Cabo San Lucas & Gorda Bank, Baja California
During the night the National Geographic Sea Bird headed south, pushed along by a gentle Pacific swell, and crossed the Tropic of Cancer. We are now in the tropics. Early morning light found us at Land’s End, off of the southern tip of the Baja California Peninsula. Here, at Cabo San Lucas, there once was a sleepy Mexican fishing village. Now there is a tourist complex of hotels and condominiums, restaurants and margarita mills, and myriad ways to separate the tourists from their dollars. There is also fuel and water, both needed by our ship. We took on some of each. Marj got a new hat. And then we left.
Within minutes of departure we found the spouts of whales. The shape of the spouts identified the whales: they were not the tall, columnar blows that we saw some days ago coming from blue whales, but the shorter, bushy spouts of humpback whales. The shallow water above Gorda Bank is an important breeding area for the Peninsular population of humpback whales. They spend their summers in more northern waters, off of Oregon, Washington, and southern British Columbia. In winter they come to the warmer water of Mexico to bear their calves or, for females not bearing a calf (and for males), to breed. Feeding is not a priority.
Our Expedition Leader thought that we might spend some time with these whales as we made our way into the Gulf of California. Good luck, Jack! The whales would not let us leave. Perhaps the strongest impression emerging from our afternoon of close encounters with the whales, aside from the sheer majesty of the enormous beasts, is the challenge of interpreting their behavior from the brief glimpses that we have when the whales rise to the surface. In this we were aided by National Geographic photographer and humpback whale expert Flip Nicklin, and by the years of experience in Baja California of our natural history staff.
We spent time with two mating groups: an adult female who we expect will become pregnant this season (mating of humpback whales has never been observed), her principal escort male, and two to six hopeful males. The first group had us running from side to side as they surfaced right next to the ship and passed underneath it. Could the female be using our ship as a barrier to provide some relief from the persistent attention of the attendant males? The second, larger group was moving through the water more swiftly and more purposively (at least to our eyes), and closely coordinated in their rising to the surface to breathe and returning to the depths to do whatever they were doing when we could not see them.
We waited and we watched, enthralled; our cameras clicked, and then we really had to leave. The whales would have nothing of it. Just as we turned away, first one whale and then two others in concert rose from the sea in full-body breaches. (We thank Flip for going to his cabin to shower, his temporary absence precipitating this event.) They then engaged in a vigorous bout of coordinated tail slaps. Breaching and tail slapping often punctuate changes in behavior of the group. We took this as a signal to change our behavior and head north, grateful for our afternoon spent with the humpback whales of Gorda Bank.
During the night the National Geographic Sea Bird headed south, pushed along by a gentle Pacific swell, and crossed the Tropic of Cancer. We are now in the tropics. Early morning light found us at Land’s End, off of the southern tip of the Baja California Peninsula. Here, at Cabo San Lucas, there once was a sleepy Mexican fishing village. Now there is a tourist complex of hotels and condominiums, restaurants and margarita mills, and myriad ways to separate the tourists from their dollars. There is also fuel and water, both needed by our ship. We took on some of each. Marj got a new hat. And then we left.
Within minutes of departure we found the spouts of whales. The shape of the spouts identified the whales: they were not the tall, columnar blows that we saw some days ago coming from blue whales, but the shorter, bushy spouts of humpback whales. The shallow water above Gorda Bank is an important breeding area for the Peninsular population of humpback whales. They spend their summers in more northern waters, off of Oregon, Washington, and southern British Columbia. In winter they come to the warmer water of Mexico to bear their calves or, for females not bearing a calf (and for males), to breed. Feeding is not a priority.
Our Expedition Leader thought that we might spend some time with these whales as we made our way into the Gulf of California. Good luck, Jack! The whales would not let us leave. Perhaps the strongest impression emerging from our afternoon of close encounters with the whales, aside from the sheer majesty of the enormous beasts, is the challenge of interpreting their behavior from the brief glimpses that we have when the whales rise to the surface. In this we were aided by National Geographic photographer and humpback whale expert Flip Nicklin, and by the years of experience in Baja California of our natural history staff.
We spent time with two mating groups: an adult female who we expect will become pregnant this season (mating of humpback whales has never been observed), her principal escort male, and two to six hopeful males. The first group had us running from side to side as they surfaced right next to the ship and passed underneath it. Could the female be using our ship as a barrier to provide some relief from the persistent attention of the attendant males? The second, larger group was moving through the water more swiftly and more purposively (at least to our eyes), and closely coordinated in their rising to the surface to breathe and returning to the depths to do whatever they were doing when we could not see them.
We waited and we watched, enthralled; our cameras clicked, and then we really had to leave. The whales would have nothing of it. Just as we turned away, first one whale and then two others in concert rose from the sea in full-body breaches. (We thank Flip for going to his cabin to shower, his temporary absence precipitating this event.) They then engaged in a vigorous bout of coordinated tail slaps. Breaching and tail slapping often punctuate changes in behavior of the group. We took this as a signal to change our behavior and head north, grateful for our afternoon spent with the humpback whales of Gorda Bank.
