San Ignacio Lagoon
At 5:30 am, our Expedition Leader, Ralph Lee Hopkins, stirred us from our slumber with a soft wakeup call. At the first glow of morning, it became apparent that we were shrouded in fog and there were no pangeros. We needed these Mexican boatmen to guide us into the heart of San Ignacio Lagoon, where hopefully gray whale mothers and their calves waited for our arrival. So much for Plan A.
Captain Kay began to blow the Sea Bird’s horn to help guide the pangeros to us, and eventually they arrived. Unfortunately so did more dense grey fog. All that could be done was to have breakfast and patiently wait.
Finally by mid-morning, the fog began to blow out to sea, and we quickly loaded in the Zodiacs for a cetacean experience. But just getting into the lagoon was an adventure. The entrance is guarded by sandbars that create a maze of swells and breaking waves, which were deftly negotiated by the pangeros.
Once inside San Ignacio, it didn’t take long before whale blows and whale parts – fins flukes, and heads – were spotted. Our driver cautiously motored closer to the activity. At first the mother whales and their calves seemed to be more interested in themselves – there was a great deal of slow rolling, babies spying out of the water, bubble blasting, and heavy breathing. But then quite suddenly, they turned their attention to us.
Salt spray and whale snot soaked us, but we didn’t care. Hands reached out hoping for a close encounter. Whale calves and mothers nudged our little boat. They stuck their heads out of the sea and seemed to peer at us. What must they think of these strange creatures with cameras in hand, squealing in delight?
After a lunch, another contingent went out. The whales welcomed us once more. Film, pixels, and memories were burned at an amazing rate. Much too soon it was time to head back to the Sea Bird. But where was she? Fog had rolled in again along the western horizon, and our little ship was gone. Luckily, the lead pangero knew these waters well and how to use a GPS. So off we charged into the gathering gloom and arrived right at our home away from home. What a marvelous day it had been, in the presence of huge wild beasts that seemed to be just as curious about us as we were of them. Hasta la vista ballenas y muchas gracias!
At 5:30 am, our Expedition Leader, Ralph Lee Hopkins, stirred us from our slumber with a soft wakeup call. At the first glow of morning, it became apparent that we were shrouded in fog and there were no pangeros. We needed these Mexican boatmen to guide us into the heart of San Ignacio Lagoon, where hopefully gray whale mothers and their calves waited for our arrival. So much for Plan A.
Captain Kay began to blow the Sea Bird’s horn to help guide the pangeros to us, and eventually they arrived. Unfortunately so did more dense grey fog. All that could be done was to have breakfast and patiently wait.
Finally by mid-morning, the fog began to blow out to sea, and we quickly loaded in the Zodiacs for a cetacean experience. But just getting into the lagoon was an adventure. The entrance is guarded by sandbars that create a maze of swells and breaking waves, which were deftly negotiated by the pangeros.
Once inside San Ignacio, it didn’t take long before whale blows and whale parts – fins flukes, and heads – were spotted. Our driver cautiously motored closer to the activity. At first the mother whales and their calves seemed to be more interested in themselves – there was a great deal of slow rolling, babies spying out of the water, bubble blasting, and heavy breathing. But then quite suddenly, they turned their attention to us.
Salt spray and whale snot soaked us, but we didn’t care. Hands reached out hoping for a close encounter. Whale calves and mothers nudged our little boat. They stuck their heads out of the sea and seemed to peer at us. What must they think of these strange creatures with cameras in hand, squealing in delight?
After a lunch, another contingent went out. The whales welcomed us once more. Film, pixels, and memories were burned at an amazing rate. Much too soon it was time to head back to the Sea Bird. But where was she? Fog had rolled in again along the western horizon, and our little ship was gone. Luckily, the lead pangero knew these waters well and how to use a GPS. So off we charged into the gathering gloom and arrived right at our home away from home. What a marvelous day it had been, in the presence of huge wild beasts that seemed to be just as curious about us as we were of them. Hasta la vista ballenas y muchas gracias!
