Bullwhip Kelp: The Hula Dancer of the Deep (Part 1)

Bullwhip Kelp in Action

            We coastal folk, from Alaska to California find bull kelp endearing, inspiring, frightening, sexy, mysterious, whimsical, and mythic. Not to mention, for those who have dared invite it into their kitchens delicious, nutritious and remarkably mucous. Hands down, bull kelp has more uses than any seaweed I —know.  Here are just a few:

            Before glass and plastic bottles, the First Nations used hollow kelp stipes for storing oolican fish oil or fresh water on canoe journeys. After European traders arrived, kelp “bottles” transported molasses from ship to shore.  The hose-like bottles were cured by many methods. Every coastal group had their secrets: smoking over a fire, soaking in fresh water then drying, rubbing with whale and dogfish oil, and so on. The bell-shaped kelp bulb, cut off at top and bottom, became a handy funnel for pouring oil into a cured tube. Full kelp bottles were corked and lashed shut, coiled like rope, and lay in a cedar storage box. Some were slung over the longhouse rafters ready for quick use. A cook could reach over, uncork the kelp bottle, and dribble fish oil into waiting feast dishes like you might some expensive salad dressing. 

Untangling Bullwhip Kelp for
 havesting

            Kelp is the hula dancer of the deep.  It has an extremely flexible stipe or stalk that hulas with each passing wave. Scientists recently discovered bull kelp has a built-in mechanism that allows it to “go with the flow.”  Cellulose fibrils in the cell walls are angled at 60 degrees to the stipe axis allowing it to sustain tremendous “crack the whip” motion caused by waves.

            First Nation people who traversed the coast by dug-out canoe knew how to deal with kelp beds. Like sea birds and otters they rafted up to ride out storms. Huge kelp beds iron out stormy seas. By laying out a criss-cross network of leaves and stalks, kelp creates its own surface tension. It literally carpets the waves. After a gale subsided First Nation paddlers used their ingenious bow paddles—sharpened on one edge like a knife--to slice kelp stipes out of harm’s way.

            When I am kayaking between beaches on surf-pounding coasts I follow the old navigator’s ways. I raft up in a kelp bed to eat lunch—and sometimes to journal and sketch. Tossing a few kelp stipes over bow, I have a sturdy, if not dripping wet natural anchor. Best thing is, I don’t have to carry the anchor with me when I go. I simply throw it overboard. Part two of this exciting species will include one of my favorite manners of preparing the stipe to accent any sandwhich with a coastal flair.

Follow to the next post to read a fantastic kelp pickling recipe.