Where inspiration can be found

So, I am very grateful to all my friends and family who have been following my blog and trying to keep track of all the fun and madness happening down under. However, I have received a few phone calls and emails questioning whether or not I am actually in school, or if this whole go-to-Australia-for-three-months thing is just a hoax. I will attempt to clear the confusion here. Yes, I do take classes. Yes, the lectures are about things that are incredibly beautiful and fascinating so it really doesn't feel like school at all. Yes, I spend a lot of time going out with my friends and exploring this glorious country instead of studying. Yes, I am getting 21 units by hiking through rainforest and diving the Great Barrier Reef. This is how it works: throughout the whole program there are 5 amazing field trips, each ranging 4-10 days in length. In between these field trips we had classes at University of Queensland, St. Lucia in Brisbane. So we had 2 or 3 week chunks of just school without field trips. On these days, we would usually have 4 lectures either on Marine Biology, Terrestrial Ecology, or Australian Studies. The lectures were given by our outstanding professors and some inspiring guest lecturers. Our lecture topics included why Australia is so gosh darn hot, how the Aboriginals got here, fish anatomy, beach formation, everything about El Nino, platypus survival strategy, manta ray feeding, sea turtle conservation, ocean acidification, coral bleaching, deathly venomous marine organisms, Eucalyptus dominance in the bush, and many many more. So as you can see, I learned heaps but it was all really neat stuff, so instead of sitting in a lecture, it felt more like listening to the story of nature. About 2 weeks ago we finished our classes with some final exams (see...school!). So now we're field trippin!

On Wednesday (Oct 23rd) we headed for our final terrestrial ecology field trip. The end of our program has been slowly creeping up, but now we're starting to see it a little more closely each day. This field trip meant the last of John Hall, and our wonderful tutors Toby, Sean, and Alana, who we had come to love like family. Sausage, our steadfast bus driver and DJ chauffeured us 10 hours west of Brisbane, into the dry bush of Australia. The sun began to set when we were about 50 km from the campground. I have been on this planet for 8035 days, all of which concluded with a setting sun. But, I have never seen a sunset like this, my friends. Just above the horizon sprinkled with red rock plateaus, a cumulus cloud cover cradled that blazing ball of gas in the sky. The light of the sun could not be contained in these thick white aggregations of moisture and the excess light beamed down to the resting earth. As the beams spread across the sky, they caught the moisture of the clouds and the spectrum of wavelengths revealed all the colors of the rainbow. My classmates jokingly shouted, "It's God coming down!" but jokes aside, it was absolutely a heavenly scene. The crest of the clouds glittered with gold. It was God showing off the amazing power He has to create beauty, and it was breathtakingly perfect.

We arrived to the campsite just as the darkness crept in and rushed to pitch our tents and prepare our luxurious cots (that's not sarcastic, they were awesome). After a speedy dinner for our sleepy selves, John Hall delivered a lecture about his adored cycads. These relict gymnosperms from the Jurassic period stood proudly in the spotlight of our his PhD. With their spiky green fronds and fire resistant bark, they have withstood the test of time. After the lecture, we headed to our beds, which now rested just outside our tents in a nice clump as per John's suggestion. Why? Because the night sky in the middle of Australia, two hours from any civilization, is BEAUTIFUL. As soon as I laid my head down I saw three shooting stars. We could see the Milky Way, thick with nebula, hanging effortlessly above our heads, as untouched as it was thousands of years ago.

Our first full day in Carnarvon Gorge was packed with hiking and secret places. Toby, our bee-obsessed terrestrial tutor, led us through the dry sclerophyll forest. Although it has the same giant eucalypts and ancient casuarina trees we had seen before, Carnarvon is unique because of its cycads. These palm-like plants are exactly what the dinosaurs would have seen when they stepped foot on Carnarvon's harsh, nutrient-poor earth. As we hiked the trail, I couldn't help but imagine giant brachiosauruses foraging in the trees overhead. It wouldn't have surprised me one bit if a stegosaurus crossed my path. We climbed a ladder into a sort of open cave, through a tunnel which led to an opening with just a few plants tucked into the rock edges. Once inside we sat for five minutes in silence, just enjoying the peace of the earth. The smooth sandstone served as my backrest as it scaled towards the sky. Birds fed along the brush in the center of our small gathering place. It was a simple silence, with the sun bearing down on us, but it felt right. A moment taken to be still is never a moment wasted.

