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.

----
​
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?

This year we read John Steinbeck’s classic novel, “The Pearl”. Spoiler Alert: I’ve summarized it below, as my sun-withered brain remembers it, including the ending. So if you have hopes of reading it soon, stop right here.

The short story reads like a parable, taking place during La Paz’s booming pearl industry in the early 1900’s. The main character is Kino, a poor fisherman whose baby boy becomes deathly ill. Lacking money for the treatment, Kino and his wife, Juana, are desperate for a miracle. They get one.

Kino, in gathering oysters from the Sea of Cortez, discovers an enormous pearl - one so large, no one has seen it’s equal. He immediately realizes the significance of this find and begins to dream…a better house, a newer boat, a rifle, a church wedding, his newborn son’s future education… and most importantly the cure for his son’s illness. This will solve everything.

But the La Paz pearl merchants tried to swindle him; they were all in cahoots, offering only rock-bottom prices. Knowing his pearl was worth so much more, he rejected their ludicrous offers. So he hid it, hoping to journey to the capital for a better price.

Meanwhile, people begin to treat him differently, knowing he possesses this valuable item. They warn against the arrogance of hope for a better future, deride him for thinking he can ever rise above his station in life.

In addition to jealous neighbors, so too do evil villains emerge. The smarmy doctor maintains Kino’s boy in perpetual illness, while hoping to discover the location of the pearl. Kino’s house is ransacked.  His boat is destroyed. His house burns down. He gradually transforms into a different person - fearful, obsessed, suspicious, and violent. Sensing her family’s self-destruction, his loving wife wants him to throw the pearl back into the sea. She thinks it’s a curse. But Kino would not be dissuaded.

One day, a band of thieves attacked him, and in fighting back, Kino killed one of the perpetrators. Despite this righteous act, he knew they’d brand him a murderer and someone would inevitably seize his precious pearl.

So Kino gathered his family and fled into the mountains. But they were soon followed and backed into a canyon out of which they could not climb. Kino hid Juana and their son into a cleft in the cliff while he backtracked, attempting to lure the posse away. They would never stop hunting while he still possessed the pearl, so Kino decided to attack his pursuers.

But just then, one man heard a whimpering. Assuming it was a coyote, he aimed and fired at the noise. The whimper stopped. And Kino knew. The bullet had found its mark… his child, still cradled in his mother’s arms.

Kino and his wife returned to La Paz. As they grimly walked the path home, carrying their dead son, the neighbors watched in silence. Kino still had the pearl – the pearl that was supposed to solve everything; but he’d just lost everything because of it. Too late, Kino realized the price of his pearl…and threw it back into the sea.

------

Sigh. So sad. So SAD!
Steinbeck’s word smithery is pure genius in this palpable parable, peppered with plucky perception. Ah, you’ll just have to read it, despite the fact I’ve ruin the ending. I cannot do Kino’s character justice in this brief summary… his initial aspirations, his sheer perseverance, his escalating anxiety, his covetous transformation, the final blow, and his anguished realization.

Life’s eternal struggle is knowing when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em. You can’t blame Kino for wanting a better life for his family. The sad part is that most of us don’t recognize when blind ambition, greed or even pride has warped into acid, until it’s too late. But should our potential failings stop us from playing the game? No. Because life is like a box of chocolates…you never know what you’re gonna get.

Because in a parallel universe…
in the real world…
Kino sold that pearl and became a rich man.

Wait. What?

The Pink Pearl House
Nestled beside the Baja seashore sits the tiny hamlet of Timbabiche, its backdrop a dreamy desert mountain skyline. Looming above the surrounding sandy hills, a unique landmark appears… a two-story, pink stucco house. The only structure large enough to be visible from miles away at sea, it looks positively colossal against this vast expanse of desert nothingness.

Why such a large house in the middle of nowhere?
This elaborate home was built in the 1920’s…
by a poor fisherman, just like Kino…
from the profits of a single pearl (reportedly 5 carats).
Steinbeck’s parallel universe.

Casa Grande
In the abundant pearl-harvesting era of the early 1900’s, there’s sure to have been more than one lucky pearl discovery. But at least this version had a happy ending. That pearl financed a fleet of boats and the construction of this huge house, officially known as “Casa Grande” or the Big House. As I read The Pearl, I couldn’t help but wonder whether some of Kino’s troubles mirrored those of the man who built Casa Grande. Yet this man survived and his family thrived.

Except subsequent generations couldn’t agree on what to do with Casa Grande. It fell into disrepair and eventually was scavenged for building materials. Now a shell of its former grandeur, the pink house stands sentinel over Timbabiche. But we were to discover, generations of the family still live there, right beside it.

Meet Jimmy, Casa Grande’s Great-Grandson
We’d just anchored in Timbabiche when a smiling Jimmy approached in his fishing panga. Tempting our tastebuds with freshly flopping fish aboard, we purchased a delicious sierra. Our friends procured several sea creatures and bandaged his thumb after he’d sliced it open with a fishing knife. They learned Jimmy is actually a master scuba diver, having attended school in La Paz. Ah, makes sense. Free-diving for scallops, octopus and lobster seemed for him as easy as breathing.

A couple days later, we bought fresh scallops and started talking. We had hiked to the pink house the day prior and asked him about the pink house.

“Casa Grande? My great-grandfather built it!”

Wow! Jimmy’s great-grandfather found the pearl of his dreams. What had happened to cause its decline, we did not think appropriate to ask. Jimmy was obviously very proud of the pink house, as is. I didn’t want to ruin it by asking what the heck happened?

Jimmy told us that about 80 people live in the village, invisibly scattered among the rural dirt tracks. The white, stucco-roofed building (an intriguing Moroccan, tent-looking design - see gallery), is a school servicing about 12 children. But Jimmy’s wife and kids live in the nearest town where they attend a different school; the town is a 3-hour drive one-way. He fishes during the week and drives the long way to visit his family every few days. Out there, fishing by himself every day, Jimmy struck me as a genial but lonely guy. We wish him well.

Maybe one day, the Casa Grande will be his…the pale pink shell of a beautiful pearl.​

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.

