Isla Santa Catalina
First rays of morning light found us cruising north in San Jose Channel. To the west towered the Sierra de la Mechudo, stacked up in volcanic layers capped by a sky of pink hazy clouds. These layers were formed during 12 million years of explosions that rained hot ash downward, incinerating any living thing below. That ceased about 12 million years ago. Seven million years later, Baja California began to rip away from mainland Mexico. If it weren’t for the ripping action of the Pacific plate, our ship would be sitting atop a desert landscape, possibly sheltering a cactus mouse.
Soon after breakfast and just beyond Isla Santa Cruz, a whale blow rose into the air. The spouts were forward and to the left of the whale’s head. “Ay, karumba” one of our naturalists, William Lopez-Forment, yelled. A sperm whale was in front of the ship, and at least two others were in the distance off our port bow. As we drew closer we could see that they were large males. These odd beasts have huge, long skulls that poke up in the rear to form a bump about a third of the way back along the body. The photograph is of an animal that we watched for over an hour. It didn’t fluke up until the very end. The primary food of sperm whales in the gulf is Humboldt or jumbo squid. One local study found that most of their daytime dives were between 300 to 1500 feet, with the deepest dives to 3750 to 4500 feet. It is always a very special treat to be in the presence of such extraordinary creatures. We were lucky to be the first National Geographic & Lindblad Expedition to see sperm whales this season.
After a deck barbecue we anchored off Isla Santa Catalina for snorkeling and hiking. We swam from an anchored Zodiac and looked upon a rock that looked like a giant elephant. The water was teeming with life. Many guests had their first looks at the strikingly marked king angelfish, the brilliant blue juvenile giant damselfish, and the freckled porcupine fish that seemed to smile through its two teeth and large comical eyes.
Hikers scrambled from the Zodiacs and walked up a steep beach of granite rocks. Isla Santa Catalina is a gem in the collection of gulf islands. Big luxurious cardon and endemic barrel cacti filled the small canyons, verdant palo verde and copal trees lined the washes and the vines of coyote melon and prickly cucumber draped over many of the spaces in between. How can so much water be sucked out of such an arid place? The moisture from fall hurricanes and winter showers has been sucked up and stored. Fast and slow hikers wound through this garden on their way to a ridge top view or to merely see what secrets the desert has to offer.
All too soon we were heading back to the ship with the treasures of a very full day tucked into our minds.
First rays of morning light found us cruising north in San Jose Channel. To the west towered the Sierra de la Mechudo, stacked up in volcanic layers capped by a sky of pink hazy clouds. These layers were formed during 12 million years of explosions that rained hot ash downward, incinerating any living thing below. That ceased about 12 million years ago. Seven million years later, Baja California began to rip away from mainland Mexico. If it weren’t for the ripping action of the Pacific plate, our ship would be sitting atop a desert landscape, possibly sheltering a cactus mouse.
Soon after breakfast and just beyond Isla Santa Cruz, a whale blow rose into the air. The spouts were forward and to the left of the whale’s head. “Ay, karumba” one of our naturalists, William Lopez-Forment, yelled. A sperm whale was in front of the ship, and at least two others were in the distance off our port bow. As we drew closer we could see that they were large males. These odd beasts have huge, long skulls that poke up in the rear to form a bump about a third of the way back along the body. The photograph is of an animal that we watched for over an hour. It didn’t fluke up until the very end. The primary food of sperm whales in the gulf is Humboldt or jumbo squid. One local study found that most of their daytime dives were between 300 to 1500 feet, with the deepest dives to 3750 to 4500 feet. It is always a very special treat to be in the presence of such extraordinary creatures. We were lucky to be the first National Geographic & Lindblad Expedition to see sperm whales this season.
After a deck barbecue we anchored off Isla Santa Catalina for snorkeling and hiking. We swam from an anchored Zodiac and looked upon a rock that looked like a giant elephant. The water was teeming with life. Many guests had their first looks at the strikingly marked king angelfish, the brilliant blue juvenile giant damselfish, and the freckled porcupine fish that seemed to smile through its two teeth and large comical eyes.
Hikers scrambled from the Zodiacs and walked up a steep beach of granite rocks. Isla Santa Catalina is a gem in the collection of gulf islands. Big luxurious cardon and endemic barrel cacti filled the small canyons, verdant palo verde and copal trees lined the washes and the vines of coyote melon and prickly cucumber draped over many of the spaces in between. How can so much water be sucked out of such an arid place? The moisture from fall hurricanes and winter showers has been sucked up and stored. Fast and slow hikers wound through this garden on their way to a ridge top view or to merely see what secrets the desert has to offer.
All too soon we were heading back to the ship with the treasures of a very full day tucked into our minds.
