Mexico, 1999

http://www.miramar-adventures.com/Whale_Watching_Baja.html

"There, Leviathan, hugest of living creatures, on the deep, stretch'd like a promontory sleeps or swims, and seems a moving land". Milton (Paradise Lost)

March 12, 1999

This is the third year we have boarded the luxury bus on its way to Baja, Mexico, after swearing each year, never, ever to get back on the bus. We are twenty people traveling together in high hopes of up-close, personal contact with the magical California Gray Whale, the "most watched" whale in the world. The warm, shallow lagoons of Baja are the last stop in their 12,000 mile annual migration for the whales. It is six o'clock in the morning, we are ready, bundled up, shivering in the cold and clutching our Starbucks. We meet at the Hacienda in Los Angeles, sleepy, excited.  We have all endured this 13 hour journey before...We are armed with books, bags full of snacks, snorkels for close-up viewing and lots of sunscreen. We talk and tell each other, once again, we would Never do this except for the whales. We say this every year...

Mexico...from the bus window, is a study in extreme contrast. Huge, sweeping views of the ocean, steep cliffs, winding, bumpy roads that bear testimony to their power by offering up the rusted hulks of cars that have long ago careened off the road. Crosses line the points along the highway, like so many morbid road signs, where victims were unexpectedly claimed. Litter is prevalent, skinny, limping dogs are too. We stop often and call dogs off the road, buy them lunch, feed them the rest of our leftovers, wish we could take them all home...Wildflowers of red, yellow and blue sprout along the road, creating gorgeous backdrops for the huge Saguaro cacti behind them. Pens of chickens, blue-tiled rooftops and the best margaritas and fish tacos to be found anywhere...Mexico is all these things and the breeding and calving ground of the California Gray Whale, a 45 foot beauty who, for reasons unknown, allow their calves to inspect boats, interact with their human occupants and even, to our joy and amazement, seem to encourage touching by humans of their curious offspring.

I have, before, touched one of these completely wild animals in the middle of the ocean on a previous trip and found it to be an indescribable experience. I want, more than anything, to do it again. The laws of nature and the luck of the draw will determine if I will get so lucky this time around. I would endure days of being on a bus to do it again, and so I will, as it is only 11 'o clock. We stop for lunch briefly and eat those amazing fish tacos, continuing our winding, bumpy drive through herds of cattle and scorching heat. We arrive in Catavina around 5 'o clock. Tami and I are roommates and longtime friends, we eat a quick dinner of crackers and cheese, put on sweaters and go for a flashlight walk to see the most unbelievable spray of stars with the rest of the group. Without streetlights, we can count millions and millions of them. There is no other sounds, except for our footsteps crunching through the desert. We go to sleep early, after spending some times lights out, talking of work frustrations and inequities, losing people we love and mostly, of the whales. We are travel partners from way back and we know each other's habits and wishes. It is good to have some time to just talk. We wake up to the noisy sound of sparrows at five thirty the next morning. Today, we will see the whales, and it's easy to get up when you're not heading to work. We eat a quick breakfast, knowing today, we will be in the Lagoon before night falls.

Saturday, March 13

Two more hours on the bus before we reach Laguna Ojo de Liebre, or Scammons Lagoon, re-named for its infamous discovery by Charles Scammons in 1855. The Lagoon soon became red with the blood of thousands of slaughtered whales, who were unfairly called "devil fish" for vigorously defending their harpooned young. I prefer to call it by it's former name, some of the whales are old enough to "remember" whaling in this lagoon, which was only stopped in the 1970's, making our experience of trust and interaction with them even more miraculous. Hard to believe that anyone felt it necessary to kill these beautiful, gentle, trusting creatures. It still hurts my heart to know what has happened here, long ago.

Once we arrive, we are anxious to get into the pangas, but it is 25 minutes by van, past the salt fields, to get to the lagoon. Although on the surface it does not appear to be destructive to the whales and other wildlife, environmentalists are fiercely fighting a proposal to construct a similar factory in San Ignacio, the other famous birthing lagoon on the "other side" of Baja. Ospreys surround the area on their tall platform nests and we see Blue, White and Gray Herons everywhere. It is a bird lovers paradise as well.

