The Wet Edge: Los Islotes

We are late in the season for cruising the Baja as far as the standard yachtie iternieries go. We are just arriving and most folks are already heading back from cruising Mexico and laying up in La Paz or hustling North to haul out for hurricane season. We are behind this pack, also heading North but at a snail's pace. We have an ear tuned daily to the weather forecasts and reports of tropical depressions and we mark the hurricane holes on our charts and stay within spitting distance of safe anchorage. The benifit of our plan, is that many of the most popular anchorages are relatively empty these days-although we are by no means the only boat looking to enjoy the infernal heat and unbelievable sea-life that awaits us further up in the sea. The higher the latitude, on this stretch, the less populated it will become. Commercial fisherman have nowhere to sell their catch, prefering to stay within the proximity of tourist hubs like Cabo and more populated cities like La Paz, so the ocean is teeming with life. Colossal and (hopefully) docile, whale sharks-the largest fish in the sea, reaching a length of fify feet-spend their summer gorging on plankton in the Northern Sea of Cortez. The chance to swim with these big fellows is very high on the list of the reasons why we are willing go against pack mentality and our insureance companies' waivers and choose the path less traveled- even if it means we chew our nails a bit, while pouring over hurricane preparation manuals. Fortunately, the worst of these historically dissipate before they get as far North as we plan to go.

We had the great luck to be the only boat when we first arrived by dingy to Isla Isolotes. We had left Pura Vida, on her own for a few hours, swinging gently on her anchor on a calm and windless morning on what we call a "lunch hook"-a term used for an anchorage that doesn't provide adequate protection in all conditions and therefore isn't suitable for the usual 20 knot evening corumel but in settled weather can be perfectly fine for exploring a nearby site. Islotes is famous for its sea lion rookery. The animals on this small rocky outcropping, a mile off the coast, are certainly not tame but over the years have become familiar (and tolerant) of divers attracted by the abundant sea life in the deep water surrounding the islands. We suited-up and had one last dive down to the anchor to check that our holding is secure- this was our first time leaving our girl unattended - and then climbed in the dingy with go-pros and waters and snacks and head out to the island of lions.
We heard them long before we got there.
The sea lions are deep in round two of the mating and pup season- the earliest being born in March and the last will arrive in May-the mothers and youngest animals group together in nurseries in the shallow tide pools where they are regualrly patrolled and jealously guarded by the giant, bad tempered, 600 pound males. I certainly would not want to climb on their rocks but at a respectful distance -about 15 feet off the shore-you can dive and they will come out and observe YOU. The males are so paranoid about losing their spot on the rocks, and far too preoccupied, barking at one another and gloating, whiskery noses pointed in the air, to bother much about what's going on in the water. We sat on the edge of the dingy spitting in our masks and observing the action on the shore. Little H. was a brave sport as she gathered the nerve to climb in the water- Sea lions where everywhere, rushing and tumbling past us, from the surface, they looked very much like incredibly large, unpredictable and aggressive dogs.

" You're our little pup..." I told her. We have come to learn that many animals sense size difference-we have noticed this with larger, more aggressive species of fish in the water. When Jon is close the big, heavy-toothed, parrot fish scoot back into their holes and hide- but when it's the kids or myself, they rush at us again and again, defending their territory and showing off how fiercely protective they are of the eggs and females they guard.

"Stay close to daddy and you'll be fine" I said, slipping into the water to have a look around.

The first thing I saw was so stunningly beautiful, I gasped in my snorkel. Not five feet from me, in the deep emerald green water, two sea lions danced a pas de duex. They were upside down, noses touching, flippers holding one another in an embrace, bodies arched and folding together like a continual, fluid double helix. I stuck my head up out of the water to tell Hunter to get in but she was already gone. I dove back under, swam about fifty yards and spotted Jon and both kids fifteen feet below me, framed by a moving wall of brilliant yellow and blue Cortez Angle fish. A young sea lion hovered by Kai, the two of them staring at each other, curious as two kids from different neighborhoods. The Sea lion did a slow back flip, spinning backwards and twisting his head around like it wasn't attached to anything, watching Kai the whole time. Kai waited a moment, then did the same move- minus the neck dislocation. Some invisible language barrier was broken. The signal for PLAY was sent loud and clear. The sea lion frolicked and twisted, showing us moves far superior to what we and our awkward fake flippers could come up with. Sea lions LOVE to show you up. Once they have satisfied themselves that you totally suck at swimming they rassle with each other and speed past at impossible angles and when they have tired of you disappear too deep for you to follow. Jon was a huge hit with the young females. They surrounded him, like a mob of adolescent girls around the cute new lifeguard at the community pool. With younger siblings in tow, they teased and cooed and snuggled and nipped at his fins, until Jon was nearly overwhelmed in a swirling soup of fins and fur and friendly- but still very large- teeth. Kai had just as good a time stalking the outrageously huge fish that slunk around in the protected reef. Not worried about being harassed and pursued by hunters, these fish had no fear. We saw just how big Groupers and Bass can get if allowed to live and grow to maturity. I felt an urgent tugging on one of my fins and expected to find Kai, desperate to point out a golden phase leopard Grouper but found, instead, a downright crazy-looking sea lion. He or She had a particular sort of google-eyed expression which reminded me of the guy at the park you were always told to stay away from as a kid. I kicked backwards and went to find Jon. A few times the huge males would jet past us, their bulk that seemed so comical on land was not at all funny down here. Snorting streams of bubbles at Jon as they passed, sending a message; "you've looked at my ladies long enough buddy, now piss off".
Which we did...in a jiffy.

There is footage of the day which we will post, eventually but none of it will ever do justice to what we saw that morning beneath the waves.

We motored back to Pura Vida, who waited for us, proud on quiet on her anchor, in the stunning cove that we had utterly to ourselves. We climbed aboard and ate cold tortillas and drank lime juice and smiled at each other and no one could think of a thing they would rather be doing.