Gorda Banks/Cabo San Lucas
While the wind of the last few days was invigorating, it was lovely to wake this morning to calmer seas and a nearly surreal orange dawn sky. Today, we got to experience the bounty that the Sea of Cortez can offer: just after breakfast, a group of humpback whales were sighted along the coast of the peninsula. While this group of four turned out to be less than amenable to easy viewing, another group further along our planned course drew us south and west.
Sometimes, watching whales, patience with a seemingly-dull animal can be rewarded. At other times, it’s best to see what else the ocean has to offer. Today, we made the right choice. The second group of whales was a group of four… no, five… no, seven or maybe eight humpbacks in close formation following a single who was leading the pack. The group charged through the water, moving in zigs and zags, surging up more quickly than one might ordinarily expect from these slow travelers, occasionally exhaling in loud trumpets.
Although we had no way of absolutely determining the makeup of the group, it was most likely a bunch of males in pursuit of a female. Several of their dorsal fins were scraped and raw, and the bumpy tubercles on their heads were pink from underwater sparring as well. In surface active groups, the males bash and slash at each other, trying to prove their suitability to a female. We watched for nearly an hour as the group continued to charge and bellow in near-random directions, always with the female alone in front and the males bunched together behind.
We could have stayed with them for hours, but our afternoon called us on. Turning for Cabo San Lucas, we were again rewarded. This time, a bunch of Mobula rays were flinging their two-tone bodies up out of the water, whip-thin tails trailing behind before they smacked down. More whales were in the area, too, one breaching, another rolling and slapping its pectoral flippers, still others just breathing and traveling through the sea.
Unfortunately, we also saw a sight more disturbing than exciting: a humpback whale covered in monofilament net and orange floats, most likely a gill net for catching sharks that the whale swam into sometime recently, possibly even just the night before. We did not have the tools or training to help this animal, but we stopped to document the entanglement and called our ship’s agent so that he could report the sighting to people on shore who might be able to help. Entanglements in fishing gear are unfortunately not uncommon for whales like humpbacks, grays, and right whales that travel along populated coastlines. Hopefully in the next few days we’ll hear good news.
Ashore in Cabo San Lucas, snorkelers enjoyed the tropical waters of Chilenos Beach, floating above sergeant majors, king angel fish, and other colorful swimmers. In San Jose del Cabo, birdwatchers were treated to views of a crested caracara, the elusive and reed-loving sora rail, white-faced ibis, and a host of other stalked waders (herons, stilts and egrets) as well as orioles, a black-headed grosbeak and other bright species.
The sunset at Friar’s Rocks mirrored the gorgeous dawn, painting the landscape and sea. Tomorrow, we’ll wake up having traveled the Pacific Ocean through the night, ready to see what Baja’s other coast will offer.
While the wind of the last few days was invigorating, it was lovely to wake this morning to calmer seas and a nearly surreal orange dawn sky. Today, we got to experience the bounty that the Sea of Cortez can offer: just after breakfast, a group of humpback whales were sighted along the coast of the peninsula. While this group of four turned out to be less than amenable to easy viewing, another group further along our planned course drew us south and west.
Sometimes, watching whales, patience with a seemingly-dull animal can be rewarded. At other times, it’s best to see what else the ocean has to offer. Today, we made the right choice. The second group of whales was a group of four… no, five… no, seven or maybe eight humpbacks in close formation following a single who was leading the pack. The group charged through the water, moving in zigs and zags, surging up more quickly than one might ordinarily expect from these slow travelers, occasionally exhaling in loud trumpets.
Although we had no way of absolutely determining the makeup of the group, it was most likely a bunch of males in pursuit of a female. Several of their dorsal fins were scraped and raw, and the bumpy tubercles on their heads were pink from underwater sparring as well. In surface active groups, the males bash and slash at each other, trying to prove their suitability to a female. We watched for nearly an hour as the group continued to charge and bellow in near-random directions, always with the female alone in front and the males bunched together behind.
We could have stayed with them for hours, but our afternoon called us on. Turning for Cabo San Lucas, we were again rewarded. This time, a bunch of Mobula rays were flinging their two-tone bodies up out of the water, whip-thin tails trailing behind before they smacked down. More whales were in the area, too, one breaching, another rolling and slapping its pectoral flippers, still others just breathing and traveling through the sea.
Unfortunately, we also saw a sight more disturbing than exciting: a humpback whale covered in monofilament net and orange floats, most likely a gill net for catching sharks that the whale swam into sometime recently, possibly even just the night before. We did not have the tools or training to help this animal, but we stopped to document the entanglement and called our ship’s agent so that he could report the sighting to people on shore who might be able to help. Entanglements in fishing gear are unfortunately not uncommon for whales like humpbacks, grays, and right whales that travel along populated coastlines. Hopefully in the next few days we’ll hear good news.
Ashore in Cabo San Lucas, snorkelers enjoyed the tropical waters of Chilenos Beach, floating above sergeant majors, king angel fish, and other colorful swimmers. In San Jose del Cabo, birdwatchers were treated to views of a crested caracara, the elusive and reed-loving sora rail, white-faced ibis, and a host of other stalked waders (herons, stilts and egrets) as well as orioles, a black-headed grosbeak and other bright species.
The sunset at Friar’s Rocks mirrored the gorgeous dawn, painting the landscape and sea. Tomorrow, we’ll wake up having traveled the Pacific Ocean through the night, ready to see what Baja’s other coast will offer.
