Ensenada Grande, Isla Partida Sur
We motored north into the Gulf of California through the night. A brisk north wind played games with our sturdy ship and continued the games well into the morning. Sleep came in interrupted chapters, pages missing here and there. But by breakfast time we were out of the swells and quietly anchored in a picturesque cove just north of Isla Espiritu Santo. Like us, those in other small craft had sought shelter here.
This was our first chance to see the Sonoran desert that borders the Sea of Cortez. Rain had fallen recently. Things were beautifully green and flowers bloomed. Casual walks into a magnificent and steep arroyo gave each of us a better understanding of how life here has adapted to survive the hot winds and desiccating days of summer. Each cactus, tree, shrub and annual has evolved with its own secret to survival. Unraveling those secrets was our task.
With the recent rains and plant growth came insects, and with the insects came birds. Triggered by the sudden availability of food and moisture, bird songs and nesting had begun. From high among the cliffs we could hear the descending whistle of canyon wrens. Costa’s hummingbirds flirted with the nectar of new flowers. Black-throated sparrows and verdins appeared and disappeared, as did northern mockingbirds. Echoing from a secret cave above us was the persistent hoot of a great horned owl. Try as we might, we could not see this huge raptor. One of its main prey species was visible, though. The antelope ground-squirrels of this arroyo have had a good year. Two or three families were found, including the young one pictured here, busily eating the succulent pods of a wild pea, and oblivious to our presence.
Snorkelers braved the cool water, but for only a short time. The waves of the north wind had muddied their underwater vision. Slow Zodiac tours along the exotically carved welded tuff that lines the shoreline here provided an understanding of how most of the Baja California peninsula was formed. Volcanoes did it - probably hundreds of them, each spewing super-hot ash and rock high into the air over thousands and even hundreds-of-thousands of years. Birds fed along the volcanic intertidal rocks: spotted sandpipers and wandering tattlers from the north, great blue herons that reside here, and even visiting turkey vultures. The latter had used their keen sense of smell to locate something dead among the rocks.
Dinner was ashore tonight, in a protected cove looking to the west. Cool drinks, good food and a beach fire made most of us forget the fitful sleep of the previous night.
We motored north into the Gulf of California through the night. A brisk north wind played games with our sturdy ship and continued the games well into the morning. Sleep came in interrupted chapters, pages missing here and there. But by breakfast time we were out of the swells and quietly anchored in a picturesque cove just north of Isla Espiritu Santo. Like us, those in other small craft had sought shelter here.
This was our first chance to see the Sonoran desert that borders the Sea of Cortez. Rain had fallen recently. Things were beautifully green and flowers bloomed. Casual walks into a magnificent and steep arroyo gave each of us a better understanding of how life here has adapted to survive the hot winds and desiccating days of summer. Each cactus, tree, shrub and annual has evolved with its own secret to survival. Unraveling those secrets was our task.
With the recent rains and plant growth came insects, and with the insects came birds. Triggered by the sudden availability of food and moisture, bird songs and nesting had begun. From high among the cliffs we could hear the descending whistle of canyon wrens. Costa’s hummingbirds flirted with the nectar of new flowers. Black-throated sparrows and verdins appeared and disappeared, as did northern mockingbirds. Echoing from a secret cave above us was the persistent hoot of a great horned owl. Try as we might, we could not see this huge raptor. One of its main prey species was visible, though. The antelope ground-squirrels of this arroyo have had a good year. Two or three families were found, including the young one pictured here, busily eating the succulent pods of a wild pea, and oblivious to our presence.
Snorkelers braved the cool water, but for only a short time. The waves of the north wind had muddied their underwater vision. Slow Zodiac tours along the exotically carved welded tuff that lines the shoreline here provided an understanding of how most of the Baja California peninsula was formed. Volcanoes did it - probably hundreds of them, each spewing super-hot ash and rock high into the air over thousands and even hundreds-of-thousands of years. Birds fed along the volcanic intertidal rocks: spotted sandpipers and wandering tattlers from the north, great blue herons that reside here, and even visiting turkey vultures. The latter had used their keen sense of smell to locate something dead among the rocks.
Dinner was ashore tonight, in a protected cove looking to the west. Cool drinks, good food and a beach fire made most of us forget the fitful sleep of the previous night.
