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a whale shark for Christmas

12/27/2014

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Picture
Swimming with whale sharks in La Paz
Our friends flew down to visit us for Christmas. Now, these are the folks who generously allowed us to commandeer an entire room of their house for 4 months, filling it with gear that we had yet to fit on the boat prior to moving. And, on top of that, they let us live there in a 2nd room on and off for the last couple months prior to leaving for Mexico. We figure they must still like us enough to visit for an entire week and surmise they got post-partum depression after we left… no more political debates over morning coffee, no one to watch Jeopardy with and make fun of Alex Trebek. We missed that too.

So we were excited to have them visit and came up with all kinds of activities, especially since they had rented a car! We took a drive to Todos Santos one day and had cervezas at the Hotel California. We did an overnight snorkeling trip on Indigo to Balandra Bay. We ate way too much good food at local restaurants. We attended a Children’s Choir Christmas concert (Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer & Silent Night are surprisingly & heartwarmingly universal). But the highlight was the whale sharks...

We had been informed by several cruisers that this was a must-do excursion. So we went to Marlin Adventures right on the Malecon (boardwalk) and for a reasonable $48pp we acquired 3 hours of one-on-one snorkeling time with these behemoths.

Winter is prime whale shark season as they gather just a mile or so off the shoreline in the Bay of La Paz to feed in this plankton-rich location. Cruisers are not allowed to access this special spot via their own boat. Amongst other reasons, it protects the sharks from too many uninformed boat drivers in the water. The panga drivers know their feeding patterns and how close they can get without disturbing them. They also put a guide in the water to alert you to as their location since it’s hard to watch 360 degrees around yourself in the water. The sharks seem to completely ignore the snorkelers and aren’t going to care if they accidentally run you down. They are quiet swimmers and in the opaque, plankton-filled water, suddenly seeing that big mouth just a few feet away is mildly disconcerting, so it’s much better just to stay out of their way.

Once we arrived at the feeding grounds, we were surrounded by a dozen sharks. At lengths of typically 15ft up to 30ft long they are the biggest shark/fish species in the world. They are only called whale sharks due to their enormous size and the fact that instead of eating people, they eat plankton, similar to baleen whales. Whale sharks are amongst one of the longest living animals with a lifespan of reportedly 100 years.

They are certainly an intimidating sight from the boat, but being in the water with them was unreal. These gentile giants suspend themselves in the water at a 60 degree angle with their cavernous mouth agape at the surface allowing plankton to flow in. They seem to float like that until they decide to swim to the next spot. At this point they resemble their namesake, revealing shark-like vertical fins at the surface and swishy tail movements. While they move relatively slow and thankfully don’t dart around unpredictably, you don’t want to be near that huge tail.

Either they are so used to human snorkelers from the hundreds of us that visit them daily, or they just don’t care. We’ve been told by some people who encountered whale sharks outside La Paz, more in the “wild” farther north where people are rarer, that they are more curious about snorkelers and appear to want to interact. Either way, they just don’t seem to mind us sharing their environment and continue feeding, essentially ignoring our presence.

I was rarely closer than probably 8ft away so it was difficult to get good shots as the sky and water were cloudy. As soon as I got too close, which would have been perfect picture-taking distance, I backed away. They are huge! No way did I want my face close to that that 3-foot wide mouth or anywhere near that swishy tail. You could almost see them better from the boat. Our perspective changes from up high, so we got a much better sense for just how big these guys really are…some longer than our 20ft panga. As we stared at them in awe from the bow, Brian of course flippantly quotes the movie ‘Jaws’: “We need a bigger boat.”

Bucket list item complete.

See video link on YouTube…. the first video I have ever uploaded!
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leave only footprints

12/13/2014

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Picture
Playa Bonanza
Saturday, Nov. 30 we left our comfortable slip for the unknown wilderness desert oasis of Isla Espiritu Santo. A mere 20 miles from La Paz, the island itself is about 10 miles long by 5 miles wide and is a shining example of the diversity in geological and biological attributes the Sea of Cortez has to offer. Manta rays, hammerhead and whale sharks, dolphins and sea lions abound. Blue footed boobies, falcons and blue herons live in concert with iguanas, jackrabbits and hundreds of other species several of which are endemic only to this island. Mangrove forests, cacti and scrub trees thrive. Pristine white sand beaches, towering sheer rock cliffs, wind-sculpted sandstone, and tumbled lava make for a spectacular landscape. The stark beauty and biodiversity enthralled such infamous naturalists and explorers as Steinbeck, Heyerdahl, Darwin and Jack London. So it must be cool. Yes, yes indeedy do.

