Boca de Soledad
A cool damp breeze blew off the Pacific and through the mangroves as guests appeared on the bow. We hoped to see cow and calf whales before they unpredictably and abruptly left on migration, leaving these waterways empty. Empty at least for what we all came here to see. Yesterday we searched from the higher sand dunes for even a hint of blows but found only waves splashing into the air. At 6:15 this morning, a blow and a little puff of spray broke the water’s surface. It conjured up a mixed feeling of relief and excitement for what lay ahead as we were once again in the presence of whales.
We soon split into groups, boarded Zodiacs and bounced through the chop and spray headed for the lagoon mouth, or Boca, as it’s called on the charts. Two pairs of cows and calves gave us hope as we approached them and were rewarded by their predictable behavior. If you know their intentions, you can maneuver the boat for the best views, and if they decide to look back at us, then we will be in the perfect position to accommodate them. Several cow and calf pairs approached our boats. This simple act of curiosity by gray whales has placed them as one of the most loved creatures on earth. Some people are lucky enough to look into their blowholes just before the high-pressure exhalation deposits droplets all over their clothes, camera lenses, glasses, skin, face, hair and lips. It’s difficult to not become disgustingly reverent.
While some groups went whale watching, the feet of others dropped from our rubber craft onto the fine, wet sand of the barrier islands that protect these lagoons from the bounding Pacific surf. Walking and exploring here is mostly about sand. These tan, beautiful grains have been eroded from the mountains of the two Californias, transported by shore currents, pushed upon the beaches, dropped, dried and blown onto dunes, leaving the surface patterned like giant fingerprints soon stamped for approval by a coyote foot. The damp sand near our ship was different. It had been stopped by rain and high tides while on its overland route to the lagoon, soon to be washed back and forth by tides, and finally flushed into the Pacific. For now the sand held cowries, tiger turrets, turkey wings and spiny Venus clam shells and supported mangroves decorated with the nests of doubled-crested cormorants that flew overhead.
The finale was a fantastic Mexican fiesta complete with Ranchero music. This traditional sound was provided by Los Coyotes de Magdalena, an ensemble of three singers and their guitars. The meal was also authentic, including flour and corn tortillas, tamales, seasoned beef strips, fish, frijoles and rice. Los Coyotes on the ship and the coyotes on the island howled into the night.
