Hull Canal
All through the night, we heard explosive whale blows around the ship. Morning dawned brisk and beautiful, with a sunrise peaking through cloud cover that created a temporary blood-red caste to the ocean waters. Although no gray whales spyhopped picturesquely in front of the giant orb, a flock of great egrets satisfied photographers' yearnings. Almost all of the guests mustered in the lounge well before breakfast, eager for their second wonderful day of whales. Directly after breakfast, we climbed aboard the Zodiacs and were off whale hunting, searching for the perfect spyhop and the breach photo opportunity. We did not have far to go. The whales were all around, with head lunges and spyhops aplenty. Because the babies need to breathe three times as often as the mothers, whalers would follow the calves to track the mothers. We used the calves in a similar convenient way, shooting pictures rather than harpoons. We watched one solo female for a long time as she thrashed about, speculating as to what was happening under the murky water that could cause such activity. Was she about to give birth? We held our breaths and stared intently, not wanting to miss one of the most magical events we could ever witness. Unfortunately, we did not view a birthing event, but we did get some wonderful views of her belly, barnacles and pectoral fins. Her fluke was evident in profile as she batted it around at the surface, as were her throat pleats as she rolled over and over. There were a number of tiny, sleek, black calves that had obviously been born within the past few days. These youngsters were so new to this world that the barnacle pests that plague older whales had not yet settled or were too small to see with the naked eye. There were also older calves, probably two weeks old. These individuals were not only larger than their younger cousins, but their skin was of a lighter, mottled hue. Expanding rapidly as the calves add 40 pounds of weight per day, the skin breaks and partially sloughs off, lightening the color of the babies as they age.
As our Zodiac speeded up, a pod of bottlenose dolphins joined us, bowriding and jumping in our wake. What brings the bottlenose into these calmer waters? There is more food outside the Boca than in this calm canal, yet when the gray whales enter, so do the dolphins. We pondered this question as we watched the dolphins swimming around a rolling gray whale—is the relationship between these two species a commensal one (with the dolphins benefiting and the whales not affected), a mutual one (both benefit) or just a coincidental one with no effect on either species? Just as we were thinking that maybe watching bowriding dolphins nose to beak was even more fun than watching gray whales, the whales dragged our attention back to them by performing an extended spyhop right in front of the Zodiac. Another gray whale breached far in the distance, flanked by sand dunes. One of the guests who had missed the sight demanded an instant replay and the whale obliged, breaching again in the same spot. It was magical. In the calm between the flurry of activity by the cetaceans, we were able to view other wildlife: hundreds of white pelicans rested on a sandbar, coyotes napped on the tops of dunes, a reddish herons peered into the shallows.
All too quickly (although it was more than three hours later), the tide began to change. We needed to return to the ship to weigh anchor and proceed back down Hull Canal. With our local pilot Alejandro again at the helm, the Sea Lion began to wend its way once again through the shallow canal. The whale watching was not yet over, however, as two adult grays thrashed at the surface within thirty feet from the bow and numerous other adults and cow-calf pairs dove around us. From our elevated viewing positions, these behemoths looked even larger than they did from the Zodiacs. The dolphins were also reluctant to watch us go—two different sets of bottlenose rode the pressure waves on the bow of the ship as we progressed down the canal.
Reaching El Barril towards the end of the canal, we anchored and again dropped the Zodiacs, this time in search of the wide diversity of bird species that are found sheltering within the mangroves. And what a variety of species there was. Yellow-crowned night herons perched in the branches of red mangroves, clapper rails and green herons stepped carefully over stilt roots while long-billed curlews and godwits probed for food in the mudflats. Silently drifting, we "pished" up towards the high tangles of mangroves and we rewarded with calls and then fleeting glimpses of the stunning endemic mangrove warbler. Rounding a bend in the mangroves and entering a slightly larger channel, we were surprised to find a Zodiac bar awaiting us, complete with music, cookies and delicious spiced apple cider. This sustenance was just the thing to warm up avid birders for a few more excellent sightings. Returning to the ship, we enjoyed a special Captain's happy hour and expressed our thanks to everyone who helped make this special adventure possible. After dinner we sadly had to think about the inevitable: packing and leaving. But along with the things we brought, we are packing away unique memories that will be shared again and again with each other and eager listeners at home. One must return home to begin to dream of the next great adventure.
