UnCruise trip lets nature take the spotlight
A small ship adventure on Mexico’s Sea of Cortez focuses on spectacular sights
LA PAZ, MEXICO— The mood in the skiff is a little tense, all of us aware that our new little friends can sometimes play a little rough, like any puppy, really. As we motor out over clear, blue waters toward Los Islotes, a craggy, uninhabited island in the heart of Mexico’s Sea of Cortez, the sound is unmistakable, even with the engine on our little craft thrumming away — hearty barks, beckoning us to come join them.
Wetsuits in place, the half-dozen of us look up into a cloudless sky to see two rare blue-footed boobies soar past, their famous feet tucked up tight, nestled into white underbellies. Then it was time for the halfdozen of us to get into the water, a little chilly this time of year, with a deep breath, mask down and a fearless plunge into the aquamarine. Within seconds, they come to us, putting on a show — three California sea lion pups, adorable, spinning and spiralling past our flippers, one coming so close it brushes my knee, diving back, deep into the seemingly endless sea below.
I’m sailing on board the MV Safari Endeavour, a small ship exploring the Sea of Cortez (sometimes called the Gulf of California), the body of water that separates mainland Mexico and the Baja Peninsula. A UNESCO World Heritage Site and appropriately called the “aquarium of the world” by the famed biologist Jacques Cousteau, this rich marine and avian environment is inhabited by a wide variety of flora and fauna. Big-time plankton blooms and the unique intersection of ecosystems create a place inhabited by 900 fish species and 32 types of marine mammals, with numerous endemic examples — living creatures found only here.
I’m here to experience it all, but with one main purpose in mind: to swim with the massive whale sharks that inhabit these waters.
I get oriented early in the trip with a visit to the bridge and a chat with Doug Coughenour, our unassuming and casual captain. The Endeavour is part of a small fleet belonging to UnCruise Adventures, which, as its name suggests, intentionally shuns the luxury and decadence of a traditional cruise in order to delve deeply into the natural and cultural environment of its destinations (which also include Alaska, Hawaii and Central America).
While our ship, which on this voyage carries fewer than 50 guests, does feature some indulgences (including two hot tubs on the aft decks), Coughenour explains his goal is to get us into sometimes literally uncharted waters.
He says the last exhaustive nautical survey of the area was carried out back in 1875, by a vessel called the USS Narragansett. Its charts remain the primary tool for his crew today. Commercial craft requiring constantly updated charts, like megaships and tankers, do not ply these waters, so the big picture remains something of a mystery.
“There’s just a small handful of people down here at any given time,” Coughenour says.
During the following days, we swim off abandoned beaches and snorkel in waters so clear I can see down dozens of feet, all the way to the colourful coral bottom, often surrounded by a cloud of a thousand flashing angelfish or a big troop of sergeant majors on the march.
At Bahia Agua Verde, we ride burros brought in by a single family of rancheros, who journeys almost two days to meet us, saddling us up so we can clip-clop up a narrow ridge and down into an arid valley filled with cacti and coyotes.
At one point, a pod of hundreds of dolphins surround and leap along- side the ship. Even the night sky entertains us — one evening, I join a small group on the bow. We remark that instead of ice skating or taking in a faux-Broadway show, we’re watching a full moon, a sparkling Venus and Mars, red, even to the naked eye.
“It’s the un-show,” one fellow traveller quips.
And then, on the last full day of the un-cruise, it’s whale shark day. A different kind of nervousness envelopes us as we motor out into the Bahia de La Paz, a tension this time borne of the uncertainty that we won’t have a chance to see and experience these often-shy creatures.
We’ve been fully prepared by the ship’s crew who, in addition to briefing us on safety and conservation (never touch them, stay at least six feet clear of the tail), have warned us over and over again that nothing is guaranteed — these fascinating, huge, spotted creatures (often as big as a school bus) sometimes don’t appear.
Wetsuit zipped, fins in place, mask down, it’s into the water again. At first, I see nothing. Hearing calls from our guides that it’s coming right at us, my first instinct is to turn and flee, swimming like hell in the opposite direction. Yet I put my mask in the water and it reveals itself, slowly, calmly, steadily, and indeed, headed unmistakably in my direction.
I pause there, fins still, virtually hanging in the green water as the 7.6-metre shark passes, seemingly impervious to my existence. My own heart stopped, I watch it, in parts — first the line of its impossibly wide mouth, thankfully closed for the moment, then its dazzling spots and stripes and dorsal fin, and finally the tail. With its steady back-and-forth motion, I feel like it’s waving farewell as it churns its way forward, deep into the green, and on to another destination in the Sea of Cortez. Tim Johnson was a guest of UnCruise Adventures, which didn’t review or approve this story.