I woke a few minutes before another perfect Jupiter, Florida sunrise, aided as usual by my chocolate lab Hudson, laying his head on the mattress adjacent to my pillow. The feeling of the mattress compression was unmistakable, and like a fine-tuned Swiss timepiece, I knew it was time to hit the beach with my buddy for our morning sojourn.
The pre-dawn light showed that A1A was desolate, as was the beach save for the familiar rumble of the ATV of the attendant from the Loggerhead Marine Center (LMC) as she covered the fresh Loggerhead tracks on the beach. This is her way of indicating that the nest those tracks led to have been surveilled, inventory taken of eggs laid, and the landing noted. The LMC does remarkable work and we are incredibly lucky to share this beach with these creatures that have DNA that dates back to the time of dinosaurs. Measuring the health of loggerheads truly measures the health of the ocean and - in turn - our planet. So important is the LMC to our community that my wife, Ellen and I offer volunteer work there in various capacities, not the least of which are beach cleanups.
As Hudson playfully jumped into the ocean with a robust SPLASH, I was reminded that the Paddle Out for Wallace J. Nichols was in a couple of hours, just a couple of miles down the road in Juno Beach on the sand adjacent to the LMC. J Nichols passed away unexpectedly in June and was the founder of the Blue Mind Movement, largely through his studies as stated in his best-selling book, Blue Mind. J professed, and everyone I know agreed, with the fact that “being near, in, on, or under water can make you happier, healthier, more connected, and better at what you do.”
By the time I met J the first time - at the LMC in fact - I had already read his book. During our initial chat which centered on his work and Blue Mind, I could sense that his passion was as vast and deep as the ocean itself.
Just a couple of weeks before the paddle out, I met a couple of folks that really sent home to me the message of J, and what he stood for.
The first was Chris Bertish. We introduced ourselves only by first names as we hitched a ride with the captain and crew from the Freedom Boat Club over to Bimini. Together, we shared the ride from Palm Beach to Bimini as we were both going there for the annual Crossing for Cystic Fibrosis, an annual 80-mile SUP endurance race from the Bahamas back to Lake Worth Beach, Florida and is hosted by the local nonprofit, Pipers Angels Foundation (PAF). PAF has a unique standing with the Crossing wherein they actually use the Crossing for Cystic Fibrosis event and infrastructure to raise money for other charities and split the fundraising with PAF. Chris, I subsequently learned, was doing the Crossing not only for PAF, but for his own eponymously named Chris Bertish Foundation. Chris’ team was special in that they had a CF Warrior on his team, or a participant that is actually stricken with CF. Although I had done the Crossing myself, this year I was only there to volunteer for PAF and help with logistics where needed.
The ride over, despite being a bit rough, was otherwise uneventful, but the conversation was great. So humble was Chris Bertish that he wanted to know details about my running with the bulls in Pamplona and my being a 6-Star World Marathon Majors finisher. Afterwards, I learned that I spent the trip talking with that Chris Bertish, the guy who won the big wave surf competition at Mavericks at Half Moon Bay, California. That Chris Bertish, who was the guy who set multiple World Records in a 93-day solo transAtlantic SUP crossing, unassisted, from Morocco to Antigua.
Needless to say, I was floored. But what really grabbed me was when we sat down for a meal together in Bimini. We were at a table with his team and everyone was in good spirits in anticipation of the Crossing in just a couple of days. I answered what questions I could about the launch, the Crossing, and the Landing. Chris and I were locked in a conversation when I brought up the passing of J Nichols, and asked did he know him? As I should have known, of course, he knew J. Chris had a bit of a far away look in his eyes that really stayed with me as he described what a great person and inspiration J was. I knew J cordially at best, almost only in passing, but I could see that his effect on Chris was intense. He then said something very profound - that the movement J started must be continued by all of us. He said that watermen and women are connected by a web, and that the web must continue to make a difference (in promoting the work of Blue Mind).
The next morning in Bimini was the deeply poignant Rose Ceremony and paddle out for those individuals who lost the battle with cystic fibrosis. After the paddle out, I was trying to cool off in the pool adjacent to the beach when I struck up a conversation with another participant in the Crossing who was, in fact, a member of Chris’ team: Evelyn O’Doherty. She, too, was a friend of J’s, it turned out. She, too, said something very profound. In dealing with J’s passing, she had connected with a lot of people, and re-connected with multiple people in J’s circle. Evelyn mentioned that J had really started something with Blue Mind, and now everyone was really coming together and looking to continue his work, right where he left off. “It’s like there is a wave forming," she said. Essentially a Blue Wave of those looking to carry on the work J started.
Back Stateside, I had a great deal to think about with J’s legacy and the deeply felt conversations that I had in the Bahamas. When a friend from the LMC mentioned the paddle out for J, I was all in.
