Gulf of California
What is there about mornings? Why are they so rich and colorful for such a brief moment in time? The sun so soon sends its brightest rays and washes the intensity away leaving pastel seas and shores. It may be that beauty and excitement are rationed to us in tiny portions so that we may relish the moment even more.
The sun hadn’t even peeped from below the horizon and we thought that the best of the day had arrived. The sky was a fiery red and the rippled satin sea was royal purple and gold. Isla Carmen wore a pink bed cap and Monserrate was adorned in gilt-edged splendor. The swishing sound of surfing dolphins and their soft inhaling breaths were occasionally punctuated by a percussive slap of a tail. We whispered in reverence of the situation. Little did we know what was yet to come!
Yes, the sun rose, a line of fire beneath a low slung cloud. Concentric rings upon a mirror sea betrayed the presence of sea lions, murrelets and fish. Plunging pelicans were pestered by a pursuing gulls shrieking their “me, me” calls. Fin whale blows hung in the still air like geysers frozen in time. Thousands of common dolphins danced about our bow. A breaching shark cleared the water by several feet towing shouts of surprise. We thought we had seen it all. But time had a surprise in mind.
Killer whales! Out of nowhere a tall dark dorsal cut through the water followed by several smaller falcate ones. We turned in our tracks and changed our plans to see what had drawn them here. Their course it seemed was in the direction from which we had come but at a leisurely meandering speed. A panga loaded with tourists, their outboards spewing bubbles, invited these black and white mammals to play. And we too became an object of great curiosity. Crystal clear waters were a window to their world and we gasped in amazement as time and again they approached the ship and passed beneath while swimming in supine positions. There were at least nine or ten. We were never quite sure of just how many, but there was no doubt that two were large bulls and at least one a tiny baby. And all the while they entertained with close approaches and splashes, we were being drawn back to the bite of Isla Carmen. Here the dolphins were milling, still content in their morning feeding.
What tipped them off? How did they know that an enemy was approaching? Although the whales had stopped their play and separated into three separate factions, our hydrophone picked up no sound, no whispered chirps or squeaks that might have been overheard. Suddenly the sea was a froth of frenzied activity. The surface boiled with the porpoising bodies of hundreds of common dolphins running for their lives. The round-up was well choreographed. One team would herd the main group toward the shore while another would energetically pursue from behind. Finally the youngest were given their parts. They were to practice the hunt. Cutting the weakest dolphin from the herd, they terrified their prey, surrounding it and chasing it down in a game of cat and mouse. Then, as fast as it had all begun, stillness settled upon the waters. No ripple, no movement could be found. The dolphins were gone. The killer whales were calm and yet no meal had been consumed. Slowly they drifted away and we did too.
Back on track for Isla Santa Catalina we screeched to a halt once more as two fin whales appeared. But they were upstaged instantly with the sightings of three strange creatures known as dwarf sperm whales. Usually elusive, these tiniest of whales allowed for close enough approach that their bulbous heads could be visualized.
Finally the island of the giants, Isla Santa Catalina welcomed us. As the shadows of late afternoon crept down the mountain sides and into the arroyo, a chorus of birds began to sing. Emerald jewel-like lizards emerged from beneath the bushes where they had hidden from the blazing sun and a rattleless rattlesnake posed for portrait shots. The endemic barrel cacti sported rusty colored blooms, bridesmaids for their towering neighbors, the cardons.
Evenings too are colorful but in a more subdued kind of way. Purple and pink painted the clouds as the sun went on its way. And now as darkness falls, a time for contemplation comes. We review our day and rerun our week with family and new found friends.
What is there about mornings? Why are they so rich and colorful for such a brief moment in time? The sun so soon sends its brightest rays and washes the intensity away leaving pastel seas and shores. It may be that beauty and excitement are rationed to us in tiny portions so that we may relish the moment even more.
The sun hadn’t even peeped from below the horizon and we thought that the best of the day had arrived. The sky was a fiery red and the rippled satin sea was royal purple and gold. Isla Carmen wore a pink bed cap and Monserrate was adorned in gilt-edged splendor. The swishing sound of surfing dolphins and their soft inhaling breaths were occasionally punctuated by a percussive slap of a tail. We whispered in reverence of the situation. Little did we know what was yet to come!
Yes, the sun rose, a line of fire beneath a low slung cloud. Concentric rings upon a mirror sea betrayed the presence of sea lions, murrelets and fish. Plunging pelicans were pestered by a pursuing gulls shrieking their “me, me” calls. Fin whale blows hung in the still air like geysers frozen in time. Thousands of common dolphins danced about our bow. A breaching shark cleared the water by several feet towing shouts of surprise. We thought we had seen it all. But time had a surprise in mind.
Killer whales! Out of nowhere a tall dark dorsal cut through the water followed by several smaller falcate ones. We turned in our tracks and changed our plans to see what had drawn them here. Their course it seemed was in the direction from which we had come but at a leisurely meandering speed. A panga loaded with tourists, their outboards spewing bubbles, invited these black and white mammals to play. And we too became an object of great curiosity. Crystal clear waters were a window to their world and we gasped in amazement as time and again they approached the ship and passed beneath while swimming in supine positions. There were at least nine or ten. We were never quite sure of just how many, but there was no doubt that two were large bulls and at least one a tiny baby. And all the while they entertained with close approaches and splashes, we were being drawn back to the bite of Isla Carmen. Here the dolphins were milling, still content in their morning feeding.
What tipped them off? How did they know that an enemy was approaching? Although the whales had stopped their play and separated into three separate factions, our hydrophone picked up no sound, no whispered chirps or squeaks that might have been overheard. Suddenly the sea was a froth of frenzied activity. The surface boiled with the porpoising bodies of hundreds of common dolphins running for their lives. The round-up was well choreographed. One team would herd the main group toward the shore while another would energetically pursue from behind. Finally the youngest were given their parts. They were to practice the hunt. Cutting the weakest dolphin from the herd, they terrified their prey, surrounding it and chasing it down in a game of cat and mouse. Then, as fast as it had all begun, stillness settled upon the waters. No ripple, no movement could be found. The dolphins were gone. The killer whales were calm and yet no meal had been consumed. Slowly they drifted away and we did too.
Back on track for Isla Santa Catalina we screeched to a halt once more as two fin whales appeared. But they were upstaged instantly with the sightings of three strange creatures known as dwarf sperm whales. Usually elusive, these tiniest of whales allowed for close enough approach that their bulbous heads could be visualized.
Finally the island of the giants, Isla Santa Catalina welcomed us. As the shadows of late afternoon crept down the mountain sides and into the arroyo, a chorus of birds began to sing. Emerald jewel-like lizards emerged from beneath the bushes where they had hidden from the blazing sun and a rattleless rattlesnake posed for portrait shots. The endemic barrel cacti sported rusty colored blooms, bridesmaids for their towering neighbors, the cardons.
Evenings too are colorful but in a more subdued kind of way. Purple and pink painted the clouds as the sun went on its way. And now as darkness falls, a time for contemplation comes. We review our day and rerun our week with family and new found friends.
