Video of Cortez Angelfish and Featherduster tubeworms
​at Isla Bargo/El Coyote, Bahia Concepcion.

Natural Nightly AC
OK, so it’s not as hot as it could be here in Bahia Concepcion. But it’s officially HOT. So stuffy, that every evening at about 6pm, we possessed a persistent drive to dive into the water. Stewing in the piping hot pool felt cooler than sweating in sizzling air temps. Every evening would find us suspended on a pool noodle or dangling from the dinghy or arm-wrapped around the anchor chain, desperate to cool off. After we sufficiently simmered into shriveled shrimp, we’d take a cool shower on deck. Natural AC.

Irritating Islets
In Bahia Concepcion, several miniature islets grow out of the water in ill-shaped clumps. Most are easily circumvented by day, just don’t get too terribly close and watch your depth sounder. Some are deceiving (or lazy) actors, basking underwater most of the day and only making a brief appearance on stage at low tide. From a kayaker and snorkeler perspective, these uninhabitable, rock-strewn regions are a prime attraction to Bahia Concepcion. But from a cruising perspective, these islets are considered navigation hazards to be avoided at all costs. And for some reason, like wrascally rabbits, the islets in Bahia Concepcion tend to duplicate on my chartplotter screen, drawing identical ghost land masses where I know for a fact it’s open water. Look honey, I’m driving us over an island! Yee haw! So in this bay, islets are just a bit irritating.

Isla El Coyote (aka Isla Bargo)
Less than a mile from El Burro Cove is one such Isla that we have avoided like the plague, simply because we are prone to islet-evasion. This year, I viewed this identity-crisis-prone Isla (marked in Google as Isla El Coyote and on our chartplotter as Isla Bargo) not as an evil navigation hazard, but an alluring tropical isle. Its baby anchorage juuust snug enough for one boat, its cloistered beach backed by a towering mini-mountain summoned Indigo like a siren. I envisioned our own little Gilligan’s Island (Brian would be the Professor, me, the bumbling Gilligan). So of course, we attempted to anchor there. Attempted.

Anchoring = Puppy-Dog-Walking
Setting an anchor is akin to walking a very stubborn Labrador puppy. Suddenly, “Giggles” sits down without warning and plants his feet - he ain’t goin’ nowhere, nohow. But you keep walking… and the leash attached to his neck and your wrist suddenly straightens out… and your wrist takes the brunt of your forward motion, tugging and eventually stopping you in your tracks. Giggles may scoot across the ground for a second during your slowdown, but his paws quickly dig into the dirt, securing your fate. The dog is our anchor; the leash is our chain; the wrist is our windlass (contraption on the bow that winds/brakes the chain as it’s going in or out).

After Brian drops our hefty hound, we watch that leash stretch out taut, feeling the anchor claw into the sand and the boat perform a sludgy stall. We reverse at a slow 1000 RPM until this happens. Why so slow? Well, ask your wrist. When your pooch plants his booty on the ground, would you rather be walking, eliciting a mere tug… or running at full speed, causing a cataclysmic cartwheel?

In addition to a taut chain and a mild tug, we know we’ve “set the hook” by noting the swirl of water churned up by the reverse propeller unable to move the boat further. Then we gun the engine backwards at 1500, then 2000 RPM to fully entrench the anchor and finally let out more chain.

No tug, no churn? Not anchored.
Except today, this didn’t happen. Brian is on the bow; I am at the helm, engine in reverse. I’d just input our anchor drop point into the plotter. Watching our backwards trail, I get a weird sensation. Why do I feel like this is taking too long? Our backwards GPS track seems waaay longer than our normal anchoring procedure. We should be stopped by now. Brian sees the chain is taut, but I see no prop churn; neither of us senses a stall. I visually compare our physical location with the leading edge of the islet, observing the rockfall drift slowly by...we’re headed out to sea! Whaaa? Basically, we’ve just dragged the pooch… hop, skippin’ an’ a jumpin’ along the sea floor.

Abandoning the Isla
Did we do something wrong? Or did our anchor drop on hard rock under minimal sand? (Like digging into pavement – impossible.) Who knows. We tried twice, abandoning our efforts after the second failed attempt. Why didn’t we bother going for a third? Trust issues. This brusque anchor expulsion has never happened to us, and twice in the same spot. It’s like the harbor just spit us out. Blech. Pitooey. We felt a tad unwanted. Fine then, we’re leaving!

Undeterred
But we’re coming back, one way or the other! After scooting over to El Burro Cove, we motored the dinghy BACK to Isla Bargo. (Or El Coyote, whatever you self-identify as these days. I don't care - just pick one!) Can’t spit us out that easily! 

Here on Gilligan’s Island
Zooming into this deserted cove really was like arriving at our own private Gilligan’s Island. (Except we weren't stranded.) Our 3-hour tour was a welcome respite from the summer beach crowd at El Burro. Gone are the Corona-clutching kayakers, the jet-skiers doing donuts around our boat, the beach-front monopolizers… BBQing and singing and cackling and playing an inordinate amount of tuba music. Sigh. We have this place all to ourselves. Not a single person here. I would not have minded getting stranded one bit. At least for a day.

Cortez Angelfish
The highlight of our Isla El Coyargo snorkeling excursion? Getting up close and personal with an unusual number of Cortez Angelfish. Unusual… meaning more than one. Like, five! OK, I know. Big deal. But these guys are so preeettty! Adults wear a dark grey face with wide, nervous eyes, followed by bright yellow and black bands and a dark/light grey spotted stern; the entire body is tinged in blue. Glowering at me vexingly, the fishies flitted in and out of their hidey-hole, mildly irritated at my prolonged presence. You’re STILL here? Ugh.

Even better, I got video of a striking juvenile. Covered in consecutive C-shaped stripes of black, electric blue and canary yellow, I think they are the coolest looking fish. In all our snorkels, I’ve only ever seen one other. This little guy sped back and forth under a rock ledge like a sugar-high 2-yr old. Stop moving! I’ll go away if you’ll just stop moving and let me take one non-blurry picture!

