Isla San Esteban and Somewhere in the Gulf near San Pedro Martir
We were up with the sun for the last day of our voyage. It was mostly the photographers who landed on Isla San Esteban in the pre-dawn light, positioning themselves for sunrise photos with cardon cacti as foreground.
After breakfast, everyone went ashore for a hike up an arroyo in search of the island’s distinctive lizard fauna. Birds sang and butterflies danced around us as spiny-tailed iguanas soaked up the morning sun, draping themselves on various rocks and later, atop the cardons where they munched on cactus flowers.
One or two of the island’s giant chuckwallas were also sighted and for anyone who didn’t manage to spot one, there were two deceptively realistic versions, including one with bright green stripes, atop a small cardon near the landing. Most of us gawked in amazement until Ralph approached one and threw the plastic toy, which also doubles as a squirt gun, toward the trip’s tripod sherpa who fell to the ground in fright.
The afternoon was spent cruising in the waters near the great guano monolith of San Pedro Martir which holds the Gulf’s center position. Its surrounding waters are famously productive and we went in search of the top of the food chain.
Several hours of dedicated searching finally paid off as blows were spied on the horizon. The tension mounted as we neared a group of whales and when one whale finally fluked, we erupted in excitement. We still weren’t sure what type of whales they were but, with so many fin and blue whales on this trip, we were a little fluke-starved at this point.
As we drew nearer, Jack finally shouted the words we’d been hoping to hear: “Sperm whales!” Suddenly the bow was crowded with a surge of onlookers, including those who jumped out of the shower and were still wet and marked with splotches of shaving cream.
Bottlenose dolphins also seemed to surge toward the bow and for the remaining hours until sunset, we watched sperm whales surface and log and fluke while dolphins jumped and leaped and rode the bow.
An artillery of cameras fired their shots each time a whale sounded for it’s deep dive and rose it’s flukes. As the light grew golden, streams of shimmering water poured off of the massive tails as they sank into the golden sea.
We watched and photographed several whales as they traveled toward the sunset and then, in the final moments of sunlight, we watched as the green flash marked the end of the day. Exhausted, we sat for a few moments, speechless. The entire spectacle was so grand, so spectacular, so perfect a finish for this amazing trip.
How excellent an ending for the fabulously incredible, wondrously fantastic 2002 Baja season.
Or so we thought. Just as these words were written, bioluminescent bow-riding dolphins were announced and we were back on the bow again watching glowing dolphins jetting bright streams through the water and dancing around the bow. If this continues, the Baja season may never end and there probably won’t be any objections on this ship.
We were up with the sun for the last day of our voyage. It was mostly the photographers who landed on Isla San Esteban in the pre-dawn light, positioning themselves for sunrise photos with cardon cacti as foreground.
After breakfast, everyone went ashore for a hike up an arroyo in search of the island’s distinctive lizard fauna. Birds sang and butterflies danced around us as spiny-tailed iguanas soaked up the morning sun, draping themselves on various rocks and later, atop the cardons where they munched on cactus flowers.
One or two of the island’s giant chuckwallas were also sighted and for anyone who didn’t manage to spot one, there were two deceptively realistic versions, including one with bright green stripes, atop a small cardon near the landing. Most of us gawked in amazement until Ralph approached one and threw the plastic toy, which also doubles as a squirt gun, toward the trip’s tripod sherpa who fell to the ground in fright.
The afternoon was spent cruising in the waters near the great guano monolith of San Pedro Martir which holds the Gulf’s center position. Its surrounding waters are famously productive and we went in search of the top of the food chain.
Several hours of dedicated searching finally paid off as blows were spied on the horizon. The tension mounted as we neared a group of whales and when one whale finally fluked, we erupted in excitement. We still weren’t sure what type of whales they were but, with so many fin and blue whales on this trip, we were a little fluke-starved at this point.
As we drew nearer, Jack finally shouted the words we’d been hoping to hear: “Sperm whales!” Suddenly the bow was crowded with a surge of onlookers, including those who jumped out of the shower and were still wet and marked with splotches of shaving cream.
Bottlenose dolphins also seemed to surge toward the bow and for the remaining hours until sunset, we watched sperm whales surface and log and fluke while dolphins jumped and leaped and rode the bow.
An artillery of cameras fired their shots each time a whale sounded for it’s deep dive and rose it’s flukes. As the light grew golden, streams of shimmering water poured off of the massive tails as they sank into the golden sea.
We watched and photographed several whales as they traveled toward the sunset and then, in the final moments of sunlight, we watched as the green flash marked the end of the day. Exhausted, we sat for a few moments, speechless. The entire spectacle was so grand, so spectacular, so perfect a finish for this amazing trip.
How excellent an ending for the fabulously incredible, wondrously fantastic 2002 Baja season.
Or so we thought. Just as these words were written, bioluminescent bow-riding dolphins were announced and we were back on the bow again watching glowing dolphins jetting bright streams through the water and dancing around the bow. If this continues, the Baja season may never end and there probably won’t be any objections on this ship.