Arriving at the beach yesterday, there was the typical south Florida heat, and it was a bit soupy, but nothing crazy. The crowd was cordial with lots of introductions and a few “J’isms” being exchanged. I knew a few people there but met many more. We were each given J’s favorite momento, a blue marble, to take with us into the ocean. J gave thousands of blue marbles away to people in order to remind them of the view of Earth from space - our blue planet - with that beautiful, endless ocean. As if we needed another reminder to think of J! His presence was seemingly ubiquitous.
When it was time to hit the water, the wind had picked up significantly, blowing in off the ocean toward the west. We were interrupted a couple of times by waves that wanted to take us out, and we actually had to re-paddle out another 50-yards or so, and then do it again. A couple of friendly voices wondered if the suddenly tumultuous ocean was indeed the work of a laughing J watching from above, or perhaps below the ocean’s surface, as we were mildly tossed about, making our circle dissolve and reform time and again.
But as the paddlers shared their stories and connections to J in that circle, it made me reflect on those conversations in Bimini, and then it really started to hit home. Despite the sudden and crushing loss of J, he put in place the framework for the Blue Mind Movement and it was staring at me in that golden moment on the deep, blue Atlantic Ocean. Water heals. Water is therapeutic. Water calms. Water is life. Water is crucial to human beings and to the countless denizens of the ocean, lakes and the land of our shared planet. J started this awareness with his book and his endless passion and we can, we must, carry that torch now.
The personal and genuine stories shared about J were tremendous and testament to the Blue Mind Movement. Everyone at the paddle out loved the ocean. Everyone was associated with a nonprofit that somehow - whether by a direct or slightly longer route - tied to the water. Hearing everyone speak, some whom had never met J, but were nonetheless touched by him and his “wave” were inspiring. There was Allison Fielding who started the nonprofit Stoked on Life Palm Beach and another volunteer from the same group, David Fielding, who became our director on the water for the Paddle Out. They welcome those with mental and addiction disorders to the calming and healing effects of the ocean. They mentor and profess “Mindfulness Based Ocean and Surf Therapy”.
Next to speak with the stoic Damian B, who shared the retching story of losing her teen son to suicide over a decade ago, and feeling overwhelmed, walked the ocean shore searching for answers. She bluntly urged God and universe to “take her” from her anguish, but managed to somehow turn the situation to a positive and founded the nonprofit called Forever Frosty in honor of her son. In partnership with Stoked for Life, she offers academic scholarships.
As I listened, I could feel a wave growing. Subtle at first, then very palpable.
There was Kristin Cobia who started the Wahine Warriors which offers surf lessons, and a caring ear as well as mentorship to teenage girls. Next to me in the circle was Daniel Stan, a grizzled combat vet who saw multiple tours in Afghanistan and was in the water that day with his teenage son Kai who will start high school in Vero Beach in a couple of weeks. Speaking highly of his connection to J, Dan started a chapter of the San Diego-based One More Wave, or more familiarly 1MW, which meets every third Saturday as a place for surfers to gather and socialize while also donating surfboards and equipment to those in need. Dan spoke openly and honestly of his PTSD, and the calming effects the ocean grants him.
Pete Wells, a long-time LMC volunteer, spoke of the many blessings he had growing up near the water in New England. He and his wife Lynn started the Blue Friends Society, an organization begun at the LMC over a decade ago where they came to envision and develop their annual marquee event, Go Blue Awards. This was the very same event where I had heard J speak those many years ago. The Blue Friends, like-minded ocean enthusiasts and staunch protectors of Sea Turtles everywhere, has grown from a handful of folks to thousands of members today.
Finally, there was Andy Dehart, the CEO of the LMC. At first, too overcome with emotion out in the circle, he rallied to discuss his friendship with J. Andy began snorkeling at age four, a story he shared with J, who’s love for the water started at a similar age, and a long-term friendship was formed, a bond over blue water. He mentioned how J, through his Blue Mind book, was, “able to put to words what we all felt.” That I thought was pretty magical.
When the last of the stories were shared, we threw our roses high in the air and bellowed, laughed, and splashed wildly, drenching us all in the rejuvenating ocean water.
In this moment of elation, you could feel the last of the pall of J’s passing just wash off us, into the ocean and to points unknown. In great spirits, we paddled or caught a wave back to shore. Back on the sand, we socialized a bit and then uttered those famous and meaningful words from J: “I wish you water” to one another. The sentiment was real and authentic. It was a lovely time, but now it was time to disband and get back to our respective lives. After all, we have work to do. J’s work.
Written by, Joseph Lawless
Photos: Frank Moore Photography
- Editor's Note: You can read one of Wallace J. Nichols' final interviews in Session Magazine's SUMMER24 print issue, Building a Conscious Relationship with Water. All of us here at Session Mag grew infinitely from our relationship with J, appreciated him deeply and will do our part - in earnest - to carry on his great work. We wish you water.
Aloha, J. You are missed.