After this, Toby showed us the "Aboriginal art gallery," a jaw-dropping peek back into time. On one of the walls of the gorge were ancient wall drawings. They could have been hundreds or thousands of years old, it's hard to say. By grinding colored red or yellow rocks, the Aboriginals created an ochre paint, which they then held in their mouths and sprayed against an object to form a stencil on the wall. This ochre paint put their boomerangs, children's hands, and old axes on display for us. Looking at the wall filled with the only remaining evidence of these hardy individuals, I found it hard to understand how I could be so blessed to see something so incredibly special. I was looking at the teeny tiny fingers of a little Aboriginal boy who survived off of cycad seeds, kangaroo meat, and wild figs. The fingers that touched that wall so many years ago had battled the elements of arid Australia. Those little fingers had carved didgeridoos and held his mothers hand as she told him the stories of Aboriginal dreamtime. And here they were, splayed out before me. It was my first experience witnessing anything remotely similar to "cave paintings," and is not something I will forget. It was a gift just to imagine what their lives were like as they held their boomerangs to the wall and spread their paint. Although it may not have been their intention, their simple art will allow them to live forever. Every time a hiker like me sees those handprints, the Aboriginal to whom they belonged continues to live on in spirit. By framing each of their fingers and beloved boomerangs, these individuals have left their mark on planet earth. The simplicity of the red paint hugging the crevices of fingers was inspiration for me. To just do what I do. To be me. If my footprint happens to remain in the sand, so be it. But even if time doesn't hold that footprint in place, the earth will remember where I stepped. And God will remember where I stepped. And therefore that footprint matters.

The next day we hiked with John to some very secret places. Across the boulders and through the gorge we went, following our curly-haired professor. At the base of a set of stairs he stopped us and told us to hold hands and close our eyes. We obeyed and slowly moved forward, step by step, relying only on each other for support. We paused as John encouraged us to use our other senses to figure out what was near us. The air smelled fresh, we heard the sound of trickling water, and felt the moisture on our skin. Our eyes opened and a moss garden sat before us. Green tufts coated the sides of the rocks as water dripped to their thirsty cells. A fissure in the side of the cliff face allowed ground water to seep out very slowly, one drop at a time. And where there is water, there is life. Each drop of water glistened in the sun so that there appeared to be little stars twinkling among the mosses. In the middle of the Australian outback was an oasis. Mosses are one of the first plants to evolve and their simple structure has survived for eons. Absorbing carbon dioxide from the atmosphere 470 million years ago, mosses created some of earth's first sugars. And now the great-great-great..grandchildren of those very first mosses captured the fresh water of Carnarvon Gorge. The simplicity of it all swept me into a state of silence. How could something so simple as water, green pigment, and sunlight be so beautiful? But here it was, existing. Simply existing.

When we weren't doing our field work (measuring ant abundance, drawing profile diagrams, observing kangaroo behavior...) we were cooling off in the swimming hole. The cool waters that ran through the gorge were the perfect refreshment after our long hikes. Toby crushed rocks and made a paint of his own and soon we were all covered in creative drawings. The paint may have washed off, but Toby still left his mark on the hearts of many of us. All of the tutors were absolutely exceptional. Alana is a sweet, soft-spoken woman with a heart for organic farming. Sean is a young, enthusiastic surfer-type who grew up on a cattle farm in Victoria and is now working on coral conservation. Toby, the bearded one, has a heart for bees and can identify the country of origin of any honey based solely on taste. As I said before, our final terrestrial ecology field trip made us all very sentimental and we made a supreme effort to spend as much quality time together as possible. I really am so in love with everyone on my trip. It feels as though everyone that was supposed to be here is here, and no one is missing. I feel as though this is exactly where I am supposed to be, part of this tight-knit family. We have survived the cold of Girraween together, the blue-ringed octopus of Straddy, and the lengthy research papers that kept us up all night.

