St. Joseph Peninsula State Park on Cape San Blas (AP 2003)
As the oil spill smears Florida, a way of life slowly diesBy Jeff Klinkenberg, Times Staff Writer
June 10, 2010 03:43 PM
CAPE SAN BLAS — My favorite beach in the world is oil-free for the moment.
I worry about all our beaches but especially the one at St. Joseph Peninsula State Park near Apalachicola. It's the wildest you-might-see-anything beach in our state. It features 9 miles of white sand, mammoth sand dunes and graceful seabirds. Beyond the dunes is a forest where animals leap, fly and slither. At night, it's so dark the starlight casts shadows.
I stand on the crunchy white sand, among the innocent ghost crabs and the laughing gulls, and look out at the gulf. It's somewhere out there, the oil. The tar balls have already arrived on the beaches of Pensacola a few hours west of me. Over at Panama City Beach, 30 minutes from here as the pelican flies, worried folks are looking for clumps of tar, the harbinger of the thick oil cakes that have coated the beaches, plants and wildlife of Louisiana.
The idea of something so unnatural and so horrific happening to the astonishing beach at St. Joseph Peninsula State Park is too much to bear. I have seen the tracks of loggerhead turtles, foxes and bobcats on this beach. I have seen, so help me Evan Longoria, an alligator on this beach. I don't know where it came from, probably from a pond in the nearby woods, but I discovered it just a few feet from the surf and at least 5 miles from the nearest paved road. It was devouring a rotting dolphin.
This beach is coastal Florida at its wildest. If it has changed over the last five centuries, I'm guessing it has changed very little.
One time, around dusk, I saw a striped skunk ambling across the beach as if he owned the place, which I guess he did. On a winter morning a few years back I saw a herd of deer grazing near a 40-foot sand dune.
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From the comments to this article:
As to the meaning of the crude oil disaster, Jeff hits the nail squarely. For my family and me, the beaches of the Gulf of Mexico are among Earth's most sublime places. We love and fear the Gulf, and we treasure every creature that inhabits its waters, shores, and skies. Now our souls are contorted with misery by the growing sense that it will not be the same in our lifetimes. No amount of money can fix this, no punishment is adequate to the obscenity this represents against nature. ---TDiPod
I have felt from the start of this disaster, that someone I love is being slowly tortured to death, and all I can do is wait for them to send home the body.
I can't even watch the news anymore, it brings such anguish.
And if I hear that bloody,lying, c********r Tony Hayward on my car radio again, I'm putting a round through it. --tt
The "drill baby drill" chestbeaters are clinging to their own sacred mindset. They will not be told that their corporations and government failed them.
They don't realize when you kill the natural environment you might as well burn down your own house. I work with a guy, who today, said to me that BP has done nothing wrong. No matter how much evidence he was presented with he refused to believe corporate ideologies could possibly be criminal.
I think you could probably stick this individual's face in the oil as TarponMarc said and he would still deny the truth.
This article captured the true essence of what is being lost. It's a unique life in and of itself that is irreplaceable. --- empsnewclozh
I remember a particular morning many years ago that stays with me like it was yesterday. It wasn't a good morning for various reasons and I found myself down at Clearwater Beach standing in the crystal water looking down at the glittering sand my toes were buried in. Next I found myself bobbing on my back, cradled in the warm waters like a baby, gazing up at the fluffy white clouds and blue sky. Right then at that moment all was right again with the world. There is no therapy like that. ---empsnewclozh
Klinkenberg's essay continues:
For a lot of us, going to the beach or just the idea of going to the beach is part of the Florida dream. This oil in the gulf, millions of gallons so far, is an assault on that dream. It's an assault on our memories and the beautiful plants and animals that make Florida what it is.
People get married on the beach in Florida. We hold memorials on the beach and scatter ashes in the gulf. The beach is church.
Generations of Floridians have made their living from the beach, selling motel rooms and ice cream cones, catching fish and renting boats. Grandparents have built sand castles with their grandchildren.
You suspect that somewhere in the world, in a skyscraper probably, maybe in Texas or London, a team of lawyers in suits and tasseled loafers are tapping numbers into calculators at this moment in an attempt to limit their corporation's liability for this travesty. President Barack Obama says he would like to kick some oil executives' behinds. After he's through I want to feed the responsible parties to the beach-loving gator at St. Joseph Peninsula State Park.
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This captures the essence of despair and mourning that is encompassing us, as the way of life for countless living creatures perishes.
What is so excruciatingly cruel is that it should never have happened.
God, forgive us.
But, we don't deserve it.