At Sea & San Marcial
A four-foot swell pushed us south with a slow, gentle roll during the night. These rocking conditions put us into deep slumber. By morning many of us were so rested it seemed like we had taken a magic potion.
We awoke near Islas Coronados and soon found blows from at least 3 fin whales. The wind quickly dissipated the spouts, but we could make out the dorsal fins and white lower right jaws of these leviathans. There are more than 600 fin whales that live in the Gulf all year, and others travel in from the Pacific. These individuals were below the surface for only a few minutes during each dive, so our views were brief but numerous. How different the sea felt when we turned, rolled and faced into the swells as we watched. We left these whales behind and headed into the lee of Isla del Carmen.
Blue whales are always a thrill to observe, especially when they throw their enormous flukes in the air like the one we watched during the mid-day. Only 20% or less bring their tails into the air on the terminal dive. This maneuver probably helps propel them down to depths of as much as 800 feet. This whale’s first dive was for 14 minutes and then it changed to an 8-minute pattern. Isla Monserrat gave us protection from the swells so we could follow the animal until all those that wanted fluke photographs got them.
Our afternoon was spent at a remote set of canyons and beaches called San Marcial on the Baja California Peninsula. This jewel has no road access. It is a completely isolated and a stunningly beautiful place to hike, kayak, snorkel and loaf on the beach. Palo blanco, desert ironwood, and lomboy trees line the gentle arroyos. Dead limbs and branches had been carried by water down one of the canyons and were wrapped around the base of many of the trees we walked past, a reminder of the force and results of hurricanes and flash floods. Yellow grasses cover the lower benches here and allow easy hiking up to numerous viewpoints like the one in today’s photograph. The views of the rugged volcanic mountains of the Sierra de la Giganta are cutaways of a land that once was pummeled by fiery hot ash and rocks. These were thrown with explosive force from the throats of a chain of active volcanoes that ruled this land. If anyone stumbled, it was most likely over a part of that geologic history.
We postponed dinner until 7:30 to give us more hiking time but soon enough, we were deeply immersed in conversations with new-found friends over a delicious dinner. The National Geographic Sea Bird pulled anchor at 11:00 for another night of gentle rocking.
A four-foot swell pushed us south with a slow, gentle roll during the night. These rocking conditions put us into deep slumber. By morning many of us were so rested it seemed like we had taken a magic potion.
We awoke near Islas Coronados and soon found blows from at least 3 fin whales. The wind quickly dissipated the spouts, but we could make out the dorsal fins and white lower right jaws of these leviathans. There are more than 600 fin whales that live in the Gulf all year, and others travel in from the Pacific. These individuals were below the surface for only a few minutes during each dive, so our views were brief but numerous. How different the sea felt when we turned, rolled and faced into the swells as we watched. We left these whales behind and headed into the lee of Isla del Carmen.
Blue whales are always a thrill to observe, especially when they throw their enormous flukes in the air like the one we watched during the mid-day. Only 20% or less bring their tails into the air on the terminal dive. This maneuver probably helps propel them down to depths of as much as 800 feet. This whale’s first dive was for 14 minutes and then it changed to an 8-minute pattern. Isla Monserrat gave us protection from the swells so we could follow the animal until all those that wanted fluke photographs got them.
Our afternoon was spent at a remote set of canyons and beaches called San Marcial on the Baja California Peninsula. This jewel has no road access. It is a completely isolated and a stunningly beautiful place to hike, kayak, snorkel and loaf on the beach. Palo blanco, desert ironwood, and lomboy trees line the gentle arroyos. Dead limbs and branches had been carried by water down one of the canyons and were wrapped around the base of many of the trees we walked past, a reminder of the force and results of hurricanes and flash floods. Yellow grasses cover the lower benches here and allow easy hiking up to numerous viewpoints like the one in today’s photograph. The views of the rugged volcanic mountains of the Sierra de la Giganta are cutaways of a land that once was pummeled by fiery hot ash and rocks. These were thrown with explosive force from the throats of a chain of active volcanoes that ruled this land. If anyone stumbled, it was most likely over a part of that geologic history.
We postponed dinner until 7:30 to give us more hiking time but soon enough, we were deeply immersed in conversations with new-found friends over a delicious dinner. The National Geographic Sea Bird pulled anchor at 11:00 for another night of gentle rocking.
