Boca de Soledad, Bahia Magdalena
Water gently glides off the flukes of a Gray Whale – La Ballena Gris – and she slips quietly into the shallows of Boca de Soledad, The Mouth of Solitude. We all find our own kind of soledad here today. Early in the calving cycle of the Grays, we explore this tranquil nursery ground in search of the Great Whales. Today we find miniature Great Whales, mothers with the newest of babies, tiny calves, just born. Mom spyhops, perhaps to take a peek at our Zodiacs, baby spyhops too. Youngsters born maybe a year or two ago frolic, headslap, and breach almost clear of the water. They swim among us, narrowly miss our boats, dive down at the last minute, there underwater – splotchy patches of whitish gray, yellowish barnacles and orange whale lice – a fiesta of color. In the afternoon light the rainbow reflects in their blows (“rainblows”), as the mist slowly disperses, my face is moist and I realize I have just had the blow of a whale caress my cheek.
We all spend time with the whales, but there is so much more; quiet walks along open beaches with so many shells you consciously have to watch your step to miss them. Birds abound, all sizes shapes and colors – huge white pelicans roost on the ever-changing sandbars, male magnificent frigatebirds show off their inflated bright red gular pouches to impress the females, white ibises probe the mud around the mangroves with their long curved red-orange bills, and black brant, a winter visitor from Alaska like the grays, fly overhead searching for the riches of the eel grass beds to feed on. The beautiful dunes constantly change with the interplay of shadow and light, graceful curves, rippled sand, solitude, soledad, La Boca de Soledad.
And then the Fiesta, the live music of our hosts at our dinner party, the wonderful fresh fish, smiling faces, and an appreciative ship full of visitors, lucky for the special day, incredible sightings and peaceful existence we have here today. Gracias!
Water gently glides off the flukes of a Gray Whale – La Ballena Gris – and she slips quietly into the shallows of Boca de Soledad, The Mouth of Solitude. We all find our own kind of soledad here today. Early in the calving cycle of the Grays, we explore this tranquil nursery ground in search of the Great Whales. Today we find miniature Great Whales, mothers with the newest of babies, tiny calves, just born. Mom spyhops, perhaps to take a peek at our Zodiacs, baby spyhops too. Youngsters born maybe a year or two ago frolic, headslap, and breach almost clear of the water. They swim among us, narrowly miss our boats, dive down at the last minute, there underwater – splotchy patches of whitish gray, yellowish barnacles and orange whale lice – a fiesta of color. In the afternoon light the rainbow reflects in their blows (“rainblows”), as the mist slowly disperses, my face is moist and I realize I have just had the blow of a whale caress my cheek.
We all spend time with the whales, but there is so much more; quiet walks along open beaches with so many shells you consciously have to watch your step to miss them. Birds abound, all sizes shapes and colors – huge white pelicans roost on the ever-changing sandbars, male magnificent frigatebirds show off their inflated bright red gular pouches to impress the females, white ibises probe the mud around the mangroves with their long curved red-orange bills, and black brant, a winter visitor from Alaska like the grays, fly overhead searching for the riches of the eel grass beds to feed on. The beautiful dunes constantly change with the interplay of shadow and light, graceful curves, rippled sand, solitude, soledad, La Boca de Soledad.
And then the Fiesta, the live music of our hosts at our dinner party, the wonderful fresh fish, smiling faces, and an appreciative ship full of visitors, lucky for the special day, incredible sightings and peaceful existence we have here today. Gracias!