The last day of the Carnarvon made me really realize how incredibly loved I am and how much I love others. The last day was my birthday. I woke up on the beach by the creek and the second I opened my eyes, my friends started shouting, "Happy Birthday Sara!" Thirty-eight birthday greetings is not a bad way to start your day. Hugs and love abounded and my special day made me feel like I was on top of the world. One guy even deemed it Sara-day, which I have absolutely no problem with. The day proceeded with beautiful hikes along the river, more swimming and painting, and tree distribution studies. The real fun came at night, though. After a wonderfully sweet Happy Birthday song, Sean brought out a cake and I blew out my 22 candles. Everyone had sneakily signed a card for me and the caring words brought tears to my eyes. They surrounded me in a group hug as they sang, embracing me so tightly that me feet were lifted from the ground. I just really cannot believe how blessed I am to be able to receive so much love. God has taught me so much over the past few years about what it means to open my heart. There was a period of my life where fear of being hurt caused my heart to be closed tightly.  But since the love of friends, selfless Costa Rican children, and God has poured into my life, my heart is now unrestrained. Not only can I love others fully, but I can receive love fully. And that freedom from fear has blessed me in so many ways. To be loved is absolutely everything. Yes, the sunlight stretching from clouds to horizon and the water dripping over mosses inspires me to appreciate beauty, but nothing but the hearts of others could inspire me more. So in Carnarvon Gorge, I found inspiration. Not just in the beauty of nature, but inside of my friends and teachers. The inspiration to continue to be exactly who I am because I do me better than anyone else could. So why would I try to be any other way? Inspiration to grab hold of my passions and cling tightly to them, ceasing to let go. Inspiration to continue to love in a way so big that it hurts sometimes. Because if we're not loving, then what are we doing? If we're not enjoying each other's company, then why did God put other people on this earth with us? I have long fought the battle for independence, but the fact of the matter is I'm not independent. I need people and they need me. We need people to encourage us, to remind ourselves that we are created perfectly. And it is our duty to remind people of this same thing. Look into the heart of your beloved friends and find your inspiration in them.

Every year John concludes the last night of the field trip with a talent show. We were all prompted to come up with some sort of performance to wow each other. Me being the excited attention-loving birthday girl, participated in three such performances. My favorite was an improvisational skit, along the same lines of Whose Line is it Anyway (great TV show if you haven't heard of it). My job was to have a birthday party and guess who each guest was acting as. Lucky me, I had Beyonce, Britney Spears, Baby Buddha, and Dolby at my party! All of the other skits were amazing, and I fell on the floor laughing on more than one occasion. As each of us stepped onto the stage, I felt the love in my heart for these people expand all the more. The last performance was a poem written by my beautiful friend Kate. She had compiled a poem for John Hall, letting him know just how much he had impacted us. We were balling by the end of it because it so accurately summed up just how much influence this one man had on each of our lives.

 By far the best lecturer I have ever had in my life, his stories made learning so enjoyable. It never felt like we were in a classroom- we were always at storytime with John. He not only taught us about the fire resistant strategy of the Xanthorrhea plant, but how to love each other well. How to unite and work together. How to see the best in each other. He inspired us to observe nature from not just a scientific standpoint, but from a spiritual one. He gave life to trees, made them seem like friends with souls and personalities rather than sticks with leaves. He opened the night sky to us, made it tangible. He showed us other galaxies (literally, Magellanic clouds are two of our neighbor galaxies and can be seen from the Southern Hemisphere). He let us step back in time and imagine what it was like to walk with dinosaurs. There are not many men like John Hall out there, but I think he inspired us to be the best we can be. And maybe someday a student will write a blog and describe how inspired they were by Sara Thompson, or Xanth El-Sayed, or Kate Meyer (friends in my program). The point is, we are the inspiration. I believe in a God who loves me so much that He gave me a purpose for existing. My feet were made to walk this earth and my footsteps will remain even when I don't. Inspiration can be found in the smallest things. I have found it in baby seahorses and I have found it in the Bible. The important thing to remember is that not matter where we find inspiration, we must cling to it.

