Gulf of California
The ship slowed to a halt just before sunrise. Although the deceleration was gentle, its effect was as abrupt as if we had been catapulted from our beds. It is strange how familiarity creates an ability to communicate without words. Only a few days on board had conditioned responses as strong as any Pavlovian experiment would have done. If the ship stops, there is something outside. It was a simple as that. It was cut and dried, black and white. But it was not black and white outside.
The sun attempted to steal into the sky, hidden behind the gentle slopes of Isla San Jose. It could not contain the rays of pink that spilled from behind the hills and swirled into cotton candy clouds which soon melted into crimson streams coating the east facing slopes of the Sierra de la Giganta. A golden pathway rolled across the channel splitting the navy seas where the long arched back of a blue whale followed its blow. As lipstick sporting Hermann’s gulls pursued chocolate-naped brown pelicans whining their “me, me” calls and yellow-footed gulls barked, eared grebes drifted silently in tight knots calmly peering beneath the surface as if to search for the massive mammals below. If one surfaced only feet away, not a feather ruffled nor was an avoidance maneuver performed. And yet when this largest of mammals came near to us, shrieks and screams escaped. It was hard to comprehend the rarity of this cetacean species for we spent the morning surrounded by a half dozen blue whales and possibly more.
As the day drifted on we explored the forces that created this land and that worked still to wear it down. Layered volcanics, sheared by faulting and tilted by tensional stress, formed the backdrop for afternoon adventures at Punta San Marcial. Where water flooded their edges, snorkelers paddled and kayakers slipped silently through the waves. An arroyo meandered sinuously leading us forever further from shore into a lush green corridor where flowers bloomed. And yet just feet away cacti told of months with no rain. Where gravity tumbled the rocks from on high and water worked them into fragments to form a beach, we picnicked in elegance until the stars appeared and the fire burned low.
The ship slowed to a halt just before sunrise. Although the deceleration was gentle, its effect was as abrupt as if we had been catapulted from our beds. It is strange how familiarity creates an ability to communicate without words. Only a few days on board had conditioned responses as strong as any Pavlovian experiment would have done. If the ship stops, there is something outside. It was a simple as that. It was cut and dried, black and white. But it was not black and white outside.
The sun attempted to steal into the sky, hidden behind the gentle slopes of Isla San Jose. It could not contain the rays of pink that spilled from behind the hills and swirled into cotton candy clouds which soon melted into crimson streams coating the east facing slopes of the Sierra de la Giganta. A golden pathway rolled across the channel splitting the navy seas where the long arched back of a blue whale followed its blow. As lipstick sporting Hermann’s gulls pursued chocolate-naped brown pelicans whining their “me, me” calls and yellow-footed gulls barked, eared grebes drifted silently in tight knots calmly peering beneath the surface as if to search for the massive mammals below. If one surfaced only feet away, not a feather ruffled nor was an avoidance maneuver performed. And yet when this largest of mammals came near to us, shrieks and screams escaped. It was hard to comprehend the rarity of this cetacean species for we spent the morning surrounded by a half dozen blue whales and possibly more.
As the day drifted on we explored the forces that created this land and that worked still to wear it down. Layered volcanics, sheared by faulting and tilted by tensional stress, formed the backdrop for afternoon adventures at Punta San Marcial. Where water flooded their edges, snorkelers paddled and kayakers slipped silently through the waves. An arroyo meandered sinuously leading us forever further from shore into a lush green corridor where flowers bloomed. And yet just feet away cacti told of months with no rain. Where gravity tumbled the rocks from on high and water worked them into fragments to form a beach, we picnicked in elegance until the stars appeared and the fire burned low.
