Saturday 3/30
Today I socialized with my clean neighbors, who invited me
over. We talked about where I lived, and
the drive, and other simple things, like what the most expensive bottle of
whisky might cost. The night before, I had
been explaining to the men of that group a lot about kayaking. They weren’t aware of the bioluminescence,
but seemed interested.
I had asked them if they wanted to try the kayak. They had taken a picture of one of the men
sitting in my kayak, but they seemed timid about trying it. One man explained that he was completely out
of condition. He also said he might roll
over and drown.
This group was composed of two related men and their wives
and children. One family had two younger
children, and the other, three older girls, up to the oldest, who was 17 (the
one who had been washing her hair). As
before, she seemed pretty disengaged from the group and disinterested in the
conversation. I was surprised to learn
that she spoke passable English, but expressed no interest whatsoever in
practicing it. When she spoke, she
seemed competent and mature. Her family
said she wanted to become a dentist. She
was now in preparatory school (after secondary school, the last years of high
school), and was going to go to college in Ensenada. She said that studying to be a dentist would
take 6 years. I told her about Lisa.
We helped a nearby camper get his truck unstuck from the
sand. The family explained that another
vehicle owner who they had helped had given them a large bucket of oranges for
thanks—oranges grown only a little to the south on Baja. They have me about 8 oranges to take home,
and we said goodbye
I set out again for Danzante in early afternoon. I took everything I needed to spend the
night. The crossing was nearly windless
and hot—and when I got to the island, I was too hot to do much. I ate, put my bottle of beer in the cool
water of the beach to chill, and then just sat and vegetated.
After a while, a small boat with 10 people approached and
landed, and I went over to talk. They
were very friendly. It turns out they were
camped on the opposite side of the island, and had come around for a change of
scene. They were two families—a man with
his brother in law, and their families.
This group was more active. The
woman went down the shore, looking for shells to make jewelry with. Some of the children went snorkeling, or
played rambunctiously, splashing one another.
Then three of them went of with a sack, a stick, and their snorkel
gear—to catch something. Evidently they
did—putting things in the sack with much squealing.
When I asked them what they caught, they said “sea urchins”
(erizo). The were going to eat them raw
with some lime and hot sauce. The men
implied that they would make you very “hot,” and that I should try one. I declined.
They invited me to their camp on the other side for clams, but I never
made it. After an hour or so, the ten of
them left in the small boat, waving, loaded almost to sinking up to the
gunwales. Later when I did pass their camp, it was dark, and I was afraid that
I would scare them if I approached their camp out of the dark, since my kayak
makes no noise.
I took a long swim, and had a beer. It was now getting a little cooler. I noticed some aggressive bees today, in
place of the aggressive wasps who had been bothering me here a few days ago. (I think the wasps were laying low, since the
bees were on the prowl.) I heard a lot of buzzing, and traced it to a swarm of
honeybees, who had exited their overfilled hive, and were now looking for a new
hive location. They were buzzed back and
forth in front of my face, threateningly, but I wasn’t stung. I guessed that they are the African variety
of honeybees. Some began to investigate
my empty beer bottle with great enthusiasm, crawling inside the entrance. At first I assumed they were after the beer,
for food or drink, but then I realized they were checking out this opening, to
see if it would make a good home for the hive.
They investigated the bottle with urgency, and what looked like a kind
of intelligence.
Heading north along the E side of the island, I planned to
circumnavigate it again. I stopped to
look at the Sally lightfoot crabs, which are social, found nearly always in
groups. I fenced with them with my
paddle. A beautiful sunset caught up
with me before I rounded the north side of the island. I reached the little canal shortcut in the
dark, and found it only with difficulty.
Already the bio luminescence was starting, and the was only starting to
get dark.
Tonight around the island, the luminescence was the best
I’ve seen it. I’ll describe some of the
things you can see, and the different types of fish, based on their behavior.
Some places are just teeming with luminescence, almost eager
to explode with light, given the slightest disturbance. In these places, you can see a spontaneous
twinkling at all depths in the water.
When I shine my flashlight here, you can see little skinny fish, about
half an inch long (or less), plus some other smaller things (crustacean?),
swimming around rapidly. They are attracted
to my flashlight. Today when swimming,
the water visibility wasn’t very good, and I think it’s because the water is so
fertile with organisms of all kinds.
Some places are more fertile--and more luminescent—than others. In these places, my wake is especially
bright, and even gently rocking the kayak sets the ripples to glowing. If you drop a single drop from my paddle into
the water, I can see a spreading ring of light, just as you would see the
circular ripple in daylight. If I splash
my paddle, for course all the drops create little splashes of light. But these droplets scare the small fish, who
rush away, and create a further wave of fainter light spreading off into the
darkness with the speed of a gust of wind.