Romans 12:9 says "Let love be without hypocrisy... cling to what is good." In this way, we love and we are inspired. And as the sun sets tonight as it always does, I am reminded of the vast amount of love God allows me to have for people. And every ounce of love I pour out, I know I'll get back tenfold. Now that's inspiring.

Reef-lections ;)

On Thursday morning at 3:45 AM, three friends and I departed Brisbane and flew north to Port Douglas, "where the rainforest meets the reef." Our first day was the basic wander-around-town, lay on the beach, check out some shops, kind of 3:45 AM day. The funny thing about Port Douglas is that I was fortunate enough to be in this exact same town 4 years ago with my family. Normally I don't like to do the same thing twice, but was a sweet little gift to return to such a paradise. After grabbing some delicious and well-deserved Thai food, we hit the beach. We instantly ran into the water, stunned by the warmth. There was no acclimation necessary, it was like dipping into a freshly drawn bath. The waves crashed into us as we made up little games, threw seaweed at each other, and floated with our eyes gazing towards the clear blue skies. Ironically, we had just had a lecture about jellies in Northern Queensland the size of a fingernail that can cause insatiable pain for 2 weeks. We even watched a video of the lecturer's colleague who had been fatefully stung. But, we pretended those images didn't reside in our memory as we drifted on the salty sea. Back on the beach, I finally realized that this was the same exact beach my family had been to 4 years prior. To my left was a cliff with a staircase leading to a lookout. Me being me, ditched my snoozing friends to check out the tidepools that I knew lay just on the other side of the stair case. As I climbed the rocks, crabs scrambled all around me, afraid of the human who had hopped the fence that probably wasn't meant for hopping. I sat on the cliff, letting the waves crash just in front of me, sending white water into the air.

I began to think about what I've been through in the last four years. Then, I was a junior in high school, looking forward to her senior year because it would mean she was that much closer to college, the land of opportunity. My 17-year-old heart bustled with emotions as I watched the sea and caught crabs. That Sara longed to begin her career as a marine biologist. She had an eagerness that couldn't be calmed. And now, four years later, the 21-year-old Sara has begun her career as a marine biologist. She has learned unimaginably wonderful things about the oceans. She has met professors who have inspired her to dive deep into the oceans depths. She feels certain that she has chosen the right path. She has met Jesus, she has lived without regrets, she has loved infinitely, and she's only 21. Most importantly, the Sara that sat on those rocks October 9, 2013 looking out at the horizon, was proud of who she had become. I promise, this post will get more lighthearted, but right now I'm on the hostel computer, tearing up because I am just so happy and I can't believe how blessed I am. I'm only 21 and I feel like I've lived such a full life. I have fully loved every marine biology class I have ever taken and my future holds such grand surprises. I really don't know what kind of job I'll have when I graduate, but it's going to be SO COOL! I'm a marine biologist, gosh darn it! I did it, you guys! I feel like I've already fulfilled the dream that I've had since I was four! And I'm still in school! Haha, this all sounds so ridiculous, but I'm just really stoked on life right now.

 Now, for the fun stuff. On Friday, we dived the Great Barrier Reef. Holy moly guacamole. There are simply no words. The entire boat ride out there (which was gorgeous) there was a smile plastered on my face. I kept hitting the people next to me when I threw my arms in excitement. The first dive was spectacular. As we descended, the blue depths transformed into a beautiful, alien world. Corals bigger than me hid parrotfish, butterfly fish, angel fish, and so so many more.

