Magdalena Bay
Sometimes this place, this whale nursery in the desert, feels like a dream. To the west, the long, pale, undulating line of sand dunes dotted with bits of desert flora stretches on forever. Looking east, the tangle of mangrove offers a stark contrast in dark greens. Blue sky above, blue sea below. And breath— the sharp, sometimes hollow sound of a blow, the tiny drifting droplets softly touching faces, hands and hearts outstretched to greet these gigantic creatures of the desert and the arctic; these amazing twelve-thousand mile migrators who seem to graciously accept and even reciprocate our longing for connection.
Pinks and blues of sunrise lit the sky laced with cirrus clouds as the early whale watchers boarded Zodiacs to spend some time with the California gray whale mothers and their newborn calves. There are numerous mother whales and babies this year, and we all feel fortunate for our experience with these special cetaceans, for their remarkable recovery from near extinction, and the added blessing of fine weather. Calves rode on top of and rolled off their mothers as the whales moved slowly and calmly near our boats. These young animals consume about 50 gallons of milk a day; much of their time here is spent nursing.
By late morning, we bid farewell to the whales and made our way south through Hull Canal where we anchored near a mangrove complex. Zodiacs cruised and kayaks paddled the narrow channels, enjoying the freedom of exploring a new habitat. Great, snowy and reddish egrets perched in the mangrove branches, while several great blue herons were hunting in the shallows. We shared some thoughts about our wonderful week of so many memorable connections and wish we could do it all over again.
