Isla del Carmen and Isla Santa Catalina
Dawn. A pristine orange sun emerges from behind distant peaks. The ocean rests in misty stillness. It is that brief time of day in Baja when I feel compelled to speak softly, reverentially. Some pelicans fly just inches above the waves, not a single wing tip marring the water’s glassy surface.
Toward midday, we encounter bottlenose dolphins, their gray, slick bodies maintaining perfect speed with our ship. They stream effortlessly through the waves, leaping and chasing each other with joyful, playful nonchalance. But it is more than this that strikes me about them: Here are wild animals enjoying my presence as much as I enjoy theirs, who seem infinitely curious about the humans on the ship. As I watch them, giant devil rays, some six feet long, jump from the water. Our ship’s naturalist spots a humpback whale in the distance, which waves its stubby tail as it retreats into the depths.
At Isla del Carmen, I go kayaking with a fellow passenger, Jim. We explore the coastline of the island, entering coves and rocky chambers that echo with the crash of waves. Tiny, colorful crabs, called “Sally Light-Foots,” scramble up the barnacle-covered rocks at our approach. There’s no better way to explore the islands of Baja than by kayak, which allows an up-close view of wildlife and good exercise.
Our day ends with a hike on Santa Catalina Island. This island is unique for its endemic species: the giant cardon cacti, barrel cacti, and rattle-less rattlesnakes. Some of the cardon rise higher than 20 feet, and the island hosts groves of cholla, mesquite, and various cacti species that fill the arroyos like a lush desert paradise. I hike up a nearby hill and see the Sea of Cortez lit brilliantly by the late afternoon sun. Without a human presence, Santa Catalina Island remains in a timeless, natural state. May it always stay this way.
Dawn. A pristine orange sun emerges from behind distant peaks. The ocean rests in misty stillness. It is that brief time of day in Baja when I feel compelled to speak softly, reverentially. Some pelicans fly just inches above the waves, not a single wing tip marring the water’s glassy surface.
Toward midday, we encounter bottlenose dolphins, their gray, slick bodies maintaining perfect speed with our ship. They stream effortlessly through the waves, leaping and chasing each other with joyful, playful nonchalance. But it is more than this that strikes me about them: Here are wild animals enjoying my presence as much as I enjoy theirs, who seem infinitely curious about the humans on the ship. As I watch them, giant devil rays, some six feet long, jump from the water. Our ship’s naturalist spots a humpback whale in the distance, which waves its stubby tail as it retreats into the depths.
At Isla del Carmen, I go kayaking with a fellow passenger, Jim. We explore the coastline of the island, entering coves and rocky chambers that echo with the crash of waves. Tiny, colorful crabs, called “Sally Light-Foots,” scramble up the barnacle-covered rocks at our approach. There’s no better way to explore the islands of Baja than by kayak, which allows an up-close view of wildlife and good exercise.
Our day ends with a hike on Santa Catalina Island. This island is unique for its endemic species: the giant cardon cacti, barrel cacti, and rattle-less rattlesnakes. Some of the cardon rise higher than 20 feet, and the island hosts groves of cholla, mesquite, and various cacti species that fill the arroyos like a lush desert paradise. I hike up a nearby hill and see the Sea of Cortez lit brilliantly by the late afternoon sun. Without a human presence, Santa Catalina Island remains in a timeless, natural state. May it always stay this way.
