Boca de la Soledad
We awoke this morning in the Boca de la Soledad to the announcement that a number of mother-calf grey whale pairs had been sighted from the ship. Racing to the bow, we did not need our binoculars to see these magnificent beasts. Plus, as an added bonus, we were just in time for a lovely sunrise. Mesmerized by the whales, we quickly ate breakfast, donned our life jackets, and headed for the Zodiacs. We dared to hope that whale watching today would be as awe-inspiring as yesterday, but the whales exceeded our expectations. More expectant mothers had entered the calm waters during the night, and yesterday's mothers and calves were even more relaxed around our boats. Swimming close to us, they truly performed by spyhopping long enough for pictures, rolling about to give us good views of their barnacle-encrusted bodies, displaying their flukes, and even being so kind as to extend a pectoral fin high into the air following a guest's query as to the size of these appendages. Watching the protective mothers and their large, yet delicate newborns, it saddened us to think that any of these beauties would be lost along the long migration route back to Alaska for the summer feeding season. However, these calves have at least a month of strengthening exercises and lessons learned before the migratory ordeal.
After more than two hours of communing with the whales, a short hike was in order. We buzzed over to a nearby beach to examine the treasures left by the receding tide. And what a bounty there was! Gorgeous Venus clams with a characteristic row of long spines projecting on one end of the shell were scattered along the sand. These spines assist in stabilizing the animals in their shifting environment. It was almost impossible to walk more than ten steps without finding a turritellid snail. These high-spired shells ranged in length from two to eight inches. Some of the shells bore witness to their demise. Drill holes in their sides showed that the shell inhabitant was slaughtered by a carnivorous moon snail. Other shells showed the battle scars of victory: thickened shell regions where a crab cracked back the shell, but not far enough. The wily snail under attack retreated far enough inside its castle turret that the crab either lost interest or was interrupted from its predatory pursuits. Re-emerging only slightly scathed, the snail repaired its shell and continued to grow. Although the majority of snails are grazers, these unusual snails suspension feed. Lying either prone on the sand or burying their shell, turritellids draw water over their gill, trap food particles there, flush out the cleaned water and move the food to their mouths. But perhaps the greatest mystery of the turritellids is where they vacation in the summer. Although hundreds of these snails lay in the nearby sandy flats now, in the summer an intrepid seeker would surface empty-handed after an extensive search. Where do the snails go? No one knows. Scientists laughingly joke about hordes of migrating snails, but this may be close to the truth. What else could cause large numbers of these snails to appear and disappear with seasonal regularity?
Weighing anchor, we retraced our steps of yesterday and sailed down the Hull Canal, escorted by a number of gray whales and bow-riding dolphins. Our next adventure took us deep into the channels among the tangled webs of mangroves as our Zodiacs allowed us to explore the back recesses of these important nursery habitats. In the shallows we spied baby fish, including pancake-sized stingrays, oysters clinging to the prop roots of the mangroves, and diving eared grebes. In the mangroves themselves roosted egrets and night herons. The mangrove warbler remained elusive. Although we heard their calls numerous times and caught fleeting glimpses, good photographic views did not occur. Rounding the corner of a channel, we were pleasantly surprised to find a staffed floating bar, replete with delicious drinks and tempting cookies. Recap tonight covered the most commonly seen birds on the trip to date, the life and dispersal of mangroves and planktonic animals (including microscopic views of worm larvae swimming in a mucus egg mass). Shopping opportunities in the ship's store followed dinner. Afterwards we slipped into bed, eager to re-energize for the next day's excitement.
We awoke this morning in the Boca de la Soledad to the announcement that a number of mother-calf grey whale pairs had been sighted from the ship. Racing to the bow, we did not need our binoculars to see these magnificent beasts. Plus, as an added bonus, we were just in time for a lovely sunrise. Mesmerized by the whales, we quickly ate breakfast, donned our life jackets, and headed for the Zodiacs. We dared to hope that whale watching today would be as awe-inspiring as yesterday, but the whales exceeded our expectations. More expectant mothers had entered the calm waters during the night, and yesterday's mothers and calves were even more relaxed around our boats. Swimming close to us, they truly performed by spyhopping long enough for pictures, rolling about to give us good views of their barnacle-encrusted bodies, displaying their flukes, and even being so kind as to extend a pectoral fin high into the air following a guest's query as to the size of these appendages. Watching the protective mothers and their large, yet delicate newborns, it saddened us to think that any of these beauties would be lost along the long migration route back to Alaska for the summer feeding season. However, these calves have at least a month of strengthening exercises and lessons learned before the migratory ordeal.
After more than two hours of communing with the whales, a short hike was in order. We buzzed over to a nearby beach to examine the treasures left by the receding tide. And what a bounty there was! Gorgeous Venus clams with a characteristic row of long spines projecting on one end of the shell were scattered along the sand. These spines assist in stabilizing the animals in their shifting environment. It was almost impossible to walk more than ten steps without finding a turritellid snail. These high-spired shells ranged in length from two to eight inches. Some of the shells bore witness to their demise. Drill holes in their sides showed that the shell inhabitant was slaughtered by a carnivorous moon snail. Other shells showed the battle scars of victory: thickened shell regions where a crab cracked back the shell, but not far enough. The wily snail under attack retreated far enough inside its castle turret that the crab either lost interest or was interrupted from its predatory pursuits. Re-emerging only slightly scathed, the snail repaired its shell and continued to grow. Although the majority of snails are grazers, these unusual snails suspension feed. Lying either prone on the sand or burying their shell, turritellids draw water over their gill, trap food particles there, flush out the cleaned water and move the food to their mouths. But perhaps the greatest mystery of the turritellids is where they vacation in the summer. Although hundreds of these snails lay in the nearby sandy flats now, in the summer an intrepid seeker would surface empty-handed after an extensive search. Where do the snails go? No one knows. Scientists laughingly joke about hordes of migrating snails, but this may be close to the truth. What else could cause large numbers of these snails to appear and disappear with seasonal regularity?
Weighing anchor, we retraced our steps of yesterday and sailed down the Hull Canal, escorted by a number of gray whales and bow-riding dolphins. Our next adventure took us deep into the channels among the tangled webs of mangroves as our Zodiacs allowed us to explore the back recesses of these important nursery habitats. In the shallows we spied baby fish, including pancake-sized stingrays, oysters clinging to the prop roots of the mangroves, and diving eared grebes. In the mangroves themselves roosted egrets and night herons. The mangrove warbler remained elusive. Although we heard their calls numerous times and caught fleeting glimpses, good photographic views did not occur. Rounding the corner of a channel, we were pleasantly surprised to find a staffed floating bar, replete with delicious drinks and tempting cookies. Recap tonight covered the most commonly seen birds on the trip to date, the life and dispersal of mangroves and planktonic animals (including microscopic views of worm larvae swimming in a mucus egg mass). Shopping opportunities in the ship's store followed dinner. Afterwards we slipped into bed, eager to re-energize for the next day's excitement.
