Isla San Marcos
Once again, a whale was spotted from the bow even before the wake-up call was sounded. This time it was a fin whale. It surfaced over and over without diving, sometimes as many as thirteen times in a row. Is it really just that this is a good area in the Gulf for fin whales or do the whales love the Sea Lion? Many of us are beginning to think it is the latter. Our destination for this morning was Isla San Marcos, with its picturesque rearing burnt sienna rhyolite and andocite formations mixed with plunging white gypsum cliffs. Some of us decided to take Zodiac cruises around the island to investigate the rock formations and bird activities (including a large feeding frenzy) while others went ashore to hike. As soon as we disembarked on the beach we were greeted by a number of old men (senitas, or old man cacti, that is). A great blue heron posed atop one of the highest points, watching over the numerous nests splayed around his feet. A raven jetted across the sky underneath two wheeling ospreys. As we hiked up the arroyo, we passed underneath the bowers created by the graceful white arms of the many palo blancos whose branches meshed overhead. Although still early morning, the temperature was quite warm and we tended to find exceedingly interesting vantage points cleverly positioned in the numerous spots of shade where a playful cool breeze could find us. Small lizards scuttled across the path as we hiked on. Butterflies careened around us, visiting the puffball blooms of the palo blancos and spiraling upwards in their courtship flights. Newly enclosed sulfur butterflies, as evidenced by the brilliant sheen to their scales, intersected paths with older, statelier queen butterflies. The bright yellow of the butterfly wings was mirrored on the ground by the bright inflorescences of the algodon, or desert cotton. We suddenly stopped in our tracks, marveling at the profusion of passionflowers and riot of cobalt morning glories that were positioned in close proximity. After exposing many frames of film, we sauntered onwards, picking up gypsum fragments from the trail and crumbling them in our hands. It is easy to imagine that this soft rock, when crushed, is plaster of Paris. We found it harder to see this soft substance as sheetrock in the homes of many Western Americans, but those are the two uses of the product of the local gypsum mine. Returning from the hike, we set out again, this time for a cool dip and a subtidal investigation. The water clarity was again superb. Even the Zodiac cruisers reported multiple fish species sightings. The abundance of king angelfish was unparalleled (shown above) and they waltzed in the wake of gargantuan Cortez angelfish. Loosetooth parrotfishes, wavyline grunts and Gulf opaleyes were new additions to the list of fish species seen on our trip to date.
After a deck barbecue for lunch (complete with make-your-own-sundaes with all the fixings!), we sailed the short distance to Santa Rosalia. The afternoon was spent exploring this quaint mining town that is an odd mix of present-day Mexican culture, historical French colonial architecture and old entrepreneurial tyranny. The town was formed after copper ore was discovered in the rocks, and there have never been many amenities here. However, Santa Rosalia is known as "the town that did not want to die," according to our guide in the local museum, and it even survived the eventual complete closure of the mines in 1985. We were lucky enough not only to be able to visit the local museum (which is often closed), but to have a guided tour which was interpreted for us from Spanish to English by the ship's doctor. Flipping through the old ledgers of the mine and viewing the typewriters, scales, lanterns and pickaxes used for so many hours of toil, the hard lives of the miners began to come to life. Many of the miners started working at age thirteen and usually experienced health problems (especially respiratory ailments) after ten to twelve years of work. This sobering knowledge helped explain the forest of crosses that blanketed the neighboring hilltop. Many of us traveled to that cemetery to witness the care lavished on the marble, plaster, and wrought iron graves and crosses honoring the spirits of dead relatives. The sinking sun cast a magical soft light across the headstones, perfect for photography. Other guests remained on the porch of the magnificent old hotel and watched as a veritable tequila sunrise flitted by: vermilion flycatchers, hooded orioles and phainopeplas. Back on the ship, we prepped for tomorrow's activities and our voyage to San Ignacio lagoon. The mounting excitement was palpable as questions abounded. Pete gave a brief overview of gray whales, their behavior and their sex lives (including prehensile penises and huge testes). As the questions from the guests spiraled ever wider along this subject, Pete was rescued from delving deeper into the intricate details of whale sex by the announcement of dinner. Falling asleep was difficult because of the anticipation and hopes for the potential intimate experiences with forty-foot long marine mammals that tomorrow might bring.
