Islas Santa Catalina & Danzante
Today we woke up at what I call, ‘The Isle of Gardens’, Isla Santa Catalina, arguably the most beautiful island in the Gulf of California. That big cactus, the cardon cactus, grows taller here than on any other island and Santa Catalina is also home to the giant barrel cactus, the ten-foot biznaga! This is still Sonoran Desert, however, and there is not really soil, but for the plants, a thick bed of tiny granite bits is indeed a very lovely place to be. Lots of big shrubs here, many in flower now, birds and reptiles too. Many of the latter found nowhere else on earth. And each year it becomes better and better because Lindblad Expeditions, our guests and local conservation agencies have teamed up to removed all the exotic animal pests from this island!
So right after breakfast, hikes are walked, words are spoken, beauty is admired and reflections become new thoughts, and we are all changed, even just a little.
Hot now, time for the water, snorkelers and divers, all under the eye of the ancient elephant, right there in the photo. Not only is the island beautiful, but so is everything it touches, the sky above it, as well as the water around it.
The divers drop to the sand, 35 feet beneath their Zodiac and the adventure begins, a field of garden eels, strange, shy creatures, each with their hole, as we move forward, they get shorter, until only their heads are seen and that too soon disappears. Behind us are the rocks, piles and piles that march up to the elephant, about them schools of fish in endless motion: yellowtail surgeons, sergeant majors, scissortail damsels, with a sprinkling of groupers, creolefish, and Cortez and king angels. We drift in their direction and see other eels now, fat, green morays, flying excitedly from rock to rock, or just poking out of a crevice, showing us their toothy grin. More, much more, but you had to be there.
As we steam away from Isla Santa Catalina there is just a single line of clouds, right over the island, in a bold blue sky, dots and dashes, old words from a sky-writer, dissipated, illegible. What did it say? So familiar, then I knew it, the words were mine, “It’s beautiful here and I wish I could stay!” But it was not so bad, we snorkeled and kayaked and generally played in the late afternoon on another island, just a few miles away.
Today we woke up at what I call, ‘The Isle of Gardens’, Isla Santa Catalina, arguably the most beautiful island in the Gulf of California. That big cactus, the cardon cactus, grows taller here than on any other island and Santa Catalina is also home to the giant barrel cactus, the ten-foot biznaga! This is still Sonoran Desert, however, and there is not really soil, but for the plants, a thick bed of tiny granite bits is indeed a very lovely place to be. Lots of big shrubs here, many in flower now, birds and reptiles too. Many of the latter found nowhere else on earth. And each year it becomes better and better because Lindblad Expeditions, our guests and local conservation agencies have teamed up to removed all the exotic animal pests from this island!
So right after breakfast, hikes are walked, words are spoken, beauty is admired and reflections become new thoughts, and we are all changed, even just a little.
Hot now, time for the water, snorkelers and divers, all under the eye of the ancient elephant, right there in the photo. Not only is the island beautiful, but so is everything it touches, the sky above it, as well as the water around it.
The divers drop to the sand, 35 feet beneath their Zodiac and the adventure begins, a field of garden eels, strange, shy creatures, each with their hole, as we move forward, they get shorter, until only their heads are seen and that too soon disappears. Behind us are the rocks, piles and piles that march up to the elephant, about them schools of fish in endless motion: yellowtail surgeons, sergeant majors, scissortail damsels, with a sprinkling of groupers, creolefish, and Cortez and king angels. We drift in their direction and see other eels now, fat, green morays, flying excitedly from rock to rock, or just poking out of a crevice, showing us their toothy grin. More, much more, but you had to be there.
As we steam away from Isla Santa Catalina there is just a single line of clouds, right over the island, in a bold blue sky, dots and dashes, old words from a sky-writer, dissipated, illegible. What did it say? So familiar, then I knew it, the words were mine, “It’s beautiful here and I wish I could stay!” But it was not so bad, we snorkeled and kayaked and generally played in the late afternoon on another island, just a few miles away.
