Whales in the Morning

Glassy calm, dark gray backs
Spouts abound in morning chill
Children’s shrieks of joy

In late February, while the wind blustered and blew through the gaps in hills and islands and was making its mind up which way to blow, we made our mind up to get off the boat and go exploring. We got a mooring at Puerto Escondido, rented a car, and drove back across the wide peninsula to the little town of Puerto Alfredo Lopez Mateos, a community that clearly loves its whales and particularly comes to life during baby whale season. Ironically, we had passed near here not more than a few months before as we made our long trek down the Baja coast. But there weren’t whales there then. At least not babies. Gray whales leave the cold waters of the north and arrive at these warm water bays and protected estuaries on the Pacific coast of Baja in the winter to give birth and raise their calves until it is time to head north again in the spring. In mid-November as we headed south, we had seen only a few of the first few whales to arrive.

We made our whale watching reservation and rented a little “Casita” through Cheri, a native Alaskan who has been in Mexico for decades (she can be contacted via her AirBnB site). We joined her and a friend for a dinner at a gem of backyard “cafe” that we never would have found on our own. We followed Cheri down a long, narrow alley to a house with three plastic tables set up. Dogs ran back and forth along the alley, and three little girls shrieked and giggled at the sight of our two kiddos. The semi-outdoor kitchen off the alley is where the owner does her cooking and once a week opens up her doors to guests. She cooks up a huge pot of spiced, slow-cooked shredded beef, and offers a choice of tostadas, sopas, and flautas. While I had a little difficulty getting her to believe that I didn’t want any toppings on the kids’ flautas, their orders came out perfectly, and they proceeded to eat…almost nothing. Ugh. I myself chose a large tostada, and I can say that it was hands down the best tostada I have had here in Mexico.

We retreated to the charming Casita, and, with the coffee pot set for an early morning, we tucked the kids and ourselves into bed and crashed. We awoke early, gulped down our hot coffee and were out the door at 7:30 to make our 8:00 appointment at the docks. We met Jimmy, our guide, who took us down to our awaiting panga, the ubiquitous open boat that is used for everything in Mexico from fishing to touring to mail-carrying to hauling fuel and provisions.

With the kids gripping the gunwales with white knuckles, we sped off into the estuary, our panga skidding and bumping loudly over the otherwise glassy, calm water. After only a few minutes, we saw a large dark back break the surface of the water. Jimmy cut the engine, the bow dropped down, and we rode the remnants of our own wake as we peered into the the silence for another glimpse of the large, dark whale.

And there she was, dark and barnacled in front of us, gliding and bending her back so we could see the full length of her beautiful body. We stayed with her for a few minutes, and Jimmy drew our attention to some of her markings and idiosyncrasies. We saw ahead of us another female surface, followed by a smaller back right behind her. A baby! We went forward very slowly and traveled in sync with the mama and calf. Mama breathed and dived, and baby breathed and dived. Over and over, they worked their way north. Jimmy explained that the mother was exercising her calf, having him swim into the incoming current to build up his strength in preparation for their eventual migration up the coast. The estuary, which provided strong currents but calm, shallow water was a perfect place to get the babies strong enough for the long trip.

Eventually, we left the mama and baby to themselves in order to head out to the mouth of the estuary (Estero de Soledad). Jimmy revved up the engine again, and we went at light speed through the still-chilly morning wind, zipping past sand bars and other whales out for their morning swims.

Jimmy told us about the gray whale pods and some of the behavior of male and female whales. He asked us about the orcas in the Pacific Northwest and their migration patterns, diets, and general health. We learned that the whales arrived very late this year and that it was a low season for gray whale babies in the Estero de Soledad. As Jimmy spouted off numbers of babies this year and in past years, I began thinking, “wow, this guy’s pretty knowledgeable.” So, it didn’t surprise me when we later learned (through Cheri, not soft-spoken Jimmy) that Jimmy was the only naturalist/biologist in Lopez Mateos. We had hit the guide-jackpot! I only wish I had come more prepared with some more astute questions, because I have a feeling we would have been able to learn even more if we had thought to ask the right questions. Though, we were so overwhelmed with what we saw, that I probably would have forgotten all my questions anyway.

When we arrived at the mouth of the estuary, we were astounded at the sight. From a distance, we could we could see miles of rough surf breaking on the shallow sand bars, but as we eased closer to the mouth, the more spectacular sight was the dozens of spouts all around us! One here, another there, then another, then five out in the distance, then one to the right, another to the left just a few yards away! And there’s a breach, and one over there diving, and another breach! And another breath and a dive. Which way should we look?! Photos simply couldn’t capture the stunning experience of being surrounded by these grand animals. Jimmy explained that most of the whales out by the mouth of the estuary were the males, who tended to stay out here while the mamas and calves went further into the protected waters. We stayed out there admiring them and taking it all in until our brief hour was up and it was time to head back.

We arrived back at the whale watching dock exhilarated and amazed by the experience. Though we had seen whales all along the Pacific coast – orcas in the San Juans, dozens of humpbacks all the way from Cape Scott down to Cabo San Lucas, and a blue whale and a few (we think) pilot whales here in the Sea of Cortez – it was still magical and overwhelming to see so many whales so close up. To see calves exercising. To see males breaching in the distance. To see huge, dark backs constantly emerge out of the water all around. To hear their breaths.

If Andy wasn’t already excited by whales, this experience launched his passion, and he has continued to have his head buried in our “Whales, Dolphins, and Porpoises” book non-stop. When he didn’t know I was listening, I have heard him trying to slowly sound out their names in his little 4-year old whisper: “L-o-n-guh F-i-nn-ed P-i-l-ot Wh-a-luh-, Bu-ll-oo Wh-a-luh.” What a perfect way to learn to read! He correctly identified that Tom had seen a short-finned pilot whale when he described it to Andy, and if you ask him what a pygmy killer whale eats, he will surely tell you and proceed to talk your ear off about it for the next ten minutes. And while Dylan’s love of orca whales will never be usurped, he was also deeply affected by the experience of seeing the gray whales and the proximity to these amazing beings.

So the value in this short trip back out to the Pacific Coast has been far more than in just the knowledge and the experience, but in the inspiration it has sparked in our children. I hope that their fascination and their love of marine animals and the ocean will just continue to grow and that the intense memory of these whales never fades. Even if they don’t become marine biologists, if we can raise two people who care deeply about the health and preservation of the whales and the ocean and take action to protect them, then we will have succeeded.

Addendum: For more information about gray whales, their near-extinction, and their rebound after anti-whaling conventions and protections were put into place, National Geographic has a short and useful summary.