Once again, a whale was spotted from the bow even before the wake-up call was sounded. This time it was a fin whale. It surfaced over and over without diving, sometimes as many as thirteen times in a row. Is it really just that this is a good area in the Gulf for fin whales or do the whales love the Sea Lion? Many of us are beginning to think it is the latter. Our destination for this morning was Isla San Marcos, with its picturesque rearing burnt sienna rhyolite and andocite formations mixed with plunging white gypsum cliffs. Some of us decided to take Zodiac cruises around the island to investigate the rock formations and bird activities (including a large feeding frenzy) while others went ashore to hike. As soon as we disembarked on the beach we were greeted by a number of old men (senitas, or old man cacti, that is). A great blue heron posed atop one of the highest points, watching over the numerous nests splayed around his feet. A raven jetted across the sky underneath two wheeling ospreys. As we hiked up the arroyo, we passed underneath the bowers created by the graceful white arms of the many palo blancos whose branches meshed overhead. Although still early morning, the temperature was quite warm and we tended to find exceedingly interesting vantage points cleverly positioned in the numerous spots of shade where a playful cool breeze could find us. Small lizards scuttled across the path as we hiked on. Butterflies careened around us, visiting the puffball blooms of the palo blancos and spiraling upwards in their courtship flights. Newly enclosed sulfur butterflies, as evidenced by the brilliant sheen to their scales, intersected paths with older, statelier queen butterflies. The bright yellow of the butterfly wings was mirrored on the ground by the bright inflorescences of the algodon, or desert cotton. We suddenly stopped in our tracks, marveling at the profusion of passionflowers and riot of cobalt morning glories that were positioned in close proximity. After exposing many frames of film, we sauntered onwards, picking up gypsum fragments from the trail and crumbling them in our hands. It is easy to imagine that this soft rock, when crushed, is plaster of Paris. We found it harder to see this soft substance as sheetrock in the homes of many Western Americans, but those are the two uses of the product of the local gypsum mine. Returning from the hike, we set out again, this time for a cool dip and a subtidal investigation. The water clarity was again superb. Even the Zodiac cruisers reported multiple fish species sightings. The abundance of king angelfish was unparalleled (shown above) and they waltzed in the wake of gargantuan Cortez angelfish. Loosetooth parrotfishes, wavyline grunts and Gulf opaleyes were new additions to the list of fish species seen on our trip to date.
After a deck barbecue for lunch (complete with make-your-own-sundaes with all the fixings!), we sailed the short distance to Santa Rosalia. The afternoon was spent exploring this quaint mining town that is an odd mix of present-day Mexican culture, historical French colonial architecture and old entrepreneurial tyranny. The town was formed after copper ore was discovered in the rocks, and there have never been many amenities here. However, Santa Rosalia is known as "the town that did not want to die," according to our guide in the local museum, and it even survived the eventual complete closure of the mines in 1985. We were lucky enough not only to be able to visit the local museum (which is often closed), but to have a guided tour which was interpreted for us from Spanish to English by the ship's doctor. Flipping through the old ledgers of the mine and viewing the typewriters, scales, lanterns and pickaxes used for so many hours of toil, the hard lives of the miners began to come to life. Many of the miners started working at age thirteen and usually experienced health problems (especially respiratory ailments) after ten to twelve years of work. This sobering knowledge helped explain the forest of crosses that blanketed the neighboring hilltop. Many of us traveled to that cemetery to witness the care lavished on the marble, plaster, and wrought iron graves and crosses honoring the spirits of dead relatives. The sinking sun cast a magical soft light across the headstones, perfect for photography. Other guests remained on the porch of the magnificent old hotel and watched as a veritable tequila sunrise flitted by: vermilion flycatchers, hooded orioles and phainopeplas. Back on the ship, we prepped for tomorrow's activities and our voyage to San Ignacio lagoon. The mounting excitement was palpable as questions abounded. Pete gave a brief overview of gray whales, their behavior and their sex lives (including prehensile penises and huge testes). As the questions from the guests spiraled ever wider along this subject, Pete was rescued from delving deeper into the intricate details of whale sex by the announcement of dinner. Falling asleep was difficult because of the anticipation and hopes for the potential intimate experiences with forty-foot long marine mammals that tomorrow might bring.
