Exploring The Upper Gulf And San Francisquito
A brisk wind whipped white froth from the restless sea before breakfast, and for a time layers of jackets, fleeces, and long pants were reminiscent of Southeast Alaska rather than Baja California. A few hours later, we had escaped this windstorm. Flat calm water stretched for miles, and those on the bow had stripped again to shorts and T-shirts.
Fin whales dominated the morning. Sleek charcoal-colored backs gracefully rose over and over above the surface, hinting at the immense size and exposing the low-angled dorsal fins characteristic of this second largest of the cetaceans. Fin whales rarely expose more of their bodies than this. Incredibly one breached just ahead of the ship! Screams of amazement and excitement from the bridge and the staff led other whale watchers to realize that this doesn't happen everyday; in fact, it is exceptional. A second breach followed the first as we gaped in awe at this unforgettable drama.
The anchor chain clanged noisily while we readied ourselves for activities ashore at San Francisquito on the Baja peninsula. A crescent of fine white sand trimmed the shoreline and separated it from sculptured rock formations and desert vegetation that invited us inland for walks. Crimson hummingbird flowers of palo adan, shown here, and those of its close relative, ocotillo, splashed brilliant color across the more subdued desert hues. Kayakers explored the bay, and beachcombers wandered in search of natural treasures. Opalescent shells and remnants of horn sharks held secrets of fishermen who may have visited this spot before. Eared grebes dove in the shallows, perhaps in search of tiny mole crabs exposed by the gently lapping waves.
It was time for us to eat as well, and we settled into chairs to enjoy a tasty barbecue just before a glowing sunset embraced the sky. Singing, star gazing, and roasting marshmallows seemed the perfect culmination to the day as darkness fell. Eventually fatigue set in, and the Zodiacs transported us back to the Sea Lion, leaving the flickering bonfire and dancing light of tiki torches behind.
A brisk wind whipped white froth from the restless sea before breakfast, and for a time layers of jackets, fleeces, and long pants were reminiscent of Southeast Alaska rather than Baja California. A few hours later, we had escaped this windstorm. Flat calm water stretched for miles, and those on the bow had stripped again to shorts and T-shirts.
Fin whales dominated the morning. Sleek charcoal-colored backs gracefully rose over and over above the surface, hinting at the immense size and exposing the low-angled dorsal fins characteristic of this second largest of the cetaceans. Fin whales rarely expose more of their bodies than this. Incredibly one breached just ahead of the ship! Screams of amazement and excitement from the bridge and the staff led other whale watchers to realize that this doesn't happen everyday; in fact, it is exceptional. A second breach followed the first as we gaped in awe at this unforgettable drama.
The anchor chain clanged noisily while we readied ourselves for activities ashore at San Francisquito on the Baja peninsula. A crescent of fine white sand trimmed the shoreline and separated it from sculptured rock formations and desert vegetation that invited us inland for walks. Crimson hummingbird flowers of palo adan, shown here, and those of its close relative, ocotillo, splashed brilliant color across the more subdued desert hues. Kayakers explored the bay, and beachcombers wandered in search of natural treasures. Opalescent shells and remnants of horn sharks held secrets of fishermen who may have visited this spot before. Eared grebes dove in the shallows, perhaps in search of tiny mole crabs exposed by the gently lapping waves.
It was time for us to eat as well, and we settled into chairs to enjoy a tasty barbecue just before a glowing sunset embraced the sky. Singing, star gazing, and roasting marshmallows seemed the perfect culmination to the day as darkness fell. Eventually fatigue set in, and the Zodiacs transported us back to the Sea Lion, leaving the flickering bonfire and dancing light of tiki torches behind.
