happen quickly enough to save all of our feathered friends...they've already found a few dead kittiwakes. But hopefully those few will be the only mortalities. Ram and I did a search of the beach next to the harbor and didn't find any evidence of oil at all, let alone oiled birds. The way these little disasters just seem to follow right on each other's heels out here is quite incredible. I can't wait to see what happens tomorrow.