Isla Catalina
Splendid? Gorgeous? Awesome? Out-of-control and over-the-top wildly rich? It’s hard to find enough superlatives for this, the first day of our expedition along the Baja peninsula. We woke to a dramatic sunrise and, under the orange horizon, the tall, columnar blow of the biggest animal on the planet: a blue whale. Three of these huge creatures were feeding between Isla Carmen and Isla Catalina, diving for five minutes at a time to gulp a mouthful, then rising, catching their breath, and lifting flukes into the air as they dove again.
In the next hour, during which we were supposed to be conducting ship business such as drills, introductions, and orientations, marine mammals kept us on the bow. A large group of bottlenose dolphins came to roll and play around the ship, taking advantage of our bow wake. The productivity of these waters was obvious to us all, not only because of the whales and dolphins, but also because of the plankton trails and the scatterings of grebes, murrelets, boobies, and gulls on the sea surface. California sea lions lifted their whiskered snouts and huffed over the calm waters. When we dipped a tow net, we found clouds of dinoflagellates thick as applesauce— Noctiluca, to be exact.
Then, in the distance, a logging whale began to look suspicious—it was not a resting blue whale at all, but a sperm whale, the largest of the toothed whales. As we edged the Sea Lion closer, we were able to see the walnut-textured skin around the dorsal, the left-leaning blow, and the brown hue of this squid-hunter. It rocked a bit, heaved its flukes in to the air, and dove, disappearing into the deep, rich waters.
We set ashore at Isla Catalina in the afternoon, ready to discover what riches the islands of this desert by the sea could offer, and we weren’t disappointed.
Birdsong filled the arroyo, and a few of the massive cardon were in flower. We walked under these giants, finding beauty in their vast scale as well as in the subtler reach of cholla, barrel cactus, and all the small leaved shrubs and trees adapted to this harsh climate. As hikers trekked inland, snorkelers floated over angelfish and Moorish idols in the shadow of Elephant Rock, leaving no habitat unexplored.
We’ve set ourselves up with a huge task for tomorrow: it will be hard to experience more of Baja’s range and generosity than we did today.
Splendid? Gorgeous? Awesome? Out-of-control and over-the-top wildly rich? It’s hard to find enough superlatives for this, the first day of our expedition along the Baja peninsula. We woke to a dramatic sunrise and, under the orange horizon, the tall, columnar blow of the biggest animal on the planet: a blue whale. Three of these huge creatures were feeding between Isla Carmen and Isla Catalina, diving for five minutes at a time to gulp a mouthful, then rising, catching their breath, and lifting flukes into the air as they dove again.
In the next hour, during which we were supposed to be conducting ship business such as drills, introductions, and orientations, marine mammals kept us on the bow. A large group of bottlenose dolphins came to roll and play around the ship, taking advantage of our bow wake. The productivity of these waters was obvious to us all, not only because of the whales and dolphins, but also because of the plankton trails and the scatterings of grebes, murrelets, boobies, and gulls on the sea surface. California sea lions lifted their whiskered snouts and huffed over the calm waters. When we dipped a tow net, we found clouds of dinoflagellates thick as applesauce— Noctiluca, to be exact.
Then, in the distance, a logging whale began to look suspicious—it was not a resting blue whale at all, but a sperm whale, the largest of the toothed whales. As we edged the Sea Lion closer, we were able to see the walnut-textured skin around the dorsal, the left-leaning blow, and the brown hue of this squid-hunter. It rocked a bit, heaved its flukes in to the air, and dove, disappearing into the deep, rich waters.
We set ashore at Isla Catalina in the afternoon, ready to discover what riches the islands of this desert by the sea could offer, and we weren’t disappointed.
Birdsong filled the arroyo, and a few of the massive cardon were in flower. We walked under these giants, finding beauty in their vast scale as well as in the subtler reach of cholla, barrel cactus, and all the small leaved shrubs and trees adapted to this harsh climate. As hikers trekked inland, snorkelers floated over angelfish and Moorish idols in the shadow of Elephant Rock, leaving no habitat unexplored.
We’ve set ourselves up with a huge task for tomorrow: it will be hard to experience more of Baja’s range and generosity than we did today.