Feather Dusters
I also got video of a species of tubeworm. I know what you’re thinking. Ick. Now, I hate anything slithery and snakey, so I’m not a big fan of worms either. But since I can’t see the body…and they stay put… these aren’t so bad.

Tubeworms are just that: actual worms that live inside a secreted, then hardened, mini-tube-house sticking up out of the sand. At the head of the tube, the worm exposes a floating circle of hair-like feelers deployed to funnel tiny organisms as well as provide an oxygen exchange. This dainty plume looks like a feather duster…hence the typical name, Feather Duster Worms.

In our private Gilligan’s Island cove, Feather Dusters proliferate. Heading back to shore, I just happened to notice their disappearing act out of the corner of my eye…a miniscule withdrawal movement as I hovered over their holey homes. Diving with my camera in close, their colorful crowns retract inward to hide. Schloop! It’s even cooler when a group performs their scaredy-cat be-bop in succession. Schloop… Schloop.Schloop....... Schloop. As soon as I stop moving, they slowly discharge their fan. Ploof…Ploof. Ploof……Plooooof. And I can make them do it over and over! On command! BOO!
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Watch the video!

Stingray Shuffle
The Stingray Shuffle is a dance performed by beach-going visitors each year. Here in the Sea of Cortez, every public beach posts signs warning waders to shuffle their feet in shallow water. Stingrays hide from predators by burrowing flush with the sea floor, nearly invisible to us unsuspecting humans. So this sand-agitating, Mr.-Robot -shuffle-step signals the slithery specters to move… hopefully before you step down on one, resulting in a toxic spike jammed in your foot.

But I always thought those billboard notices were a tad overrated. As much as we have been in and around the water, our stingray sightings seemed pretty sporadic. We typically observe them either from the boat or snorkeling in 10-15ft depths, gliding over the sand or just resting on the bottom, one at a time, maybe two. Always comfortably distant… no close encounters… and too fast for film. But this year, I’ve seen more in two weeks than the nearly three seasons we’ve spent in Mexico combined. I’m beginning to think May is Stingray Month.

Agua Verde Video – Sneaky Stingrays
Agua Verde beckons cruisers with its clear, turquoise green water so vibrant it seems fake, like someone dumped in a barrel of Easter egg dye. We anchored at a depth of only 10ft in the east lobe where the sea floor was clearly visible. Peering down into our private fishbowl, we spotted a couple stingrays right away, skimming the white sandy bottom. Later, while swimming around a large rocky outcropping, I saw a couple more, 20ft below. I held my breath, dove down 6ft and tried GoPro stalking. This attempt was futile though – they wisely fled, bolting away like a Stinger missile.

Then, as I was filming a tiny, blue damselfish, another surprised me from behind, gliding by nonchalantly about two feet away. Holy schmeel schmazel. He just about scared my shorty wetsuit right off me. But I actually got that one on video - only by accident. After I gathered my wits, I GoPro stalked that one, successfully this time. Remarkably, this stingray was pretty chill about the whole stalking thing. And I will name him Marky Mark… for being so calm and composed while I dashed after him like paparazzi.

Watching any kind of ray swim is just cool, be they giant manta rays, mobula/eagle rays or stingrays. It is somehow satisfying to witness their wings leisurely undulate, propelling their pancake physique so gracefully. Like swooping underwater butterflies. Only bigger. And with stingers. Don’t forget the stingers…

RayNado
As that sneaky stingray passed me initially, I could have reached out and touched him. But that would have been a bad idea. These are not slimy aquarium kittens with removed stingers to allow petting. These are real stingrays with real barbs, serrated knives essentially, that if shoved into your body really hurt. In fact, as I was in hot pursuit, I thought to myself…self…what are you doing? What if he decides he doesn’t appreciate your quest for good video? And turns around? And calls over some friends? I can picture the movie trailer now: “Stingraynado – The Baja Menace”. Or not. “Raynado”? I’ll work on that one.

 So…yah, I slowed down and let Marky flutter away, while he was still in a jolly mood.

Candeleros takes the Cake
Bahia Candeleros is a shallow crescent bay whose crowning glory is the resort oasis of Villa del Palmar. Best known (at least according to us) for their expensive but delicious hamburgers, we travel-weary cruisers could think of nothing else for two days prior. Priorities, people. Stomachs satisfied, snorkeling was priority #2.

I’ve swum the eastern shore here before with not a single ray sighting. But this time we shooed several away in a foot of water just scooting the dinghy onto shore. What the heck?! While prepping our gear, the four of us marveled at several more visible in the clear water. I have never seen a stingray from shore, hanging out 2ft from the water’s edge, noticeably unafraid of our presence… let alone multiples at once.

Mmmmmm. While interesting to observe, I like seeing stingrays by the onesie’s or twosie’s. Not the 10-sies or 20-sies. Not when they might be burrowed in the sand at every footstep. And not when they refuse to scoot away from my shadow. I’m just weird like that.

Fin Flop
Do I really want to go swimming with all these guys? Especially in these initial 2 ft depths. I mean, it’s one thing to get your foot stung (I haven’t yet, fortunately). It’s quite another to put your whole body up for grabs (ala Steve Irwin who was fatally stung in the heart.)

Well, we’re here, let’s do this. Instead of waiting to don my fins in the water though, I put them on at the beach. Better to have that extra 1ft of spacing between me and them, eh? I looked memorably moronic, duck-walking and flopping with my large yellow flippers. My intended crazed commotion (albeit awkward) would have scared away a shark. Or, more likely, attracted one. Hoping I was in the clear, I face-planted into the 2ft pool.

Everywhere I looked, there they were. Crikey.

What IS this place? A stingray incubation facility? Wow. There’s one over there. And another over there. And three down there and two more on the rocks… and on and on. We probably saw 20-30 just in this one small area. Brian and I usually point out interesting things to each other as we are swimming, but with stingrays hovering all around, we felt no need. Until…

Strangely Still Stingrays
Brian called out to me to “come over here”...which sounds a lot like “mmm orrrre earrr” under water. I sashay over to where he is staring at something. Two somethings. One on top of the other, but the bottom one is upside down. OMG. Is THAT what I THINK it is? Yes. Yes indeedy-do. Apparently I was right… this IS a stingray incubation facility.