On April 19th we departed La Paz, heading north into the Sea of Cortez on a 6 week journey to Indigo’s “summer home” in San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico. Since we are leaving La Paz (maybe for good, maybe not), I will leave you with a magical mural montage – the artsy side of La Paz.

Comex, the largest paint manufacturer in Central America, has (in conjunction with the tomato farmers) sponsored dozens of murals throughout the city. These paintings rejuvenate crumbling facades, bringing color and vitality to back alleyways and main streets alike. Ranging from several feet to several stories in height, this street art is often deceptively intricate, incorporating numerous miniature scenes-within-the-whole. Images featuring whales, turtles, fishermen, cactus and ranchers reveal La Paz’s deep and reverent connection to the sea, the land and its people. Oh, and of course… skulls…gotta have skulls (representing Dia de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead)!

Enjoy!​

The Malecon lazily stretches like an undulating paved ribbon along the serene waterfront. The star of La Paz, it glistens brightly in sunlight and smiles by day, moonlight and merrymakers by night. Loving couples walk hand-in-hand along its path; triple generations saunter together, encircled by tricycling tots; joggers and bicyclers and chittering whale shark tourists and ice-cream-munchers and smiling selfie-takers join in the daily parade. We enjoy our walks here…for the people-watching, for the sunlight-soaking, for the life-contemplating that only a relaxing, stress-free stroll can stimulate. For the rest of our walks in La Paz are decidedly NOT relaxing!

Where the Real Sidewalk Ends
When we’re not walking the mostly-well-maintained Malecon, circumnavigating La Paz on foot is often akin to boulder-hopping in remote desert anchorages. There is no such thing as a stroll anywhere else in La Paz; we are most definitely on a hike, or a trek, sometimes a downright slog. From day one, we learned quickly that we’d better be looking down at all times or our next schlep will be to the hospital. IPhone-gawkers beware - texting while walking here really is hazardous to one’s health.

Sidewalk Unpredictability
Why? Finding contiguous and consistent walkways are like finding a chupacabre – they’re a myth. Every store-front or dwelling is apparently responsible for its own sidewalk. Therefore, every 20 feet the sidewalk changes: from cobblestone, to concrete, to sand, to tile, to gravel, or an inexplicable conglomeration. In my (expert) estimation, only 3% are well-maintained. The rest are a veritable minefield.

Obstacles Galore
We’ve hopped over countless, unmarked holes (perfect ankle-breakers); cracked concrete chunks; wildly uneven stairs and cobbled together curbs; slippery slopes (wheee) and sheer 3ft ledges (oops, turn around); overgrown thorny cacti and low tree branches lying in wait to scratch your legs or jab your eye out; rusty rebar poking out of the ground (we know a guy who severed his Achilles tendon falling on one); non-cordoned-off street construction (we got within 10ft of a digging backhoe); and dangling electrical wires and fallen power lines. Sometimes I feel like we are maneuvering an American Ninja obstacle course.

Pointer Dog
Motorcyclists riding en masse have a rule… if you see a pothole or rock hazard on the road, you physically point to it as you pass so the next driver is aware. Then he points to it, and so on down the line. So goes walking in La Paz. Whoever leads is sort of the Pointer dog, indicating potential problems along our route. Actually announcing the offender (“Hole!” or “Big step!”) mid-stride is sometimes necessary, especially at night. Large obstacles are usually easy to see and require no notice. It’s the ankle-twisters: 3” diameter open drain holes, a seemingly innocuous 1” step, the jagged and rusty steel signpost broken off at ground level, or the invisible power cable planted vertically mid-sidewalk (I almost ran smack dab into one on a bright sunny day). With so many obstacles, I could keep pointing the entire walk. Over there… right here… over there…

Meh. It’s Mexico.
At first, I was annoyed by all these inconsistencies. Now, it’s par for the course. Just another quirky facet of visiting Mexico that you can’t fix, so you get over it…and take photos of the absurdities to remind yourself just how good we have it up north.

Scalking
Now we are fully adept at scalking: scanning ground and air while walking. Our eyes focus like lasers on the ground 90% of the time. The other 10% involves glancing upwards to enjoy the view or to make sure we are on the right street. Talking…while scalking… requires a bit more concentration. Holding a conversation while threading the sidewalk gambit, especially when walking with several people, involves silted banter with frequent interruptions. “Hole!” “Wait...what was I saying again?”

The real take-away here is: Don’t be an idiot. Watch your step!
Patchwork sidewalks do have an upshot (other than constantly testing our cognizance levels). No slip-and-fall lawyers. We are somehow (amazingly) expected NOT to hurt ourselves! SIDESTEP those holes; AVOID running into power lines; REFRAIN from touching open electrical boxes on the outside of buildings (I know it’s hard); DODGE that runaway shrubbery; CIRCUMVENT those non-cordoned construction areas. Hmmm…common sense…whatta concept. I applaud this sense of personal responsibility in Mexico, even if it is just an environmental cause and effect.

On the other hand… There are days when I dream of perfectly manicured concrete pathways, textbook curb heights, painted crosswalks. Sigh… I sure do miss a smooth sidewalk!​

#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
​
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.

---
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!

---
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!

​

The Nitty-Gritty on our Gray Whale Trip
You future Baja visitors might be wondering about the tour company we chose for our recent whale-watching excursion. So here’s the “nitty-gritty” – why we chose EcoBaja, price, what’s included, the drive, etc. Essentially… a really long TripAdvisor review.

Rent a Car?
Getting to the whales at Puerto Lopez Mateo via rental car is definitely doable. But at 165 miles one-way from La Paz, be prepared for a looong day trip. And when you can’t drive faster than 50mph or drive at night (gotta watch for cows, speedbumps and construction detours), this option wasn’t appealing. Rental cars aren’t cheap here and I didn’t relish the pick-up/return hassle for merely one day. On the other hand, if you are renting a car for several days or bringing your own from the States, a self-directed day trip is a good bet.

Adding an overnight stay would make things more relaxing and allow a possible second whale-watching trip in the morning. This is my ideal… if the weather or whales weren’t cooperating the first day, you’d be guaranteed a do-over. But with this option, dollars are starting to add up.

