Off the Hook - A Picture Tale

Let's face it, everyone knows how aquariums work and has (hopefully) been to one or two by now. The most interesting and exciting part is seeing the animals, so instead of a lengthy description of our walk from exhibit to exhibit, I thought I'd take you to the Monterey Bay Aquarium the way we were taken, on a visual tour.

Before I start, I should briefly describe the aquarium. After parking, it took a good 5 minutes before we were able to even find it. In both Camden and Baltimore, the building is unavoidable, prominently displayed. Here in Monterey, the aquarium was nestled into a heap of buildings, none of which had the large, clearly marked arrows that I'm generally used to around attractions such as these. After finally finding the aquarium, we picked up the tickets we had purchased in advance online, got our requisite UV hand-stamps, and headed inside to be amazed.


Most aquariums have more than just aquatic animals, and Monterey was no different. I don't remember the name of this snake, but it was in a glass case effusing the most violently emerald green, absolutely beautiful.



These are pictures from one of the many astoundingly thoughtful and creative exhibits we found at the museum. What you are seeing is a giant tank that is linked to the Monterey Bay. Despite the fact that all these animals do live in captivity and are in a contained environment, they are given the luxury of actual seawater. The visual effect is stunning; the entire vertical cylinder of water in the tank sways with the incoming waves, rises and falls with the natural tides. If there was one standout characteristic that we discovered repeatedly about the Monterey Bay Aquarium over others, it was without a doubt their innovation. Without fail, most exhibits were conceptually novel and begged for active input from the viewer. I have never before been to an aquarium with so many interactive exhibits, from periscopes that you can operate and explore the tanks with, to telescopes and hand-cranked wave models. Another noteworthy detail was that most of the exhibits were child-oriented, rather than child-proof. As children at heart, we felt quite at home.



This tank was gorgeous, and I began to wonder whether or not these environments were curated by artists in league with marine experts. Some of the biological combinations were strikingly atypical and seemed inspired by a painter's palette rather than a textbook.


This was one of the more popular spots in the aquarium: the penguin feeding tank. People (primarily children and their parents) flocked around this massive holding to watch the caretakers feed these small feathery creatures. A moderator stood explaining all of the biologists' activities and answering questions from the audience. We noticed how different the taboos were here on the West Coast as opposed to back home. Children asked very astute questions, many times broaching topics that would be considered too advanced for kids back home, and the moderators gave very clear, blunt answers. Discussion here seemed far less sugar-coated for children; they were talked to and treated like small adults. The trade-off unfortunately, was that the children here were as rude as they were intelligent, belligerently unaware of any manners and common courtesies. It was not uncommon to have a child literally push us out of the way in order to run past, all while their parents stood watching completely unfazed.




In one corner, Adam and I found an observation area complete with telescope. Here you could look out to the bay and watch the sea lions on the neighboring rocks. Here we also found a massive egg, which of course absolutely demanded that we both crawl in it, despite the fact that it was most likely intended for children. Having been highly disenchanted with California youth however, we bore no guilt.


These creatures were, without a doubt, the highlight of the entire day. One of the two special exhibits in the aquarium focused on seahorses, and I had not expected anything drastically new or shocking from it. When we came upon this tank, we both became absolutely still. These were called Leafy Sea Dragons, and words can do no justice to the graceful, fluttering existence of these animals. True to their name, these seahorses mimic the leafy fauna that surrounds them in their natural habitat, all while floating with the same fluidity of a ribbon in the breeze. If the bizarre, visionary tendencies of nature had not resulted in this magical example of its many culminations, I can only hope that someone's imagination would have. It is pure travesty to me that more people have not seen Leafy Sea Dragons, but I encourage anyone who has the opportunity to do so to seize it. Their palette, movement, and interaction with each other are not to be missed.


In a small exhibit focusing on sand-dwellers, we strolled up to this tank full of small, fuzzy purple disks. Neither of us knew what these beautiful little saucers were, and were both shocked and stunned to read the sign reading "Sand Dollars". The shock came from the realization that neither of us had ever in our lives seen what a live sand dollar looked like, the stun from the fact that we had never before realized this blatant gap in our knowledge. This small childhood trinket, the pure white perfection of skeletons collected on the beach, never through these years had we ever contemplated the creatures whose death we commemorated. Out of all the eloquent exhibits at Monterey, this small tank at the back of a room was easily our most poignant.



After the lavender silence of the sand dollars, we looked at a few more beautifully crafted ecosystems before we decided that we were getting a bit peckish. UV-stamped and ready to go, we left in search for food. Not wanting to go far, we settled into a local Thai restaurant for a quick lunch.

Thai Iced Tea... always entrancing.

When we returned, we headed to the outside deck of the aquarium to explore some more of the remarkable displays. The picture below is me watching one of the "shore pools" in which every 30 seconds or so, a forceful rush of water pours into the medium-sized tank. This mimics the powerful crashing of waves in the sea for the animals in this particular exhibit. In the picture, notice how the water is storming over a large glass dome. One of the more inventive strokes of creativity on the aquarium's part, viewers can actually enter this dome and watch the continuous pulses of water from underneath, completely surrounded by a falling surge. The experience is encompassing, like standing beneath a waterfall that you are somehow impervious to, begirded by the beasts that thrive in it.
Another appreciable aspect of the aquarium is that it sits right on the water. Aside from allowing the wave pools that I talked about earlier, it also lent itself well to the formation of a lagoon. Unfortunately it was a little cold, otherwise I think we both would have jumped at the opportunity to take one of the scuba diving lessons that the aquarium provided in the safety and allure of the oscillating crystal-blue lake beneath us.


Once we had our fill of sea lions and the frosty air, we headed inside to wrap up the few displays we still had not seen. Of course once we spotted otters, we spent the next 15 minutes with our noses denting the glass, wishing we could scoop up these furry creatures and bolt out the front door before anyone could notice. Unfortunately, we had to settle for watching them float in circles together and play with a little red block.

An example of the kid-targeted interactive displays: "Picture yourself as a marine biologist!"


One of the last exhibits we ventured into was ironically the other of the two special features (the first being the seahorses). Here we found jellyfish in all their alien glory, floating around like the unraveling remnants of intricate lacework and silk chiffon.

A dazzling little crustacean in a vibrant, cherry red complete with snowy racing-stripe needles.
Electrified lemon and an inky blue, an impressively succinct end to our day.
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