WHALES TALES, FISH TACOS, MACHINE GUNS LOOM, DANCES, DOGS, AND DESERT BLOOMS

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WHALES TALES

Levit Thomas, a third grader from Main Elementary School, Kodiak, Alaska, described it in 23 short words

Colossal fins come out of the water!
It’s amazing how the whales breach.
It’s it’s it’s…..colossal.
It’s it’s um a MASTERPIECE!

One of the main reasons we decided to travel the Mexican Baja was stories we had heard on the road about the grey whales of the peninsula. Past visitors describe their encounter with wide eyes and trembling tones. Could it really be that good? After all, we have done whale watches in Cape Cod, MA; Kennebunkport, ME; Brier Island, Nova Scotia and off the shores of Newfoundland; it wasn’t like we hadn’t seen whale close up.

So it was with a hint of skepticism we boarded vans for the trip to the western shore from the town of San Ignacio at KM 77 on highway 1, exactly half way down the Baja. Our destination was Laguna San Ignacio, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The lagoon is home to sea turtles, peregrine falcons, osprey and hundreds of thousands of migratory waterfowls and, most importantly, is the last natural birthing lagoon on the planet for the gray whale. It is part of a 248 mile coastline wetland complex that includes inter-tidal mudflats, salt flats, sandy beaches and mangroves. Our skepticism was over taken by irony as we blasted down an undeveloped “road” some 59 KM or 38 miles to a shore. Clouds of dust enveloped the vans and obscured the view of a bone dry desert with flying stones bombarding the floor of the vehicle as our head popped into the roof. We were going to see whales. You have to be kidding.

Finally, after an hour of bone jarring travel with our Mexican driver occasionally grinning at us Gringos over his shoulder and taking his eyes off the road for what seemed an eternity, we arrived at the coast. Those of us who not had a urinary mishap during the trip and could still walk, stumbled out of the vans and headed for the two outdoor privies. There was no TP and the water jugs were determined to be used to “flush” the primitive toilets after many confusing attempts with the nonfunctional handles on the water closets.

We met our guides and were given an orientation on proper whale watching etiquette. We were admonished not to put our hands between the boat and the whale, duh (average weight of a grey whale is 16 tons) and not to touch the eye or the blow hole. Were we really going to get that close?

As the boat sped out into the lagoon with its 10 whale watchers, the guide suddenly yelled, “There she blows” and slowed the motor to a crawl. We saw our first of these cetacean creatures, a mother and her calf. We didn’t move to the whales, they moved to us. We were struck by the sheer size. The mom was over 45 ft long, at least 2.5 times longer than the boat and the baby much smaller. Both whales came along side the boat over and over again, literally rubbing thier sides against the gunwales. A dark blue and grey behemoth of living breathing flesh greeted us over and over again. We all rubbed and touched and were touch by these magnificent animals.

At one time the mother lay perpendicular to the boat directly underneath it while the calf lay over its mother’s back on its back, showing us its belly. The mother’s eye was scanning those of us hushed in the boat as if to say “This is my baby, what do you think of her?” I will never forget the moment. It was like one mother with a stroller talking to those gathered admirers in the park on a sunny Sunday. The whales didn’t seem very fish-like at all, which or course, they are not. They were one of us and they looked at us as if to say, “Why have you done so much to harm us? All we want to do is survive.” We so much wanted to know what they were thinking. Sometimes the whales “spy hopped” or stuck their head out of the water and slowly turned to look at us. It was a special moment we will never forget. It made all the planning, all the driving, all the cost, all the preparation for the trip down the Baja worth it. We were able to touch the heads of the whales and feel the small sensory hairs that line their snouts. We were in awe. We were bonded with a fellow traveler on planet earth.