Day-Trippin’
Fortunately, several La Paz companies offer economical tour bus day-trips. I chose EcoBaja partly because of a recent good experience using them for a shuttle ride to the Los Cabos airport.

Yes, I’m a Cheapskate
Mostly though, I chose EcoBaja because they were the cheapest. Other tours ranged from $150pp and up, which may be worth it to you if they include hotel transfers, a tour guide or fancier food. But EcoBaja provides an all-day trip for approx. $100 pp (actually 1980 pesos pp). This 7am-5pm day trip is in a comfortable 7-passenger van and includes a hearty snack, a sit-down lunch and a two-hour panga ride to the whales.  The worst part? 7-1/2 hours travel-time. The best part? You can leave the driving to someone else. That’s a pretty good deal… the best one I’d found anyway.

Pickup Confusion
Our tour was well worth it, despite a couple hiccups. The first involved a pickup mix-up. I bought our tickets at the La Paz bus station 3 days prior. This is the same place we’d purchased tickets and departed from for our airport shuttle. Of course I assumed we’d depart from where I bought the tickets, like last time. Not so. After several misunderstood conversations in Spanish, where the agent kept pointing outside and stating to go to the other office around the corner (why are you telling me to go outside?), the guy politely and physically walked us out to the street… and to literally, the “other office around the corner”. Oh. THAT other office.

No Ride Back
The woman in the other (main) office told us we could have gotten picked up at the hotel instead of taking an early taxi. Really? Bummer. In recompense, she said the driver would take us back to Costa Baja at the end. Sweet! But upon returning to the office, our sullen driver rejected our request to continue on to the marina. He was done. And we were too tired to argue. Lesson learned - don’t count on pick up or drop off from your hotel with this company. I never expected it anyway, since the website mentions nothing about such service. Not a big deal…we just had a coffee at our favorite coffee shop, Doce Cuarenta, and waited for the next marina shuttle.

Punctuality Counts
EcoBaja drivers are punctual …and as punctual people, we appreciate this… especially in Mexico where promptness is, well, unpredictable. Be sure to arrive around 6:45am, well before your 7am departure. The agent will check you in, handing out snacks and tickets for the panga ride & lunch.

Be prepared for a long bumpy ride. Twice.
This is no one’s fault; it is what it is. Thousands of “topes”/speed bumps and heat-cracked, buckling pavement makes a 4-hr ride in an already bouncy van truly annoying. Yes, I said 4 hours. One way. The road out of La Paz is still under major construction and I lost count at how many times we were diverted onto rutty, sand-filled detour routes that passed alongside slowly evolving bridges and culverts. The ride back was a bit shorter as we didn’t stop for a break. But 7-8 hours on the road plus a 2 hour boat ride and an hour lunch makes for a looong day. It was definitely nice to have someone else do the driving.

A Moving Roadblock
I happened to be gazing out the van’s front window when I noticed a white line across the road. A desert mirage? As we got closer it began to look like a large, white roadblock and I was a tad concerned at our rate of speed. Then, I realized it was slowly moving. What the…? A giant mass exodus of white goats crossed the road in front of us, I’m guessing a hundred. Inexplicably, they traveled in perfect single file, meticulously herded by a man on horseback. The occasional cow, horse or goat in the road is common in Baja, but a whole herd of goats? That’s something you just don’t see every day!

A Baño to Remember
Our rest-stop was a solitary, crumbling, roadside eatery in the middle of the desert where you could purchase fresh empanadas and coffee (not included). We declined to try the food; we did partake of the baño simply because we never pass up the chance. Yeah. We should have passed.

Now, bathrooms in Mexico are often sketchy, but this one was blog-worthy-sketchy. Essentially, these were four glorified pit toilets housed in a near-open-air, disintegrating, cinderblock “structure” that’s barely survived one too many hurricanes. I was almost impressed at the use of real porcelain commodes, had they not been 40 years old, lacking tank lids and missing seats. The lack of toilet paper was a given. Flush handles? Forget it. What to do?

A tetanus-ridden, rusty coffee can sat in each stall; 3 giant, mosquito-infested stagnant open water bins sat outside. I watched two people rinse their hands in these toxic tubs. Then I finally figured out what the coffee can was for - I watched our bus-mate dip & pour, tub to toilet. Ah, we Midwesterners are no strangers to this manual flush technique during power outages. Except, sadly, the power is always out here. The sewage went down into pipes going…somewhere off into the desolate desert. What I mean is, I really doubt there was a septic field, at least not one with a proper holding tank. Advice: just don’t touch anything. Hover required. Bring hand sanitizer. Better yet, hold it.

Lunch is NOT Comida.
Before your bus departs, the EcoBaja agent gives you a bag marked “lunch”. I was confused initially because I was thinking, “Is this all we’re going to get for lunch? I swear the website said there was a sit-down meal…” Don’t confuse “lunch” with “comida”.

Turns out, “lunch” is actually lunch type food, eaten during what Americans would consider breakfast time, before 11am. The 3 mystery meat-filled, rolled tacos were hot upon receipt at 7am and quite tasty 2 hours later while travelling on the bus. A bottle of water and a can of soda are included.

You still get second-lunch (comida) after the whales around 1pm. Comida is more like an American dinner food-wise, but time-wise, is at a very late American lunchtime. (Usually between 2-4pm). In Mexico, Comida is the main meal; dinner is optional or light. For comida, we went to a restaurant in the village and had typical breaded & fried fish, rice, beans and a coke. Beer, lobster or shrimp was extra. Good food. Apathetic service.

Our Mexican bus-mate warned us emphatically not to eat the salad (she was a pathologist in the jungle state of Chiapas and has probably seen some really bad stuff.) I was glad for the reminder. While most well-established restaurants in Cabo and La Paz are concerned about return customers, in these remote villages, washing veges with purified water is not always standard.

