San Jose del Cabo and Gorda Bank, Baja California
After a smooth and comfortable ride down the Pacific Ocean from Magdalena Bay, the National Geographic Sea Bird reached the southern tip of the Baja California Peninsula to enter the Gulf of California. Along the way, we crossed the Tropic of Cancer, where the sun passes directly overhead on the Summer Solstice. We gathered on the bow of our ship to watch the sunrise over the Gulf reflected off the pink granite of Friars' Rock. Around us, humpback whales cavorted, with occasional mighty splashes of breaching whales. Cabo San Lucas was once a sleepy Mexican fishing village. Now it is a tourist mecca of hotels and condominiums, T-shirt shops, restaurants and nightclubs. In contrast, San Jose del Cabo dates back to the mission era, with Colonial architecture, and caters to a different sort of visitor. Like us. We docked in the new marina, and coaches took us into the nearby town. There was time for a bird-watching along an estuary, where fresh water coming down from the nearby mountains of the Sierra de la Laguna meets the sea. Fresh water in the desert makes for a desert oasis that attracts a diversity of water birds: herons, ducks, rails, and more. After (or instead of) bird-finding, we could walk through the town, sample the art galleries, and watch a demonstration of the art of glass-blowing. While we were in town the Sea Bird was resupplied with fresh water, produce, and clean linens, and then we were away.
In the Gulf near Los Cabos is an area of relatively shallow water called Gorda Bank. Here, humpback whales congregate — females with their new calves, females here to become pregnant with next-year's calf, and males competing to assist them in that objective. As we saw with the gray whales of Magdalena Bay, the warm southern waters are for breeding; the cold but productive northern waters are for feeding. Soon we were following a cow/calf pair swimming languidly through the clear sea. The breaches that we saw around us were not whales but Mobula rays, a kind of manta ray, the sun reflecting off their white side, alternating with the darker color of their upper side. We left the cow/calf pair and followed a group of four humpbacks swimming together. Courting groups are often highly organized, consisting of a female, her principal consort, and several wannabes (as in "want to be"). Our ship was beautifully positioned as the whales rose to the surface just off our starboard bow. We could see the remarkably long, white pectoral flippers, up the 1/3 the total length of the whale, appearing turquoise through the water. After a series of breaths, the final surfacing was followed by a fluke-up dive into the depths to do whatever they do when they are out of our sight. One of these is undoubtedly direct competition between males, and male humpbacks bear the scars of these battles.
With the wind picking up over the sea, we reluctantly departed to head northward, farther up the Gulf of California.
