The monster from Iron Bound Bay

My dad was a scary man.  He could scare the daylights out of you.  As kids, one of the highlights of coming over to Howland’s Cove on Catalina for the weekend was after dinner.  My two brothers and I would beg and beg, and finally the old man would relent, and tell us a scary story.  Actually my big brother Howard really wanted to hear the scary stories, but Ricky and I were not so sure we wanted one, but we went along with Howard anyway.  I don’t know if Dad was tapping oral traditions, or just making shit up.  He once told us about a star-crossed couple, just married, who were found embraced, dead as door nails on the point at Lion’s Head (this same point marks the boundary between the Invertebrate No Take zone to the west and the recreational lobster fishery on the Isthmus side; see earlier maps).  The lovers were both buried there on Lion’s Head, side-by-side by their next of kin, as a warning to other lovers to “watch out”.

Watch out for what, Daddy?

The monster from Iron Bound Bay. 

What’s that, Daddy?

It is a large, dark, wet, slimey creature that emerges on moonless nights from the murky waters of Iron Bound Bay. 

Where is Iron Bound Bay, Daddy?

Just the other side of that big ole hill right there.

The thing is, Dad’s story checks out. There IS (or at least was) a pair of tombstones on Lion’s Head.   Also, I have often perused charts of Catalina.  There actually IS an Iron Bound Bay.  And it is on the opposite side of Catalina Island from Howland’s.  Just like my Daddy said.

A few years back, my wife and I nosed the Siwash in to Iron Bound Bay on a wonderful round-Catalina week.  There are blow-holes everywhere in Iron Bound Bay.  A blow hole is a concavity that traps air.  When a big wave comes in, the air is compressed and finds an outlet somewhere and blows.  There are lots of variant blow-holes (you’re probably thinking I’m one of those variants, called a blow-hard), but they ALL make deep, scary noises.  There we are on a sunny day with a pretty big south swell running, and there is this symphony of deep rumbles, and gurgles, and hisses.  We’re talking surround sound.  The cliffs go up so steep, you hurt your back trying see the top of them.  Just for the hell of it, we turned off the engine to listen more carefully. 

SPOOOKEY.  Really spooky.  Deep deep sounds, pitched so low you almost feel them, not hear them.  No real rhythm to the sounds.  It doesn’t sound like periodic stuff, like what waves make.  It sounds more like….  Turn the engine back on, Bill, quick.

I do, we leave, and that’s that.

What does the monster do, Daddy? 

He smothers his victims in kelp and slime, and then bites off their fingers and breaks their necks.

Oh, jeez.  Are we ok over here at Howlands?

Well let’s see, is there a moon tonight? 

Yes.

Then we’re ok.  It’s only on moonless nights that the monster comes over the hill.

Three nights ago, Dan and John redeployed our lobster enclosure cage.  John and I had worked like dogs to get the new mesh on.  This cage story is long and arduous.  Dan brought out some insect screen used for regular windows.  Really?  Ok, fine, let’s try it.  But Dan miscalculated.  There wasn’t enough to even cover one of the cage frames.  Now what’ll we do?  Long story, we “borrowed” mesh from a Cal State biologist named Mark Steele.  I promised to replace it.  Looked pretty good, about 1/8” mesh.  John and I set about putting it on the PVC enclosure frame.  Smoked twine round and round, the sun goes up and over and down, and we’re winding and tying, tying and winding.  Finally we get the fucking thing finished. 

John and I deploy the cage.  First night is control night, no lobsters; we want to prove that enclosed sea hares can’t escape.  John and I get our SCUBA gear on and put the cage on the whaler, sink the enclosure at the right spot, pile up a nice rock bottom, put out 5 sea hares, close up the hatches, and go back and make dinner.  I go back to the mainland the next day.  The first night off island I get a call from John. Something happened. 

What?

There’s a hole in the cage. 

Really?  What made it?

I don’t know.

Ok, 2 of the 5 sea hares escaped.  So Dan and John repaired the hole, put the remaining three sea hares back inside the cage.  Caught a big attacking lobster.  Forced the lobster into the cage, closed the hatch and went back and ate dinner.

Next night I get another call. 

Bill, things are really getting out of hand out here.  What do you mean?  Well, when we dove on the cage tonight, the netting was all ripped up.  Did all the sea hares escape?  Well sort of.  What about the lobster?  It was still there.  Are you sure it was the same lobster?  Positive.   

But there’s something else.  

What?

We found the intestines and buccal mass of a sea hare on the bottom of the cage.

Holy shit.

Looks like we’re going to need a bigger boat.