Our first stop, on the west side of the island was Playa Bonanza. Bonanza supposedly means good sailing weather in Spanish and here it sure applies. We anchored off the shore in 15 feet and spent two wonderful nights off the nearly 2 mile pristine shoreline. Stepping off the dinghy onto land was a joy; the beach was coarse, hard-packed, white sand and we walked its length amongst a smattering of shells glittering wet in the bright sunlight. The backdrop of small windswept sand dunes and mountains just beyond made for near perfection.

We spent a total of 8 days at the island and absolutely loved it. Simply. Gorgeous.
We ate a lot, napped a lot and read a lot. We hiked, dinghied and snorkeled & swam in the now 78 degree water (getting cooler). Life is sooo rough. But, lest you be too jealous of perfection, I know you want to hear about the imperfect moments...

Day 3 we upped anchor and moved to the other side of the island, sailing briskly for a couple hours until we anchored in the northern-most finger of Puerto Ballena (whale) called Ensenada de la Raza. This finger was framed by sheer cliffs which would give us good protection from the prevailing NW winds.  The water was even more turquoise and spectacular than Bonanza given that we were anchored in a mere 10ft. We were eager to get out to the small beach, see if we could find a trail to hike. We got in the dinghy and made our way in cautiously in the ever shallower, and even more turquoise water, careful not to let the motor rudder hit the shallow sand. The spectacularly blue waters with obvious sand underneath petered out once we got to about a foot and a half of water under us. Then a murky-looking algae-like plant began appearing close into shore, growing on the bottom and concealing the sand. Hmmm. There were patches of white sand here and there and we push the dinghy as close to shore as we could, still in 1 foot of water and grounded by the algae.

Leave only butt-prints…

No matter, we are only 10 feet from shore and I see a white patch I can jump to. No way was I willing to just stick my foot in all that algae. You never know what’s down there... famous last words.
I jump. Right foot lands in the water and shwhump…. sinks 6 inches into disgusting muck. What I thought was nice sand, was NOT.

Immediate panic. Left leg already has forward momentum, I can make it to the beach if only I run. Left leg slams full force into the muck while right leg comes right out with a sick sucking sound – without my water shoe…. It’s stuck, invisible, buried beneath 6 inches of muck and more importantly, my foot is naked!

I shriek like a little girl. Arms wind-milling, I wildly try to bring my barefoot leg around to balance and stop forward motion, jerking like a dancing Elaine from Seinfeld. But I was too far gone. It was inevitable. I could feel it. Nooooo! And I fall flat on my ass… in the thick… gross… slimy… mud. Eeeewwww.

Now, in order to get up I MUST put my naked foot and my hands in the muck and let me tell you I was lightning fast.  Eeeeekkkk. Back on just my good foot, in flamingo stance, with gooey, smelly mud dripping all over me, Brian just stared at me shaking his head. Don’t be a baby, just put your bare foot in the mud he says and get your shoe. He doesn’t get it… he’s still in the dinghy. He hasn’t yet experienced the terrifyingly oozy muckiness yet.

It’s like 4 feet away from me and invisible, I say. And under 6 inches of mud. I’d have to dig around in there with my BARE HANDS. The thought made me shiver with disgust. And what if I step on something? What that something might be, I didn’t dare think about. Seasnake, stingray, spiny sea urchin, aaaccck. No way. There’s a reason I go to shore with water shoes on.

Sighing, Brian gets out of the boat into the muck, while I stand one-legged. Like a native gathering mussels, he roots around with his BARE HANDS and liberates my shoe. Thank God he’s not a whimp like me.

I put my shoe back on and proceed one more step toward shore, again, too fast, almost losing my left shoe. My left foot feels completely stuck from the downward force with which I had started my initial sprint to shore. Teetering on one leg again, I slowly wiggle it out using both hands. I think it took an entire minute. The muck desperately wants to reclaim my shoes at each step. This is not going to be easy. Or fast. I squat, holding both shoe top and heel tip using both hands, and figure out a twisting, flexing motion to rescue my foot, with bootie intact, from the mud’s grasp.

Meanwhile, Brian is walking around effortlessly in the muck like it’s no big deal. Seriously. Me, on the other hand, I look like an orangutan… or drunk. Duck-walking, I slowly slop my way to shore, squealing and eewwing the entire way.

We figure out the problem. Brian chose to wear his much tighter water shoes; mine were more like slippers to his gloves. I finally make it to shore and we walk around for about 15 minutes. This is primarily a thick mangrove swamp with lots of bugs and only a slight spit of sand beach. No trail here to go much of anywhere. Back to the boat and back to my duckwalk, trying this time to walk on tip-toes to keep my heels out of the muck. Didn’t really matter much. 10 more minutes to go 10 steps with Brian telling me to just take my shoes off. No way, Jose.

Ahhh, it felt good to be back in the dinghy, back over crystal blue water, swamp muck behind, feet rinsed. Vespucci I am not, but I made a distinct impression on the island that day…I left quite a few footprints and one big butt-print.
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