... and then we did the whole thing in reverse

At the end of our field season, everything always happens too fast. The island has a feeling of serenity and perpetuity, that life there goes on forever. As the season slows, we have a little bit less work to do and a little bit more time to do fun things. I went on some fun dives and saw bat rays, grumpy kelp bass, tiny skittish sharks, giant sheepshead, spiny lobsters, a big old eel the size of my whole leg, hiding up in a crack. There is time to breathe and just be happy.

With the Davidson Countercurrent spinning up in August, the water gets so clear and warm.

The fog comes up from the Pacific.
There is nothing to the south of us except San Clemente.

Then we disrupt it by a flurry of packing, killing off the last of our cultures, unplugging and draining the water recirculators, and dashing around with bubble wrap. We cram and pack everything into the stalwart wooden crates, and palletize everything else. Yes, "palletize" is a verb.

This time it was easier not to remove the railing, and to just maneuver the forks up and over.

... and there he goes with our crates.

The crossing was going to be a wet one, so we shrink-wrapped the daylights out of everything.

Mesmerized at a wake.

We took a taxi to get another U-Haul truck. The cab driver took one look at us and asked if we were going to the Marine Institute. Evidently we had that look about us. He thought that our coolers were full of fish.

Another dinosaur.
This one depicts the Triassic trackways from the Connecticut River Valley.

Adam, the ichthyologist-and-expert-forklift-operator, helped tremendously once more.

Definitely the right tool for the right job.

We drove out of San Pedro and across the LA Basin without incident, and up into the Grapevine Pass where we got held up interminably. A lemon truck had overturned, and traffic was stopped in both directions for miles. The cab was really crunched up, almost certainly a fatality for the driver. I've never seen so many lemons, spread out over about 2 acres of road. A sobering, souring incident.

and this long line of cars keeps coming 'round the bend.

We dropped down into the great Central Valley

It widens out, flat as far as the eye can see.
Actually, it kind of reminds me of the ocean. Or Illinois.

and got home close to midnight. Unloaded the next morning at 8 am.

That's right, I forgot that we don't have a forklift or a crane here at home.

Now the lab is full of stuff we have to unpack.

The yellow, buzzy light of sitting indoors in a sealed lab.

It's going to be really difficult not being on the island.