Leave it to us to stumble upon yet another species, well, uh, having fun. (We came across mating frogs, butterflies and walking sticks last year.) Man, I wish I’d brought the GoPro instead of the camera. Eyeballing me with suspicion as I zoomed in for the shot, the intimate couple was none too thrilled with me invading their private time. Well, you’re doing it here right out in the open, so what do you expect?

“OK…work it… come on, at least pretend you’re having fun…no? OK then…just… say cheese!” Click, click, click.

And here are my up close and personal stingray porn stills. You’re welcome.
 
Fun Stingray Facts:

• A group of stingrays is called a fever.
• I’ve since learned the month of May IS stingray month. Apparently, they are quite prolific in late spring.
• The three chief species in the Sea of Cortez are Reef, Round or Cortez Stingrays. These types don’t get much bigger than a foot wide and their toxic barbs are not fatally poisonous.
• Peeing on it is NOT the proper treatment for a stingray wound. (Although it can work for jellyfish stings, as would any other mild acid like vinegar.)
• Soaking the affected area in hot water, reportedly over 110degrees, breaks down the toxins faster. The biggest risk is infection, so being several hours away from a doctor in the middle of nowhere is reason enough to be cautious.

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Stone Scorpionfish
Have you ever wondered: “What’s the ugliest fish in the world?” Well, look no further. Scroll through my gallery to the very end. There you will find what I believe is a Stone Scorpionfish. Unlike an octopus who can transmute himself into the shape of a coral outcropping or rock, a Stone Scorpionfish already looks like one. The fish I found was resting in white sand next to a rock. But this “rock” just looked odd. I wasn’t sure of what I was seeing at first since he was frozen in place… waiting for dinner to glide by, I presume. Not only are they butt-ugly, they too, sport highly toxic spines. If stepped on, the wounds are similar to getting zapped by a stingray. Except worse. An infection can be deadly. With stingrays and scorpionfish and porcupinefish and sea urchins – why is everything in the Sea trying to stab me?

We are happily anchored at Ensenada Grande, the first stop on our 6-week trip up to San Carlos from La Paz. As I lounge below on my sea berth, a tall mast looms visible through the companionway. Yikes! I know the boat is close if I can see him through that narrow slot. I launch up on deck, but Brian is already intently watching. This boat drops anchor right between us and another boat. Ugh. He’s pretty darn close, but not disturbingly so. We watch and wait.

10 minutes later, we overhear a VHF radio call in heavily-Spanish-accented English.
“Boat with the French flag… this is Valencia… you have anchored too close.” (Boat names changed to protect the innocent.)
Crickets…

Again. “Boat with the French flag… this is Valencia… you have anchored too close.”
Silence.

Again, with a bit more emphasis.
Silence.

The oblivious yacht is a 40ft Beneteau sailboat, so we’ll call him Mr. Beneteau. We cannot see his boat name and apparently neither can Valencia. It’s on his stern, probably in foolish flowery font – why owners don’t make their boat names clearly visible is beyond me.

The Audacious Mr. Beneteau
The French boat had anchored too close for Valencia’s comfort. Except Mr. Beneteau’s VHF radio was off so Valencia could not relay his analysis on the matter. While one Valencia crewmember kept trying to hail them over the radio, the other crewmember stood on the bow, waving arms, shouting in vain through the wailing 20kt wind. You’d be surprised how little sound carries in 20 knots of wind. If you prefer not to shout, or it’s too windy to do so, a good way to get someone’s attention is just stand on the bow, arms akimbo and glower at the offending boat. Pointing helps. Eventually they will notice. And they did.

So finally I hear heavily-French-accented English, coming from a very weak radio signal, hailing Valencia. But now Valencia is not hearing them. Wow. This just gets better and better. Grammy-winning evening entertainment!

Eavesdropping
After several unanswered return calls from Mr. Beneteau, Valencia responds and they switch from a hailing channel to a talking channel. Of course we switch too, duh. #1, we want to listen in on this highly entertaining shit show, and #2, we have a stake in this conversation. It might be our shit show when the wind switches. Don’t judge. Everybody does it.

Valencia (flustered woman):“You have anchored too close to our boat.”

Mr. Beneteau (a meek, high-pitched, squeaky woman): “Oh, no, no…it’s OK.”

Valencia (now obviously irritated): “You are right on top of our anchor.”

Mr. Beneteau: Crickets…

“It’s OK” means “I don’t care”
Brian and I look at each other, jaws dropped. OMG. Did she just say “It’s OK”? Seriously, that’s not the right answer. But it’s always the answer. Our first year in La Paz, I described our dealings with another cruiser saying that exact same thing to us in this exact same anchorage about the exact same issue. We both start laughing at the irony.

Did they move? Nope.
We waited and watched, doing a mild bit of staring-down of our own. See, we’d prefer they move too. But they remain consciously obtuse - irreverent towards the safety-comfort-level of their neighbors. While pretty close, we feel Mr. Beneteau is a tolerable distance, so we opt to stay put. But Valencia, the boat so offended as to call Mr. Beneteau out on his proximity, does not move either. Either they decided they weren’t in dire straits, or they were just too lazy to get up and move.

Anchoring Etiquette: Don’t be a Dingo
In general, anchoring etiquette is simple: if you as the anchored boat think the incoming boat parked too close (and announces so), it is on the incoming guy to move; but if they refuse, and you remain, and an accident ensues… who do you think your insurance company will hold responsible for your boat damages? If you are uncomfortable with the situation enough to voice your opinion… and the other boat is a dingo and refuses… a healthy fear for the safety of your boat should prompt your departure, regardless of ego or convenience.

Fast forward several days later and we are anchored in San Evaristo, pondering this identical predicament…

San Evaristo Cluster-Fun.
A very large, very old, very ugly powerboat/barge contraption chugged its way into the snug harbor. I picture a 70ft, two-tiered version of the grimy, barnacle-encrusted “African Queen” (from the Katherine Hepburn movie of same name). It really didn’t look like that at all, but the offensive boat became personified as such in my mind as soon as he plopped his anchor down… right on top of us.

