Los Islotes & San Jose Channel, Gulf of California
It was a jaw dropper of a day! One generally uses various phrases of exclamation to indicate excitement but we went way beyond that today. When something is so beautiful or so amazing that words fail, all you can do is stand there with your mouth open staring in shock. Or maybe that is the second reaction after you have yelled and screamed so much you have lost your voice.
There were omens that it was to be an unusual day even before the sun climbed into the sky. It had a difficult journey, for parked squarely on the eastern horizon was a huge black cloud with moisture leaking from its bottom surface. Rain in a land that bears the designation of desert is quite rare but there it was creeping closer to us. Above us the sky was clear enough that Scorpio could be seen apparently running to hide from the lights of La Paz filtering from behind the Espiritu Santo island complex. When the sun finally peered from behind the curtain it painted the guano-frosted islets of Los Islotes with gold. Here a circus of sorts was underway. Blue-footed boobies danced their foot-flapping boogie, whistling and moaning in tune. Silent brown relatives stared solemnly from narrow rocky ledges. Yellow-footed gulls screamed encouragements to two of their kind, engaged in a fierce wrestling match where beaks locked on forelimbs and necks. First one was laid to the carpet and then the other. In the water California sea lion pups swirled, leaping agilely beside our Zodiacs or sneaking up on snorkelers who were not nearly such graceful swimmers. On an ordinary day being in the water or observing the lives of these creatures might have been the highlight. Today was very different.
Thunderheads built over the islands and islets of the Gulf and stretched along the Sierra de la Giganta. Rain washed the highest peaks of Isla San Jose and down its eastern slope. In the channel close to its south and western shore blows and giant splashes erupted. Sperm whales! And not just one or two! Fifty or more! These leviathans are normally quite sedate, logging for lengthy periods of time at the surface to re-oxygenate, recharge after dives to unimaginable depths. Not today! Huge bulls skimmed close to our vessel, their massive square heads marred by an asymmetrical blow-hole which launched rainbow colored blows angled to the left. The rest of the wrinkled body trailed far behind. Enormous tail stocks were lifted high smashing against the surface of the sea with resounding crashes. Tiny babies breached repeatedly, entire bodies becoming airborne as if in a competition to prove who could fly the highest. Occasionally an adult would demonstrate the technique for the youngsters to emulate. Clicks, the sounds of echolocation, resonated through our hull and were broadcast from our hydrophone. For ninety minutes the show went on and then they were gone.
Reluctant to draw away we aimed for the nearest beach to climb to nearby peaks or skim along the shallows in a fleet of colorful kayaks. Before the smell of barbecue wafted to our nostrils, the whales were back for an encore performance. As evening drew near, clouds darkened the sky turning the Sierras into silhouettes in shades of gray. Our feast barely finished before the rain began to fall moistening the desert one more time. As we sail south, lightning illuminates the land, fireworks to celebrate an extraordinary day.
It was a jaw dropper of a day! One generally uses various phrases of exclamation to indicate excitement but we went way beyond that today. When something is so beautiful or so amazing that words fail, all you can do is stand there with your mouth open staring in shock. Or maybe that is the second reaction after you have yelled and screamed so much you have lost your voice.
There were omens that it was to be an unusual day even before the sun climbed into the sky. It had a difficult journey, for parked squarely on the eastern horizon was a huge black cloud with moisture leaking from its bottom surface. Rain in a land that bears the designation of desert is quite rare but there it was creeping closer to us. Above us the sky was clear enough that Scorpio could be seen apparently running to hide from the lights of La Paz filtering from behind the Espiritu Santo island complex. When the sun finally peered from behind the curtain it painted the guano-frosted islets of Los Islotes with gold. Here a circus of sorts was underway. Blue-footed boobies danced their foot-flapping boogie, whistling and moaning in tune. Silent brown relatives stared solemnly from narrow rocky ledges. Yellow-footed gulls screamed encouragements to two of their kind, engaged in a fierce wrestling match where beaks locked on forelimbs and necks. First one was laid to the carpet and then the other. In the water California sea lion pups swirled, leaping agilely beside our Zodiacs or sneaking up on snorkelers who were not nearly such graceful swimmers. On an ordinary day being in the water or observing the lives of these creatures might have been the highlight. Today was very different.
Thunderheads built over the islands and islets of the Gulf and stretched along the Sierra de la Giganta. Rain washed the highest peaks of Isla San Jose and down its eastern slope. In the channel close to its south and western shore blows and giant splashes erupted. Sperm whales! And not just one or two! Fifty or more! These leviathans are normally quite sedate, logging for lengthy periods of time at the surface to re-oxygenate, recharge after dives to unimaginable depths. Not today! Huge bulls skimmed close to our vessel, their massive square heads marred by an asymmetrical blow-hole which launched rainbow colored blows angled to the left. The rest of the wrinkled body trailed far behind. Enormous tail stocks were lifted high smashing against the surface of the sea with resounding crashes. Tiny babies breached repeatedly, entire bodies becoming airborne as if in a competition to prove who could fly the highest. Occasionally an adult would demonstrate the technique for the youngsters to emulate. Clicks, the sounds of echolocation, resonated through our hull and were broadcast from our hydrophone. For ninety minutes the show went on and then they were gone.
Reluctant to draw away we aimed for the nearest beach to climb to nearby peaks or skim along the shallows in a fleet of colorful kayaks. Before the smell of barbecue wafted to our nostrils, the whales were back for an encore performance. As evening drew near, clouds darkened the sky turning the Sierras into silhouettes in shades of gray. Our feast barely finished before the rain began to fall moistening the desert one more time. As we sail south, lightning illuminates the land, fireworks to celebrate an extraordinary day.
