Home | Ocean Watch | Books | About Susan | Search | Email Susan

Last week, I had the good fortune to visit Midway, the famous atoll near the end of our island chain.

During World War II and the Cold War, Midway was a key base for the U.S. Navy, making it a national historical site. Because it is jam-packed with marine animals, the place is also a national wildlife refuge. Fortunately, through a partnership between the government and a private company, Midway is open to visitors who can enjoy its history, wildlife, sport fishing, scuba diving, snorkeling and/or kayaking.

One upshot of having such diverse activities at Midway is that it brings together people who would not otherwise meet. For me, that's always a high spot of my stay there.

This time I met Chris Jr., a cheerful, energetic workaholic who puts in 16-hour days managing his bus, roller rink and day-care businesses. (He painted his buses pink.)

This engaging man was with his equally engaging dad, Chris Sr., who led a resistance movement in Greece during World War II, emigrated to the United States afterward and is now a history buff. The Midway trip was a gift from son to father.

Early in the week, we visitors rode in an old landing craft to Eastern Island, a bird sanctuary off limits except during guided tours. We stepped around albatrosses and terns walking on the crumbling runway and gazed at frigate birds and red-footed boobies nesting in the trees.

"Do you like it here?" I asked Chris Jr., who was fidgeting at the back of the crowd.

"It's boring," he said. "Man, how can people look so long at a bunch of birds?" And off he paced, waiting for us to finish the tour so he could go scuba diving.

Later, we dove on the wreck of a Corsair, a small World War II airplane. There, we found a slipper lobster, a huge dragon moray and a rare scorpion fish.

Midway's weather had been excellent for weeks, but that day it took a turn, and we surfaced to rain, wind and choppy water. This was an exciting change of pace for us Hawaii folk, but Chris Jr. had a harder time with it. As the boat pounded its way back to the harbor, he sat on the boat bench shivering. His lips were blue, his teeth chattered, and he was getting more and more seasick.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

"This is not fun," he replied. "Nope. Not fun at all."

The weather kept us out of the water but wasn't bad enough to keep me indoors. Happily, I roamed the island watching seabirds and looking for turtles. Chris Jr., however, was bored. Midway, he declared, just wasn't his cup of tea.

On the last day of our visit, the wind and rain eased enough for us to go snorkeling under the cargo pier where we saw lovely nudibranchs and 100-pound ulua. Chris Jr. and I got out first and climbed the stairs to the pier. Silently, we watched Chris Sr. remove his flippers, then sit contentedly on the small square landing near the water. The elderly man's bare feet rested on the top step of the ladder as he talked softly to some begging nenue.

And then I saw a gray, whiskered snout and two round black eyes poke between Chris Sr.'s feet. Breathlessly, we watched a young monk seal sniff the man's left foot, the right, left, right ... Chris Jr. grabbed his video camera. "Dad!" he whispered hoarsely, gesturing wildly. "Look down!"

That curious, friendly seal thrilled us with its company for about 15 minutes, then disappeared.

"Look at him so happy," Chris Jr. said as his elated dad headed up the stairs. "That little seal made the entire trip."

He paused. "Next time, we're coming here in August."