Fire and Water
Twenty-five million years ago volcanoes stood where we found ourselves today. Molten fire exploded skyward from the bowels of the earth. Hot ash rained upon the land welding itself layer by layer into a multicolored blanket thousands of feet thick. In time opposing forces rent the rock and water rushed between.
As the quarter moon was devoured by the rising sun, the muted rust and jade of the Sierra de la Giganta changed to alternating bands of crimson and gold. Confined between the steep eastern escarpment of the peninsula and the cacti covered mountains of Isla San Jose we drifted lazily with the motions of the sea. Heermann’s gulls with red painted beaks and boisterous yellow-footed gulls sailed by. Hundreds of common dolphins danced in our wake time and time again. Fin whales teased, their tall misty blows first near then far, their falcate dorsal fins sometimes barely visible in the sparkling waves and then so near we could almost touch.
Shell fragments bleached to white mixed with pink volcanic ash fragments to form the long crescent beach on Isla San Francisco. The turquoise waters of Half Moon Bay seemed to beckon all. Kayakers plied the rocky shorelines in search of solitude. Swimmers moved with graceful strokes and impromptu water sports were organized. As the sun dipped lower in the sky and the cool of the day approached adventurers set forth to explore the varied and diverse communities of life packed into this tiny islet. From sand dunes to salt flats, from inter-tidal boulders to narrow rocky ridges we investigated the smells and sounds of the desert.
Pleasantly stuffed with barbecue fares we gathered around a blazing fire. One by one the stars appeared enticed perhaps by stories of the land and serenaded by voices raised in song.
