Los Islotes & Isla San Francisco
We awoke this morning to unusual sights and sounds. Los Islotes is a tiny island at the mouth of Bahia La Paz. Volcanic tuff rises from the sea like a rufous castle. Ramparts, battlements and towers have been sculpted by the waves, and all lie under an ammoniac snow. Guarding this castle are legions of sea lions. The beasts sprawl about the lower reaches of the island. And what a cacophony the make! Most are engaged in regular goofy barking, but the younger ‘lions indulge in a pathetic bellowing scream. Thinking that the volume was not high enough from the ship, we all jumped into Zodiacs to experience Los Islotes up close. We found sea lions covering the rocks, looking like melted taffy or piles of dirty laundry. Though all seemed abandoned to states of total relaxation, some would wake to give a soulful, wide-eyed gaze at our approach. Los Islotes is also home to birds. Pelicans soared like new-age pterodactyls, and when fish were near the surface, they suddenly plunged, transformed to feathery javelins. Gulls flew in, eager for any scraps left in the piscivorous carnage. Blue-footed boobies gave their wheezy whistles, and brown boobies lightened their loads at us from pockets in the cliffs. And above all wheeled the frigatebirds, ready for a kleptoparasitic dogfight.
Next we explored Los Islotes from beneath the waves. Donning garish snorkeling gear, we slipped into the chilly water. Though sea lions seem ungainly on land, in their marine element they soar and rocket like ballerinas or freight trains. Young ‘lions are particularly good fun. Filled with coquettish curiosity or impish mischief, they darted in at us and as suddenly fled, like wild aquatic puppies.
Northbound after lunch, we headed for Isla San Francisco. We were lucky to be traveling with Octavio, who may know more about sea lion biology at Los Islotes than anyone in the world. He gave us a quick lecture about marine mammals. And what a conclusion! Just as he finished, a whale was spotted from the bow and we all hurried up to look. This was a humpback whale, very different in style from yesterday’s blues. This black-looking cetacean swam slowly, showing its funny double-humped dorsal fin. The humpback was a bit underwhelming, but things livened up a bit when common dolphins arrived. These dainty cetaceans make up in number what they lack in size. Our group was perhaps two hundred strong. Their combined surfacing sounded like the rush of a gentle cascade. Some of the dolphins came over to bow ride, so we could see their sinuous patterning and the remora fish that frequently cling to their sides.
Leaving these distractions at last we made our way to Isla San Francisco. The other islands we’ve walked have been lush with floral and vegetative abundance, but San Francisco is drought-blasted. Trees that elsewhere stood above our heads were dwarfed into natural bonsais. This island is home for the diminutive horned toad and the crafty packrat. Many of us prowled the rocky slopes of San Francisco, while others paddled the placid waters of Half-Moon Cove, or took a refreshing swim. And our last dinner in Baja was a tasty barbecue on sandy shores. Our day ended as it began, with pleasing sights and sounds. We sang around the campfire as stars lit the desert skies.
We awoke this morning to unusual sights and sounds. Los Islotes is a tiny island at the mouth of Bahia La Paz. Volcanic tuff rises from the sea like a rufous castle. Ramparts, battlements and towers have been sculpted by the waves, and all lie under an ammoniac snow. Guarding this castle are legions of sea lions. The beasts sprawl about the lower reaches of the island. And what a cacophony the make! Most are engaged in regular goofy barking, but the younger ‘lions indulge in a pathetic bellowing scream. Thinking that the volume was not high enough from the ship, we all jumped into Zodiacs to experience Los Islotes up close. We found sea lions covering the rocks, looking like melted taffy or piles of dirty laundry. Though all seemed abandoned to states of total relaxation, some would wake to give a soulful, wide-eyed gaze at our approach. Los Islotes is also home to birds. Pelicans soared like new-age pterodactyls, and when fish were near the surface, they suddenly plunged, transformed to feathery javelins. Gulls flew in, eager for any scraps left in the piscivorous carnage. Blue-footed boobies gave their wheezy whistles, and brown boobies lightened their loads at us from pockets in the cliffs. And above all wheeled the frigatebirds, ready for a kleptoparasitic dogfight.
Next we explored Los Islotes from beneath the waves. Donning garish snorkeling gear, we slipped into the chilly water. Though sea lions seem ungainly on land, in their marine element they soar and rocket like ballerinas or freight trains. Young ‘lions are particularly good fun. Filled with coquettish curiosity or impish mischief, they darted in at us and as suddenly fled, like wild aquatic puppies.
Northbound after lunch, we headed for Isla San Francisco. We were lucky to be traveling with Octavio, who may know more about sea lion biology at Los Islotes than anyone in the world. He gave us a quick lecture about marine mammals. And what a conclusion! Just as he finished, a whale was spotted from the bow and we all hurried up to look. This was a humpback whale, very different in style from yesterday’s blues. This black-looking cetacean swam slowly, showing its funny double-humped dorsal fin. The humpback was a bit underwhelming, but things livened up a bit when common dolphins arrived. These dainty cetaceans make up in number what they lack in size. Our group was perhaps two hundred strong. Their combined surfacing sounded like the rush of a gentle cascade. Some of the dolphins came over to bow ride, so we could see their sinuous patterning and the remora fish that frequently cling to their sides.
Leaving these distractions at last we made our way to Isla San Francisco. The other islands we’ve walked have been lush with floral and vegetative abundance, but San Francisco is drought-blasted. Trees that elsewhere stood above our heads were dwarfed into natural bonsais. This island is home for the diminutive horned toad and the crafty packrat. Many of us prowled the rocky slopes of San Francisco, while others paddled the placid waters of Half-Moon Cove, or took a refreshing swim. And our last dinner in Baja was a tasty barbecue on sandy shores. Our day ended as it began, with pleasing sights and sounds. We sang around the campfire as stars lit the desert skies.
