Land’s End, Baja California Sur
Ocean passages for me have always been such a perfect time for quiet reflection. Last night on board the National Geographic Sea Bird we left the protection of Magdalena Bay and headed out into the open Pacific Ocean for our southerly run to Cabo San Lucas at the very tip of the Baja peninsula. I started my day at 2:00AM on the bridge, mesmerized by an absolutely clear and star-studded sky. The Southern Cross rose above the horizon as we officially entered the tropics by crossing the imaginary line of the Tropic of Cancer. Leo and Ursa Major wheeled in the sky around the North Star, Polaris. Long-beaked common dolphins raced along our hull with phosphorescent streaks lining their bodies and illuminating their positions. I finally went to bed just before sunrise thinking that all was right in this magical place called Baja California.
Later this morning I awoke to the hustle and bustle of the busy harbor at Cabo San Lucas. I had been transported from the extreme serenity of an ocean passage to an almost unrecognizable part of Baja California, a place where vendors line the streets selling all manner of trinkets and shops advertise T-shirts and pharmaceuticals and jewelry and just about everything else imaginable. The dichotomy between Cabo San Lucas and the area in which we had just spent three and a half days was as absolute as the difference in the desert and the sea. Two completely separate worlds, joined only by their proximity.
Leaving Cabo San Lucas in the early afternoon we officially headed into Gulf of California waters looking for marine mammals. California sea lions hauled out on rocks at Land’s End were our first sighting. Soon after, California gray whales began appearing underneath their heart shaped blows in the calm waters around us. Small oceanic rays called mobulas began leaping and flipping around the boat. At one point a marlin leaped repeatedly into the air, crashing back into the ocean with a resounding splash. As we approached Gorda Banks, humpback whale spouts dotted the horizon. Several animals were seen breaching and tail-slapping in the distance. And then late in the afternoon it happened. A humpback whale calf started to repeatedly tail-slap and then moved on to full-blown breaching. As the sun began to set in the west, a second calf took over from the first and continued to breach as the sun dipped into the mountains to the west of our ship. Captain Coughlin positioned the boat just perfectly in the light of the setting sun to watch this young humpback leap into the golden light.
WHEW! We were back in Baja California as I know and love it, wild and free, and just in the knick of time!
Ocean passages for me have always been such a perfect time for quiet reflection. Last night on board the National Geographic Sea Bird we left the protection of Magdalena Bay and headed out into the open Pacific Ocean for our southerly run to Cabo San Lucas at the very tip of the Baja peninsula. I started my day at 2:00AM on the bridge, mesmerized by an absolutely clear and star-studded sky. The Southern Cross rose above the horizon as we officially entered the tropics by crossing the imaginary line of the Tropic of Cancer. Leo and Ursa Major wheeled in the sky around the North Star, Polaris. Long-beaked common dolphins raced along our hull with phosphorescent streaks lining their bodies and illuminating their positions. I finally went to bed just before sunrise thinking that all was right in this magical place called Baja California.
Later this morning I awoke to the hustle and bustle of the busy harbor at Cabo San Lucas. I had been transported from the extreme serenity of an ocean passage to an almost unrecognizable part of Baja California, a place where vendors line the streets selling all manner of trinkets and shops advertise T-shirts and pharmaceuticals and jewelry and just about everything else imaginable. The dichotomy between Cabo San Lucas and the area in which we had just spent three and a half days was as absolute as the difference in the desert and the sea. Two completely separate worlds, joined only by their proximity.
Leaving Cabo San Lucas in the early afternoon we officially headed into Gulf of California waters looking for marine mammals. California sea lions hauled out on rocks at Land’s End were our first sighting. Soon after, California gray whales began appearing underneath their heart shaped blows in the calm waters around us. Small oceanic rays called mobulas began leaping and flipping around the boat. At one point a marlin leaped repeatedly into the air, crashing back into the ocean with a resounding splash. As we approached Gorda Banks, humpback whale spouts dotted the horizon. Several animals were seen breaching and tail-slapping in the distance. And then late in the afternoon it happened. A humpback whale calf started to repeatedly tail-slap and then moved on to full-blown breaching. As the sun began to set in the west, a second calf took over from the first and continued to breach as the sun dipped into the mountains to the west of our ship. Captain Coughlin positioned the boat just perfectly in the light of the setting sun to watch this young humpback leap into the golden light.
WHEW! We were back in Baja California as I know and love it, wild and free, and just in the knick of time!
