… approach to diving. In fact, the guy I did that last dive with was a huge burly Dive Master candidate. We got down to depth and the first thing he did was find a star fish and pick it up. At that point I was already thinking “Great, here’s another jackass that’s gonna play frizbee with a star fish or some shit” but he goes and takes it and cleans off a spot on a piece of rock that’s sheltered with kelp and lays it down carefully. Then he swims off and finds a large seasnail shell that’s been knocked over from the surge and he flips it back upright. He spent the entire dive “tidying up” the ocean as we went along… it was kind ’a cool to see.

And there’s no way I’m grabbing an urchin… no way… no how… I just picture one of those 5 inch long black spines going through my glove and through my hand and out the other side, followed swiftly by me shooting to the surface screaming and displaying the stigmata to the Dive Master.

I didn’t see any nudibranchs… I looked though for the tiny little bastards all over and under and around the rocks the kelp were anchored to. I was kind of bummed… but I didn’t have a dive light with me so they wouldn’t have been all THAT spectacular. There were billions of Garibaldi fry around though… tucked into every little crack and crevice on the rocks.

… with my Dad and our Japanese neighbor. We went to a cove near Gualala and watched as whatshisname went hunting. You’re only allowed to wear a wetsuit, weights, mask and a snorkel. Then you snorkel in 5 foot waves around big sharp rocks with an abalone spatula to pry the fucker off the rock. If you’re really lucky, you only drown a little bit; you will get beaten and shredded.

Then you get shaken down by the Dept. of Fish and Game when you touch foot on the shore again to inspect your catch and if it’s not up to muster you pay a massive fine. If they are up to muster, but you have too many of them… jail…