From Santa Rosalia, at sea mid-latitudes south of the Midriff Islands
Today the magic of spontaneity has swum alongside us in calm waters.Whale sightings begin with a mother fin whale and her tiny calf, a fraction of her enormous length, swimming close by her. Another four fin whales share these waters. Excited about fin whale watching, we sail northward and are thrilled when a leatherback turtle is sighted. By careful ship maneuvering and a sense of timing we stay near it and all are able to get some excellent looks at the most rare sea turtle of ancient lineage, 65 million years on “Planet Ocean.” Having evolved at a time to see the end of the dinosaurs and having survived into the dawn of humanity, it is now extremely endangered in the Pacific, largely due to long line and gill net fisheries. Its population has dropped from already low numbers by 95% in the last twenty years. The huge turtle floats to the surface to breathe, showing a unique ridged carapace. We are amazed when a second leatherback shows up about eight miles further north. Soon we near about five blue whales, their slow breathing tempo bursting the calm sea surface. At sunset we find ourselves amidst some twenty lunge-feeding fin whales at a submarine canyon rich in upwellings; lovely orange light silhouetting blue Baja Peninsula mountains. Storm-petrels, pelicans, eared grebes, boobies, mobula rays and phalaropes have shared this day in a fertile sea. But wait, there’s more!
Nocturnal expedition report:
The Vermillion Sea is dense with krill and night life surrounds the ship. The high–frequency trilled peeps are phalaropes: the plankton-feeding, swimming sandpipers preparing for migration. They double their feeding time as well as their weight as day shift goes to night shift. Darkness brings plankton to the surface and there is super abundance here, over a submarine canyon between 800 and 1800 foot depths. Deep exhalations of the fin whales are followed by whistled inhalations, reminiscent of a musician, warming up her flute. It seems like we are hearing the breath of the Earth. Hundreds of feeding squid streak by and excite bioluminescent plankton as they rush through the night seas in wild back and forth hunting motion. We are quiet, adrift with 800 feet of water below the ship and far from any land. We crowd on the bow of the ship to enjoy a rare silence filled with breath and life. At the stern we watch the squid as large groups are attracted to ship lights. Flying fish move through the scene, sometimes resting at the surface, then flying on short jumps, swimming away fast and deep. Krill are dense like red chowder. Over all the sounds and sights of the darkness, last night’s full moon rises again, and the bright constellations and Milky Way give way to moonlight on an unforgettable night.
Today the magic of spontaneity has swum alongside us in calm waters.Whale sightings begin with a mother fin whale and her tiny calf, a fraction of her enormous length, swimming close by her. Another four fin whales share these waters. Excited about fin whale watching, we sail northward and are thrilled when a leatherback turtle is sighted. By careful ship maneuvering and a sense of timing we stay near it and all are able to get some excellent looks at the most rare sea turtle of ancient lineage, 65 million years on “Planet Ocean.” Having evolved at a time to see the end of the dinosaurs and having survived into the dawn of humanity, it is now extremely endangered in the Pacific, largely due to long line and gill net fisheries. Its population has dropped from already low numbers by 95% in the last twenty years. The huge turtle floats to the surface to breathe, showing a unique ridged carapace. We are amazed when a second leatherback shows up about eight miles further north. Soon we near about five blue whales, their slow breathing tempo bursting the calm sea surface. At sunset we find ourselves amidst some twenty lunge-feeding fin whales at a submarine canyon rich in upwellings; lovely orange light silhouetting blue Baja Peninsula mountains. Storm-petrels, pelicans, eared grebes, boobies, mobula rays and phalaropes have shared this day in a fertile sea. But wait, there’s more!
Nocturnal expedition report:
The Vermillion Sea is dense with krill and night life surrounds the ship. The high–frequency trilled peeps are phalaropes: the plankton-feeding, swimming sandpipers preparing for migration. They double their feeding time as well as their weight as day shift goes to night shift. Darkness brings plankton to the surface and there is super abundance here, over a submarine canyon between 800 and 1800 foot depths. Deep exhalations of the fin whales are followed by whistled inhalations, reminiscent of a musician, warming up her flute. It seems like we are hearing the breath of the Earth. Hundreds of feeding squid streak by and excite bioluminescent plankton as they rush through the night seas in wild back and forth hunting motion. We are quiet, adrift with 800 feet of water below the ship and far from any land. We crowd on the bow of the ship to enjoy a rare silence filled with breath and life. At the stern we watch the squid as large groups are attracted to ship lights. Flying fish move through the scene, sometimes resting at the surface, then flying on short jumps, swimming away fast and deep. Krill are dense like red chowder. Over all the sounds and sights of the darkness, last night’s full moon rises again, and the bright constellations and Milky Way give way to moonlight on an unforgettable night.