To Dramamine or Not to Dramamine: That is the Question.
A half hour before our boat ride we both took a Dramamine. I didn’t know how fast the boat would travel and whether there would be lots of wave action. I’d googled whale-watcher YouTube videos, many of which showed small pangas in really yucky conditions. In the end, it wasn’t necessary in the calm lagoon. But it worked out. I slept the entire way back. Bonus.

Puerto Lopez Mateo
I get the sense that without gray whale tourism, Puerto Lopez Mateo would surely collapse. This is a dusty, desolate and desperate town as fleetingly viewed via van. But to my surprise, we arrive at modern waterfront plaza. This small but tidy embarcadero is startlingly new! The panga pier is bounded by a pleasant food court, a reasonable number of knick-knack vendors and, thankfully, clean and plentiful restrooms (be sure to bring 5-pesos). You have time to use the baño and quickly peruse the knick-knacks while the driver makes your panga arrangement, about 10 minutes.

Panga Ride
Gray whales at Lopez Mateo are unique in that they seem to enjoy human interaction. This is good for us watchers; sometimes not so good for the whales. Continuous close contact with pangas anesthetizes them to other commercial and pleasure boats (and our external propellers) along their long migration route.

To limit panga bombardment, the Mexican government introduced driver requirements regarding how many boats can approach an animal (4), and how long they can remain around a pair (30 min). Our captain cautiously approached each whale and floated at idle nearby, letting the whale decide if it felt up to visiting. Drivers attempt to angle in from behind so as not to get in their path. They also try not to get in between a baby and its mum. Groups of orcas, the gray whales’ only predator, will separate mom from baby as a killing technique – we don’t need mom thinking we are a threat to her child.

No Tour Guide
Do not expect a guide on this bare-bones tour. The shuttle driver is just the driver. He gets you to the port, arranges for the panga ride, takes you to the restaurant and drives back home without a word. The panga captain is equally mum. This is not meant as criticism, but it is our experience. And the language barrier had nothing to do with it; both bus and panga drivers were equally non-chatty with our Mexican bus/panga-mates. So if you prefer an animated tour operator bursting with whale facts & brimming with town history, this tour is not ideal. If you just want to see the whales and not have to interact with a guide all day, this tour is for you.

Sand Dunes Not Included
The EcoBaja whale tour video on their website shows gorgeous people frolicking on the sand dunes. You do NOT get to go play on the sand dunes. Some tour companies may land their boat on the island as part of the tour, but not this one.

Recommend? Yes.
All in all, it worked out well and I would recommend EcoBaja Tours for a cheap day-trip alternative. If you are more comfortable with agents and drivers and passengers who speak English, this isn’t the right tour for you. I would rate this as a definite must-do for cruisers or tourists in the Baja area during January to early March.

Why Didn’t We Just Sail There?
Yeah…no. Technically we could…but that would entail sailing 3 days down to Cabo plus an overnighter back up the Pacific coast (not counting the return trip).  That’s if the weather cooperates for an entire week. But it’s winter. Weather is typically not so nice and the prevailing wind and waves are against us. Pass. I’ll take the one-day bus trip, thank you.

Plus, as a rule, we prefer to stay away from whales on our own boat. Whales are bigger than us. By a lot. Whales are heavy. Whales are unpredictable. Indigo is our house after all. So I am more than happy to use someone else’s boat as bait. :)

Every year, Eastern Pacific Gray Whales complete one of the longest migrations of any mammal. Beginning in Alaskan waters, these whales journey an incredible 5,000 - 7,000 miles, skimming along the North American coast, eventually returning to the same site year after year to mate or give birth. Where do they go? Mexico!

Gray whales in search of calm, shallow, nutrient-rich and predator-free waters typically visit one of three lagoon complexes along the Baja Peninsula’s Pacific side. A gray whales’ only predator, the orca, will not venture into the shallows. Here in this safe zone, mama “cows” birth and raise their “calves”, teaching them to swim, breathe and dive. And where whales assemble, whale watchers swarm. Who doesn’t want to see a baby whale?

Lopez Mateo
The smallest and least visited of these lagoons is Puerto Adolfo Lopez Mateo at the far north end of Magdalena Bay. Here, a mere 10 minute panga ride (22ft fishing boat) is all it takes to get you up close and personal with these amazing creatures. Prime viewing months are January–March when nearly 1000 visitors per weekend deluge Puerto Mateo’s 2000 residents. The dusty, isolated fishing village contrasts severely with their unexpectedly modern embarcadero. Obviously, the friendly whales have become a mainstay of this town’s livelihood. 

Desert-Lagoon
Our tour along Lopez Mateo’s vast desert-lagoon complex reminds me of the low, barrier islands of Florida or North Carolina. Except here, it appears virtually uninhabited, with no structures visible for miles. The inland side of this skinny waterway is lined in gnarled mangroves and marshes. The Pacific side comprises a narrow barrier island undulating in smooth, creamy sand dunes. Shifting sand bars abound. Sea lions pop their heads above water to have a look at us newcomers. A bevy of birds conduct a crucial congressional summit beachside.

Whale!
After a brief, windy ride skimming the shallow banks at top speed, we began to see an occasional “log” floating in the distance. Our driver slows to a crawl, turning towards center channel. Minus the engine roar, the lagoon settles back into its divinely serene state. No wonder the whales love it here. Aside from water lapping gently against our hull, the only other sound is the soft chittering of tourists in nearby pangas (just 2-3 others). We all sit waiting in hushed anticipation, watching for the telltale blast of hot air.  

“Wooosh.”  The entire boatload hears its sudden breath, gasps in unison and turns to see a 40ft mama gray whale and its 15ft baby just off our bow. We collectively “oooh” and “ahhhh” and “wow”, grinning from ear-to-ear, furiously filming and photo’ing. I resist the urge to start clapping. My composed, middle-aged self wants to shout: “Bravo! Encore!” My giggly 3-yr-old self is jumping up and down singing: “Do it again! Do it again!” In reality, I smile for two hours and keep whispering “Oh, my gosh!” over and over.

It never got old.

