Baja Whale

Baja rolled out the wildflower carpet for our trip south of Tijuanna. Extending hundreds of miles down the pennisula, it was a showy garment for a wild rural land. Big winter rains helped germinate the flower burst of the decade! I misidentified so many flowers due to the flash effect of looking out the side window of the speeding bus. When we stopped, I discovered my errors and was surprised at the density I had never seen in species as common as blue dick. Usually we see a few scattered about, but never the huge, numbers along the Baja Highway! Boojum trees grow only between 29 and 30 degrees of latitude north. They make up an exotic, improbable forest. Imagine a carrot, green, standing on its head above ground with the small tip up, with short branches and little leaves after seasonal rains. That’s the Boojum tree. Tassles on top were the remains after blossoming. A forest of slender Boojum trees is still sparse; even growing closely the effect is unlike pines, palms or oaks by several orders of magnitude. The tops often bend or bow one direction or another. If ocotillo limbs were bound together at the base, drawn up a to a spindley top, you might have an image that comes close.

An opportunity to walk among the wild flowers and Boojum trees provided a much needed opportunity to stretch and breathe in the sun. Flowers and plants familiar to Southern California were present along with obvious near relatives. As a group we poked around a desert meadow of many flowers.

This trip was all about gray whales, Eschrichtius robustus. We were on Eric Zimmerman’s repeat trip to see the whales. Laguna San Ignacio, being about half way down the pennisula, provided plenty of time to contemplate our visit with the whales. What are they doing 5-6000 miles from their feeding grounds? Birthing and breeding it turns out. Moving their great bulk on a 10 to 13,000 mile RT makes this migration a marathon on its own. Doing it without foodseems a cruel trick of nature. No human diet regime is nearly so extreme!

Our bus contingent buzzed with facts and theories about gray whales, aka the devil whale. We heard about the friendlies coming to tourist boats to be touched, hugged and even kissed. Under their devil whale alias, they were known to attack and shatter boats and whalers. Even today there are some people still hunting the whales and with the whales memory, it seems we could be meeting some that would recall the terror of the harpoon. Still they are known as friendly and curious beyond reason in these Baja basins.

Nights on the road, we were accomodated handsomely by Desert Inn at four of their locations. Margaritas to loosen our travel-souls followed by dinner with eager whale watchers settled our loose bolts before retiring to our rooms of many tiles. On the windy beach at San Quitin the first night we walked and chatted before dinner. Two squadrons of dirt bike warriors shared the Desert Inn that night with us. Theirs may have been a re-enactment of the Baja 500. The second night we were at San Ignacio, an oasis after the Desierto De Vizcaino. The small town sits in the center of the Pennisula, a dirt road away from the Laguna of the same name.

Laguna San Ignacio, afforded us a walk in the water to our boat, a panga that holds 8 or 10 eager whale huggers. On a receeding tide, the walk out on the shelf to adjacent deeper waters took us to the pangas. There we set off at maximum speed jouncing over the waves. Everyone expects to see whales and we all have somewhere before, but we expect to see whales enjoying the Mexican mating resort and birthing facility that is Lagua San Ignacio. Once in the sanctioned watching area, we are immediately treated to seldom-seen sights of the northern climes. Spy hopping grays, breaching gray whales, and from my boat we are watching other boats already being approached by the friendly whales. A little flash of the devil-whale fear spurted through my monkey brain. I’m wondering how the grays distiniguish my boat from those guys in north seas flinging harpoons? Two hours of close encounters of the whale kind go by in an experiential short circuiting of time. Near the end of our visit on the Laguna we had a mother and calf at the side of our panga. All hands were in the water, stroking and touching the whales. I had a brief concern we might tip the boat over with all our weight outstreched so far over the gunnels. Enthusiasm overcame common sense and I stuck my hand out with the rest to touch the whale.

