Los Islotes
We awoke approaching Los Islotes. This Siamese twin of an island, joined by watery shallows, is made of tuff, the volcanic coughing of an agonized earth. Ground and cloven by the sea’s horseplay, the tuff has been sculpted into rufous ramparts and minarets. Seabirds, at home on Los Islotes, have so whitewashed its walls the island appears to have been struck by a freak snowstorm.
Dropping anchor near the island, we soon launched Zodiacs to take a closer look. Frigatebirds circled high over our heads, looking like latter-day pterodactyls. Boobies swept past the island’s heights, flaunting their sky-blue feet to prospective mates. Gulls, looking habitually glum, prowled the shallows, their feet a rich canary yellow. But sea lions stole the show. They lay scattered over the rocks, sleek and trim as boxed cigars, or sprawling in chaotic piles. They eyed us with casual curiosity, then returned to rest or to rambunctious reorganization of their sleeping quarters. ‘Lions, while fond of company, seem never to make a move without protest from every direction, and this delivered in yelps and bellows at maximal volume.
Though amused at the sea lions’ lumbering antics ashore, we were equally amazed at their grace and agility beneath the waves. In snorkel gear we scrabbled clumsily through the water, while sea lions flew around us. Juvenile ‘lions were particularly engaging, charging with comic mock-aggression, then fleeting blithely away. Whipped to a frenzy by our colorful presence, they pranced and gamboled like frisky submarine puppies. Only one thing could be more fun than swimming with sea lions – to be a sea lion swimming with people!
During lunch we motored south to nearby Isla Partida. Ensenada Grande is a cove deeply cut into the island’s side. Ashore, we strolled the cove’s pale beach, or bathed in its pleasantly cool water. Entering the island’s interior, we met the life of the Sonoran desert, surprisingly rich and diverse in a landscape that appears initially barren. We saw towering cardons, stately organpipes, prickly pears like random piles of dinner plates, and bristling chollas. Canyon wren song tumbled down the hillsides, and antelope ground squirrels scuttled over the rocks. By kayak, we paddled the cove’s turquoise shallows, and admired its pink volcanic flanks.
We adjourned to a more intimate canyon for dinner ashore. With our feet in the sand, we supped on grilled tuna, eggplant and chicken. As the sky fell from citrus to black, the constellations emerged. And at last, in a bioluminescent journey back to the ship, we reflected on the visions of a spectacular day.
We awoke approaching Los Islotes. This Siamese twin of an island, joined by watery shallows, is made of tuff, the volcanic coughing of an agonized earth. Ground and cloven by the sea’s horseplay, the tuff has been sculpted into rufous ramparts and minarets. Seabirds, at home on Los Islotes, have so whitewashed its walls the island appears to have been struck by a freak snowstorm.
Dropping anchor near the island, we soon launched Zodiacs to take a closer look. Frigatebirds circled high over our heads, looking like latter-day pterodactyls. Boobies swept past the island’s heights, flaunting their sky-blue feet to prospective mates. Gulls, looking habitually glum, prowled the shallows, their feet a rich canary yellow. But sea lions stole the show. They lay scattered over the rocks, sleek and trim as boxed cigars, or sprawling in chaotic piles. They eyed us with casual curiosity, then returned to rest or to rambunctious reorganization of their sleeping quarters. ‘Lions, while fond of company, seem never to make a move without protest from every direction, and this delivered in yelps and bellows at maximal volume.
Though amused at the sea lions’ lumbering antics ashore, we were equally amazed at their grace and agility beneath the waves. In snorkel gear we scrabbled clumsily through the water, while sea lions flew around us. Juvenile ‘lions were particularly engaging, charging with comic mock-aggression, then fleeting blithely away. Whipped to a frenzy by our colorful presence, they pranced and gamboled like frisky submarine puppies. Only one thing could be more fun than swimming with sea lions – to be a sea lion swimming with people!
During lunch we motored south to nearby Isla Partida. Ensenada Grande is a cove deeply cut into the island’s side. Ashore, we strolled the cove’s pale beach, or bathed in its pleasantly cool water. Entering the island’s interior, we met the life of the Sonoran desert, surprisingly rich and diverse in a landscape that appears initially barren. We saw towering cardons, stately organpipes, prickly pears like random piles of dinner plates, and bristling chollas. Canyon wren song tumbled down the hillsides, and antelope ground squirrels scuttled over the rocks. By kayak, we paddled the cove’s turquoise shallows, and admired its pink volcanic flanks.
We adjourned to a more intimate canyon for dinner ashore. With our feet in the sand, we supped on grilled tuna, eggplant and chicken. As the sky fell from citrus to black, the constellations emerged. And at last, in a bioluminescent journey back to the ship, we reflected on the visions of a spectacular day.