Where Humans and Whales Connect
Why visit the Pacific Baja lagoons to whale-watch? Nowhere else on earth is there such a concentration of gray whales. And this particular species seems, incredibly, to crave human interaction. Once our panga arrived in their territory, the whales came to us. Mama, with baby close alongside, swims within an arm’s length of our unmoving boat… diving underneath us, circling around to the other side, trolling, inspecting, blowing bubbles. Baby whales seem even more curious about us visitors. We witnessed them lolling on their backs, performing barrel rolls and gently flicking their tails at us, almost like they were waving.

Countless times, we were greeted by a maneuver called “spyhopping” – suddenly the whales’ giant head raises out of the water, eyeballing the crazy camera-clicking occupants from only a few feet away before sinking down just as fast. “Well…hello there!”

Heeeere whaley, whaley, whaley…come here! That’s a good girl!
Mother whales frequenting Baja lagoons are renowned for showing off their youngsters. It is common for mamas to nudge their baby close to a tour boat, even allowing it to rest on top of her while essentially “presenting” the calf for petting and kissing, to the delight of cooing and squealing passengers. So, as is the tourist custom, we leaned over the boat gunnel, splashing and waving our hands underwater, hoping to spark their curiosity… like entreating a dog to come over and play. Only one guy in our boat was able to fleetingly pat a baby (it’s in the video); Brian was next to him and got within inches. They did not seem to be in a petting mood today.

Hangin’ with Whales
We watched them in awe for two hours, just “hanging out” with whales… sometimes a pair, sometimes several. These guys were very low-key. We’d catch glimpses of a big mama and her smaller baby floating like adjacent logs on the surface as they took a breath or two. But they didn’t remain exposed for long, humping their backs and sinking fast. Their blows were gentile, not the 15ft high water spout you’d expect. Only once did I see a real fluke flick. No breaching. (That’s cool from afar, not cool from 10 ft.)

It seemed 90% of their bodies were always hidden below the murky water. So the couple times one swam underneath us at just the right angle and depth, bright sunlight revealed a stunningly massive body. More like a submarine. Glad I’m on someone else’s boat!

All in the Family
These remarkable giants acted like we were supposed to be there, enjoying each other’s company. Indeed, socializing with humans is their new-normal. It seems we are no longer unwelcome intruders into their world. At best, human tourists have become a part of the family. Hopefully at worst, distant 4th cousins who show up unannounced for lunch. But these creatures kindly greet and welcome us into their home with aplomb anyway. “Take lots of pictures, kiss the baby, wave bye-bye to the crazy people!” Why isn’t there a Pixar film yet?

Which leads me to ponder: What are they thinking, exactly? Do they intrinsically know we appreciate their presence? Are they showing off their children to us like a proud, smiling new parent? Or are they presenting us to their babies, “Look at these strange two-legged beings. Go ahead dear, get a good look. Aren’t they funny looking?” They seem to enjoy playing with the boats - maybe we are their TV entertainment, whiling away lazy-days in the lagoon before an arduous northern migration. Or maybe, as with all mammals, a loving pat on the head just feels nice.

From “Devil Fish” to “Snuggle Fish”
In the prior century, gray whales were notorious for their fierce defense upon attack by whalers, earning the nickname “Devil Fish”. Protected since the 1940’s, grays are no longer endangered, now boasting a thriving population over 20,000 strong.  We watched a documentary that suggested gray whales DO remember failed attacks – hence the premise for Moby Dick (though a sperm whale). Might a few of these elder whales actually have been alive when protection wasn’t quite guaranteed? Possibly. But it appears they and the current generation have forgiven us humans for the whaling era. An approaching small boat no longer signifies a fight to the death. Now, small boats are met with curiosity, playfulness, even affection. Hmmm. Maybe we should change that moniker to “Snuggle Fish”?

Cool Grey Whale Facts: 
(Well, “facts” from random internet sources… none of which seem to agree on numbers and may or may not be “actual facts”… but probably close enough to reality. Is that enough of a disclaimer?)

• Every year, gray whales migrate from Alaska’s Bering Sea to the coastal lagoons of the Baja Peninsula and back, traveling 9,000-14,000 miles round trip, the longest mammal migration.
• Gray whales swim an average of 5mph. (About the same as Indigo!)
• Adults can reach up to 47-50 ft length and weigh up to 36-40 tons (as much as 5 adult elephants). Indigo is 34ft long and weighs @ 6-1/2 tons. Guess who would win?
• Gray whales do not have a dorsal fin, just 6-12 small bumps on their back.
• Baby whales are about 15 ft when born, weighing about 1000 pounds!
• Gray whales can live to 50 - 70 years old.
• One whale feeds on approx. 2200 pounds of crustaceans through its baleen – PER DAY! Talk a about a pricy grocery bill.

Grays begin arriving in December. Prime viewing months are Jan-March. I’ve heard the best month is February because they start leaving in April on their treacherous journey back to Alaska. Minor populations of Grays do venture up into the Sea of Cortez, but the Pacific lagoons are your best statistical bet for a close encounter.  ​

Links:
Aquarium of the Pacific
National Geographic
American Cetatean Society

I just finished a new “Pics” link on www.cruisingindigo.com…one gigantic scrolly-page full of my favorite Baja Mexico photos.

I have taken, literally, thousands and thousands of pictures in the last 3 years. Many of these I’ve included in my blogs. Now, rather than wading through countless blog posts, you can witness the desert grandeur of Baja all in one convenient browsing location.

This “Best Of” montage is categorized by islands and anchorages grouped in proximity, as well as various cities we have visited. Since I am obsessed with shell and fish photos, I included separate galleries for each, as well as one for just sailing shots.

By no means is this comprehensive of our experience. While these images omit the portrayal of the necessary work it took to get here and maintenance work while we are here, they instead showcase the reward for doing so. Maybe you’ll understand just why we haven’t left yet! Maybe… it’ll make you want to fly or sail down here and see for yourself! 
​
Here are a few examples...

“I'd like to be… under the sea… in an octopus' garden in the shade.”  The Beatles

We’d visited Isla Ispiritu Santos a couple times since our November arrival in La Paz. At Ensenada Grande, we snorkeled along the red cliffs and hiked the 3-1/2hr-long, boulder-strewn canyon with buddy boat, Lorelei. At Playa Bonanza on New Year’s Eve, we witnessed a beach fireworks display from our anchored vantage point. At Candeleros, we discovered the curious clowny-fish who fell in love with Brian’s bright blue reef shoes. But our snorkeling excursion off the north shore of Bahia Cardonal took the cake.