And it is not as if the whales had not extended considerable effort to get to see us. Our guide explained that the gray whales make an extraordinarily migration from the Arctic Ocean (northwest of Alaska in the Chukchi Sea) to the Baja Peninsula off Mexico, and back each year. They travel about 12,500 miles (20,110 km) each year, staying near the coast. They feed in the cold Arctic waters and calve and mate in the warm waters of the Baja. Immediately after mating, the males leave to return north. Sara says “typical males.” The gestation period is about 13.5 months and the calf is born head first (unusual for cetaceans) and near the surface of the warm, shallow waters. The newborn calf is about 15 feet long and weighs about 1-1.5 ton. “Ouch” That is Sara again. The newborn instinctively swims to the surface within 10 seconds for its first breath; it is helped by its mother, using her flippers. Within 30 minutes of its birth, the baby whale can swim. Twins are extremely rare (about 1% of births); there is almost always one calf. The baby is nurtured with its mother's fatty milk (53% fat) and is weaned in about 7-8 months. The guide told us that the mother and calf may stay together for about a year. Calves drink 50-80 pounds of milk each day. Gray whales reach maturity at 8 years. Growth stops at age 40 years. Mature females give birth every other year. After a few more rubs and pictures, it was time to leave and everyone in the boat knew that we had experienced something very special. The trip back to the RV Park didn’t seem nearly as long.

FISH TACOS

We have all heard the familiar phase from people who often travel to Mexico, “You haven’t really eaten ‘true Mexican cuisine’. It is not like the Americanized junk of Taco Bell. True Mexican food is so fresh and so delicious that you will not believe it when you taste it for the first time.” Well, Sara and I had many opportunities to sample true Mexican food prepared by local people far from any Gringo influences.

First of all, the local cuisine is not all that spicy or greasy. True Mexican food, the food of the Indians and later the peasants, was actually quite bland. The diet was mainly corn tortillas and beans. They used chilies to add some flavor to a bland diet, and the chilies are what most people seem to remember about Mexican seasonings. Many other cuisines, such as Thai and Indian, can be far hotter than many Mexican dishes. Most traditional Mexican cooking centers on corn and beans, but includes avocados, peanuts, tomatoes, squash, and coconuts. As the Spanish settled in their conquered lands of Mexico and Central America in the 1520's, they introduced ingredients familiar at home, and many of them worked themselves into the Mexican cuisine. Some of the meat of animals seen commonly in the dishes of today was, at that time, unknown. These included pigs, horses, cows, sheep, goats, and chickens. The Spaniards also brought many condiments including black pepper, olive oil, cinnamon, cilantro, and oregano. They also introduced many nuts and grains. With the introduction of so many new ingredients, Mexican cooking had to evolve, and it did. Spanish influences helped create dishes such as buñuelos (deep fried little pillows of dough), lomo en adobo (pork loin in a spicy sauce), chile rellenos (large, mild-flavored chilies stuffed with cheese, beef or pork), quesadillas, which have been traditional Mexican street food for eons, and, of course, the always popular guacamole.

While Sara and I did eat at a few traditional Mexican restaurants while on the Baja, it was the street food that appealed to us the most. It seemed to us that it is there that the Baja locals eat the most. Everyday the food stands, some in semi permanent structures, but many more on wheels, appear like magic from nowhere, much like, excuse the analogy, termites from the woodwork. And the staple of all these stands is the almighty fish taco. Due to the lack of grazing land on the Baja, beef is extremely expensive, chickens are rare, pork and goat meat occasionally available but fish always in abundance. After all, The Baja is surrounded on three sides by the sea. Simply put, a fish taco is a wheat or corn tortilla wrapped around a couple of pieces of lightly breaded, deep fat fried fresh fish, species unknown. But what makes them so special are the many bowls that line the counter of every taco stand.

The taco mongers of Baja are the “connoisseurs of the condiment” and it is the contents of those bowls that make the fish taco what it is. There is cabbage, onions, salsas, chopped peppers of every variety know to the region, and that is many, regardless of where you are. Then there is chopped cactus, pickled fuzzy things, and countless other strange items. Finally there is a line of sauces in bowls and bottles as far as the eye can see or the counter can handle. Some have labels in Spanish but most are unlabeled and homemade. The line ends invariably with a big bowl of quartered Mexican limes. After visiting numerous taco shops, we finally learned the protocol. You pay for your plate, 200 to 400 pesos, (don’t panic, that’s 2 to 4 dollars US) and then cover the inside of each taco with the topping of your fancy. Some are wonderful, some are terrible, some are hot, some are sweet, some are sour, some are crunchy, some are soft, some are colorful, some are drab, but all, except the cabbage, are totally foreign to most Gringos including us. We never had the same fish taco twice, and we ate a lot of them. They all were delicious. We marveled how the local knew just what they wanted on their fare. I asked one of our tour hosts what makes the fish tacos so good, and why the flour tortillas were so much better than the corn variety. She replied, “The fish is fresh each day and the flour tortillas have more lard than the corn.” Fish tacos, health food they are not, but a must for any Baja visitor.