Now, when I say right on top, I mean it. This is not Valencia vs. Mr. Beneteau spacing, both with decent enough distance to remain in place all night. This was downright painful, body-hugging, spandex tight.

Radar Blob Monster
Intimidated by his size and proximity, I actually turned on the radar to confirm our suspicions about their distance. Our buddy-boat, Lorelei, was about 200ft to our left – a close but respectable distance for a friend-boat who you are comfortable yelling at if all hell breaks loose. But The African Queen’s massive radar blob was glowing like the sun, merely 100ft away. Damn…my eyes! Are you kidding? We have nearly that length of anchor chain out! This guy WILL whack us when we inevitably swing around to the west at night.

Now highly agitated, we glowered. We scowled. We gave our best disgusted glare. We waited for him to realize the error of his ways; sometimes they do and re-anchor. But African Queen appeared perfectly content attached to our hip.

So we opted to move, sans confrontation. We could already predict the answer anyway: “No really, It’s OK!” The African Queen was so big, and so NOT-maintained we did not relish them picking up and re-anchoring anywhere nearby. Would you want to park your still-in-good-shape 1990’s BMW next to a rusted-out, 1960’s Suburban tank? No. The screaming baby-on-board was the deal breaker. We’re out! We picked up anchor (ending up nose-to-nose within 20ft of their bow) and waved as we drove out the bay. Thanks, Dingo.

North Shore Sanctuary
Moving around to the north shore of San Evaristo, we safely ensconced ourselves in the wide bay, devoid of dingos. Only one other boat was parked…waaaay over there. Sigh. Peace.

Just as it was getting dark, our buddy boat, Lorelei, motors around the corner. What are you guys doing here? Well, they had their own anchoring saga to relay. Apparently, San Evaristo was THE place NOT to be tonight. Too bad we’d turned our radio off and missed THIS evening radio show…

Beware the Charter Catamarans
After we left, 4 charter catamarans traveling together like a pack of wild dingos tried to squeeze their wide-load rear ends in the already limited front row space. Two attempted to side-tie (tie together side-by-side with only fenders between and one boat’s anchor down) in between the now 300 feet between Lorelei and African Queen. Two 15ft boats swinging on one anchor in such close proximity to the others could have been catastrophic. Especially since oblivious charter cats habitually put down like 30 feet of scope, kind of like anchoring 20 tons with a fish hook.

Herding Cats
These catamarans were first warned by two boats that this was not a good idea, there’s not enough swing room for their double mass. In return, what did their dingo leader say? Everybody now… “No, no, It’s OK!” To which both cruisers shouted “NO, it’s NOT OK!” Herding cats is impossible.

Finally, after several other anchored boats expressed their extreme vocal displeasure, the cats reluctantly gave up the side-tying but continued their squeeze. With the obnoxious group boxing them in on both sides and still a bit too close for comfort, Lorelei grudgingly gave up and relocated to our neck of the woods. Sometimes you just can’t win these battles. I am regretful that our friend had to move out of these dingos’ way…but African Queen had it coming!

A Final Dressing-Down
Coincidently, as I began to edit this blog, I heard a one-sided radio conversation on this very topic. I recognize this particular woman’s teacher-like voice from the local radio net. Anchored in Isla Coronado, she incredulously and vehemently pronounces the following to someone whose response I can’t hear:

“Well I have no idea why in this big bay you picked that spot? We have a very heavy boat, we don’t swing the same way and we will be pointed west tonight so you will be right on top of our anchor once the wind switches.”

Ouch. I’m pretty sure that dingo moved.

#1 Beach in Mexico!
Balandra Beach is a must-do when visiting La Paz. We’d taunted our SoCal friends so much with photos of blue bays and beautiful beaches that they finally decided to come see for themselves. So we took them to Balandra, considered by some as one of the most spectacular in the world. Last year, it was rated the number one beach in all of Mexico by USA Today’s readers. Check out touropia.com for an amazing aerial shot. While I disagree with the #1 status, simply because we've been to several spectacular, more remote beaches, it's definitely in my top ten! 

The Perfect Beach
If you are looking for sapphire blue waters and white sand beaches, you’ve come to the right place. Crystal clear, the shallow water extends out hundreds of feet into the bay, perfect for kiddies, kayaking & paddleboarding. Snorkeling opportunities are limitless - just search for some underwater rocks and you’ll find fishies (mostly small ones since it’s very shallow). A hard-packed, sandy sea floor makes for easy strolling to explore the various caletas (little coves). And, well, if beaches aren’t your thing, you can always indulge in photography: dark brown/black volcanic outcroppings contrast with creamy sand, while rippling turquoise water meets a stark azure sky. Ahhh.

Mushroom Rock
Balandra’s main attraction is “El Hongo” or “Mushroom Rock”, a natural rock formation that sort of looks like a mushroom. Maybe “fungus” ball growing on a stick is more accurate. (Hongo can mean either.) Despite the unusual shape, it’s still a pretty amazing natural wonder. It’s mushroomy stem has eroded over the years to a teensy foot. But don’t look too closely - it’s been shoddily shored up with concrete and rebar to keep the precariously perched blob from toppling. So treasured by the townspeople, El Hongo has become an icon symbolizing La Paz. There is even a replica statue of it in the town square. A visit to the real El Hongo is a must, but you may get wet depending on the tide.

In the Boonies
Balandra is just 20 miles from La Paz close to the end of a windy, nearly uninhabited, dead-end road. Beware: there are no “facilities” at Balandra. But there is no parking fee either. Usually, kayaks are available for rent. There may or may not be a food truck selling snacks and beer. Eight of us hopped in a taxi-van and had our driver wait while we explored for a couple hours. There is also bus service from downtown La Paz. Got your own car? Once finished with Balandra, keep driving to the end of the road & have lunch at the restaurant on Tecolote Beach.