Oct-tastic!
As I slowly skimmed along in 4-5 feet of water, a billowing cloud of sand caught my eye. A few feet in front of me, I discovered a small octopus digging into the sea floor. I’d only ever seen one in an aquarium – what a treat! Excited, I called to Brian “Octopus! Hurry!” Get yer flippin’ fins over here!

We weren’t the only swimmers who noticed his silty disturbance. Several small fish congregated around the octopus, unafraid, darting about like pesky puppies. “Watcha doin’?” I presume they were gathering up goodies flung from his excavation.

Mesmerized by this creature, we watched it for several minutes. The contracted body/head was about the size of my foot, not including its 2ft-ish long arms. (Google tells me octopi technically have arms, not tentacles.) We are not sure what it was doing exactly; probably digging for a clam dinner. At one point, it stretched its arms, puffed its head and tented its body in full, posturing to appear as big and ominous as possible. Then it flashed color briefly to a luminous, iridescent blue. I’m warning you! Don’t come any closer or you’ll get the INK!

Vanishing Act
After deciding we weren’t a threat it settled down, it’s body turning into just another rock or coral protrusion, its arms perfectly melted into mottled sand. It was camouflaged so ingeniously that, had it not been moving earlier, I never would have suspected its presence. How do they DO that?

Invisible Man
Cephalopods, like octopus, cuttlefish and squid, have the extraordinary ability to become invisible. Their talent for color-changing and pattern-imitation is well-known. But such amazing adaptation expertise goes even further…they’ve actually got no kidding, shape-shifting skillz. Devoid of a shell or skeleton, these fine escape artists can squeeze their slippery bodies through tiny crevices, a handy technique for evading predators or surprising prey. Here’s an interesting video of one slipping through a hole in a boat (not our boat, just so we’re clear).  Most interesting though, is the ability to change skin texture, something no other species can accomplish.

Real Life Shape-Shifters
Picture that X-Men morphing maven, “Mystique”, suddenly ruffling her cobalt-blue skin cells into that of a grumpy old man. Similarly, beneath an octopus’ smooth, super-skin, mutating muscles allow incredible transformations in surface texture to match its surroundings. Straight out of a Sci-Fi movie. Fine wrinkles and craggy crinkles erupt into rough ridges and sharp spikes or melt into bitty bumps and thick lumps. Along with dead-on accurate color and pattern mimicry, the disguise is instantaneous. An octopus can suggest the swaying of sinuous seaweed, copy the crusty knobs of coral heads and replicate the granular ripple of the sandy sea floor. If only we humans could acquire their closely guarded secret; think of it - no more forehead wrinkles!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Click the link below to witness rare & amazing footage of a shape-shifting rock turned octopus.
Video by marine biologist Roger Hanlon.

It’s been over two months since I’ve logged onto Facebook. What?!! Two months? But you upload the blog to Facebook! Yes, but that’s an automated function. Over two month ago, I cast myself into self-imposed exile from Facebook. Not a single peek.

For the first month of abstention that little blue square on my iPad taunted me.

Hit the button. Come on man… tap me, just this once. I promise it won't be as bad as it was last time. Sigh. Come onnnn, you haven’t seen your cousins’ baby pics yet or family Christmas photos or even comments on your own blog… for two months!!!…pause… I'll show you a fluffy kitten...

Ahhh, but I know better. You can’t fool me. Facebook is no longer rife with darling dance recitals, precious puppy pics, quotable quotes from candid kids and the latest Batman/Superman coffee chat. I love that stuff! It’s the reason I joined FB in the first place. WHERE IS IT?????

Gone… disappeared… lost in the weeds of partisan politics, swarmed by the rising clamor of hostility and outrage, negated by a barrage of hate news.

Opening Pandora’s Box
Tapping that benign blue icon was suddenly like tapping into a Pandora’s Box of animosity. More and more of my F-Feed was filled with trash-talk; browsing it became an anxiety-riddled ride. I drowned in daily raging rants and hourly peeved postings and an epic flood of forwards. I was not advised, or persuaded or urged. I was warned of the only side to trust… admonished as to the only person to vote for…sermonized as to the only things to believe…berated into obedience.

BECAUSE ALL-CAP SCREAMING is SOOOOOOO HELPFUL!!!!!
Pre-election, I observed this fearful, hate-filled sludge increase in tenor day after day, on both sides. (Oh, don’t go thinking your side is any better than the other.) Facebook over-flowed with one grievance after another, compounded by yelling and screaming and venomous name-calling (insert derogatory ‘ist or ‘phobe word here). Multi-paragraph posts were severely emphasized by plentiful exclamation points!!! and copious CAPITALIZATION and oodles of “F#@k” and heaps of “S#1t”!!!!!!! Don’t forget that poop emoticon, double scoopin’ = double disgusted. 
                           
Wow. That’s helpful. What happened to the high road? Knots in the pit of my stomach welled up each time I encountered another angry post, seeing people I know, people of such high-caliber, sink to such… malice. It made my heart hurt.

Politics Aside…This is About Civility
Red/ Blue/ Green…I don’t give a flying hoot about your politics. This is about civility…and the abject loss of it. Trolls attack bloggers and posters while hiding anonymously behind the sanctuary of their computer screen; but these Facebookers are openly and viciously attacking their own Friends...no anonymity desired! It’s mind-boggling. What’s the point? I don’t get it. Is this the New Normal?

Facebook = Jerry Springer
These biting posts were not directed at me personally (yet), just to anyone who would read. So don’t read it! Appropriate advice. But it’s like accidentally flipping on a Jerry Springer episode… it’s right there staring at me and I can’t help it, I am inexplicably drawn to the train wreck, I have to watch it…and ultimately feel disgusted at humanity afterward. The problem is, Facebook showcases these Jerry Springer marathons - on every channel, every hour, every day.

