Boca de Soledad, Bahia Magdalena, & La Entrada
Gray whales, brown pelicans, whitecaps, blue skies, reddish egrets, black Zodiacs, and coffee ice cream. All made for another full-spectrum day in coastal Mexico. We hit the water early for a final round in our Zodiacs among the friendly, forgiving whales. The tide ran full and fast in Boca de Soledad, where waves stacked against each other in crests and troughs. Yet the whales swam freely. Mothers trained their calves in strong currents to make ready for the 5,000-mile migration ahead, up the edge of North America to the Arctic Ocean. A few adult whales breached many times, this too, perhaps, in anticipation of the long journey north. Sun-sparkled waters streamed off their long flanks.
Afternoon found us running south through Magdalena Bay, en route to La Entrada, where we skirted between Magdalena Island and Santa Margarita Island to enter the open Pacific Ocean. Royal and Caspian terns dived for fish and did their best to out-fly magnificent frigatebirds that pirated them for their catch, one agile flier in pursuit of another. After our snorkel briefing, we outfitted ourselves with flippers, masks, and wet suits, then gained a following sea as the Sea Lion ran down the outside coast of Santa Margarita Island, bound for Cabo San Lucas, the southern tip of the Baja California Peninsula.
“We were curious,” wrote John Steinbeck of his journey here with Ed Ricketts in 1940. “Our curiosity was not limited, but was as wide and horizonless as that of Darwin or Agassiz, or Linneaus or Pliny...We said, ‘Let’s go wide open. Let’s see what we see, and record what we find…’”
As the days roll behind us and others lie ahead, filled with things unexpected, the eye of a whale, the call of a tern, we feel as Steinbeck did, and we push on.
Gray whales, brown pelicans, whitecaps, blue skies, reddish egrets, black Zodiacs, and coffee ice cream. All made for another full-spectrum day in coastal Mexico. We hit the water early for a final round in our Zodiacs among the friendly, forgiving whales. The tide ran full and fast in Boca de Soledad, where waves stacked against each other in crests and troughs. Yet the whales swam freely. Mothers trained their calves in strong currents to make ready for the 5,000-mile migration ahead, up the edge of North America to the Arctic Ocean. A few adult whales breached many times, this too, perhaps, in anticipation of the long journey north. Sun-sparkled waters streamed off their long flanks.
Afternoon found us running south through Magdalena Bay, en route to La Entrada, where we skirted between Magdalena Island and Santa Margarita Island to enter the open Pacific Ocean. Royal and Caspian terns dived for fish and did their best to out-fly magnificent frigatebirds that pirated them for their catch, one agile flier in pursuit of another. After our snorkel briefing, we outfitted ourselves with flippers, masks, and wet suits, then gained a following sea as the Sea Lion ran down the outside coast of Santa Margarita Island, bound for Cabo San Lucas, the southern tip of the Baja California Peninsula.
“We were curious,” wrote John Steinbeck of his journey here with Ed Ricketts in 1940. “Our curiosity was not limited, but was as wide and horizonless as that of Darwin or Agassiz, or Linneaus or Pliny...We said, ‘Let’s go wide open. Let’s see what we see, and record what we find…’”
As the days roll behind us and others lie ahead, filled with things unexpected, the eye of a whale, the call of a tern, we feel as Steinbeck did, and we push on.