Secluded Paradise
Balandra Beach is far off the beaten track so if you are looking for Cancun-type hordes, you will be disappointed. Its allure is its seclusion. Go on a weekday to beat the “crowds”, meaning 10’s of people. Go early to stake out one of the palapas for shade. But don’t miss this beach!

WHY would you want to swim with sea lions?
Sea lions in Southern California are nuisances. “Destructive” and “aggressive” are typical descriptive adjectives bandied about when discussing this noisy, messy animal. They routinely climb aboard boats, notorious for parking themselves permanently. Sea lions wreak havoc on marina docks too; I once saw one take out a dockside electrical box. Aggressive may be an understatement - adult bulls have been known to… unprovoked… chase us innocent dock-walkers. So, WHY on earth would we want to swim with them?

Sea lions may NOT be cute and cuddly in SoCal. But they ARE in La Paz! So much so, that swimming with the sea lions is one of the top things to do here in La Paz. Personally, I’d rate it #2 behind whale sharks.

Los Islotes (meaning “Islets” in Spanish)
At the northern tip of Isla Ispiritu Santos is Los Islotes, the most visited island in the Sea. This tiny set of rocky, volcanic outcroppings is home to a large sea lion colony. But not just any old colony. Just like the friendly gray whales of Puerto Lopez Mateo, these sea lions also seem to enjoy human interaction. Seemingly, the languid Baja vibe extends to animals as well as people! So visitors get to experience a whole different sea lion personality… instead of confrontational thugs, Los Islotes’ sea lions are inquisitive and playful.

World-Renowned Dive Destination and Photo Op
Multiple pangas zoom to the tiny islet daily, downloading floating flocks of brightly-colored snorkelers and bubble-emitting scuba-ers. Famous for its diverse sea life, numerous fish species, colorful corals and graceful rays can be found amongst the main attraction… the sociable sea lions. It’s no wonder the rookery attracts professional underwater photographers. My measly GoPro mingles with colossal & costly dive camera contraptions, each of us keen on capturing that once-in-a-lifetime wildlife experience.

What’s it Like?
With all the tourist activity, these guys are comfortable with humans sharing their waters. So they’ll not only swim near you, they’ll often swim with you. One young’un flitted amongst our group, checking us out. He then hovered perfectly still just a few feet away at the surface, serenely surveilling Brian and I with big, soulful, puppy-dog eyes. Awww. Squinting in the sunlight, I swear he was smiling. Projecting a casual curiosity, I’m pretty sure I heard him say “Wassup, Dudes?”

Mermaids of La Paz
On land, sea lions lumber and loaf; underwater they transform into lithe, graceful mermaids. Well, puppy-faced mermaids, just so you get the right image. Captivating creatures, we watched several play together, weaving around each other’s sleek bodies like DNA strands. One executed a perfect backflip then chomped on his own tail as if annoyed it was following him, just like a dog. Another hung from the surface ‘tail-up’, rotating his flippers to keep himself vertically suspended (just like water ballerinas rotate their hands to hover upside down).

I observed several enjoying the heck out of getting an easy back-scratch. Lying on a shallow rock ledge, the water surge routinely pushed and rubbed them along the craggy, back-scratcher rocks. They seem to enjoy swimming right at you, diverting suddenly when a couple feet away. They have been known to playfully nip at fins and are attracted to scuba diver bubbles. Because of this unique human interactivity, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess this is one of the most photographed sea lion colonies in the world.  One photographer made it his life’s work: www.losislotesbook.com
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Why didn’t we just sail there?

• Slow boat.

About 25 miles away from Marina Costa Baja, it takes half a day to get there in our slow boat. Indigo’s engine is 38hp vs. 230hp in a powerful panga. Mmmm...no-brainer. Plus, it sure was nice to let someone else do the driving.

• No anchoring.

The bottom is too deep and rocky for conventional anchoring. Although we’ve met cruisers who hook to the tour boat mooring balls in late afternoon after the tourists have vanished, I don’t think you are supposed to. The only other option is one person must remain on the boat steering it in circles, perilously close to hull-crushing rocks, while the rest of the crew (me) gets to swim. Not fun… or fair... for the captain.

• Too far to dinghy.

Dinghying from the nearest anchorage is almost 3 miles. While we know several people who have done this trek in a dinghy, a 3 mile trip in our dinghy isn’t worth it. Sporting a meager 4hp, we don’t plane well and could get swamped if the wind and waves picked up in this highly exposed zone. Plus, we distrust our petulant engine and would prefer not to get stranded.

A Wild Ride
So what to do? We rented a super-fast panga! Our ride out to Los Islotes was wild & crazy in moderate winds and building seas (we would have turned around in Indigo). But the Fun Baja boat screamed alongside the island, easily cleaving through whitecaps, hurtling out a ginormous rooster tail spray. I gripped the rail tightly, fearing this snorkel excursion would be a vomit-inducing disaster. I couldn’t help but envision 8 queasy faces bobbing on breakers at the tip of an exposed reef, being tossed around as though in a popcorn popper.

Fortunately though, the leeward side of the islets afforded just enough wave protection. Whew. While not calm, the sea agitation level was doable and the water remarkably clear despite a noticeable washing machine surge effect. The sea lions loved that surge action though as it assisted in their back-scratching endeavors.

Fresh Fish and a Heavenly Nap in the Sun
After ogling the sea lions for an hour we were all freezing cold and exhausted. The water was still a tad chilly on that last day of March, even with full wetsuits. After enjoying a delicious lunch on the beach we happily soaked up the sun on comfy chaise lounges. Amazingly, we had the entire beach to ourselves, perfect for kayaking and snorkeling the rest of the afternoon. Sublime!

Fun Baja 
For this all-day outing we decided on Fun Baja Tours out of Marina Costa Baja. As their tour boats are berthed only one dock away from Indigo, this was the ideal choice. It couldn’t be any more convenient than walking 30 steps! Not only could everybody snorkel with sea lions, but this was a great opportunity to quickly show our sailing friends the kinds of anchorages we get to visit. A private boat for 8 people cost less than $800. That’s dollars not pesos. It pays to do this with a group as individual prices will be much higher… think $150pp. While expensive, with these tour pros you get what you pay for. (Remember our recent whale shark hustle?)

