Isla Magdalena, Baja California Sur
The rising sun was hidden this morning. A thin cloud layer had settled high over the quiet waters of Canal de la Magdalena, the narrow waterway also known as Canal de la Soledad, or simply Hull Canal. Clouds are not atypical here, as moist Pacific air brushes over the cold waters of the California Current. Frequent fog banks give life to this “fog desert.” Early risers went out in search of the few remaining gray whales, which have given birth and protected their robust calves here for the past three months. As we learned yesterday, most have already headed north into the challenging waters of the Pacific Ocean, destined for rich feeding grounds off the west and north coasts of Alaska. The searchers did find scenic shorelines and fragile life along the mangrove edges, including a normally secretive clapper rail and a contingent of egrets and herons.
The endless sand dunes drew us to shore again. The mid section of the huge barrier island called Magdalena is a postcard of sand ripples, scattered plants and endless dunes. The surface is moving slowly, tumbling along in tiny fashion with each offshore wind. We wandered and explored, slip-sliding as we went, viewing the distant ocean and surprising California black-tailed jackrabbits and coyotes. The kids were in paradise, tumbling, rolling, digging and tunneling in “…the largest sand box in the world”. And remnants of early peoples were found; shell middens created by the Guaycura Indians are scattered here and there throughout the length of Isla Magdalena. Shifting sand exposes the middens for short periods, then hides them again. Among the shells were a few fist-size rocks – surely the tools of these nomadic people, whose exploits date well before the arrival of the Spanish in the 1600s.
Our final venture ashore was an afternoon in the mangroves at El Barril, an intricate network of tidal drainages. Mangrove plants thrive on salt water, but each species has its own physiological system for separating and ridding itself of the unwanted salt. Kayaks slid peacefully along narrow channels. Zodiacs took us far into the marsh’s circulatory system. Life was evident in the warm water, and shorebirds waited for the tide to, once again, expose the invertebrate-rich mud flats of Bahia Magdalena.
The rising sun was hidden this morning. A thin cloud layer had settled high over the quiet waters of Canal de la Magdalena, the narrow waterway also known as Canal de la Soledad, or simply Hull Canal. Clouds are not atypical here, as moist Pacific air brushes over the cold waters of the California Current. Frequent fog banks give life to this “fog desert.” Early risers went out in search of the few remaining gray whales, which have given birth and protected their robust calves here for the past three months. As we learned yesterday, most have already headed north into the challenging waters of the Pacific Ocean, destined for rich feeding grounds off the west and north coasts of Alaska. The searchers did find scenic shorelines and fragile life along the mangrove edges, including a normally secretive clapper rail and a contingent of egrets and herons.
The endless sand dunes drew us to shore again. The mid section of the huge barrier island called Magdalena is a postcard of sand ripples, scattered plants and endless dunes. The surface is moving slowly, tumbling along in tiny fashion with each offshore wind. We wandered and explored, slip-sliding as we went, viewing the distant ocean and surprising California black-tailed jackrabbits and coyotes. The kids were in paradise, tumbling, rolling, digging and tunneling in “…the largest sand box in the world”. And remnants of early peoples were found; shell middens created by the Guaycura Indians are scattered here and there throughout the length of Isla Magdalena. Shifting sand exposes the middens for short periods, then hides them again. Among the shells were a few fist-size rocks – surely the tools of these nomadic people, whose exploits date well before the arrival of the Spanish in the 1600s.
Our final venture ashore was an afternoon in the mangroves at El Barril, an intricate network of tidal drainages. Mangrove plants thrive on salt water, but each species has its own physiological system for separating and ridding itself of the unwanted salt. Kayaks slid peacefully along narrow channels. Zodiacs took us far into the marsh’s circulatory system. Life was evident in the warm water, and shorebirds waited for the tide to, once again, expose the invertebrate-rich mud flats of Bahia Magdalena.
