Sea of Cortez–Part Two
July 19th–Sunday
“A whale!” Everardo, one of the crew, points excitedly off the starboard side of the boat. We are approaching the Midriff Islands after a very stormy night at sea. “There!” I exclaim. “I see it!” A fin whale we think. It comes up a few more times before we part. This day is starting out right, I think.
Still feeling puny from the respiratory ailment, I am content to stay out of the fray of divers gearing up for the first dive. I am too exhausted and my heart longs to simply connect with the amazing beauty of this place. I want stillness….quiet.
In the distance I hear sea lions barking. Fog is rolling in from the east. Or maybe it is rain. Or both.
As the sun breaks through clouds it illuminates red cliffs. A complete rainbow is between the boat’s stern and the nearby cliff. As the pangas with divers leave for their first dive, the rainbow is arched perfectly over them. I can see both ends of it with 100 yards of where I stand on the large boat.
I’m enjoying watching the sun illuminate the mountains then fade as clouds hide it from the watchful peaks and spires. Every moment the light changes. One moment it shines on the slope of an island and creates a golden glow from the sparse vegetation. The next it finds sheer cliff walls of red and orange and creates a fiery display of color. Then it is all rain-darkened rock faces and dark, gray clouds.
Lay bare these bones.
On these rugged islands human imprint is almost non-existent. This wildness, this raw beauty, opens me like an instrument of surgical precision.
I feel shadows dropping off, bones being laid bare–a conscious choice of surrender. It’s like standing in a large crack in a rock…in the exact middle of a fault line–as it slowly moves apart.
Do I split myself and compartmentalize this wild, untamed self, from the whole of me? Wouldn’t that create a schism, an unhealthy one? An ‘earthquake.’ Or does the inner sea provide the deep, watery realm where every part of me is nurtured and cared for. Wild places such as this feed me like no other. I long for more experiences where humans have not laid waste or paved or built condos. While it cracks me open, it also makes me whole.
There must be a way to claim my wild self and live in human civilization. This is my greatest challenge.
If I sit still long enough the rocks will surely share their secrets, reveal their mysteries. Every fissure, every fold of rock, has a teaching to share, a memory of ages past. I decide to try it.
I lay down on the deck of the boat and find stillness. Think like a rock, I hear. Be patient with time’s passing. Time is measured in ages and eons with rocks and mountains. Stop thinking….be a rock. Be a mountain. So my consciousness drifts…slowly. S-L-O-W-L-Y.
There is infinite patience in stone and rock. These peaks have watched the sea for ages. What have they seen? What has been their experience?
The San Adreas fault is here. It formed the Baja Peninsula. Geologically speaking, the Gulf of California formed in record time…six to ten million years. As long as that seems, the Atlantic Ocean Basin took 30 to 80 million years to form. In a blink of geological time, this beautiful place was formed.
I’m looking at Isla Angel de la Guarda, the Guardian Angel Island. It’s 45 miles long and just ten miles offshore from the Baja Peninsula but is separated by a marine trough that averages 4000 feet deep, with the deepest portion being over 5000 feet deep.
The formation of this place was violent and fast but the outcome produced an exquisite and unique place of beauty and splendor. Even though the islands appear barren, life exists on them in amazing variety. Humans don’t live here on these islands. Maybe that’s why they are so energetically pristine. One can feel the pulsing of life here. There is nothing I’d rather be doing than connecting with this mountains, this sea. Right now.
Later I find myself snorkeling with sargassum seaweed and many triggerfish, sergeant majors, blue chromis….a sea of colorful fish. At one point I tilt my head with one eye above the surface and keep the other submerged. I see a beautiful cliff face above and below a clump of sargassum that is a perfect mirror image of the cliff. I laugh with gratitude.
I end the day as passenger in a panga as my dive friends are submerged. Julio, the small-boat captain, and I watch for bubbles. Admittedly, I watch the blue-footed boobies as they soar and dive and roost on the massive rock island, iced white with centuries of bird droppings. And the sea lions….the silly sea lions.
As the day ends it feels as if I have made a lifetime journey in one day. I feel more alive after allowing myself time to rest and think like a mountain. Floating in the blue sea washed away lingering fatigue and observing sea lions brought a sense of joy and happiness that lifted me.
Grateful for the transformation. Ready for a long sleep.