What’s Included:
- snorkels & fitted wetsuits (meaning men’s & women’s, choice of shorties or full) that I can personally verify are rinsed out every day (I see them do it);
- an excellent English-speaking guide, a boat captain and a cook (yeah);
- an hour or so swimming with the sea lions at Los Islotes (guide swims with you);
- an afternoon at one of our favorite anchorages, Ensenada Grande;
- freshly cooked lunch on the beach: marinated fish of the day (we had mako shark), rice, soup & salad;
- after lunch, choose your activity: kayak, paddleboard, snorkel, beachcomb or kick back with a beer and suntan in comfy lounge chairs. 

Can you get much better than that? Nope. Well, only if you live on a boat. Minus the chaise lounges... and a cook of course. Wait, I’m the cook!​

In my opinion, THE number one thing to do in La Paz is to swim with the whale sharks. We did so with our friends on Lorelei back in 2014, arranging a tour through Marlin Adventures. It was approx. $50pp. A little steep but the boat ride was comfortable, the guide knowledgeable and he spoke English. I recommend this place. You get what you pay for. Seriously. Let me ‘splain.

I Know a Guy Who Knows a Guy
When our SoCal friends arrived last week, this was on the must-do list. But because we had already spent mucho dinero on an all-day sea lion tour, I was striving for cheaper thrills. Our friends had the number of a boat captain who charged $30pp just a couple months ago. Perfect. We call Salvador. But he doesn’t do that job anymore. Call Hector, he’ll do it. We call Hector. Hector says yes… 600pesos per person ($30), 700 with wetsuits/gear, 5 people. Meet in front of Burger King at 1pm Sunday. Perfect.

Where’s Hector?
Sunday arrives. We pile out of the shuttle and aim for the Malecon. This area of the boardwalk is rife with panga dudes hanging out near their boats soliciting passersby..."You want whale shark tour?"

​So is it any wonder my bright yellow fins are like a beacon to them screaming “snorkel tourist”, 'cause that’s the only reason anyone would be carrying fins to the Malecon. It’s only 12:25pm, we are super early. A man sees me, waves us over and acts like he is expecting us. I call out “Hector?” and he confirms yes. As we start talking though, it is painfully obvious he is NOT Hector but he claims to be in charge of operating the boat for Hector. We are immediately suspicious. Where is Hector?

Hector is in Guadalajara
“Oh, Hector is in Guadalajara at a party and cannot make it, but we are captaining the boat for him today.” Bizzare. Stuck in Cabo would have been more plausible. Maybe Hector got a bit schnockered last night and handed his business off last-minute. But Guadalajara? That would require an airplane ride. So why didn’t he mention he was in Guadalajara two days ago? Then again, why would he tell us? On top of this, the fee is cheaper… 500 pesos pp. Not arguing that, but some of us need wetsuits. They did not seem to be expecting this. OK, 600 with wetsuits. Hmmm.

Whale Shark Hustle?
We asked this dude to call Hector to confirm. Fortunately, our friend Luis speaks Spanish and talked to “Hector”. Luis could not recognize if it was the same voice, but when asked, “fake Hector” could not remember Luis’ name or the number of people he booked. He said 6, we said 5. Hmmm. I tried calling Hector’s original number on my phone, but no answer.

We mutter amongst ourselves wondering if they are scamming Hectors' business but since I cannot confirm via phone, and since they take us across the street to an office to get wetsuits, we decide it has to be semi-legit. I mean, at least there is an office, albeit a grungy one. But do we wait another half hour to see if Hector shows up or leave with these guys? Well, we’re here. It’s 100 pesos cheaper. We suit up.

Dodgeball
Since we feel it’s a conceivable coup, we feel the need to do our own little bit of dodgeball. We tell them Hector included drop off at Marina Costa Baja in the price. He didn’t - we were going to offer him a couple hundred pesos to do this, the cost of a taxi. “What? Hector didn’t tell us that. We can’t go into the marina, they won’t allow it.” We insisted to just drop us off at the beach. After hemming and hawing for a minute they decide this is OK and we have a deal.

Slow Ride
The boat is big enough for our group of 5, plus a driver and a spotter, but any more would have been over-crowded. The ride is a wet one, the boat not big or fast enough to repel the sizeable and constant spray generated. The ladder is rickety and very difficult to get on board. The wetsuits are all male and…well, not exactly form-fitting. (I’m glad I brought my own.) We take a seemingly inordinate time to get out to the sharks – they were waaaay out in the bay. Initially, we could not see any other tour boats nearby. Last time there were pangas everywhere. Did we miss the season? Are there any whales out here? Do these guys even know where they are? Are we going to be robbed and dumped overboard?

1st Jump
There’s one! Finally. We all point to the single giant cruising around our boat. The captain races to catch up with it, the guide jumps in and swims for it. Either he is holding onto the shark by its dorsal fin (not cool) or this young whippersnapper can swim like Michael Phelps. I honestly couldn’t tell how he was keeping up. We are all just concentrating on when to jump in the water as soon as he signals the OK. This first shark is on a mission though. Swimming perpendicularly at him, I didn’t even get close; he was cruising so fast I think only 1 person out of 5 actually saw it underwater. We got back in the boat discouraged: “Wow, this is IT? Is that all there is going to be? This sucks.”

2nd Jump
After several minutes of cruising around we finally see multiple sharks! The 2nd jump was the perfect combination of “Wow” and “Whew!” Yes…validation! See, I told you it was cool! Everyone got to experience several sharks up close and personal. This group moved slow and fed lazily, just meandering back and forth. Sunlight filtered through the water at a perfect angle; the water was much clearer than even where we were 5 minutes ago. Great viewing. Our guests were sufficiently impressed. Whew. They’re happy; I’m happy.