MACHINE GUNS LOOMS

During our orientation session for our trip down the Baja, one of the wagon masters in answer to a question about the safety of the water from the tap replied, “Well, you know that Mexico IS a third world country.” It begs the question, “What is a first and second world country and who decided?” Well, it appears that after World War II, it was decided by you know who that anyone that was with us was first world, anyone who was against us was second world and all the rest were third world. Third world has come to mean the underdeveloped countries of Asia, Africa, Oceania, and Latin America.

They are thought to be countries whose economies are dependent on producing primary products for first world nations, traditional, rural, with high population growth and widespread poverty and ruling elites who are usually wealthy. Under that definition, most of the Baja is definitely third world. But non first world countries are often communistic or socialistic and Mexico is neither. It is technically a democracy with three branches of government, but the executive is highly centralized in Mexico City and presidency of the county is jokingly referred to as “a six year monarchy.” Revolutions have been an integral part of Mexican history with the last one in 1910 still in the minds of present day leaders. Led by such famous rebels as Emiliano Zapata in Morelos, Pascual Orozco and Pancho Villa in Chihuaha, then Dictator Diaz resigned in 1911 and fled to Europe. No one in Mexico built monuments to him then or since, and he is remembered as one of the greatest villains in all of Mexican history. The legislative branch, as well as the executive is fraught with corruption and payoffs for political favors, but it is the judicial, enforced by the military, that most affects the lives of both common citizen and foreign visitor. As a Gringo visitor you have no rights and you are guilty until you prove your innocence. Violation of drug or particularly, the firearm laws will result in a long stay in a Mexican prison where you will usually die before your Mexican appointed lawyer gets around to see you. We were told that the mere possession of one round of ammunition even without the weapon can result in prison time. And how long would you last? An American who worked at one of the RV parks and has lived in Baja for years pointed at my chest and asked rhetorically, “How long do you think you could last behind the walls of a Mexican prison?” When I said I had no idea, she replied,” Six weeks if you were lucky. Longer if you were Mexican and your family could feed and clothe you?” She closed the conversation with a laugh over Mexico’s long held pride in not having the death penalty, much to the approval of the Catholic Church, and a comment to the effect that they don’t need it because the long term prisoners all die behind the walls.

We saw many military convoys as we traveled up and down the Baja. Trucks sped by filled with soldiers holding automatic weapons and a machine gun mounted on the roof, gunner at the ready. At the regular military check points on Highway 1, the traveler stares down the barrel of a sand bagged machine gun nest and pulls off the road because of the ultimate military tope-a 5 ft load of rock in the center of the lane. Tire puncture strips consisted of old tires, cut and attached together in a continuous ribbon, studded with hundreds of spikes and coiled like a snake at the edge of the roadway, in waiting with a rope connected to pull across the roadway. It was simple but marvelously effective.

We were stopped four times down and four times back but rarely searched. Usually we just waved through. We were a caravan and deemed safe by the authorities. Still, it was scary and brought to mind Dorothy’s famous admonishment to her dog in the Wizard of Oz, “Toto, I don’t think we are in Kansas anymore.”



DANCES

While traveling the Baja, we had several opportunities to enjoy traditional Mexican Folk dancing. In village of Loreto, on the Sea of Cortez, Sara and I attended Mass at the Mission Nuestra Senora De Loreto, the first mission established in the Californias (1699). After the service we wandered to the local square where young people in traditional dress were wowing a crowd with a swirling maze of color and precision dancing.