Cold Turkey
The more I read, the worse I felt. For my own sanity, I had to go cold turkey. And I highly recommend it. After two months, I find it easy to ignore the temptation of that innocuous blue button, to diminish that feeling of obligation, to disregard the desire to KNOW. For me, Facebook’s power is no more, the man behind the curtain revealed. So I’m ready to go back online and face the onslaught. But I’ll be severely limiting my browse time.

So, You’re NOT Boycotting The Facebook?
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not boycotting Facebook. For all its faults, it’s still the best way to reconnect with friends and family from thousands of miles away, to peep in on my peeps lives for a brief moment just to see what’s up. Moreover, I do not call for regulating hate speech. You have every right to spew forth chunks of vomit like you’d had a rough night downing 30 jello shots.

I call on people to start regulating themselves.

Stop the Shrieking Soliloquys
- Quit with the daily/hourly lectures. I don’t mind the occasional hissy-fit; who isn’t guilty on this count? But must we revisit your dire worldview every half-hour? Can we reduce that to say, once a week? Is that sufficient? I have enough of my own anxiety about the direction of the world without you piling on, drowning me in despair. Do some news outlet trolling amongst strangers if you wish to vent; leave us, your FB acquaintances, out of your preachy political pulpit.

- Quit screaming already. Start thinking before you write, people! Go ahead, share your occasional, thoughtful, opinions and reposts. But stop the irrational, insult-ridden, expletive-wrought tirades. You’re better than that. Aren’t you? Venom-spitting gets your viewpoint nowhere... not to mention, aneurysm-inducing.

Final Advice for Facebook Ranters
Unsure whether your post is over-the-top nutso? Ask yourself this: Would you be proud to allow your 6-year old to read those wise words?  

Wait…but what do I DO if I’m not fuming on Facebook? I happen to have the answer.

PLEASE! Return Facebook to the BT Era (Before Trump)
Why can’t we return Facebook to its benign, cuddly-kitty-filled, pre-election existence? Aren’t you sick of scrolling through all that slime just to get to your niece’s Halloween pictures? How about remaking Facebook into its former civil cyber-society instead of the division-inducing, life-sucking monster it has become? Is it really too much to ask? Is it too late?

More Pug Pictures!
I appreciate those Facebookers who understand and stick to the original concept. Despite the hullabaloo, they continue to post shining moments and insights into their daily lives: vids of those adorable pug puppies playing with a new toy; an obsessive opine on the mental health benefits of Thin Mint cookies; that funny thing your 9-yr old said the other day; an Octoberfest celebration dressed in full-on Lederhosen. I love you guys for it. More!

Negate the Negativity
Maybe the answer is simply to overwhelm all this negativity.

I want to see a million more reposts of James Corden + Adele carpool karaoke. (I dare you to maintain that frown on your face after watching.) Or how about Mike Rowe’s reading of an 11-yr-old’s hilarious sales pitch for Girl Scout cookies? That’s what I’m talking about!

Flood that F-Feed with photos of concerts and reunions and vacations and museum visits and soccer games and ballet recitals and awards ceremonies and anniversaries. Submit your best foodie shots, your restaurant raves, your movie reviews. I want to see a gazillion “How’s it hangin’?” cat posters! Heck, I’ll even gladly accept the pointless “I’m tired (frowny-face)” or “Night, night!” posts I’ve forever criticized… snaps of your new shoes/fish tank/little black dress…anything!

​More good stuff. Less bad.

Less spitting, more smiling. Less hand-wringing, more hugging. Less hostility, more harmony. OK? Truce? All it takes is YOU. And YOU. And YOU…

​“We have a choice about how we behave,
​and that means we have the choice to opt for civility and grace.” – Dwight Currie 

Two years ago after our arrival in La Paz, Marina Costa Baja sponsored a free, open-air concert to ring in the New Year. The chosen band… Mala Rumba. This foursome comprised a fast-as-Flash bongo drummer, two beguiling guitarists and featured a suave jazz flautist. Reminiscent of the “Gipsy Kings”, their melded medleys of rumba-rock captivated the audience.

I had hoped to take them home with me, forever trapping their tantalizing tunes into our onboard database. But wait…what’s this??? No CD? Flibbertigibbet. No CD, no website, not even a Facebook page. Apparently, practice was merely a hobby; performing this one big concert a year, enough. Phooey.

Two years later…
On the docket once again at Costa Baja for a repeat performance, we keenly anticipated the December concert date. Once again, Mala Rumba rocked.

Bad Rumba
In Spanish, Mala Rumba means Bad Rumba. Their spokesman conveyed the naming rationale, considering themselves the bad boys of flamenco rumba. But in this case, bad denotes improper. Dismissed by traditional Spanish flamenco musicians as “too far outside the box”, Mala Rumba roguishly ties in rhythms from Asia, riffs from India and haunting renditions from the Middle East. To further their rogue-state status, a Cuban-rumba bongo beat breathes new life into classic American rock songs like “Billie Jean” and “Stairway to Heaven”. These bad boys are all over the map, literally, but it works.

My Faves: A Flittering Flautist and Guttural Guitarist
The addition of a flautist to guitar-centered rumba is another no-no. As a former rank amateur myself, I appreciated his jazzed-up version of Flight of the Bumblebee as genius. Flitting effortlessly between classical and rock, this bee took supersonic flight.

Another fave… the crusty, guttural voice of one guitarist. Building suspense through the finale song, his raspy, Spanish-R-rolling and forceful, protesting chorus culminated from a low growl to near-roar. You know the old quote from SNL “like butter” (pronounced buttah)? Well, his voice crooned “like crunchy peanut butter” - smooth yet salty, accompanied by a yummy crunch.

