Parrotfish & Friend: Fun on the Beach of Isla Angel de la Guarda
This morning we explored Isla Angel de le Guarda. This island is huge, and therefore quite diverse. Still, it is separated from the peninsular mainland by the deep and chilly Canal de Ballenas, and so has unique plants and animals. Some were hoping to find the island’s special rattlesnake, others were not. The latter were lucky. We strolled through an impressive old growth forest of cardon cacti, regularly surprised by improbable-seeming blossoms sprouting from the sand. Bean trees were heavily encumbered by mistletoe. The parasites’ berries formed thick scarlet bouquets, trusty lures for the frugivorous phainopepla. The upper arroyo, pinched by imposing cliffs, looked nearly tropical in its lushness. There we found rare palms, sure signs of a steady subterranean trickle of moisture. Meanwhile, kayakers sliced the waves.
In the afternoon, at sea, we found a collection of fin whales. What’s five times a hundred tons? These creatures, the world’s mightiest but one, are peculiar in their asymmetric coloration. Perhaps because of the species’ habit of rolling right in a feeding lunge, a fin’s bow is white to starboard, black to port. Through the gulf’s rich phytoplanktonic haze, the pale right lips of the whales glowed green.
At sunset, we were visited by a familiar form. The National Geographic Sea Lion, our sister ship, passed by. Friends waved and cameras clicked as we regarded each other with the odd complacence with which one views a mirror.
The upper gulf is rich by land and by sea, yet is rarely seen. What joy to savor it!
This morning we explored Isla Angel de le Guarda. This island is huge, and therefore quite diverse. Still, it is separated from the peninsular mainland by the deep and chilly Canal de Ballenas, and so has unique plants and animals. Some were hoping to find the island’s special rattlesnake, others were not. The latter were lucky. We strolled through an impressive old growth forest of cardon cacti, regularly surprised by improbable-seeming blossoms sprouting from the sand. Bean trees were heavily encumbered by mistletoe. The parasites’ berries formed thick scarlet bouquets, trusty lures for the frugivorous phainopepla. The upper arroyo, pinched by imposing cliffs, looked nearly tropical in its lushness. There we found rare palms, sure signs of a steady subterranean trickle of moisture. Meanwhile, kayakers sliced the waves.
In the afternoon, at sea, we found a collection of fin whales. What’s five times a hundred tons? These creatures, the world’s mightiest but one, are peculiar in their asymmetric coloration. Perhaps because of the species’ habit of rolling right in a feeding lunge, a fin’s bow is white to starboard, black to port. Through the gulf’s rich phytoplanktonic haze, the pale right lips of the whales glowed green.
At sunset, we were visited by a familiar form. The National Geographic Sea Lion, our sister ship, passed by. Friends waved and cameras clicked as we regarded each other with the odd complacence with which one views a mirror.
The upper gulf is rich by land and by sea, yet is rarely seen. What joy to savor it!