I have not much experience touching marine life. I caught a few ocean-going fish in the 1970’s and been at the UCSB touch tanks with some slimy guys from the bottom and the sandpaper hide of a small shark. I didn’t expect those sensations with a whale. My sting ray experience was sensuous, very soft, a watery-satin feeling. Maybe whales are like that, I considered. I have seen sea lions and harbor seals up close repeatedly. Fur, looking like wet, short-haired dogs I doubted they would feel much different. “Our”whale was curiously different from all other animal life I have touched. It seemed soft and easily squished, slick and something like patent leather that is most pliable. A difficult experience to put into words. I wondered how a whale experiences our petting, stroking human hands. We certainly offered no more than our grinning, enthusiastic faces and our willing hands. No food or funds were exchanged and yet the whales come even with their new-borns to see and be touched by these alien creatures of the air. While contemplating these ideas I inhaled a couple of whale “kisses.” Enthusiasts use that term for being in the mist of a whale’s spout. Certainly intimate as a kiss, but coming from the blow hole/nose of the creature you might wonder at the similarity. We shared the experience gleefully none-the-less.

Then all of a sudden our panga captain is saying adios and we are pounding our way back to the shelf where we began three hours earlier. At lunch on shore, a quick survey showed all 31 of our fellow travelers had touched one or more whales! Maybe it was a record of sorts. Some had been here before without touching whales. We all counted ourselves blessed by the angel of the ballina.

At the research shack, we talked to staffers about the whale count and theories of what the whales were doing this year. Gray whale reports of whales rounding the end of Baja and using bays and lagoons in the Sea of Cortez as well as Pacific side areas. While there is some agreement of a population of maybe 20,000 gray whales in the East Pacific, there is much difficulty in arriving at definitive numbers for an animal underwater most of the time. Whatever the number, it certainly is a wonderful recovery from days of expected extinction of the species not so long ago.

On the bus again we traveled to Guerrero Negro aimed for the next Desert Inn. Each day we grew closer with the traveling whale watchers as we shared experiences and snacks and played games provided by our guides. Our late evening arrival made for a quick dinner and escape to our rooms for the night. In the morning we would be on Scammons Lagoon, a famous whaling ground named after Melville Scammon of the 19th Century. For those numerically challenged, like me, that’s 1800-1899, or is it 1801 to 1900? And what about that name MELVILLE Scammon? Quite a handle for a whaler captain don’t ya think?

Morning found us entering larger pangas from a civilized pier and crashing through larger waves against greater wind than the day before. My neck suffered several minor whiplashes as I had foolishly chosen an auspicious seat in the front. That bad choice I rectified later. I expected we would be at least as lucky as the day before despite the warning. “You can expect to see whales, 200% guarantee. Whether they approach and you can touch, that is less certain,” our guide instructed us before we left the bus. I was primed to touch whales again, no doubt about that. Again we saw the whales hopping, chin breaching, full breaches, half gainors over backwards and approaching boats, but just out of touch. Maybe it was the choppier water. It was a wonderful display of whale behavior. Three hours disappeared and our captain had us thundering back down the channel to the shore for lunch.

Eric had applied his wisdom and traded a salt marsh birding trip for a third session on the lagoon in the afternoon. I retreated to the back of the panga and experienced a softer ride, though I felt chilled in the wind despite my layered clothing. That afternoon was much like the morning, full of whale viewing, some close encounters and again, just out of reach. What a treat to see whales where they frolic and play, if indeed that is what it is about. I feel certain any surmising I do is unable to penetrate the experience and thought of a 40 ton water-based creature. I never have punched into the silt for a mouthfull to strain out the tiny krill by the thousands to fill my gut, let alone tried the many, many other experiences beyond my ken. Its challenging and absorbing to consider.

Our 4th night at a Desert Inn found us at Catavina above the Desierto Central and on my map, in the Boulder Field. The many huge rocks of the region certainly comprise a boulder field. In the morning we were attended by local school children as we visited a rock art site not far from town. Rock art always seems a challenge. Surely I am closer in experience with fellow humans than the whales, Even so I know I have little hope of recreating their sense of purpose in these ceremonial sites painting the disappearing symbols and art of the past.

Andiamo, the company name, is “Let’s Go!” in Italian. Considering the fun packed tour they gave us, the name fits!