One of the web's most popular travel sites is giving away $1 million to a charity to be chosen by its users. Vote today! So far, two children's charities are in the lead. I'm sure those are worthy causes and all that, but I'd love to see The Nature Conservancy win, as I've read that its organization gives a very high percentage of its donations to the actual cause, rather than spending it on overhead.
It's been years since I've been up to Big Bear, and I honestly hadn't given the place much thought recently until a friend of mine mentioned his film was in the Big Bear International Film Festival (the BLIFF of the post title). So up I trekked, taking the back road, CA-38, since the front was closed due to massive fires.
I pulled into the small mountain town less than half an hour before the screening to find the sky brimming with smoke, which seemed to grow closer by the second. Should we screen or should we evacuate? We chose to screen, and I'm glad we did. After a night of cheese-filled buffets and Oktoberfest chicken dances, I said goodbye to my friend and the actors from the film, who were on their way back to Temecula for yet another fest. I, however, was left to roam the hillsides of Big Bear in search of Swiss-inspired chalets, alpine slides, and abandoned animals.
After a decent sandwich at The Mandoline, a picturesque chalet-styled restaurant on the edge of Big Bear Village, I figured it was time to make good on my promise to myself to take on the alpine slide. As I rode the gondola up to the top, I watched other riders whizz down at varying speeds, some so fast I'm surprised they didn't leap off the track. (Note to self: Any ride that makes you sign a liability waiver without letting you read the contract might be iffy.) My ride was much tamer than the daredevil whose wheels curled just over the lip of the slide as I rode the gondola above him, and I probably should have given it another whirl after getting the hang of it the first time. But instead, I opted to try to squeeze in some more mountain fun before having to return to Metropolis.
With the fire raging on the north side of the lake, I had to ditch the idea of kayaking at the Discovery Center and so instead opted for a visit to Moonridge, the area zoo. Now, I'm not a huge fan of zoos, and especially not local zoos, since the animals' confines tend to be a great deal smaller than those at cash cows like the San Diego Zoo or The Bronx Zoo. So I was hesitant to give my money to an organization that profits off the misfortune of animals. I'm happy to be proven wrong.
Moonridge, unlike most zoos, doesn't buy the animals they exhibit. Instead, they take in animals who might otherwise have to be euthanized, for reasons ranging from being unreleasable due to injuries (many human-inflicted) to being too tame to be able to fend for themselves. One of Moonridge's bobcats was found declawed, apparently the result of some stupid human trying to keep an unpredictable wild cat as a pet. All of the bald eagles, save one who is blind, were shooting victims. And the zoo's family of three grizzlies were victims of Yellowstone's three-strike rule, having ventured one to many times into human domain. They'd been scheduled to be put down until Harley Davidson came to the rescue and forked up the dough for their enclosure at Moonridge, where they've lived ever since. Mama Bear was named Harley in honor of the Hog organization's kindness.
After Moonridge, I reluctantly headed back down the hill, through the winding passes of San Bernardino National Forest, where I stopped repeatedly to snap shots of the misty -- not smoky -- hills that folded over each other in fading succession. Unfortunately, Blogger is currently being a pain in my ass and not letting me upload any other photos, which bums me out since I had some good ones. Alas, they'll have to wait. You'll have to settle for my lame-ass alpine slide vid.
Now that I've come out of isolation after finishing the final tome of the Harry Potter series (don't get me started), I'm back with a bit of news from my sharkophile pal up north. Patric is still fighting the good fight against Alibaba.com, quite possibly the world's leading distributor of shark fins.
We all know I love sharks, but not so far as to feed them live domesticated animals as bait. Yes, some South Seas sickos are doing just that, actually hooking live animals through the nose and paws and letting them float -- alive and suffering -- as bait for sharks. I thought this was just one of those Internet rumors, until I saw the story on the National Geographic news site. Who are these people who come up with such vicious ideas?
And for the box that asks what you think should be done with the people who are caught, use your barbaric little imagination as to what their punishment should be.
You may not think that sharks need protection. After all, the most fiercesome of the sea's denizens is an apex predator. Jaws sure as hell doesn't need a bodyguard. Right?
Because we humans like to kill them, that's why -- and sometimes for no better reason than because we can. That's one of the reasons why our South-of-the-Border neighbors recently declared Isla Guadalupe a biosphere reserve, to protect waters known to be a haven for the largest predatory fish in the sea. (Another reason, of course, is that the tourism industry that has sprung up around this far-off rock brings in tidal waves of money.)
If Mexico -- a country where they still paint donkeys to look like zebras -- can get their act together for such an altruistic purpose, why can't the rest of the so-called free world?
Who'da thunk that Mexico would lead the way in environmentalism? In an email sent to me by Patric Douglas, the CEO of Shark Diver (the outfitter who ran my great white shark diving adventure), I learned that our friends south of the border recently passed landmark regulations protecting the most feared of ocean denizens. Granted, Mexico stands to earn some top tourism dollars from this feat of altruism, but if all other countries heeded this lesson, think of all the species that would reap the benefits -- not to mention the locals who could make a buck (or two) on us eco-loving tourists.