We attended a more formal presentation under a huge palapas restaurant in the village of Ciudad Constitution. A local dance school sponsored the show. After margaritas and a dinner we were treated to an hour long show that finished all of us dancing in a circle. The show included several colorful costume changes and variety of examples of dance from the different regions of the Baja. The participants ranged in age from 5 years old through high school. Particularly popular was a dance using machetes. The sparks flew as the heavy metal knifes smashed together in a clicking cadence above the heads and below the legs of the dancers. The dance ensemble brought down the house with a Baja rendition of the Cotton Eyed Joe.

But a second show was subtly occurring behind the audience.The parents of these dancers were swaying to the music, the pride radiating from their faces as they gave visual prompts to their children on how to perform the dances you just knew they had preformed as children themselves. The experience illustrates a phenomenon seen over and over and over again on the Baja.

The children of Baja are revered. When a traveler approaches a family with ninos, all communication barriers can be shattered by simply fussing over the children. Everyone breaks into smiles and in an instant one changes from a Gringo to a friend. With a simple gift of a pencil, notebook or a piece of candy you could easily be invited to share in a meal. Every town in the Baja, large or small, has a special store where party favors, piñatas, candy, games and supplies can be purchased for birthdays, first communions and the all important Quinceanera or coming of age party so important to every girl in the Baja. And most amazing, Baja is a dusty, dirty, poor country, particularly in the rural areas, and yet in over a 28 day visit, we never, ever saw a dirty child. Hair was always combed and faces sparklingly clean. Children could be seen walking to school almost everyday. Girls would be dressed in skirts with white stockings and boys in uniforms with light pants neatly pressed and never a smudge or stain. It is one of the miracles of the Baja. There have to be thousands and thousands of moms washing tons of clothes everyday.

STREET DOGS

Less fortunate than the children were the street dogs or perros de calle of Baja. We were warned. There are dogs everywhere and many are sick with parvo virus and kennel cough. The locals treat them with indifference after a lifetime of fear of attack or rabies. While some of the dogs appear to be one time pets of a recognizable breed, most are Mexamix, a combination often of pit bull and Doberman and whatever. Most of the street dogs are nervous, wary and skinny. Their heads in constant motion, a behavior bred from years of surviving on the street; looking over their shoulders for traffic or other dogs and always, always looking for food. Sara would, if she could, have taken home hundreds of dogs.

DESERT BLOOM

Imagine sitting on a big rock, on a high hill, looking over a vast valley with outlines of mountains in the distance. The landscape is an easel devoid of color except the blue of the sky and the parched, barren browns of a desert starving for rain. As your eyes search for other colors, you see grasses withered to threads, bushes brittle and breaking, and cacti with a faint hint of past green. The burning sun is glaring off the flat rocks and endless sand. Then imagine sitting on the same exact rock looking at the same scene with the same outlines, but this time your eyes are showered in the daylight sun with a kaleidoscope of color as if the easel had been touch by the brush of Monet or Van Gogh. As far as you can see, there are reds, yellows, greens, blues, oranges and violets of every shade and hue. You are awe struck. Finally, imagine you visit the same spot for the next ten years at the same time only to be disappointed that the splendor never returns. What happened? You were, for one brief time, privileged to witness a desert bloom. Sara and I just happened to visit the Baja during a bloom.

According to the Arizona Desert Museum in Tucson, desert blooms and what triggers them is still a mystery and predicting them is next to impossible. There has to be a triggering rain of at least an inch in autumn of course, but there must be spring rains too. Even then, soil conditions, previous year’s vegetation, spacing of the rains and even desert rodent populations can affect the degree of the bloom and its length. But what ever causes a bloom, if you are lucky enough to experience one, you will never forget it. The elephant trees, the giant Cardon cacti, and the boojum trees of Dr. Suess fame were all in bloom. Even the century plants bloomed, a one time event in the life of this noble cactus. The desert bloom was probably a once in life time experience for us too, and words simply cannot describe it. Sara and I were lucky enough to witness one of the best blooms on the Baja and I will let the pictures tell the story. Be sure to view them in the accompanying gallery.

In the final installment of California Baja Part III you will see an unbelievable ATV ride in the desert, shopping for native art and those incredible, incredible sunrises and sunsets.