164 



THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



trying to imagine the growl of the surf 

 was growing fainter. 



Every morning we crawled out in the 

 gray light to see if we could detect a gap 

 in the line of breakers. We lay in the 

 sand by the hour with our field glasses, 

 looking at the bird world offshore. The 

 longer we looked, the more alluring the 

 rocks became. 



One morning, when we had grown im- 

 patient, we tried to drive our boat through 

 the lowest place in the surf barrier. W'e 

 waded in with our little dory until she 

 floated. Watching our chance, we jumped 

 to the oars. The nose of the boat plowed 

 through the foam of the first and second 

 breakers, but they tossed her like a tooth- 

 pick. She shot at the third like a hunter 

 at a fence, but failed to reacli the top be- 

 fore it combed. Crash ! came half a ton 

 of green foaming water down my back. 



We swerved a little to the right and 

 another monster rose like magic. Several 

 tons of the next wave piled over us, and 

 the third tossed us shoreward emptv as a 

 cracker box. We had taken the precau- 

 tion of wrapping our camera equi])ment 

 in water-tight bags and tying them in the 

 boat. We dried out the rest of the dav 

 and went at it again the following morn- 

 ing, with about the same success. The 

 next day the surf dropped lower and we 

 reached the smooth water beyond. 



A BAREL OF WILD-LlFlv VOICES 



As we pulled near the rocks the air- 

 laden guano smell struck our nostrils. 

 The babel of distant sounds was broken 

 by the scream of a near-by Gull or the 

 roar of a sea lion. As we approached the 

 lowlying rocks, the huge hulks of sea 

 lions were stretched like logs thrown up 

 by the tide. The ranks grew thinner as 

 they receded from the water's edge, till 

 the topmost ledges were held by three 

 lumbering bulls. They were all alert. 

 They dragged themselves along the 

 shelves on their elbows as a person would 

 whose hands and feet are tied. 



The bellowing grew louder and louder, 

 until one would have thought the fog- 

 horns of a fleet of battleships had sud- 

 denly broken loose. 



ATingled with the roaring of the bulls 

 were the bleating of a hundred calves and 

 the cries of thousands of sea fowl that 



scurried overhead like swarms around an 

 arc lam]i in May-fly time. 



We could not talk above the din. When 

 we got nearer, many of the lions wabbled 

 to the edge of the ledges and rolled off in 

 the water. Those nearer the top came 

 down the slope in a series of jumps that 

 ended in a splash. The last old bull on 

 the top left slowly and defiantly, like a 

 captain reluctant to leave his sinking ship. 

 Two mothers and a crowd of babies 

 sta\ed. 



Far up under the eaves of those great 

 stacks of basalt we could see the Califor- 

 nia JMurres whirling and flashing in cir- 

 cles. Thousands sat in long white waist- 

 coated lines on every available shelf, as if 

 on dress parade. Others splattered over 

 the \\'ater and dived about our boat. 



Squadrons of pug-nosed Puffins with 

 short wings and roll-shaped bodies buzzed 

 about the crags like bumblebees. White- 

 winged Gulls, curious and cackling, fol- 

 lowed our wake. Ungainly Cormorants 

 flapped solemnly away, while others re- 

 turned strung out in Indian file. Far up 

 the sides, and penciled against the blue 

 sk)', we could see their black regiments 

 standing at rigid attention beside their 

 nests and eggs. 



We decided to land on the south side, 

 where the rock shelved down to tide level. 

 A steady ground swell of lo or 12 feet 

 would not let the boat touch the rock. As 

 the wave receded, we backed in and one 

 of us landed in a flying leap, while the 

 other pulled away to keep from being 

 dashed against the jagged rock by the 

 next breaker. 



Provisions had to be tossed ashore. 

 Some of our bulkier belongings barely es- 

 caped a watery grave. The hardest task 

 was in lodging the boat. We swung her 

 well in on the crest of a big wave, jumped, 

 and held her as the water receded ; then, 

 with block and tackle, we worked her up 

 to a 12- foot table away from the lash of 

 the waves. 



Looking for a camping spot on the 

 rough side of the clifl:' was a good deal 

 like hunting for a lodging on a winding 

 staircase. There was but one spot wide 

 enough to stretch out upon, about 40 feet 

 up from the landing place. We awoke 

 the next morning feeling as if we had 

 spent the night on the top of a broken 

 picket fence. 