First thing I've learned: Keeping track of two blogs ain't fun. So I'm going to consolidate to just this one. I'll still update MySpace with a line or two, then link off to this one, which will act as my main blog.
As a followup to my entry about chumming for sharks the other day, I wanted to post the comment from the Divester writer who sparked the original item I found on Divester. You can read his original post on my MySpace blog (Nov. 25), or right here:
Hi, Jenna. My name is Willy Volk, and I wrote the piece on Divester to which you refer. First, let me say that I enjoyed your trip report, and I'm glad you had the opportunity to share the beauty of sharks with the rest of us. However...
Chumming for sharks is irresponsible, and Jimmy -- as knowledgable as he is about sharks and their behavior -- knows this.
Although some degree of conditioning can occur between sharks and cage diving boats, this happens when operators do not comply with regulations and allow sharks to feed on bait (http://www.divester.com/2006/09/27/finding-a-balance-how-sharks-and-beachgoers-can-live-together/). I don't believe that sharks learn to associate chum with humans (and, as a result, acquire a taste for people). However, it is commonly accepted that chumming the water alters sharks' behavior and attracts them to shore -- where they face increased dangers, through fishing, and may inadvertantly attack a person (http://www.divester.com/2006/10/05/oahu-to-limit-shark-tours/). Consequently, the fact that "Jimmy was more than three miles offshore" really has no bearing on the situation. He's altering their behavior. And anyway: how long does it take for a shark to swim 3 miles?
Moreover, it amazes me that people would recoil in horror at the thought of dragging a kudu through the African bush to attract a lion, but they don't have a problem with chumming the water to attract sharks. What's the difference?
"Jimmy had mentioned how several of his competitors do it as well": Unfortunately, the fact that Jimmy and his competitors all chum for fish does not make it right.
"I don't believe he felt what he was doing was illegal": I'll bet most commercial fishermen -- and many drug dealers, for that matter -- don't feel what they're doing is illegal.
I don't have a problem with Hall taking people out to see sharks: exposure to these wonderful animals is the best way for peope to overcome their fears and understand their importance in the ecosystem. For that, I commend Hall. However, when Hall expressly denies chumming the water (http://www.hawaiisharkencounters.com/faq.asp), even though you clearly witnessed it, it makes me wonder: Why deny it, Jimmy, if it's so harmless?
Just yesterday I was explaining to my technically challenged mother the importance of Googling your name every few weeks. In the past, I've discovered there's a runaway and a porn star (possibly the same person) who share my first and last name, which is one reason I'd decided to add my middle name to my byline, for the sake of clarification.
So I was shocked when, Googling my full byline name just a few minutes ago, I came across a listing entitled:
...which goes on to detail how my recent article in the Seattle P-I inadvertently exposed Jimmy Hall and his Hawaii Shark Encounters outfit for illegally feeding sharks. When I wrote the article a little over a month ago about the trip I took in January 2006, I had no clue that this was an illegal activity, especially since Jimmy had mentioned how several of his competitors do it as well.
Follow-ups to the story counter the allegations, stating that since Jimmy was more than three miles offshore (as I can attest to), he was no longer in Hawaiian waters and therefore was not committing illegal activity. But as one commentor notes, this is also up for debate, as Hawaii claims jurisdiction to the channels between islands, even though the state has never defended this position in federal court.
I'm not a lawyer, so I can't say if Jimmy is guilty. I will say that he showed a great deal of respect for the sharks and that I found no fault with his operation. I felt perfectly safe the entire time and admired Jimmy's obvious love of the sea and its inhabitants. And after seeing the video of him outside of the cage with an 18-foot great white, I can say he truly love these creatures, even if he's a bit of a daredevil. Jimmy told me that one of the reasons he took such a risk was because he wanted people to see that white sharks are not the vicious feeding machines Hollywood has made them out to be. On his webpage, he further describes why he swam unprotected with a great white.
About halfway into my trip, Jimmy learned that I was a writer. At that point, had he wanted to hide any illegal actions, he certainly could have, or at least downplayed them. But I don't believe he felt what he was doing was illegal, or else he certainly would not have allowed me to take pictures of one of his crew tossing fish heads to the sharks just off the stern.
I had hoped my article would offset fears that many have about the ocean and its inhabitants, especially in the wake of Stever Irwin's untimely death. I did not intend to "out" Jimmy. In fact, I had hoped my article would help his business, as well as awaken people to the beauty of the animals his expedition showcases.
Jenna Robbins is a thirtysomething writer/editor living in Los Angeles. She has extensive online editing and writing experience, most notably for AOL CityGuide, where she worked full-time from 2001-2006. In her spare time, she edits novels and non-fiction books and also works on her own full-length projects.
While the majority of Jenna's experience has been entertainment and travel related, the scope of her projects has ranged from politics and finance to sports and recreation. After graduating from the University of Michigan, Jenna went on to receive her Master's of Professional Writing (a specialized M.F.A.) from the University of Southern California.
Jenna is available as a freelance writer, editor, and Internet consultant.