3rd time’s the charm!
Before the 3rd jump, we debated about going in again but once we saw another group feeding, a couple of us went for it. The wind had picked up. The waves were coming in high and choppy, enough to swamp my snorkel. By the end it was impossible to breathe normally while snorkeling and we were exhausted from swimming fast and dodging massive tails. But by that time I didn’t care, this was my best encounter yet...

Last Time
Two years ago, the water was so shadowy with krill and plankton and the sunlight so insufficient, that the sharks giant bodies were continuously veiled. Suddenly a 3ft gaping mouth would appear 10 feet from my face. Freaking out, I’d frantically backpedal away before it got too close, then it disappeared as if behind a mist. Having large creatures (5x my height) lurking about me in murkiness was mildly nerve-racking. It didn’t matter knowing these sharks don’t/can’t bite; I was more afraid of getting schwacked unconscious by a flicking tail. We could see them way better from above looking down into the water that day than we could under it. Above water, their massiveness was impressive. See my blog post from 2014. While a great experience, the second time was even better just knowing what to expect…

This Time
Today, choppy waves obscured the sharks from above. But under water, waves did not matter. I could clearly see them coming from probably 50ft away. And being able to approach them, rather than be surprised by them, was a much more comfortable … and gratifying… experience.

This time, I was able to just float, calmly witnessing these gentle giants (OK mostly calm). Their 25ft bodies hung at a 60 degree angles as if suspended in space; their 3ft mouth gaped wide open at the surface, gulping in krill and plankton. I could clearly see the throat expanding and contracting to consume water, the gills flaring, the smooth, speckled skin, the sharky-tail propelling silently (and fortunately not deadly) through the water.

Rule #1: Don't Kick the Sharks
One behemoth seemed to be doing dainty pirouettes, slowly swirling upright in one spot… performing water ballet. Wow. Mesmerized by this guy, I didn’t see his friend closing in on me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement and heard people yelling from the boat. Stupidly, I kicked frantically to get out of its way. When I felt my fin tip barely flick this 20,000 pound beast, I swore/screamed (quite loudly), worried I had scared him into flailing his dangerous tail. Thankfully, my transgression didn’t seem to bother him (he probably didn't even feel it - their skin is 4" thick). But it scared the pants off me. Or should I say wetsuit. Everybody got a good laugh at that one! Sorry guys, I did not get this freak-out on film. (Or did I?)

The Verdict? Worth It!
The second time around, despite dubious initial circumstances, was well worth it. It pays to do this tour twice allowing for different conditions. But it also pays to arrange it with a real tour company. With a real office. Cheaper isn’t always smarter.

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Side note: We were talking to a couple of cruising kids recently, maybe 7-yrs old, and asked them if they’d seen the whale sharks yet. “Oh yeah. Four times.” Wow. How’s that for a cruising kid’s life!

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Whale Shark Facts:

• Whale sharks are not whales; they are a species of shark.
• They are filter feeders similar to the baleen whale or basking shark. Pretty much they ingest whatever is in their path, forcing the water back out through their gills.
• Whale sharks can filter over 1500 gallons of water per hour.
• They eat plankton, krill, tiny fish, squid, jellyfish & fish eggs. Fortunately, not people.
• Whale sharks are the largest fish in the world. They are also the largest non-cetacean animal. In other words, only whales are bigger.
• Average size = 30-40 ft. That’s over 20,000 lbs of pure shark.
• Their mouths can span 3-5 feet in width!
• Each whale shark has a unique color pattern. The distinctive array of spots and stripes can be used to identify specific sharks.
• Average age – Internet consensus seems to be 70 yrs. Some say they can live to well over 100!

Isla Coronados south anchorage is one of our favorites. Boasting crystal clear turquoise water, 15-20ft deep above perfect white sand, its nightly sunset spectacle is reason enough to stay another day. It provides good protection from north winds and decent blockage from occasional southern swell due to large Isla Carmen 10 miles to the south. At over a mile wide, it could probably fit an aircraft carrier. So anchoring is never a problem. During our four-day stint, we enjoyed the company of only 1-3 other anchored boats at any given time. Ahhh. Time to lay down the hook and relax.

What do we do for 4 days?
Well, each morning we listen to the weather radio net at 7:30am. We then eat breakfast and contemplate if we should stay or continue on to another anchorage. Eh…it’s nice here. Let’s stay another day. So we relax and read books and type blogs. On any given day we might kayak, or snorkel, or swim, or go to shore to look for shells (OK I look for shells, Brian just tags along). Throw in time for making lunch and dinner. And, as long as it has been sunny all day and our batteries are charged sufficiently, we can watch one TV show at night. Tonight’s showing? The Shield.

Cellular Servicio
Coronados also provides excellent cell phone service! The first we’ve had in several days…so we take advantage and notify our families we are still alive. Isla Coronados is a mere 6 miles east of Loreto and in direct view of a cell phone tower. My T-Mobile cell phone coverage is better on a deserted, desert island, mid-Mexico than pretty much everywhere mid-Michigan. Figures.

No Volcano Hike
I have always wanted to go up to the top of the volcano that is Isla Coronados. But, apparently it’s a fairly strenuous 4-hour hike under the best circumstances. After our botched Punta Pulpito summit, I thought it best NOT to insist we go on yet another Death March. Me: Too soon? Brian: Yah. The following day we talked to our boat neighbor who just tackled the volcano and confirmed the 4-hr time length; they ALSO encountered a rattlesnake on the trail. Hmmm. Maybe I don’t want to go up that volcano anyway…how about we just do some easy inland hiking?

No Hiking, Period
A well-defined trail, sand paths lined with volcanic rocks, stretch along the south spit leading over to the opposite north beach. Our kayak landing showed no sign of a trail link nearby; we hadn’t dinghied far enough west to find the connection. Strike one. So Brian scrambled up the short but steep embankment to search out a trail, but he quickly came back down. The area was strewn with tough scrub and spider webs. Strike two. AND he saw a spider so big even HE didn’t want to remain up there poking around. Those who know me know my planned hike was immediately and irrevocably cancelled!! Strike three! I’m OUT.

