Isla Espiritu Santo
As the wake-up call came this morning, the sun was just cresting the nearby volcanic peaks of Isla Espiritu Santo, casting its warm glow on our upturned faces. Our first day in Baja literally blew the mainland stink off us, as brisk winds ruffled our hair on deck. Undeterred by the prospects of wave chop, we boarded the Zodiacs for our first island adventure, and we were not disappointed. Reaching the beach, we gazed upon verdant groves of red mangroves, and even found “droppers,” or the sprouted seed propagules of this plant, still attached to its parent. Traipsing through piles of oyster shells (which provided the pearls famous in this region) and conch shells (which indicate that hungry fishermen had used this beach as a safe haven during previous windy periods), we struck out for the inner part of the island. Delicately skirting jojoba and pickleweed, it was hard to watch our footing and escape the spiny claws of the jumping cholla as there was so much at which to gape. Butterflies wheeled around our heads in elegant sulfur, tantalizing blue, the rich orange royalty of the Queen butterfly, and the nautical brown skippers. Terns chattered as the chased each other across the cove, frigatebirds serenely looked on while gliding above, biding their time until they could reveal their plundering pirate nature by stealing the newly-won fish from a smaller avian brother. Suddenly there was an ear-splitting scream and our binoculars were jerked to our eyes in time to watch two red-tailed hawks circling in a dance of courtship, screaming love poems to each other (not the tone I would choose), the sun lighting their tails aflame. All of this activity was starkly contrasted by the stalwart cardon, which have seen many generations of hawks and terns, and even more generations of butterflies and dragonflies, come and go, while they slowly grew and endured the harsh seasons with no water. But today the splendor of the desert outshone the constant cardon, as there has been plenty of water in this desert area over the past two seasons. The rock daisies attested to the recent precipitation by exuberantly waving in the gentle breeze, and the spurges along the path were so healthy they looked like patches of blood on the brown dirt.
After lunch we explored this aquatic realm of this region, snorkeling and kayaking along the shores. Schools of juvenile greybar grunts and sergeant majors swirled around us as we first entered the water, and groups of Cortez angelfish swam to our masks, trying to protect their domain with a valiant show of bravery before darting back to cover behind the nearest outcropping of elegant coral. While reef coronetfish gently sculled slowly through the water, visible only when backlit, despite being at least 2.5 feet long, families of three-banded butterfly fish swirled around each other in a confusing display of convict stripes. Gaggles of female blue-chin parrotfish patrolled the sandy flats like teenaged girls in a mall, checking out the other fish in the area and pausing occasionally to nibble daintily on coral. While kayaking, the sun warmed us and the breeze kept us cool, a perfect combination. Has it really only been a day that we have been in Baja? Exhausted from the days activities, we slowly perambulated along the ship’s decks, gazing up at the brilliant stars and the cloudy Milky Way and down at the reflected brilliance in the ocean as dinoflagellates glared their bioluminescent flares when disturbed by passing fish. Those brilliant flashes were mirrored in our dreams as the ship rocked us gently to sleep.
As the wake-up call came this morning, the sun was just cresting the nearby volcanic peaks of Isla Espiritu Santo, casting its warm glow on our upturned faces. Our first day in Baja literally blew the mainland stink off us, as brisk winds ruffled our hair on deck. Undeterred by the prospects of wave chop, we boarded the Zodiacs for our first island adventure, and we were not disappointed. Reaching the beach, we gazed upon verdant groves of red mangroves, and even found “droppers,” or the sprouted seed propagules of this plant, still attached to its parent. Traipsing through piles of oyster shells (which provided the pearls famous in this region) and conch shells (which indicate that hungry fishermen had used this beach as a safe haven during previous windy periods), we struck out for the inner part of the island. Delicately skirting jojoba and pickleweed, it was hard to watch our footing and escape the spiny claws of the jumping cholla as there was so much at which to gape. Butterflies wheeled around our heads in elegant sulfur, tantalizing blue, the rich orange royalty of the Queen butterfly, and the nautical brown skippers. Terns chattered as the chased each other across the cove, frigatebirds serenely looked on while gliding above, biding their time until they could reveal their plundering pirate nature by stealing the newly-won fish from a smaller avian brother. Suddenly there was an ear-splitting scream and our binoculars were jerked to our eyes in time to watch two red-tailed hawks circling in a dance of courtship, screaming love poems to each other (not the tone I would choose), the sun lighting their tails aflame. All of this activity was starkly contrasted by the stalwart cardon, which have seen many generations of hawks and terns, and even more generations of butterflies and dragonflies, come and go, while they slowly grew and endured the harsh seasons with no water. But today the splendor of the desert outshone the constant cardon, as there has been plenty of water in this desert area over the past two seasons. The rock daisies attested to the recent precipitation by exuberantly waving in the gentle breeze, and the spurges along the path were so healthy they looked like patches of blood on the brown dirt.
After lunch we explored this aquatic realm of this region, snorkeling and kayaking along the shores. Schools of juvenile greybar grunts and sergeant majors swirled around us as we first entered the water, and groups of Cortez angelfish swam to our masks, trying to protect their domain with a valiant show of bravery before darting back to cover behind the nearest outcropping of elegant coral. While reef coronetfish gently sculled slowly through the water, visible only when backlit, despite being at least 2.5 feet long, families of three-banded butterfly fish swirled around each other in a confusing display of convict stripes. Gaggles of female blue-chin parrotfish patrolled the sandy flats like teenaged girls in a mall, checking out the other fish in the area and pausing occasionally to nibble daintily on coral. While kayaking, the sun warmed us and the breeze kept us cool, a perfect combination. Has it really only been a day that we have been in Baja? Exhausted from the days activities, we slowly perambulated along the ship’s decks, gazing up at the brilliant stars and the cloudy Milky Way and down at the reflected brilliance in the ocean as dinoflagellates glared their bioluminescent flares when disturbed by passing fish. Those brilliant flashes were mirrored in our dreams as the ship rocked us gently to sleep.