In the coming weeks, the sun, moon, and earth will align to elicit a gravitational pull on the oceans potent enough to generate some of the highest tides of the year, known as the King Tides. So, this December 14, at precisely 7:37am, a stalwart group of volunteers led by Climate Action Santa Monica, will be on Santa Monica’s beach, cameras in hand. Our charge is to document the interaction of the sea and the land during these high tides for the California Coastal Commission.
We will capture photos of wave heights and the effects on built structures such as sewer outfalls and the Pier. These images offer a kind of time travel, providing a glimpse into the future when sea levels will regularly be higher than they are today. And they offer information for policy makers planning for tomorrow.
This is a scientific initiative, and I will be at the Beach gathering images for the fifth straight year. I get so much more out of it than data-gathering. Knowing the patterns of the natural world was once integral to attaining adequate food and shelter. It informed social and scientific advancement and spiritual ritual. But observing natural phenomena is increasingly rare and inaccessible to most city people these days – unless one seeks out these opportunities. The grunion run, the whistles of cedar waxwings returning during migration (they are here now), and hawk moths buzzing by like hummingbirds are all experiences available locally for those who seek them and those who pay attention. For me, the King Tides belong on such a list.
I’ve seen King Tides on the North Coast during storms, with whitecap waves crashing on bluffs and obliterating sandbars. That experience made me feel small, vulnerable and cold, but nonetheless moved. To be fair, the King Tides I have experienced in Santa Monica have been subtle — no Serengeti wildebeest migration or total eclipse of the sun. The first year I went to observe the King Tides, the weather was particularly mild.
The waves lapping up the shoreline were gentle, but occasionally they reached portentously far, up to and under the lifeguard tower legs. I remember feeling as if I were in conversation with the ocean that murmured, “I am here, with the moon and sun.” My internal response was something like “I see you,” and with that, I was recentered as a creature of this earth and our beach. I shudder at what it will be like when one day we experience a powerful stormy King Tides event here.
I share my experiences in the hope that others will participate in observing the King Tides. I am eager to build community with those who are curious and who care about the ocean amid a changing climate. The photos we take of the tides will one day be a data point on a map or graphic, and commemorate for our city’s descendants that morning we were there on the beach together.
For more information about the King Tides and how to participate anywhere around the state visit the Coastal Commission website or evenbrite.
Laurene von Klan, Co-Chair, Climate Action Santa Monica