We probably saw at least 100 or 200 species of fish.
Swimming slowly, I glided over corals that probably share their birthday with Caesar. Pinks, purples, blues, iridescent greens. The ocean floor beheld every hue of the rainbow. One of the most wonderful parts is that we've recently had about 10 lectures on corals and reef ecology. So, most of the things I saw I could actually identify and understand. Instead of thinking, "Oh wow, this is beautiful," I was thinking, "Oh wow, I can tell that these coral polyps are very healthy because of all their brown-pigmented zooxanthellae." And that's how I know I'm a marine biologist. Our very funny and friendly dive guide, Herald, brought us down to a sandy bottom where we peered under a coral ledge. Laying beneath the outcropping were three blacktip reef sharks! Ooooh, I love sharks! Their mouths hung open, letting the current flow through their gills, oxygenating their organs. They just relaxed in the sand, letting us stare down their throats. What great guys. I climbed along the coral face, amazed by the diversity. I feel like I hardly saw the same thing twice.

 There were organisms that could have been a fish, coral, or a snail, their morphology was so incredibly different. The creatures of the sea are so incredibly unique.

I spotted one of my all time favorite animals, the nudibranch, slithering across a brain coral. It's white and yellow spots glowed like moonbeams against its black body (left) and another had a bright ring of orange circling its body (right).

The next dive was just as wonderful. And the next! Yes, three dives total! Each was about 45 minutes long. I was in heaven. Literally. When people say "heaven on earth," they're talking about coral reefs.

Within the first 10 minutes of our third dive, we saw my second favorite animal... a turtle! I love turtles. Love love love. This particular green sea turtle, about a metre long, was busily munching on branched coral and didn't seem to mind us as we snuck closer and closer. Every once in a while, he would lift his head and check us out as if to say, "What's up guys? I'm just eating my lunch, it's pretty chill." Oh they're so cool! If Herald wasn't there, I would have been petting him like mad. We said goodbye to our turtle friend and checked out some more of the most beautiful things on earth. There were some scenes where the structure of the coral created a little valley filled with fish and other goodies that were just too beautiful, I had turn away or else I would start crying. I'm not kidding. When your amount of air determines how long you get to stay down for, crying while scuba diving is not a good idea. The one time, when I decided to break my no-crying rule however, was when I saw...cuttlefish!
 Yes! Cuttlefish! Those crazy cute, colour-changing cephalopods you see in the amazing Planet Earth documentaries, but never think you'll actually ever see in real life! I saw it! Herald pointed him out about 3 metres from us, but just as I started swimming towards him, I realized there was one only 3 feet from me! The tears started flowing. Happy is not a big enough word. Ecstatic is not a big enough word. This adorable, cuddly, slimy, alien-looking thing undulated its pectoral fins and remained right in front of me, as if on display at a museum. His mottled brown and white skin glistened with the sunlight breaking through the sea surface. His tentacles flopped over his mouth like a little moustache. His big, hazel eyes gazed at me and I'm sure he was thinking, "Look how cute I am!" Well Mr. Cuttlefish, I agree, you're pretty darn cute. And I will keep the memory of you forever imprinted in my mind. Definitely the top five coolest things I have ever seen in my life.

On day three, we gathered all of our courage, rented a car, and drove on the LEFT side of the road. Admittedly, I only gave it about four minutes but it was just too weird for me. Luckily, the boys in the group performed their manly duty and drove the girls around while we joyfully gazed out the window. Port Douglas borders Daintree National Rainforest, a beautiful landscape filled with ferns, vines, epiphytes, and all of the wonderful flora our professor John Hall had taught us about. We popped into Mossman Gorge, an old aboriginal site along the river of the rainforest. Unfortunately, we were unable to really see the aboriginal cultural ceremonies that were happening later that day, but the drive into the park goes right past a sort of aboriginal neighborhood. It reminded me a lot of the dilapidated Native American village I had seen a few months ago in Havasupai, Arizona. Both the Aboriginal and Native American villages I saw were a forced gathering of government-built shacks filled with children who run amok shoeless and shirtless. I was filled with a sense of sadness as I realized that this culture who had once ruled this land was now forced into a life of driving tourists on old shuttle buses.