Reef Fish
Snorkeling the southeastern island point proved a nice day’s diversion. We found an easily negotiated kayak landing (now very important). And while we’ve never experienced any bothersome current from tide in the anchorage itself, it comes into play here at the point where all the water rushes along the east side of the island. So we stayed well west of the actual point and floated along nice and easy. Oh, and the water was an absolute perfect 80 degrees. Just to rub it in a little more to those of you living in snow right about now. :)

While the fish were often very small, we witnessed a good variety. After having decent internet connection, I was finally able to identify and sear into my brain many of the colorful and common reef fish we see so often: Yellow Surgeonfish, King Angelfish, Triggerfish, Panamic Sargent Major, Grey Bar Grunt, Cortez Damselfish, Cortez Rainbow Wrasse, Reef Cornetfish, Balloonfish, Pufferfish. And these are just the tip of the iceberg. It is hard to believe that over 900 species of fish ply the warm waters of the Sea of Cortez, the vast majority of which we will never see due to our inshore snorkeling constraints. And that’s fine by me. I have no desire to swim with those Hammerheads or Orcas in person… I’ll stick to my cute and harmless little reef fishies! ​

You gotta love a ½ hour ride to the next anchorage – my kind of day. Round the corner on the far side of Isla Carmen, we pulled into little Bahia Cobre, just 3 miles away. A U-shaped bay with 20ft deep water all around, our view was backed by dramatic, high cliffs rising from the pebble beach. This spot was spectacular. And we had the place all to ourselves…for a little while anyway.  Another sailboat arrived during the afternoon, plus a couple fishermen spent the night in their pangas near shore. This is one off-the-beaten-path anchorage. Since it is about 25 miles from Puerto Escondido in the wrong direction (due east) for most north-south paths, most cruisers don’t venture out this far on a regular basis. But they should…

Best Snorkeling Ever
Just off the east point, lie boulders the size of SUV’s that have tumbled into the sea, providing one of the best snorkeling venues I’ve ever seen. We floated along this rocky outcropping all the way from the beach a ¼ mile to the point and back. Along our trek, dolphins swam into the anchorage; they were busy fishing and paid us no attention but we could hear their breathing from several hundred feet away while we swam. Every now and then, a ray would jump and splat. I’d quickly look up from snorkeling but never caught them in the act from my surface angle. But even rays and dolphins weren’t as interesting as the fish factory down below…

Fish Factory
Entire schools of fish by the hundreds floated along this boulder-strewn reef. Of course, there are your standard yellow & blue stripers and blue spotted pufferfish roaming the shallow spots. But in just a little deeper water, light grey ones (looks like some kind of angelfish) with bright yellow tails were schooling around in large packs! It was so mesmerizing to just float and watch these graceful creatures. Looking closer at these guys you can see they are actually spotted and have 3 distinct white dots near their tail that look to me like pinholes through their bodies.

Rainbow Colors
The most beautiful species were these large, 3ft grouper-like things, brightly painted with every color of the rainbow. Every so often, I found a pair incongruously mingling among the comparably smaller schools of yellow-tailed angelfish, so they must like each other. Preferring to swim closer to the bottom, they were always a bit too far out of reach for good pictures. My camera could not capture their iridescent beauty anyway, even after photo-shopping out some of the greenish underwater tones.

Feisty Fishies
Another feisty type sported a pretty light blue head and dark blue body. Seemingly loners, they did not swim well with others. Each was so territorial he had no issue with swimming fiercely at an entire school of yellow-tails to deter them from getting anywhere near his little hidey-hole. I captured an example of one protecting his rock-abode near the end of my video.

Schooling Silvers
On our way back to the beach I suddenly ran into a swarm of foot-long silver-colored fish. I have no clue to their type, but literally hundreds, maybe even thousands, made their way en-masse along the 20ft deep reef. Sometimes they would lackadaisically float as a group in the same general direction, teeming all over the sea floor like bees. Then, all of a sudden, a switch turned on. Either they got spooked… or maybe the General announced an alarming “Retreat!”… and within a split second, everyone had a single, overriding mindset… bolting out to sea like their life depended on it (probably did!). It looked just like the movie Finding Nemo… a fish super-highway with seemingly no end to the stream! The whole experience was so amazing I went for a repeat, swimming back from the boat by myself a couple hours later just to see it all again. (Plus, I got out of cleaning the boat’s hull.) My fish friends were all still there, in endless supply.

Bighorn Sheep
That afternoon, our new boat neighbor yelled over to us urgently: “Hey guys, look up towards the cliff!” Standing on top of this sheer mountain spine, was a bighorn sheep silhouetted against a bright blue sky. Looking all majestic, it’s as if some documentary director had posed him there for an episode of Planet Earth. So cool!

Spiteful Seagull
After snorkeling, we were sitting down below and heard a tap-tap-tap on the hull of the boat followed by an angry squawk. A seagull had been hanging around us ever since we had arrived, creeping closer and closer, finally hovering in the water only a couple feet away, squawking like he expected a giant feast. Well, eventually he got bold (or stupid) enough to start pecking at our hull! That’s it. We tried to shoo him away to no avail. Yelling didn’t work, neither did shwacking the area near him with an oar…nothing phased him. He’d fly 50ft away for 2 minutes, then come right back. The following morning we awoke to more tapping from our ingrate expecting breakfast. Brian flew out of bed and furiously squawked back at him. Literally… squawked. Time to go.

Paradise to Purgatory
We were leaving early anyway, Mr. Seagull just made it happen sooner. The wind had picked up from the southeast during the night and we’d just about had it dealing with the wrap around swell and rolling side to side. Here is another perfect example of why you just can’t visit every anchorage in one year. Winds are always changing - one day an anchorage might be just dandy, another day it might be hell or… could be both in the same day, you never know. In this case, it degenerated from paradise into, not hell but definitely somewhere near higher purgatory, quite quickly. Even though another day of perfect snorkeling would have been awesome, the uncomfortable boat motion wasn’t worth the stay. Plus, we needed to head to Bahia Salinas to gain protection from an oncoming norther anyway. So we left our seagull friend to pester the remaining boat and hoped he wasn’t dumb enough to follow us!