Part Two: A Fast Boat To Somewhere
Sunday morning, we rose early, walked through the quiet, sunlit streets of Loreto to a small cafe on Avenida de Salvatierra, where we had a delightful breakfast and ordered two sandwiches for our adventure for the day: a tour of the National Marine Reserve park of Bahia de Loreto, or Loreto Bay. Birds were chirping, we had sunblock and hats and water, I successfully asked for the location of el bano, and all was right with the world.
Our tour was via panga, a small speedboat about 10 to 12 feet long--or longer, if that estimate makes no sense; I am terrible at estimating size and distance. We had been connected with a local named Paco Collins, which is a great name. Apparently he is descended from a British pirate who once plied these waters. Or so he said. He could have been messing with us.
The day began sunny and calm, and I wasn't nervous despite being in a small boat on a big body of water. The view of the bay and the shoreline and the receding town and the mountains beyond were beautiful:
Our plan was to motor out to and around an island in the bay, visit a sea lion rookery, and then make our way to a white sand beach for some snorkeling, potential hiking, or sunbathing. Marina conversed with Paco in Spanish, and I was able to pick up a word or two here or there, enough to get the gist. It's an interesting feeling, traveling where you don't know the language, a feeling both helpless and stimulating. It is probably easier when your companion is fluent in the language, though, so you can just stand around and look pretty and not worry about getting lost.
About halfway out, Paco said something that got Marina very excited. She jumped up and looked out to sea. "Whale!"
"What? Where?"
Just in case that bit of dialogue didn't give you a sense of my excitement, here's the video I took. Bear with the first bits of shaky frenzy, and you will see something awesome:
It was a young blue whale, much further in than normal, according to Paco. There were blue whales to be seen in the Sea of Cortes, but usually further out, beyond a distant island. Perhaps the cold waters of an unusual winter were driving the whale closer to shore for food or warmth.
It appeared and disappeared for a while, usually re-appearing at a considerable distance from where it disappeared, a tribute to its speed. We never got very close, but I had a good view of a spout and a dorsal fin. This made me happy, because I had not been counting on seeing a whale until later in the week, when we would go on whale-watching expeditions at Laguna San Ignacio. In essence, this was a bonus whale, which in the abstract could be a useful concept to introduce into our vernacular, I think.
Eventually, we motored on, leaving the whale behind. That's when we met the swarm of dolphins, a group of fifty jumping and diving and swimming in a turquoise sunlit corner of the bay not far from the cliffs of the island. Dolphins love boats, even small boats. We could look straight down from the bow and see them swimming beneath us, their long gray and silver forms clearly visible through the water, and then they would arc up out of the water, their dorsal fins and muscular backs a thing of poetry.
This was about when I fell in love with Mexico and when I fully understood why Marina got so annoyed with a friend of a friend who was contemplating buying a time-share property in a proposed development in Baja that would be environmentally unsustainable and would threaten mangroves and other aspects of the ecology. The silver lining, though, is that this proved the case for equal rights, as even a lesbian can be uninformed and/or self-centered, just like the rest of us.
We circled around the group of dolphins for a little while, to get plenty of pictures and plenty of dolphin time. It was a little surreal, and a lot wonderful, and it felt like my life was an art-house movie, or at least I decided it should feel that way. In any case, it was a profound and happy and exciting experience. I love dolphins.
After the dolphins, we continued around the island, which had dramatic rock cliff-faces, and cacti dotted the top. Then we arrived at the sea lion rookery, a rocky outcropping at the water's edge where dozens of sea lions soaked in the sun and slipped in and out of the water. We kept our distance, as apparently male sea lions can be aggressive. Now, I've seen groups of sea lions before, and not just at the urbanized outpost at Pier 39 in San Francisco, but this was still fascinating. Some were lifting their flippers in the air to dry or warm them, or so we assumed. I would rather assume that than to think they might be flippering us off for disturbing them.
After leaving the sea lions, we rounded the island and came into the shelter of a small cove with a white sand beach, empty and waiting for us. Paco provided a couple of beach chairs. We were first tempted to snorkel, but a combination of cold water and turbidity in the water discouraged that. We actually could see what fish there were better from above. We took some pictures and wandered around some tidal channels before settling down to enjoy the sun for a while.
Eventually, some more boats came bearing tourists and locals, but the beach never got crowded. As the tide went out, some of the other boat pilots pointed to out Paco that he might have made a mistake in how far up the beach he left the boat, which lead to a fascinating moment where I found myself and several Mexican men straining to push a boat back through sand and into the water. You wouldn't think a boat would be so heavy. See if you can pick me out of the crowd.
Before we left the island, Marina and I took a short stroll inland through a landscape of scrub plants, cacti, stones and sand, and a dead scorpion--yes, I kept a wary eye on it for several minutes to make sure it was really dead while we took photos in the vicinity.
Around noon, we were ready to go, and just in time. No sooner did we walk to the boat than the clouds rolled in, the wind stirred, and the water darkened and grew rough and choppy. We raced back towards town, the boat rolling, waves spraying into our laps. At one Paco abandoned the wheel to dive into the bow of the boat to rescue his book and stow it down a hatch. That was interesting for us landlubbers.
As we crossed the bay for Loreto, I kept my eyes peeled for more animals, but now, with the water less than placid, there was nothing but the mystery of rolling waves, dark green and opaque. It was a nice touch of adventure to round out the expedition, with the benefit that we got to take a nice shower afterwards.
