First, though, you must realize that these marine sanctuaries
exist. The
United States' first sanctuary, the Monitor National
Marine Sanctuary off Cape Hatteras, North Carolina
(monitor.noaa.gov, 757-599-3122) - encompassing the waters
surrounding the wreck of the famous ironclad Civil War vessel USS
Monitor - was founded in 1975. The process has continued quietly.
Countless Americans have stood before the whump and gush of Old
Faithful. But only a handful of Americans can find the Flower
Garden Banks sanctuary - home to the country's northernmost reef -
on a map.
The Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary (channelislands
.noaa.gov, 805-966-7107), its spread of waters wrapping five
islands and extending six miles out to sea, was formed in 1980. Yet
even among Southern Californians, the sanctuary remains largely
unknown and, in governmentspeak (the sanctuaries fall under the
auspices of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration),
sorely undervisited - almost to the point that sanctuary personnel
find themselves in the odd position of both guardian and carnival
barker.
"The term sanctuary may scare some people off," muses Chris Mobley,
manager of the Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary.
"Certainly the primary responsibility we have is to protect the
waters. But we allow plenty of opportunities for people to do
things out there."
Mobley pauses.
"The door is open, with a big welcome sign on it," he says.
Happily, ignorance and undervisitation are synonyms for the
solitude that facilitates wilderness magic. I live in Ventura,
California. Sanctuary waters rest just five miles off my home
beaches. I have snorkeled with sea lions off Santa Barbara Island,
kayaked into the sea caves of
Santa Cruz, dived the kelp forests
off many of the islands, and watched pods of gray whales send misty
contrails into the air. And always there hangs the specter of the
unexpected. Anchored off Anacapa Island one afternoon, eating lunch
by myself on the bow of a friend's boat, I lifted my peanut-butter
sandwich to my mouth. As my eyes met the horizon, an orca leaped
clear of the water.