Off Isla Tortuga and Isla San Marcos
We were whaling this morning – at least in our minds. As we moved northward in the beautiful Gulf of California, we imagined what it would be like for the whalers of old as they searched these waters for their quarry: miles of open water; a blazing sun burning their faces; a hot wind drying them to the bone. Were there many whales in these waters? Would the whalers be successful every day?
Toward the end of the tragic days of whaling, success was no doubt low. The returns were seldom worth the whalers’ efforts. Even today we could recognize this fact. We searched hard all morning while covering more than 40 miles of calm water. All seemed bleak. Marlins leaped and a sailfish slinked past. A few Least and Black Storm-Petrels and Black-vented Shearwaters glided over the waters. Brown Boobies landed on our decks. But no marine mammal could be seen.
Then suddenly a distant black fin flashed. Then another. And another. Killer whales! At least five of them moving calmly near the volcanic island of Tortuga. Four times we approached them, and four times they turned directly toward us. Close! So close, in fact, that they passed right under our bow, the big male turning on his side so that his tall dorsal fin would not scrape against the hull. His black and white ventral pattern shone up at us from under the clear water. What a thrill! This large member of the dolphin family - the top predator of the ocean - is never abundant, and is a rare sighting here. As whalers, we considered our hunt to be more than successful.
Our afternoon landing on Isla San Marcos was warm and equally successful. The water begged us to enter. We swam, snorkeled and the children even tried a little body-board surfing near the pebbly beach. As the sun dropped to the west, a pleasant hike into a steep-walled arroyo provided welcome shade and cooler temperatures. This is a hot, desert land, but even in July it can be most pleasant. And to cap it off, the brown-sugar sunset over Baja’s mountains was spectacular and sweet.
We were whaling this morning – at least in our minds. As we moved northward in the beautiful Gulf of California, we imagined what it would be like for the whalers of old as they searched these waters for their quarry: miles of open water; a blazing sun burning their faces; a hot wind drying them to the bone. Were there many whales in these waters? Would the whalers be successful every day?
Toward the end of the tragic days of whaling, success was no doubt low. The returns were seldom worth the whalers’ efforts. Even today we could recognize this fact. We searched hard all morning while covering more than 40 miles of calm water. All seemed bleak. Marlins leaped and a sailfish slinked past. A few Least and Black Storm-Petrels and Black-vented Shearwaters glided over the waters. Brown Boobies landed on our decks. But no marine mammal could be seen.
Then suddenly a distant black fin flashed. Then another. And another. Killer whales! At least five of them moving calmly near the volcanic island of Tortuga. Four times we approached them, and four times they turned directly toward us. Close! So close, in fact, that they passed right under our bow, the big male turning on his side so that his tall dorsal fin would not scrape against the hull. His black and white ventral pattern shone up at us from under the clear water. What a thrill! This large member of the dolphin family - the top predator of the ocean - is never abundant, and is a rare sighting here. As whalers, we considered our hunt to be more than successful.
Our afternoon landing on Isla San Marcos was warm and equally successful. The water begged us to enter. We swam, snorkeled and the children even tried a little body-board surfing near the pebbly beach. As the sun dropped to the west, a pleasant hike into a steep-walled arroyo provided welcome shade and cooler temperatures. This is a hot, desert land, but even in July it can be most pleasant. And to cap it off, the brown-sugar sunset over Baja’s mountains was spectacular and sweet.