All through the night, we heard explosive whale blows around the ship. Morning dawned brisk and beautiful, with a sunrise peaking through cloud cover that created a temporary blood-red caste to the ocean waters. Although no gray whales spyhopped picturesquely in front of the giant orb, a flock of great egrets satisfied photographers' yearnings. Almost all of the guests mustered in the lounge well before breakfast, eager for their second wonderful day of whales. Directly after breakfast, we climbed aboard the Zodiacs and were off whale hunting, searching for the perfect spyhop and the breach photo opportunity. We did not have far to go. The whales were all around, with head lunges and spyhops aplenty. Because the babies need to breathe three times as often as the mothers, whalers would follow the calves to track the mothers. We used the calves in a similar convenient way, shooting pictures rather than harpoons. We watched one solo female for a long time as she thrashed about, speculating as to what was happening under the murky water that could cause such activity. Was she about to give birth? We held our breaths and stared intently, not wanting to miss one of the most magical events we could ever witness. Unfortunately, we did not view a birthing event, but we did get some wonderful views of her belly, barnacles and pectoral fins. Her fluke was evident in profile as she batted it around at the surface, as were her throat pleats as she rolled over and over. There were a number of tiny, sleek, black calves that had obviously been born within the past few days. These youngsters were so new to this world that the barnacle pests that plague older whales had not yet settled or were too small to see with the naked eye. There were also older calves, probably two weeks old. These individuals were not only larger than their younger cousins, but their skin was of a lighter, mottled hue. Expanding rapidly as the calves add 40 pounds of weight per day, the skin breaks and partially sloughs off, lightening the color of the babies as they age.
As our Zodiac speeded up, a pod of bottlenose dolphins joined us, bowriding and jumping in our wake. What brings the bottlenose into these calmer waters? There is more food outside the Boca than in this calm canal, yet when the gray whales enter, so do the dolphins. We pondered this question as we watched the dolphins swimming around a rolling gray whale—is the relationship between these two species a commensal one (with the dolphins benefiting and the whales not affected), a mutual one (both benefit) or just a coincidental one with no effect on either species? Just as we were thinking that maybe watching bowriding dolphins nose to beak was even more fun than watching gray whales, the whales dragged our attention back to them by performing an extended spyhop right in front of the Zodiac. Another gray whale breached far in the distance, flanked by sand dunes. One of the guests who had missed the sight demanded an instant replay and the whale obliged, breaching again in the same spot. It was magical. In the calm between the flurry of activity by the cetaceans, we were able to view other wildlife: hundreds of white pelicans rested on a sandbar, coyotes napped on the tops of dunes, a reddish herons peered into the shallows.
All too quickly (although it was more than three hours later), the tide began to change. We needed to return to the ship to weigh anchor and proceed back down Hull Canal. With our local pilot Alejandro again at the helm, the Sea Lion began to wend its way once again through the shallow canal. The whale watching was not yet over, however, as two adult grays thrashed at the surface within thirty feet from the bow and numerous other adults and cow-calf pairs dove around us. From our elevated viewing positions, these behemoths looked even larger than they did from the Zodiacs. The dolphins were also reluctant to watch us go—two different sets of bottlenose rode the pressure waves on the bow of the ship as we progressed down the canal.
Reaching El Barril towards the end of the canal, we anchored and again dropped the Zodiacs, this time in search of the wide diversity of bird species that are found sheltering within the mangroves. And what a variety of species there was. Yellow-crowned night herons perched in the branches of red mangroves, clapper rails and green herons stepped carefully over stilt roots while long-billed curlews and godwits probed for food in the mudflats. Silently drifting, we "pished" up towards the high tangles of mangroves and we rewarded with calls and then fleeting glimpses of the stunning endemic mangrove warbler. Rounding a bend in the mangroves and entering a slightly larger channel, we were surprised to find a Zodiac bar awaiting us, complete with music, cookies and delicious spiced apple cider. This sustenance was just the thing to warm up avid birders for a few more excellent sightings. Returning to the ship, we enjoyed a special Captain's happy hour and expressed our thanks to everyone who helped make this special adventure possible. After dinner we sadly had to think about the inevitable: packing and leaving. But along with the things we brought, we are packing away unique memories that will be shared again and again with each other and eager listeners at home. One must return home to begin to dream of the next great adventure.
