San Ignacio Lagoon, Baja California Sur
It was easy to get out of bed this morning, even after a late evening of utter fascination as we watched fishermen from the town of Santa Rosalio catching large Humboldt squid from their open pangas. Fluorescent lures, set aglow under a bright light, were dropped to 100 feet or more and within moments, yet another squirting squid was hauled into the boat. Most were over two feet long, but one “grande” of more than 4 feet, and weighing perhaps 50 pounds, was held high by a happy fishermen, amid cheers from our bow. That behemoth was soon deposited onto our ship’s fantail and was the subject of a pre-bed dissection and anatomy lesson by our Undersea Specialist Justin Hofman. The anatomy, physiology and life style of large cephalopods such as squids is truly complex and intriguing.
Our eagerness to awake today was with knowledge that we would cross the Baja California peninsula for an equally intriguing look into the life of the gray whales of San Ignacio Lagoon. This huge body of shallow water, off the west coast of Baja, was one of the first to be discovered by the early whaling fleets. Warm, protected waters made for easy hunting, much to the endangerment of the gray whale population. Total protection in 1946 has saved this bottom-feeding baleen species, the only living member of its evolutionary family. It has since shown a remarkable recovery, possibly to numbers exceeding 20,000 individuals. Fast panga rides to the boca of the lagoon paid off. Understandably, we found it hard to imagine why a huge mammal species that was driven almost to extinction now shows little fear of small boats. Indeed, fear has been replaced by apparent friendliness. Mothers with calves of less than 3 months of age willingly approached our small boats, rolling, nursing, blowing and seemingly playing with us. There are few thrills in life that exceed a very close encounter with massive and secretive animals. We were ecstatic.
We also observed a parallel migration between two disparate species. The warm lagoons of Baja host thousands of brant geese, a sea goose that nests on the Arctic tundra. The habitat of the western form of brant lies just on-shore from where the gray whales spend the summer months scooping up bottom sediments in order to filter out millions of tiny amphipods living therein - their staple food. But both the whales and birds must escape the frozen north, the whales to breed and give birth, all the time losing weight. In contrast, the birds feed more during winter, on eelgrass and, a little further north, on herring eggs attached to eelgrass. They are rebuilding their bodies to take them on a long flight to a short nesting period in the Arctic summer. It is remarable to realize that both end up in the same waters for winter.
Our long drive to and from the lagoon was broken by welcome rest stops at the oasis village of San Ignacio. An ancient church established by Jesuits anchors the community. Massive Italian laurel trees shade the town square, and residents openly welcome passing whale watchers. Birds added to the excitement, especially an adult male vermilion flycatcher, whose red crown and breast glowed with a crimson that hardly seems possible in the natural world.
Those in bed early missed yet another marine spectacular. For ten minutes or more a pod of dolphins glowed as if dressed in diamonds as they rode the pressure wave at the bow of our ship. Their speed disturbs millions of planktonic dinoflagellates living in these rich waters, stimulating them to release two internal chemicals, which combine to emit a brief flash of cold light. As they finally left us, someone said, “What a way to end the day.”
It was easy to get out of bed this morning, even after a late evening of utter fascination as we watched fishermen from the town of Santa Rosalio catching large Humboldt squid from their open pangas. Fluorescent lures, set aglow under a bright light, were dropped to 100 feet or more and within moments, yet another squirting squid was hauled into the boat. Most were over two feet long, but one “grande” of more than 4 feet, and weighing perhaps 50 pounds, was held high by a happy fishermen, amid cheers from our bow. That behemoth was soon deposited onto our ship’s fantail and was the subject of a pre-bed dissection and anatomy lesson by our Undersea Specialist Justin Hofman. The anatomy, physiology and life style of large cephalopods such as squids is truly complex and intriguing.
Our eagerness to awake today was with knowledge that we would cross the Baja California peninsula for an equally intriguing look into the life of the gray whales of San Ignacio Lagoon. This huge body of shallow water, off the west coast of Baja, was one of the first to be discovered by the early whaling fleets. Warm, protected waters made for easy hunting, much to the endangerment of the gray whale population. Total protection in 1946 has saved this bottom-feeding baleen species, the only living member of its evolutionary family. It has since shown a remarkable recovery, possibly to numbers exceeding 20,000 individuals. Fast panga rides to the boca of the lagoon paid off. Understandably, we found it hard to imagine why a huge mammal species that was driven almost to extinction now shows little fear of small boats. Indeed, fear has been replaced by apparent friendliness. Mothers with calves of less than 3 months of age willingly approached our small boats, rolling, nursing, blowing and seemingly playing with us. There are few thrills in life that exceed a very close encounter with massive and secretive animals. We were ecstatic.
We also observed a parallel migration between two disparate species. The warm lagoons of Baja host thousands of brant geese, a sea goose that nests on the Arctic tundra. The habitat of the western form of brant lies just on-shore from where the gray whales spend the summer months scooping up bottom sediments in order to filter out millions of tiny amphipods living therein - their staple food. But both the whales and birds must escape the frozen north, the whales to breed and give birth, all the time losing weight. In contrast, the birds feed more during winter, on eelgrass and, a little further north, on herring eggs attached to eelgrass. They are rebuilding their bodies to take them on a long flight to a short nesting period in the Arctic summer. It is remarable to realize that both end up in the same waters for winter.
Our long drive to and from the lagoon was broken by welcome rest stops at the oasis village of San Ignacio. An ancient church established by Jesuits anchors the community. Massive Italian laurel trees shade the town square, and residents openly welcome passing whale watchers. Birds added to the excitement, especially an adult male vermilion flycatcher, whose red crown and breast glowed with a crimson that hardly seems possible in the natural world.
Those in bed early missed yet another marine spectacular. For ten minutes or more a pod of dolphins glowed as if dressed in diamonds as they rode the pressure wave at the bow of our ship. Their speed disturbs millions of planktonic dinoflagellates living in these rich waters, stimulating them to release two internal chemicals, which combine to emit a brief flash of cold light. As they finally left us, someone said, “What a way to end the day.”