In my Australia Studies course, we learned a little bit about the Aboriginal culture; they migrated to Australia 45,000 years ago and adapted superbly to the arid climate, surviving off of kangaroo and other Australian flora and fauna. Problems arose when the Europeans came in the 1600s (go figure). Almost identical to the story of the Native Americans, the Aboriginals were quickly told that the land did not belong to them and disease soon swooped in. Aboriginals were not even recognized in the Australian census until the mid-twentieth century. Since they had never “cultivated” the land by farming, which would have been near-impossible in arid Australia without today’s water technology, they had no Native Title to the land. It wasn’t until a few good court cases and brave activists that Aboriginals were given both the right to vote and the right to their land in the 1960s. However, much like the Native Americans, their lifestyles have been severely affected by the white man and many of them are given to alcoholism and gang violence.  They certainly seem to have a lack of respect in Australia, which I find overwhelmingly ironic as their artwork, didgeridoos, and boomerangs coat Australian culture.

Back to the rainforest… we took a little hike through the lush green forest and discovered a swimming hole, which our sweaty bodies were more than happy to jump into. In fact, a fallen log made the perfect diving board for our refreshing little plunge. Back in the car, which by the way was affectionately named “Jammy” for reasons unknown, we headed up the coast. Within five minutes, we spotted a little ice cream hut tucked away behind some palm trees. The sign for “Floravilla Ice Cream Shop” boasted organic and biodynamic ice cream treats. Well, we certainly weren’t about to let that go by untasted. We knew the area was known for its exotic fruits so we indulged in some mind-boggling rhubarb, mango, and passionfruit ice cream. The creamy, mouth-watering flavors tickled our taste buds in a way that only homemade ice cream can.

Jammy took us a half hour further up the coast where we prepared sandwiches and strolled along the crocodile-infest beach at Cape Tribulation. Okay okay, maybe not crocodile-infested but there were some pretty terrifying signs warning us to not go in the water, near the water, or to even think about fish because a croc was surely just around the bend. Crossing our fingers, we breathed in the sweet salty air and kept our eyes open for any of those pesky 7 meter long lizards with giant teeth. We meandered under the shade of the coconut palm trees with the soft white sand beneath us and safely made it back to Jammy, without even the slightest sighting of a crocodile.

The next day was spent in typical Port Douglas fashion, with a good 8 hours of just lying on the beach. Calming sounds of waves surrounded my ears, the sun warmed my skin, and good friends delighted my soul. It was one of those perfect days in Paradise you dream of: lay in the sun, flip, read a little, flip, jump in the water, walk along the beach, lay in the sun some more, collect some seashells, relax. After writing three heavy-duty research papers the week before, we felt like we thoroughly deserved such a day. Paradise does come at a cost, however. When we decided it was finally time to call it a day, we stood up and admired our wonderful, bright, glimmering red sunburns. Yep, my first Australian sunburn. I can’t say I’m proud of it, but at least it will make a nice little souvenir. I survived the sharks, the jellies, and the crocodiles, but it’s that life-giving sun that will get ya every time.

Some more amazing creatures we saw on the reef dive:

White Lightning

Another few weeks have come and gone and I'm still on top of the world. It's funny, you would think that travelling halfway across the globe would put my restless spirit at ease, but I feel as though it has been enhanced. Every time I see something amazing, like whales breaching out of the water or sunrises that glisten on the waves, all I can think is, "this has always been happening, and I'm just getting a brief glimpse of what life in this part of the world is like all the time." While I've been in California going to school and doing my trivial tasks, turtles have been making their migrations, kangaroos have been nursing their young, and koalas have been munching their eucalyptus leaves. The world is so much bigger than I can fathom and life is happening everywhere, not just where I am. Crazy, beautiful, awe-inspiring phenomena are occurring somewhere, right now, but it's a mystery to us. This concept is just something that has been on my mind a lot lately and I suppose the only way to really quell this anxiety is to appreciate the life that's happening right here, in my chair as I write. I am fully alive and everything that I do is a crazy, beautiful, awe-inspiring phenomenon. But that doesn't mean I'm not still dying to see the rest of the world- I'm planning my next trip as I speak! (Peru, anyone?) I know my unrest may seem like I'm not enjoying my time in Australia, but that is definitely NOT the case. I'm just exploring my heart to see what makes it beat a little faster, and I'm realizing that it's these moments in which I experience something I've never experienced before. Newness is simply incomparable. It's like a drug I just can't seem to get enough of.

