San Jose Channel & Isla San Jose
To say the desert and the sea defined our day seems so cliché but here in the Gulf of California those two words mean so much. When taken separately, the presence of one would seem to preclude the presence of the other. How could a desert, a place with less then ten inches of rain per year, exist hand-in-hand with the sea and its abundance of water? And yet they do and in this partnership a fascinating world has come to be.
Even before the sun rose the air was comfortably warm. The gentle breeze created by our forward momentum felt like a warm caress. It was in this time, very early in the morning, that we met the sky that defines the region. It starts with a band of crimson overlaid by an unusual blue that has no name. Venus dangled within this belt, twinkling bright above the black silhouette of Isla San Jose. Squadrons of brown pelicans skimmed the sea’s surface, barely visible in this light. As navy and gold spilled across the sea, pink washed about the horizon and gathered in the layers of volcanic ash of the Sierra de la Giganta. The day had begun and the action immediately accelerated.
There is always a hope as one scans one’s surroundings that a misty blow might be encountered. It was. Not just any blow but a tall and forceful geyser that hung suspended in the air long enough for a second exhalation to become evident. A blue whale!! In the background a lone humpback breached repeatedly trying to steal the show. Bottlenose dolphins attempted similar tactics but the blue whales reigned. As we pirouetted round and round, four of these massive leviathans came and went. Before the day was through, several more made sure we could recognize their distinctive hue and tiny dorsal fin. There was then no problem with noticing the larger falcate fin of the second largest baleen whale, a fin or fin-back whale when it cruised by.
The smell of productivity was in the air from the moment we rose as we sailed south in San Jose Channel and even as we progressed north again along its eastern flanks. It was no surprise then to find the waters filled with plankton as we plunged into its cold embrace. But plankton means food for fish and invertebrates and our snorkel adventure was thus rewarded.
“The desert,” you say, “What about the desert?” Well, it rolled down the flanks of the islands and poured into arroyos that were carved in colorful layers of ash and eroded ash, reworked into sandstone, filled with fossils or tossed into the cross-bedded dunes of Punta Colorada. Evaders, resistors, escapers were all there. The plants that cared little whether it rained today or next year and those that just waited it out stood side-by-side with the ephemerals, those that cast all their energy into producing a flashy flower fast. We felt their leaves and fingered their fruits and marveled at their persistence.
The desert and the sea combined to capture our attention.
To say the desert and the sea defined our day seems so cliché but here in the Gulf of California those two words mean so much. When taken separately, the presence of one would seem to preclude the presence of the other. How could a desert, a place with less then ten inches of rain per year, exist hand-in-hand with the sea and its abundance of water? And yet they do and in this partnership a fascinating world has come to be.
Even before the sun rose the air was comfortably warm. The gentle breeze created by our forward momentum felt like a warm caress. It was in this time, very early in the morning, that we met the sky that defines the region. It starts with a band of crimson overlaid by an unusual blue that has no name. Venus dangled within this belt, twinkling bright above the black silhouette of Isla San Jose. Squadrons of brown pelicans skimmed the sea’s surface, barely visible in this light. As navy and gold spilled across the sea, pink washed about the horizon and gathered in the layers of volcanic ash of the Sierra de la Giganta. The day had begun and the action immediately accelerated.
There is always a hope as one scans one’s surroundings that a misty blow might be encountered. It was. Not just any blow but a tall and forceful geyser that hung suspended in the air long enough for a second exhalation to become evident. A blue whale!! In the background a lone humpback breached repeatedly trying to steal the show. Bottlenose dolphins attempted similar tactics but the blue whales reigned. As we pirouetted round and round, four of these massive leviathans came and went. Before the day was through, several more made sure we could recognize their distinctive hue and tiny dorsal fin. There was then no problem with noticing the larger falcate fin of the second largest baleen whale, a fin or fin-back whale when it cruised by.
The smell of productivity was in the air from the moment we rose as we sailed south in San Jose Channel and even as we progressed north again along its eastern flanks. It was no surprise then to find the waters filled with plankton as we plunged into its cold embrace. But plankton means food for fish and invertebrates and our snorkel adventure was thus rewarded.
“The desert,” you say, “What about the desert?” Well, it rolled down the flanks of the islands and poured into arroyos that were carved in colorful layers of ash and eroded ash, reworked into sandstone, filled with fossils or tossed into the cross-bedded dunes of Punta Colorada. Evaders, resistors, escapers were all there. The plants that cared little whether it rained today or next year and those that just waited it out stood side-by-side with the ephemerals, those that cast all their energy into producing a flashy flower fast. We felt their leaves and fingered their fruits and marveled at their persistence.
The desert and the sea combined to capture our attention.
