"The genius of man may make various inventions, encompassing with various instruments one and the same end; But it will never discover a more beautiful, a more economical or a more direct one than nature's, since in her inventions nothing is wanting and nothing is superfluous." –Leonardo DaVinci
I waved goodbye, as our motor boat pushed away from the wharf. I waved and waved, and cried and cried. My host parents, Ron and Gerry, and my good friends Chizuko, Fuji, and Houdimi, waved back from the dock. I wanted to run back and hug them tightly again, but I was not on land. I wanted to jump into the water and swim back—just so I could hold them one more time—but I was lurched back by the boat's forward jerk. I could not stop waving. As much as I waved, it was not enough to say goodbye.
I would never see the world in the same way again. At Cape Jackson, I had rediscovered what was lost in the real world.
When I snorkeled, I could see clearly down to the ocean floor, while swaying with the seaweed trees that were big enough to eat me. The sea was enchanted: rainbows of various colored fish, anemones, shells, rocks and sea plants. Many sea urchin lay in the shallow waters and I often dived down to grab some. While I stood in the water, I cut them open and examined their organs before slipping its yellow spongy parts onto my tongue. No washing, no additives, no supplements. With every chew there was a new taste…slimy, salty, raw, sweet, sticky, juicy. As I took another look, its prickles were still slowly moving. The spirit and design of the sea urchin was exquisite. I gave it another poke, and assured it that not a single part had gone to waste.
Sometimes, Ron took us on his boat to catch fish and crayfish from the ocean—after we begged him like schoolchildren to come along. When we took the traps in, we first used a pole to catch the rope, then we pulled, pulled, and pulled with all our might until the trap untangled from the seaweed. Sometimes it took all five of us to bring the net in. Finally, to see the things that ended up in the trap! Big fish, small fish, eels and more than one crayfish that was bigger than my head. But Ron warned us, "We only take the big fish, and let's check that the crayfish aren't pregnant."
I arrived at the lighthouse one other afternoon, at the very tip of the peninsula, atop a vertical cliff. To the north were the vague distant mountains of the North Island. To the northeast was the vast ocean, where you were thousands of miles away. I peered over the cliff, as I sat eating lunch, when suddenly, my eyes caught a movement down below. There, a seal waddled onto the exposed rock with its shiny black flippers. And look! Not just one--another! Shaking his head feverishly, somehow frustrated with the fish he's caught. And another--snorting gleefully, as he plopped his blubbery mass into the waves. And yet another, exposing his round belly to the sun. Seals in their natural habitat!
But there were not just seals. There were orcas swimming out to the open sea, blue penguins floating like ducks in a pond, sea birds hiding in shallow caves on the cliffs, and pukekos wandering out of the bush. Whereever I was, there was something extraordinary to see. But more, everything was always changing--every second, every breath, every step, I was in one place and a hundred places at the same time. Everything was alive. And it all made me feel alive.
I can still hear Ron's voice before he left us every night: 'Good night, kids!' I can still see the stars shining brighter than the moon at night. I experienced the world simply as it was: sharing space and respect with a family, animals and nature. Life was plain, yet it was extraordinary. I cried for this lost world. I cried because when something is lost, the future will know what was lost. I cried, as Cape Jackson vanished out of sight.
But in the end, Cape Jackson gave me a renewed sense of the world. And with that I have renewed hope and vision for how I can help the future.