The current is strong and the winds are cold, but we don't feel any of it, only excitement. The sky is clear and the sun is warm and we put on our lifejackets on the dock. It takes 15 minutes by speed boat (11 foot wooden boats with six people each inside) to reach the center of the lagoon, we stop only briefly to view the sea lions and dolphins who escort us out to sea. Suddenly, they are there. Everywhere. They surface only yards away, we can see the full length of their bodies under the surface. We feel incredibly tiny, our boat dwarfs next to their immense size. The heart pounds a bit when they surface right next to the boat, close enough to reach out and touch...

"Whale-watching" is not exactly the right word to describe what we do. We interact, we talk and cajole and beg the whales to come visit us. We reach down through the green water up to our shoulders to try to touch them as they swim under our boats and suffer bruises we don't even feel as we brace ourselves against the lip of the boat while someone who worries we'll fall in holds our feet. The whales watch us, stopping to look directly at us with wise, quiet eyes. We breathe in their spray as they exhale with a powerful blow, the mist droplets creating their own individual rainbows as the sun hits them. The calves especially are curious and they seem reluctant to end encounters, usually gently pushed back out to sea by their giant "moms". We spend hours on the water, looking through binoculars at the whales breeching and spy-hopping and blowing all around us, which appear anywhere you care to look. We will never again be satisfied with a whalewatching trip out of San Pedro. This is a true whale-lovers heaven and I, not for the first time, think to myself; you can keep your shopping binges at Macys, your fancy designer shoes, your silly, bloody action movies. If I could stay in this boat for the rest of my life, I would have everything I would ever need. The connection is profound.

Sunday, March 14

It has been a rough night. Too many margaritas and some tension among the group. It is only one outrageous teenage girl, who, at the last minute, has decided to come along on the trip to grate on our nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard (yes, I know, but even my experience with teenagers and my Psych degree fail to help me here). She is dealt with at dinner by Tami, the details of which I will not describe here, but yes, what you have probably already heard is true. Mexican bars and their famous brawls have nothing on us and we eventually are kicked out of the restaurant, staggering back to our bus.  Perhaps she will behave from here on out...the last thing I remember before we left was singing along very loudly and pouring another margarita...

I am up and awake early, only for my second chance this weekend to see the whales and I am along the first ready to go this morning, massive headache and all.
We are once again blessed with perfect weather and we head out to sea, exclaiming over the dolphins, pointing out the ospreys overhead. The rules and regulations are strict, for the protection of the whales. The number of boats allowed, the time spent in one spot at a time and the total amount of time on the lagoon are all closely watched by the Mexican coastguards and the Whale Commission. The pangas are not allowed to chase the whales, they must come to us. Although we respect and abide by each of these rules, it is always a sad moment and frustrating to have to go back to shore each time, after what seems like the briefest of minutes.

On the water, the calf is interested, curious. He swims alongside our boat, goes under and comes back up on the other side. The immense female does a slow roll, exposing her pectoral fins above the water. Eric reaches over and gently holds them between his hands, his face incredulous. The whale is motionless, as though enjoying the contact. She is so close and so large, we realize how quickly, if she wanted to, she could smash our 11 foot wooden boat to firewood in a heartbeat. Her calf raises his head only inches from my hand and I reach out to caress his mouth and lip and baleen while he watches me. He is smooth, gray and white and so beautiful. He slips down underneath the waves and I am overwhelmed by the experience and cannot stop the tears. I cannot believe the trust, cannot describe adequately the connection. He stays with our boat for about fifteen minutes allowing others to touch him and then is headed away by his "mom". He has a long trip ahead of him and I silently wish him well and hope that he will make it safe and sound to the Russian waters, out of reach of orcas, fishing nets, pollution and the cold, deep waters that await him.

To our left there are a group of whales mating, for those of you who have never seen the penis of a whale and I'm guessing that's most people, they are quite an impressive 6 feet long. The water roils and the whales roll over and over, fins above the water, tails thrashing. There are three males to one female and they continue for almost 45 minutes, in the midst of the activity, I realize that these are next year's babies, and I hope I will be back here in Scammons Lagoon to meet them.