Unsoft's List

p e a n u t b u t t e r a n d

The first Saturday in September 2003, I was obligated to spend the day on my father-in-law's boat, blistering in the sun on Summersville lake. I wasn't looking forward to going, for a few reasons. The main one was my mom-in-law, who I must say I love dearly. The problem is, she turns into an evil harpie the split second the boat drifts into even partial shade.

She's a sun worshipper of the first order (you know, the order with the fancy Latin name...carcinoma). After several hours of continuous exposure, I find that even the SUPER SUNBLOCK SPF 5000 I reserve for outings of this nature fails to adhere the charred blistering skin to my shoulderbones. I alternate from swimming to walking around the boat fully dressed (in wet clothes, by the end of the day). Ok, I sound like I'm whining. I was also really tired, given that Saturday, September 6, 2003 was my only full day home in almost 2 weeks, and I was further obligated to attend my brother's wife's birthday dinner later that evening. whine whine whine, get to the point.

On one of my requisite dips into the cool green water of the lake, I thought I caught a glimpse of a familiar shape under the water. I routinely swim down a few feet and open my eyes when swimming in fresh water. I am a trained SCUBA diver (not so rare these days) who's major diving experience has been industrial, in dirty fresh water, for work. The environment I'm primarily used to diving in is a muddy river with powerful current and next to zero visibility. Freshwater lakes represent the most hospitable, enjoyable environment I have any significant experience diving in, so I have some basic expectation of what I might find there.

I also really enjoy surfing, for a landlocked old guy. I still make myself a couple chances a year to really go at it. I've been at minimum, an annual traveler to some coastal area or another, ever since I was about 5 years old. This has given me a fairly decent feel (and respect) for what I might find in the ocean, at least the ocean closest to me.

That distant Saturday, when I was under Summersville lake cooling off, the mental line between those 2 somewhat related worlds became alarmingly blurry. It was almost enough of a shock to cause mild panic. Summersville is a mountain lake, at least 500 miles inland of any body of salt water. You might expect to see a good sized catfish in there. Maybe a few smallmouth bass. Some stripers, in the deeper water near the dam.

I saw the shape drift by, a little too far away to distinguish detail. It was almost unthinkable to me, but it sure looked like one. What was a jellyfish doing in Summersville lake? Then the inescapable following thought. What the hell was I now doing in Summersville lake? I surfaced, swam to the boat and began to watch the area beneath the surface still illuminated by the bright, mid-afternoon sun. I was still in a state of disbelief, and wasn't sure enough to start yelling "git out of there, there's jellyfish!" I was sure I'd be ridiculed.

I watched for about another half hour, spotting the occasional piece of flotsam, but becoming less and less sure of what I'd seen. Then, I saw it. Plain as day, and closer to the surface. I prodded my wife Mandy and showed her. Her eyes got wider, but she said nothing, for the time. A few seconds later, we both spotted another one and we started chattering over top of one another. This one was really active, and the propulsion action of its diaphragm was so intense that there was no mistaking that this was a living creature with an ambulatory agenda. This was a jellyfish, at least as far as I was concerned.

We instantly began to spot several more of them, and we began to point them out to our similarly shocked boatmates. Groups of them of increasing number drifted by, all apparently heading toward deeper water. Before long, we were in what can only be described as a huge school of them. We caught one in a coffee can and watched it swim back and forth. It was aware of the sides of the can, and avoided them. It just swam back and forth from edge to edge till we let it go, then it resumed its trek toward deeper water.

Of course, afterward I did a web search, and discovered that I had stumbled on nothing any more special than a bloom of hydras. Seventh grade science students everywhere are probably not surprised. I sure wish I had a seventh grade science student with us that day, though. He could have saved me quite a bit of puzzlement and fear.

According to the information I read, this was a fairly decent bloom. Hydras are common to most of the fresh water in the continental US, and have even been previously reported in the very same area we saw them in. Blooms are typically a late summer phenomenon. Opinions vary on whether a person can be stung by a hydra. Some say yes, and some say no. I don't see any reason why not to side with the "yesses", erring on the side of caution and all.

This was one of those experiences that leaves a mark. I found myself in disbelief of my own eyes, in fear for my epidermis, in fear of ridicule, completely at a loss to understand, and finally and anticlimactically, less informed about my own surroundings than any seventh grade science student. In that order. Then I had to go to dinner. What a day.