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Guest Article: The Land Time Almost Forgot
By Linda Ballou -
Special to Baja Life Magazine Spring 2001
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I am certain that the
sights that surround me are much the same as those experienced by John
Steinbeck and his crew of naturalists when he explored the region in 1941. As I
recall their early adventures, our head guide Jackie, brings me back to reality
as she tells us that we are about to be introduced to muscles we never knew we
had. Our group of twelve, all in varying degrees of physical fitness, receives
instructions to push, not pull the paddle, so as not to become overtired. We
are to use a flat palm, and a loose thumb on the paddle, ore else suffer from
tendonitis. As I donned my life vest, I began to fear that I might have made a
terrible mistake. Much like the pelicans I had been watching just moments
before, I too was an awkward disaster just waiting to happen. I prayed that
like them, I would acquire grace once in action. I remembered the outfitter's
literature, promising that by merely practicing a few exercises prior to the
trip, any reasonably fit person could enjoy the thrill of gliding over serene
waters in a sea kayak. None-the-less, my stomach churned as I contemplated the
fact that within moments, nothing but a thin shell of fiberglass would separate
me from the deep blue waters of the Sea of Cortez.
Before I could further
consider my fears, we were off. At three miles an hour, it would take us an
hour to reach our first stop at Danzante Island. I soon found myself enjoying a
unique sense of freedom. There I sat, balanced neatly on the bow, watching as
swarming shoals of fish darted below and pelicans scooped dinner into their
fleshy pouches. I felt like a dolphin riding the crest of the waves - finally
fearless!
By the time we stopped
for lunch, I was thrilled at being in this vast ocean wilderness. As we cruised
across the waters, the brilliant sun beat down upon us. I was eager to escape
the heat and experience the underwater world of marine life. Clad in snorkel
gear and fins, I prepared to enter the waters Steinbeck had dubbed, "ferocious
with life." Biologically the richest body of water on the planet, the Sea of
Cortez supports over 900 species of marine vertebrates and over 2,000
invertebrates. As I slipped into the transparent waters that lure outdoor
adventurers from around the globe, all that was visible was the rust color of
the cliffs surrounding our beach camp and a few darting electric blue fish. The
sea shelf dropped off abruptly to depths where there is no visibility, so I
headed back to my group and the lunch that awaited me. Just moments after
leaving the water, a fin whale the size of a city bus emerged, arching its
great girth. Stunned that I had been just feet away from this behemoth creature
that swills krill by the ton, and has a heart the size of a Volkswagen, I
realized I needed to be more alert during my explorations!
The second day, we slid
into the opalescent water early in the morning to beat the afternoon winds and
were welcomed by a comfortable eighty degrees with a teasing breeze and rocking
swells; it was a perfect paddle day. The deep water crossing from Danzante to
Carmen Island is a wide stretch of open water that can present a challenge.
Fernando, our local guide from La Paz, was paddling in perfect rhythm in the
cockpit behind me, so I enjoyed a great sense of security.
The cliffs on the
backside of Danzante display red sandblasted arches carved by ferocious
Chubasco winds. Fernando pointed to a window in the rocks several stores up
that navigators use to get their bearings. There are no beaches or trails on
this side of the island, so kayaking is the ideal way to explore. We slipped up
close to the cliffs to get a closer look at the sea caves. It was there I spied
the nest of an osprey.
On the water, the
natural flotsam consists of moss algae, sponges and the occasional jelly fish -
the size of a dinner plate. We glided over boulders populated by magenta
starfish and spiny purple urchins. Because there is no engine noise in a kayak,
the wildlife doesn't scatter upon your approach. It allows you the sensation of
being part of this translucent water world while remaining safe from the
dangers of the deep.
The Sea of Cortez is the
youngest sea on earth, a mere 25 million years old. It is cradled by rugged
lava-rock cliffs that are embedded with numerous sea caves. Earthquakes
generated from the San Andreas Fault created deep water canyons and separated
the peninsula from the mainland. Strong ocean currents continually mix and lift
food and nutrients from the deep ocean canyons, making this the perfect feeding
ground for all types of marine mammals.
We quickly made the
crossing to Punta Baja, where gulls greeted us with what sounded like
hysterical laughter. A troop of pelicans flew close to the water in a "V"
shaped wedge, webbed feet lowered for a splash landing. A lone, great blue
heron held his station on the point, undisturbed by our arrival. The littoral
was thick with shells, big corkscrew spikes, small orange cones and bivalves of
every description. The shells in the fossil bed at Punta Baja are said to be as
old as the sea itself.
Just as quickly as the
ball drops on New Year's Eve at Time Square, the sun slid behind the windblown
mountains, leaving a chill in the air. While others chose to sleep under the
star speckled skies, I unraveled my tent poles and set up house. When I
unzipped my bedroom at sunrise I was greeted with the sight of soft, muted
mauves and purples draping over the Isla Montserrat. I watched the sun lift its
warm face over the shimmering mirrored surface, turning the sky to an
opalescent pink. In the distance, dolphins did somersaults.
It was time for
breakfast; eggs with cactus, tomatoes and guacamole. We were a tribe now,
accustomed to each other's morning face. We were becoming deeply immersed in
the peaceful and unhurried rhythms of Baja. At Arroyo Roja, we enjoyed a view
of lava cliffs. A row of rock fingerlets, where Sally Light-foot crabs scuttled
at my approach, made for fun tide-pooling. Underwater, I spied on Sergeant
Majors, parrot fish, stickfish, and Rainbow Wrasse as they flitted in and out
of the oatmeal-colored algae. I floated over boulders peppered with starfish
and anemones. I felt light years removed from my ever-present thoughts of
danger and worries and from the question that eternally plagued me, "what's for
dinner?"
Early the next day, we
headed out from Punta Baja. Just as we crested the point, we saw a blue-footed
booby and a pod of about thirty dolphins. The dolphins churned past us in a
steady rhythm, making a beeline up the channel. After a brisk paddle into the
wind, we were gliding on shallow turquoise water again, so clear I could see to
the white sand bottom.
The beach was composed
of whited powdery sand, wrapped in white cliffs with fat, chalk-colored
stalactites dripping from the ceiling of the sea caves. Standing on the cliffs
were black cormorants with their wings spread in the sun to dry, looking like
scarecrows. A deep blaze of aquamarine green, so intense it glowed like a laser
beam, shot across the width of the passage.
A week of yoga before
breakfast, several of hours of paddling prior to lunch, a siesta and then a
swim, left me feeling amazingly fit. So when our group was challenged by
another cluster of kayaks to a race across the idyllic glide to Honeymoon Cove,
I was game. I poured on the steam, gave it all I had and applied all the
technique I had learned that week.
Having arrived at the
tranquil Honeymoon Cove, I climbed to the top of the red bluffs that sheltered
it. I peered down into water so clear that from several stories up I could see
schools of fish. From this perfect vantage, I let my imagination run wild
wondering what treasure might have been left behind by pirates who had come to
this part of the world looking for a sage harbor.
My trip sadly came to a
close, but I was very happy that this unique land that time almost forgot is
only a few short hours from home. "I'll be back," I promised myself.
Click here for Sea of Cortez Islands trip
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