On that note, I'll describe the past few weeks and why my Australian adventure just keeps getting better and better. On September 20, we left for Stradbroke Island (or Straddie as the locals say) for our first Marine Biology Research project. The other 38 students and I were divided into five different research groups, depending on our area of interest. Before arriving on the Island, we planned out our entire experiment, established a timeline, and predicted how we would analyze our findings. My group was interested in working with a certain species of goby and whiting. Somehow our team name became Gobuymeadrank White Lightning because is vaguely resembles "Goby" and "Whiting," don't ask me how it happened.
Both fish feed on meiofauna (teeny tiny larvae in the sand) in the intertidal sand pits created by sting rays. However, gobies have sometimes been observed to feed on whiting. Our experiment was to test whether or not the whiting would change their feeding behavior in the presence of gobies due to predatory pressure. We ran six trials with 9 tanks each. We had three tanks with goby only, three tanks with whiting only, and three tanks with both whiting and gobies. At low tides my team and I waded out into the intertidal literally right outside the front door from the research station. We ran around with nets and buckets and caught over 150 fish- each about 15-20mm in length. After the were allowed to feed, with anesthetized them with clove oil (which smells like Christmas!) and then dissected their little tummys to see what they ate. To sum up our results, gobies don't really eat whiting so whiting don't really care if gobies are around. So we rejected our hypothesis, but still gained valuable information that could be used in management of the whiting fishery, a very important fishery in Australia. Oh, and our group won for giving the best presentation and was awarded a melon =] The whole experience was really quite important to me because I have been wrestling with the idea of doing research as a career. I went into the program leaning more away from research than towards it, and now after completing my first real research project, I'm about 75% sure it's not the lifestyle for me. Don't get me wrong, I had some of the best times of my life dissecting teeny fish, looking at their gut content, and counting meiofauna (really, I promise!) but again, my restless spirit could not do it for years on end.

Many of these projects last at least 3-5 years, usually longer. And after realizing how tedious it is to write a scientific paper and get it published, the whole prospect just seems a little more dismal. But I still love love love love love marine biology with all my heart and soul! And  my week at Stradbroke was probably the best part of the program so far, I absolutely loved my time there. I just think I'm more cut out for doing something where I can work with larger marine mammals and the public in some sort of educational program, that's all.

On our last day at Stradbroke, we took a walk to the other side of the island, which for some reason they had been keeping us from. There were whales EVERYWHERE. I'm not kidding you. Humpback whales to my left. Humpback whales to my right. Dolphins 50m directly in front of me, surfing the waves. We even saw a manta ray swimming on the surface! This is what I'm talking about when I say that life is happening here. The whales that I saw are doing what they've always done. They are living their lives and swimming and leaping and slapping their flukes. It's part of the beauty that is happening every day, whether there are people to witness it or not. Perhaps the reason I am so determined to see more of these eye-opening, shocking moments is because Australia has such a ready supply of them. There is nothing Australia can throw at me that doesn't take my breath away, at least not in the natural world. It really is a beautiful land and I still can't believe I'm here. There was one night when we went out to do a beach seine where we essentially dragged a huge net through the water and then examined the contents. We caught a stingray, some puffers, some gar, and some poisonous fish- of course, most of the stuff here is poisonous. But what was really cool was that as we walked around the sand-flat, our feet began to light up. Little stars beamed beneath our toes. It was as if the Milky Way galaxy lay beneath me and I was dancing along its path. The lights I saw were created by little microorganisms that bioluminesce. They are able to produce a light within themselves, emitting a blue-green glow that was activated by our footsteps. Soon we were all running around, dancing and jumping, forgetting all about our net and just acting like kids who just discovered a new toy. Just another moment to add to the list of unforgettable memories.