Isla Monserrate and Isla Del Carmen
A band of clouds at the horizon glowed in pinkish washes in the morning sky and showed the blues of the emerging day. Our first sighting was a whale blow. While we waited, a lone female bottlenose dolphin appeared with a young calf. They spent a few moments at our bow possibly deciding if the ship had enough speed to be adequately entertaining. We were moving slowly and they soon left. A Bryde’s whale blew in the distance and later came within a hundred meters of the ship. Its black body with a dolphin-like dorsal fin soon slipped below the surface.
Later we anchored just off Isla Monserrate for snorkeling and kayaking. The clear water gave us a chance to find over 25 species of fish. One of the more spectacular was Cortez angelfish, a yellow and gray beauty adorned with a brilliant blue trim line over the top of its dorsal fin. A few stone scorpion fish lay tightly pressed against the bottom. They are so well camouflaged that they barely look like fish. These have some of the most poisonous spines of all the fish in the Gulf. The kayakers explored the near shore waters and watched dark storm clouds build over the peninsula. We were lucky that rain never came.
In the afternoon the wind increased, and we found a protected anchorage on the southwest end of Isla del Carmen. Much of the land here is stranded shallow sea floor. We walked over beds of fossilized scallops, murex, and spiny oysters that looked much like the ones in today’s gulf. We also passed by hundreds of columnar cacti, palo verde trees, and many spiny shrubs. A group of birders watched an osprey fishing, while others gained a bit of elevation. From a high viewpoint, the grandeur and wildness of the scene lay out before us. The peninsula stretches southward and draws one’s gaze along it, over the sea, and through the string of uninhabited islands.
Back at the beach, the crew had prepared an appetizing barbecue dinner, set out chairs for everyone, and built a roaring fire. The sunset consumed the sky with dark gray pillows that hung about the peninsula peaks. Rosy light tickled the undersides of these clouds before darkness crept in. After dinner, one of our talented guests played the guitar and we sang, as the photo shows.
It wasn’t a very traditional Christmas Eve but certainly a memorable one. Our sleighs were black rubber Zodiacs, our Christmas trees had spines, and the salt on our roads was the sea.
A band of clouds at the horizon glowed in pinkish washes in the morning sky and showed the blues of the emerging day. Our first sighting was a whale blow. While we waited, a lone female bottlenose dolphin appeared with a young calf. They spent a few moments at our bow possibly deciding if the ship had enough speed to be adequately entertaining. We were moving slowly and they soon left. A Bryde’s whale blew in the distance and later came within a hundred meters of the ship. Its black body with a dolphin-like dorsal fin soon slipped below the surface.
Later we anchored just off Isla Monserrate for snorkeling and kayaking. The clear water gave us a chance to find over 25 species of fish. One of the more spectacular was Cortez angelfish, a yellow and gray beauty adorned with a brilliant blue trim line over the top of its dorsal fin. A few stone scorpion fish lay tightly pressed against the bottom. They are so well camouflaged that they barely look like fish. These have some of the most poisonous spines of all the fish in the Gulf. The kayakers explored the near shore waters and watched dark storm clouds build over the peninsula. We were lucky that rain never came.
In the afternoon the wind increased, and we found a protected anchorage on the southwest end of Isla del Carmen. Much of the land here is stranded shallow sea floor. We walked over beds of fossilized scallops, murex, and spiny oysters that looked much like the ones in today’s gulf. We also passed by hundreds of columnar cacti, palo verde trees, and many spiny shrubs. A group of birders watched an osprey fishing, while others gained a bit of elevation. From a high viewpoint, the grandeur and wildness of the scene lay out before us. The peninsula stretches southward and draws one’s gaze along it, over the sea, and through the string of uninhabited islands.
Back at the beach, the crew had prepared an appetizing barbecue dinner, set out chairs for everyone, and built a roaring fire. The sunset consumed the sky with dark gray pillows that hung about the peninsula peaks. Rosy light tickled the undersides of these clouds before darkness crept in. After dinner, one of our talented guests played the guitar and we sang, as the photo shows.
It wasn’t a very traditional Christmas Eve but certainly a memorable one. Our sleighs were black rubber Zodiacs, our Christmas trees had spines, and the salt on our roads was the sea.
