The Routine

It's hard to grasp the multitude of colorful images when I leave for work at 04:50.  The world  is completely dark, except on those cloudless nights when the stars form such a magnificent, glittering canopy above me, they draw my gaze upward -leaving my feet to stumble on their own over the stones and roots in front of me.  On such occasions, I try to glance out over the ocean and take a moment to marvel at the sheer numbers up there, and if I'm lucky, I sometimes can catch the sight of a few streaking across the sky before they disappear back into the darkness.

"THE BUS," as the transportation is affectionately named over here, arrives at 05:15.  I take note of the temperature drop as I enter (they don't seem to be able to start-up these vehicles without the air conditioners accompanying the hum of the engines), and I join a sleepy group of locals as we all make our way to our individual workplaces.

My office is impressive, but it won't be visible for another 2 hours or so.  In the meantime, I join my colleagues in the morning ritual of "fish prep."  This involves a 5-minute dig through a mound of tattered, discarded clothing -suitable for wearing only if one is going to enter a cold room and spend 3 hours in freezing temperatures sorting through frozen fish -sorting 'good' deceased Capelin from the 'bad'.  Our chosen outfits for the morning also include a pair of oversized rubber boots, with no two pair in matching sizes.

Capelin -the fish of choice

Note: From a dolphin's perspective, the top image (the male) is ideal, while the bottom image (the female) is not so great.  It's not that the dolphin don't appreciate caviar, it's just that the nutritional content of the female fish is somewhat compromised while she goes through the egg production phase.  Thus, at 06:00 every morning, I spend 3 hours dressed in rags, tossing out good caviar.

Next on the agenda, we form a human chain and spend another hour pulling out 40 lb boxes of frozen fish for tomorrow morning's routine.  This involves a unique talent I've yet to master -ice skating inside a giant freezer (think: the freezer container on an 18-wheeler) -still wearing our rubber boots & attractive castaway clothing, maneuvering heavy boxes of frozen fish from one co-worker to the next while the warm Hawaiian air creates "the perfect storm" -a monsoon of condensational moisture that drips down from the freezer's ceiling.  

When we finally emerge and free ourselves from the boots and sodden rags, we then report to work in our individual Park areas.  My area deals with husbandry procedures, behavior modification, and training.  We have less dolphins, which translates to having better proximity and more semi-direct interaction with the animals.  So far, we've learned the hydrating protocol, how to treat and scrub skin conditions, and (what I appreciate most of all) the explanations from our lead trainers regarding the "how, what, and why" of their training sessions.

Once lunch arrives (14:00!) I find I'm more thirsty than hungry, so I stash my free lunch away for later and just sip away on my raspberry ice tea instead.  This holds me over until I get home (around 17:20).

The schedule is tough, but there's no denying the office is lovely!

THE BUS is much more active on the way home.  When is does finally arrive at the pick-up location (it is an island...and any 'set' schedule is always subject to "island time"), everybody and all their relatives are happily chatting away, munching on their snack of choice, and busy shifting locations to make room for just one more passenger.

On the way, the ride takes me by 'the Pali' (the cliffs), and if it's been raining to any extent, waterfalls will come cascading down the mountain like tears running down the crevices of an old man's face.  

When I arrive home, I try to make it a point to take a few minutes to sit by the ocean -hoping that the pressures and pace of the day will slide out to sea.  

As I sit, I can't help wondering if I will regain enough energy to start this whole routine again within the next 12 hours. I pop an aspirin down my throat to help ease joints I never knew existed, and I wrap a knee that has taken to swelling up at the end of each day.  There is no doubt that my body isn't going to tolerate this pace for several more months ~even the 20-year-olds are struggling, so I know that the decades which separate us are going to reveal themselves very soon.  However, I hang on -and will continue to do so as long as I can so that I may hear those brief pearls of wisdom from our lead trainer surrounding the marine mammal training session POA's (plan of action).  

...and by nightfall, when the last of the tourists have long since left the beach in favor of dining out at their favorite cafe-by-the-sea, I lay in bed, trying to imagine what the rest of Oah'u looks like.

Lessons learned:

Not tonight, honey ~I'm too tired