Dancing Kids and Drunken Chickens
The bongoist encouraged our audience to clap and dance, so some kids took him up on the invitation. One girl twirled around side stage like a ballerina; another skipped back and forth behind the band. But a young boy became the star of the show with his serious demeanor and robot dancing antics, including the Macarena. At one point, some drunken dude vaulted onstage with the kids, surf-riding, flailing and flapping his arms, possibly attempting (poorly) the Chicken Dance. Amusing the first time; distracting the second. OK buddy, yes, you do a great Cossack dance. Now git!
​
Aha… a CD!
Elated to discover Mala Rumba finally produced a CD, we scrambled to purchase one before they ran out. Now I can take them home with me! Check ‘em out on Facebook and their professional music video on YouTube linked above. I wish you could hear that peanut buttery voice, but my iphone video sadly remains on my hard drive - copyrights are no joke nowadays. So I won’t risk it… not even for you my friends!

Strolling along the paved boardwalk in downtown La Paz, we noticed a cluster of crouchers and hoverers ogling the sand, all smiling and chittering excitedly, the majority obsessively videoing via cell phone. What’s the ruckus? A thoughtful stranger urged us to come over and take a look…we’re so glad we took his suggestion. We’d stumbled accidentally upon a turtle nest hatching!

Baby Turtles!
Wow! I mean, WOW!!! A gaggle (or more accurately a “bale”) of baby sea turtles had just emerged from their shells below the sandy surface. Amidst the arduous process of climbing out of their nest, we watched in awe as their wrinkly, clumsy bodies (not much bigger than my thumb) flailed up the shallow slope toward the flat sand.

Loggerheads or Olive Ridley?
While I think they were Olive Ridley (most common), I’m not certain. Either way, we saw about 15 of the little dudes crawl out of their hole and head for sea. With increased conservation efforts, the Olive Ridley, a threatened species during the 80’s, has increased to nearly a million females per season…quite an astounding comeback. Many call Baja California home, their offspring returning each year to the exact spot of their birth to nest.

It’s a Hard Knock Life
It’s gotta be rough to be a sea turtle. Before you even get out of the nest you are in danger of being dug up & eaten as an egg by animals or people… or crushed by 4x4 vehicles. Assuming you made it that far and actually hatched, now you’ve got to wiggle up through the suffocating sand - more like a grave than a nest, I’d say. If the sand is too packed down from vehicle traffic it’s difficult, maybe impossible, to get out. Finally, with the help of your siblings, you clawed your way to the surface. Good for you! Now you’ve got to make it out of that caved in caldera to open sand, while repeatedly being trampled on by your fellow escapees. One by one, your grueling march to the sea begins.

Sniper-Crawl to the Sea
Low-crawling like a Marine sniper towards an objective, the babies must immediately traverse the dangerous expanse of beachhead. Scraping themselves along a mere 20ft of beach strand, it probably feels like miles to their tiny bodies… the countless sand depressions akin to scaling hills and valleys. Some turtles were slower than others. After all, they’re just learning to maneuver those flippers. Many required numerous 2-second rest stops to catch their breath and reorient themselves.

A Real Life “Frogger” Game
From the time those turtles step out of their hole everything is trying to kill them – too bad these mini-marines are missing their M-16 rifles. Sea birds like gulls and frigate birds have the marked advantage of speed and height to spot their dark flailing bodies contrasted against the light sand from far away. Land mammals like wild dogs and raccoons are also a danger. One interesting tidbit is that while adult turtles often include crabs in their diet, crabs will also eat baby sea turtles! An example of Mother Nature’s circle of life, I guess. Since land is a pretty perilous place for the youngsters, they are desperate to reach the ocean before becoming Scooby snacks.

Citizen Protection Squad
Most turtles seem to have that homing instinct leading them to the sea, but some need a little push in the right direction. When a few babes headed away from the water, concerned citizen-spectators turned them around… sometimes several times before their innate GPS skills took over.  Employees from PROFEPA, which supports the National Sea Turtle Conservation Program, were called in to take notes and monitor activity. They also erected a protective chicken wire barrier around a newly-discovered adjacent nest with a warning sign not to disturb. A bystander informed me that no one had previously discovered this nest; otherwise it would have been similarly marked for protection and monitored until hatching. As it was, the little guys are lucky to have hatched out in the open during the day where concerned Baja Californians could protect them from land predators (and take lots of photos) until they made it to the water.

First Swim
Momma turtle nested in a perfect spot along the calm shores of the Bay of La Paz, so they had no crashing ocean waves with which to contend. I could almost sense their slight hesitation and ultimate relief as they’d hit the water’s edge. The weaker ones seemed so tired, getting rolled in the tiniest of wavelets, dazed and confused for a moment before slowly and awkwardly floating out to sea. The stronger ones would bolt out into the water, duck-diving through the oncoming tiny wavelets and using the receding undertow to their advantage. Furiously they paddled with their tiny flippers on the same instinctive course with a single-minded thought… “Get to the chopper!” Seriously. I swear I heard it.

Ocean Hazards
Once they hit the water though, another epic journey to deeper waters ensues. Migrating hundreds or even thousands of sea miles, babies are constantly in danger of getting chomped on by larger carnivorous fish like grouper, rockfish, barracuda and sharks. A great many die as bycatch, caught helplessly in fishermen’s nets. Incredibly, only 1 in 1000 actually live to adulthood….terrible odds. It’s a hard knock life. I can’t help but wonder what people would do with their lives if we all had such odds.

An App for That
I wouldn’t be surprised if someone has made a kids videogame app by now…like Frogger or Plant Zombies but with turtles: “In their desperate escape to the ocean, adorable sea turtle babies must avoid bird bombs and crab snatchers, sand-castle-moat-digging children and reckless ATV’s, floating fishing nets, sneaky sharks and gulping groupers!” If anyone rolls with this idea, I’d better get a percentage…
​
Bucket List Item - Check
Only once have we witnessed turtles here in the Sea of Cortez. On our 2-day passage from Mazatlán, we encountered multiple large turtles floating lazily with us back to La Paz. Since then, we’d sadly never seen another…until today. I’d contemplated finding a turtle release program where volunteers can assist hatchlings from known protected turtle sites. But this random event was perfect in its spontaneity…raw nature in action. It’s quite possibly a once-in-a-lifetime experience to witness baby turtles in their first moments. What a great day! Bucket list item complete.
 
​~~~~~~~~~
Be sure to watch my Turtle Trek Video. Baby turtles are adorable! I promise it will make your day.