Osprey - 7-7-2008 at 01:37 PM
Whale Song Dreams
The trip to San Evaristo really started when we began to slip and slide and dig in. The little ’75 Jeep kept us up and moving and out of trouble but
it was all I could do to coax it along. Strangest road in memory; neither Enrique nor I knew anything about the storm that had just dropped record
measures of rain on the Gigantes. This dirt trace that ran along the shore at the base of the mountains north and west of La Paz must have been under
water for days and we came along before it began to dry out – the road was rocky so we were wobbling, sinking, bouncing along in a rocky river of mud.
By the time we hit the flats we were running right along the beach and we stopped a couple of times to take a dip and cool off. Not far south of the
bay we spotted a whole whale skeleton. We stopped, had a beer, took some photos – Enrique sat on the long white spine and mugged for the camera. I
took a walk along the beach and not far from the carcass I found the animal’s baleen. It had been picked clean and now dry and sterile had no smell to
it. I grabbed up as much as I could carry and lugged it back to the jeep. I loved the look of it and thought it might highlight an empty area of my
patio, be a conversation starter when we had new guests from the states.
At Everisto we found a great place to camp on the beach, made a fire, listened to music, got drunk, swam a few times in the darkness and finally
passed out near the jeep. I awoke before Enrique, took a swim to clear my head, made a fire for coffee. Enrique was sleeping with his head covered
completely by his T shirt – I supposed the bugs were bothering him and I teased him about it when he woke up. He said it was for the skunks. He swears
skunks are drawn to the sound of human breathing, they have been known to bite and they carry rabies.
Nothing bothered me during the night. I must have used the baleen ribs as a pillow. Maybe in my drunken state I thought if I slept that way I might
hear the whales singing in my sleep. Nothing but precious sleep – no dreams, no whale songs.
We had blue skies and muddy roads ahead and it took us half a day to crawl up and over the Gigantes – we stopped at El Bosque, Solidad and a few small
ranchos. We must have taken the long way around because we dropped out of the mountains well north of El Cien. I love exploring so with good weather,
no breakdowns, friendly natives it was a great trip all the way around.
Since Enrique lies almost as much as me, I was surprised to learn from the internet that he was right about the skunks. In Mexico more people die from
being bitten by rabid skunks than those who die from snakebite.
I’m a hopeless romantic and easily become captive to the power of suggestion; I know the whale’s baleen is to filter food, not to make sound. I’m not
really surprised that just part of the whale, now a permanent part of my patio, my life, has brought eerie whale songs to my dreams. There is a
sadness, a kind of pleading in the keening sonnets – in my dreams they do not repeat; each song, each dream is distinct and memorable.
The patio door remains wide open at night – now that I know the siren song for skunks is the hushed and tender sound of sleep-breath. When at sleep in
the wild my frightening blares and blatts of snoring must have sent them all scurrying back to their burrows around Everisto Bay. At times I’m worried
they might attack my wife but I think my powers will protect her too. Sometimes I feel almost tailor made for this rough place.
Enrique
Osprey - 7-7-2008 at 01:38 PM
Mexitron - 7-7-2008 at 06:12 PM
Something about those whales--they have three hemispheres in their brains to our two...I imagine they percieve time differently than we do, and maybe
their songs reflect that.
Osprey - 7-7-2008 at 06:18 PM
I believe the whales think of them as trimespheres. We are so damn different.