Bahia Magdalena
Our impressions of the world are built on fragments of information. While darkness still dominated the land, the bow of the ship was aimed directly at Polaris. A cold wind blew and we snuggled inside of our jackets with a cup of warm tea or coffee in hand. Taken as a segment in time it would appear that we were heading north and that the climate was appropriate for the initial day of March. The chart plotter estimated our time of arrival as “never”. This could have been disconcerting except for the additional tidbit needed: we were at anchor and our GPS told us that we were at the Boca de Soledad, the northern end of Magdalena Bay.
Our jackets rapidly gathered condensation and we felt as damp as in a shower of rain. But the skies were clear above. A glance at the mangrove trees lining the western edge of the channel added a few more pieces to this puzzle. Epiphytes dripped from their branches, a sure sign that we were within the zone of fog, or at least the area where fog would develop if the wind were not blowing strongly enough to scatter the dew around.
A smoke-like plume appeared, a heart shaped blow from the nostrils of a whale. It was accompanied by a weaker puff. Until our eyes were tuned, trained to observe and collect each and every detail we could only assume that we were seeing a pair of whales, one large and one small. But little by little we were able to assemble the whole, a mother and calf. More and more observations coalesced. The knuckled tail stocks and the pointed rostrums told us the species was a gray. The mottled skin and colorful parasite load arranged themselves into recognizable patterns and each whale became an individual unto itself. The dimpled rostrum of the calf even sported tiny hairs, a necessity to be considered a member of the mammalian crowd. Soon the snapshots of each portion of the body created an image of the whole. Our knowledge of the species grew step-by-step throughout the day and now we are enriched by familiarity.
Sand sorted itself into organized piles on shore. Horseshoe shaped barchan dunes were decorated by miniscule transverse ripple marks. Slip faces flowed like fluid and wind nipped away corners revealing layered patterns. Colorful shells of many shapes and forms gathered tiny dunes into their leeside pockets. Our eyes dwelt on the details and formed the entirety, an island shaped by the shifting sands, constantly moving and changing.
Each day we expand our horizons. Small facts add to our understanding of the world as a whole. Each day brings a new awareness that helps to define our relationship with the other inhabitants of this planet. We go to bed each night anticipating the coming sunrise and the beginning of a new day.
Our impressions of the world are built on fragments of information. While darkness still dominated the land, the bow of the ship was aimed directly at Polaris. A cold wind blew and we snuggled inside of our jackets with a cup of warm tea or coffee in hand. Taken as a segment in time it would appear that we were heading north and that the climate was appropriate for the initial day of March. The chart plotter estimated our time of arrival as “never”. This could have been disconcerting except for the additional tidbit needed: we were at anchor and our GPS told us that we were at the Boca de Soledad, the northern end of Magdalena Bay.
Our jackets rapidly gathered condensation and we felt as damp as in a shower of rain. But the skies were clear above. A glance at the mangrove trees lining the western edge of the channel added a few more pieces to this puzzle. Epiphytes dripped from their branches, a sure sign that we were within the zone of fog, or at least the area where fog would develop if the wind were not blowing strongly enough to scatter the dew around.
A smoke-like plume appeared, a heart shaped blow from the nostrils of a whale. It was accompanied by a weaker puff. Until our eyes were tuned, trained to observe and collect each and every detail we could only assume that we were seeing a pair of whales, one large and one small. But little by little we were able to assemble the whole, a mother and calf. More and more observations coalesced. The knuckled tail stocks and the pointed rostrums told us the species was a gray. The mottled skin and colorful parasite load arranged themselves into recognizable patterns and each whale became an individual unto itself. The dimpled rostrum of the calf even sported tiny hairs, a necessity to be considered a member of the mammalian crowd. Soon the snapshots of each portion of the body created an image of the whole. Our knowledge of the species grew step-by-step throughout the day and now we are enriched by familiarity.
Sand sorted itself into organized piles on shore. Horseshoe shaped barchan dunes were decorated by miniscule transverse ripple marks. Slip faces flowed like fluid and wind nipped away corners revealing layered patterns. Colorful shells of many shapes and forms gathered tiny dunes into their leeside pockets. Our eyes dwelt on the details and formed the entirety, an island shaped by the shifting sands, constantly moving and changing.
Each day we expand our horizons. Small facts add to our understanding of the world as a whole. Each day brings a new awareness that helps to define our relationship with the other inhabitants of this planet. We go to bed each night anticipating the coming sunrise and the beginning of a new day.