I can distinguish at least three different kinds of fish
based on their evasive behavior when scared in the dark.
Fish type 1 is usually found alone, away from
shore. They rush away with great speed,
as straight as an arrow, near the surface or just on top of the water, leaving
a straight track of light. They always
go away at 4:00 o’clock or 8:00 (with my bow as midnight). This orientation suggests they sense the
pressure wave of my boat, and orient at right angles to the wave—a good strategy
for getting out of the way of a predator.
Fish type 2 are found in groups not far from
shore. They suddenly explode with a burst
of speed to escape from under the front of my boat. They don’t go entirely straight—sometimes
curving a bit—and not so far. But their
explosive burst—all at once—can be a big surprise. One group exploded from the tip of my bow in
all directions, looking just like a bursting white fireworks display, with my
kayak in the dark shaped like the fireworks rocket. These fish apparently go part of their way in
the air—which allows them to move faster.
You can hear them skipping across the surface. One whacked into my boat. It wasn’t just a dull, rubbery thud, as you
might expect. But it sounded hard a a
rock, making a sharp cracking sound the the fiberglass. These fish can be heard sometimes disturbing
the surface in front of you, so you suspect they may be there. If you sneak up on them, and slap the side of
the kayak, they sometimes explode in a starburst on hearing the sound.
Fish type 3 is also found in groups near shore. These seem about the size of a squirrel,
making a trail of stardust in the water somewhat larger. They take very zig-zag course, stopping
briefly, then continuing for a short distance in another direction. It looked as if they were stopping to hide on
the bottom a few feet down, but when I put my paddle down all the way, I could not feel the bottom. When I withdrew it,
there was something cold, wet, and spiny on the paddle. I was scared out of my wits for a moment, but
it turned out only to be a large piece of seaweed.
Fish type 4 is not very common. They are found alone away from shore. They may be squid, because when they shoot
off in one direction to the side, they leave a trail on the opposite side of
the kayak as well. Perhaps the second
track is their jet of water, stimulating the luminescence just as their passage
does.
Fish type 5 is the “bump in the night.” Once, crossing the open channel, I felt the
boat give a heave, as if something very large like a dolphin had passed close
under the kayak. Or, it may have been an
unusual wave, though the sea was very calm.
Fish type 6 is seen close to shore. Sometimes, I see large luminous shapes under
the kayak, kind of like ghosts. They
move slowly without a track, and are gone.
Perhaps they are manta rays, or they may be boulders illuminated by many small critters
on their surface.
Sometimes a dark shape passes close overhead. I don’t know if these are owls, or just
seabirds coming home late from a night at the cantina. I have seen night herons in the area during
the daytime. Paddling close to shore, I
did disturb something that flew away with loud “GROKs” and GRAAKs. A resting blue heron, no doubt.
Passing close to the cliffs, I can hear crickets
singing—several kinds—the same songs as we hear at home, but nowhere near so numerous. Sometimes, I get strong
whiffs of a very sweet blossom, where in daytime the cliffs seemed burned and
barren as cinders from Hell.
In the starlight before the waning moon will rise, it’s
dark, but not black. The towers of the
island stand out as pure black against the dark grey of the sky and water. Against the black silhouette and reflection
of the island, it’s the darkest, and the luminescence is most visible. I can tell when I’m getting too close to
shore, because I can hear the waves lapping.
I never hit a rock. Other than
the waves, the only sounds are the occasional mewings of romantic sea gulls.
The temperature was just perfect for a single shirt and
light exercise. The slightest of
breezes. The water was a mirror for the
stars. This is one of the premiere
nighttime adventures for anyone who loves water, and loves the night.
On my return around 11:00 pm, things were more quiet than
the preceding night, which seemed to be the culmination of the holidays on the
beach. Some tents had packed up and
left. The beach quieted down at an
earlier hour. I’m going to miss all the
hustle, bustle, and hoopla.
Safety for night paddling
Lest readers think I’m oblivious to
danger, here are precautions I follow. First of all, I know the area, and the
configuration of lights on shore, where home lies. (A map or satellite navigator would be a must
if I didn’t know the area). I know the currents,
and there is only one shoal. I have camping
gear, food, and enough water for four days, in case I can’t make it home. I have two flashlights, one a headlamp with
blinking red lights, which I light if I hear any boats approaching. I have a weather report, and respect the
strong winds, which can come up suddenly.
I’m carrying all the usual safety gear, available from my cockpit, and
most of it is attached to the kayak with cord, so it can’t drift away if I
capsize. I also have a marine radio (which
can send my GPS location) , plus a personal locator beacon. There are numerous strips of reflective tape
on my kayak.
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