Mexican trip adventure was an unblemished hit through the first day and a half. Would it continue? Stay tuned . . .
Our tour was via panga, a small speedboat about 10 to 12 feet long--or longer, if that estimate makes no sense; I am terrible at estimating size and distance. We had been connected with a local named Paco Collins, which is a great name. Apparently he is descended from a British pirate who once plied these waters. Or so he said. He could have been messing with us.
The day began sunny and calm, and I wasn't nervous despite being in a small boat on a big body of water. The view of the bay and the shoreline and the receding town and the mountains beyond were beautiful:
Our plan was to motor out to and around an island in the bay, visit a sea lion rookery, and then make our way to a white sand beach for some snorkeling, potential hiking, or sunbathing. Marina conversed with Paco in Spanish, and I was able to pick up a word or two here or there, enough to get the gist. It's an interesting feeling, traveling where you don't know the language, a feeling both helpless and stimulating. It is probably easier when your companion is fluent in the language, though, so you can just stand around and look pretty and not worry about getting lost.
About halfway out, Paco said something that got Marina very excited. She jumped up and looked out to sea. "Whale!"
"What? Where?"
Just in case that bit of dialogue didn't give you a sense of my excitement, here's the video I took. Bear with the first bits of shaky frenzy, and you will see something awesome:
It was a young blue whale, much further in than normal, according to Paco. There were blue whales to be seen in the Sea of Cortes, but usually further out, beyond a distant island. Perhaps the cold waters of an unusual winter were driving the whale closer to shore for food or warmth.
It appeared and disappeared for a while, usually re-appearing at a considerable distance from where it disappeared, a tribute to its speed. We never got very close, but I had a good view of a spout and a dorsal fin. This made me happy, because I had not been counting on seeing a whale until later in the week, when we would go on whale-watching expeditions at Laguna San Ignacio. In essence, this was a bonus whale, which in the abstract could be a useful concept to introduce into our vernacular, I think.
Eventually, we motored on, leaving the whale behind. That's when we met the swarm of dolphins, a group of fifty jumping and diving and swimming in a turquoise sunlit corner of the bay not far from the cliffs of the island. Dolphins love boats, even small boats. We could look straight down from the bow and see them swimming beneath us, their long gray and silver forms clearly visible through the water, and then they would arc up out of the water, their dorsal fins and muscular backs a thing of poetry.
This was about when I fell in love with Mexico and when I fully understood why Marina got so annoyed with a friend of a friend who was contemplating buying a time-share property in a proposed development in Baja that would be environmentally unsustainable and would threaten mangroves and other aspects of the ecology. The silver lining, though, is that this proved the case for equal rights, as even a lesbian can be uninformed and/or self-centered, just like the rest of us.
We circled around the group of dolphins for a little while, to get plenty of pictures and plenty of dolphin time. It was a little surreal, and a lot wonderful, and it felt like my life was an art-house movie, or at least I decided it should feel that way. In any case, it was a profound and happy and exciting experience. I love dolphins.
After the dolphins, we continued around the island, which had dramatic rock cliff-faces, and cacti dotted the top. Then we arrived at the sea lion rookery, a rocky outcropping at the water's edge where dozens of sea lions soaked in the sun and slipped in and out of the water. We kept our distance, as apparently male sea lions can be aggressive. Now, I've seen groups of sea lions before, and not just at the urbanized outpost at Pier 39 in San Francisco, but this was still fascinating. Some were lifting their flippers in the air to dry or warm them, or so we assumed. I would rather assume that than to think they might be flippering us off for disturbing them.
After leaving the sea lions, we rounded the island and came into the shelter of a small cove with a white sand beach, empty and waiting for us. Paco provided a couple of beach chairs. We were first tempted to snorkel, but a combination of cold water and turbidity in the water discouraged that. We actually could see what fish there were better from above. We took some pictures and wandered around some tidal channels before settling down to enjoy the sun for a while.
Eventually, some more boats came bearing tourists and locals, but the beach never got crowded. As the tide went out, some of the other boat pilots pointed to out Paco that he might have made a mistake in how far up the beach he left the boat, which lead to a fascinating moment where I found myself and several Mexican men straining to push a boat back through sand and into the water. You wouldn't think a boat would be so heavy. See if you can pick me out of the crowd.
Before we left the island, Marina and I took a short stroll inland through a landscape of scrub plants, cacti, stones and sand, and a dead scorpion--yes, I kept a wary eye on it for several minutes to make sure it was really dead while we took photos in the vicinity.
Around noon, we were ready to go, and just in time. No sooner did we walk to the boat than the clouds rolled in, the wind stirred, and the water darkened and grew rough and choppy. We raced back towards town, the boat rolling, waves spraying into our laps. At one Paco abandoned the wheel to dive into the bow of the boat to rescue his book and stow it down a hatch. That was interesting for us landlubbers.
As we crossed the bay for Loreto, I kept my eyes peeled for more animals, but now, with the water less than placid, there was nothing but the mystery of rolling waves, dark green and opaque. It was a nice touch of adventure to round out the expedition, with the benefit that we got to take a nice shower afterwards.
Mexican trip adventure was an unblemished hit through the first day and a half. Would it continue? Stay tuned . . .
posted by Devin at 10:25 AM
1 Comments:
wonderful post, with your characteristic sense of humor as well!
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