At Home in the Salish Sea - My Fave Photos from the 2020 Season

I started this particular blog posts almost four months ago. Classic. In true 2020 fashion, my motivation and energy levels have been supremely low, and when they do happen to climb to the necessary levels to get something done, I’ve been dedicating them to grad school applications. The blog has unfortunately fallen by the wayside. I’m not proud of it, but I acknowledge that this “low” time was necessary in order for me to recharge, reset, and one day emerge ready to tackle new projects again. 

Photo by Luke Praschak

I left Idaho for the San Juan Islands in July, mainly to help a friend out by dog-sitting for her while she and her partner went out sailing on the weekends. There was a large part of me that also wanted to be back in one of my favorite places in the world, surrounded by people whose values align a little bit more strongly with my own. Northern Idaho is beautiful, but I missed the ocean. The dog-sitting arrangement gave me a purpose and a reason to leave Idaho; the people, the summer, the whales, the air (as ocean air always does) gave me a reason to stay. 

As weird as this summer was, and as different as it was from the one I pictured, it still turned into something pretty special. I met even more amazing people, reconnected with old friends, cuddled lots of dogs, and found that my life during COVID on San Juan was pretty similar to the life I lived during the “normal” summers of 2016 and 2017. Why? I spend a lot of time on my own, anyway, and I prefer to be outside whenever possible. The San Juans aren’t exactly crowded – you usually see only a handful of people on any hike – and it IS NOT THAT hard to throw a mask on. In terms of my living situation, I was grateful to have lots of my own space, three beautiful dogs to play with, good company, and paddleboards waiting down at the dock, ready for adventures.

Work, though, was the exception to this small semblance of normalcy I was experiencing. Tourism is obviously very different this year. I struggled to find employment in the whale watch industry, understandably, and felt so much uncertainty and doubt over what was ethical, what was safe, what on Earth I should be doing. I had little energy to search for online freelance work. However, what ended up happening worked out fine, and I’m grateful. I picked up a few shifts a week for a whale watch company on neighboring Orcas Island, and ended up ferrying back and forth for work. The commuting was actually very fun. If you ever want to put yourself in a meditative state and enjoy that “nothing to do, nowhere to be” feeling, get your tushy on a Washington state ferry.

AND! I splurged on a fancy new camera lens for my Sony a6500; I’m so glad I did. It’s a Sony 70 - 400mm F4.0/5.6 telephoto, and it is BEAUTIFUL. My only regret is that it’s taken me this long to make that purchase, especially after five years of whale watching. It’s been working like a charm with my crop sensor, but I can’t wait for my next upgrade to a full-frame body.

I wanted this post to be a gallery of the pictures I’ve been taking of the Salish Sea ecosystem. I also wanted to talk about whales, because, DUH. I’ll save that for my next post. I think it’s important to address the very raw spectrum of human emotions I, and so many other humans, have been feeling this year. I’ve been grateful. I’ve been angry. I’ve been discouraged. Overwhelmed. Anxious. Sad. Lethargic. Energetic. Curious. Deflated. Uncertain. Lonely. Excited. I’ve been ok…and I’ve not been ok. As the wise Demi Lovato says…”It’s ok not to be ok.” I’ve really been trying to internalize that over this season. I don’t think our society is very forgiving to people who identify as “not ok.” I do think that’s changing, especially with all that’s happened this year, and I find this so encouraging. #endthestigma

the importance of Mental health for conservation

Our mental health is ultimately what influences the “self” we are able to put out in the world, and also the quality and clarity of the vision we have for what we want for the world. Without that vision, we aren’t going to be working with focused intent towards our goals. My personal goals are conservation-centered, so it’s natural for me to talk about my internal journey as I share my external experiences of wildlife education and conservation work. Same, same. 

Just a firsthand example – when I am feeling low, the last thing I want to do is write about whales or edit pictures. I’m not able to share my gifts. But when I’ve taken the time to care for my needs, and been patient with myself, I find that sooner or later I’m ready to sit down and create again. 

Share your journey, share your story, share your goals; we are all on our own journeys of constant becoming and it often helps for others to hear what you have to say. I’ve learned that I’m going to burn up in flames regularly throughout my life, but I’m also always going to rise up from those damn ashes. We’re meant to be reborn. Constantly. Without change, there is no living.

I think we can say the same for our planet and its species, too. Without change, there is no living.

And GDI, I’m living.

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Here are some pictures of whales. Dogs. Places I love. People that I made memories with. Boats I’ve worked on. Birds. Feast your little eyes on the glory of a new telephoto lens (and a drone). Thanks for being here. It’s nice to write again. I hope to see you on TGB again soon.

As always, so much love.

Lozza

P.S. Because I love books I’m just going to drop this rec in right here. I loved this book. Read it twice. It’s gotten a lot of attention this year, for good reason! Read it if you want to laugh, think, and have some of your own eureka moments. Glennon is a fabulous storyteller. Disclosure: I am an affiliate of Bookshop.org and I will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase - I highly recommend purchasing through Bookshop anyway, as the money goes to small independent bookstores.

Keep that sweet, sweet inspiration flowing: