I originally wrote this in 2014 after returning from San Ignacio lagoon, and another wonderful whale watching trip (my 3rd that year). On the way to
the lagoon I passed Pachico Mayoral's beautifully decorated grave.
Here's an essay I wrote in his memory:
Forty years ago, a gray whale began following fisherman Pachico Mayoral's panga in the warm, salty waters of Baja California's San Ignacio lagoon. She
rubbed against his fiberglass boat and caused him to take evasive action to avoid what he feared would be a dangerous collision. His maneuvers didn't
work: the whale continued to follow him.
Mayoral had fished in the lagoon all his life, alongside hundreds of grays which migrate to mate and give birth every winter. He had always heard gray
whales were dangerous. But, eventually, he overcame his fears, reached over and touched her- and she seemed to enjoy the encounter.
Soon, legends of "friendly whales" (ballenas amistosas) began to circulate among surfers and others in Southern California, passed along by
adventurous travelers who drove the newly constructed Highway 1 (completed in 1973) from Tijuana to Cabo San Lucas.
Baja was largely uninhabited and undeveloped in the 70s. Once off the highway, you could count on dust, sand, mud, rocks and washboard, depending on
the weather and local geology. For people who wanted isolated beaches for surfing, diving, camping etc., it was ideal: Wild, scenic and often full of
the unexpected.
Intrigued by these rumors of "friendly whales" I persuaded a friend to join me in my 1971 VW Westphalia to travel to the lagoons and see them in
person. We didn't know it was an epic El Niño year that would deliver huge thunderstorms, torrential rain, heavy winds and freezing temperatures into
normally mild southern Baja. We had no idea the road to the lagoon was 40 miles of world class washboard, salty mudflats, volcanic rocks and cactus.
And frankly, had we known, it wouldn't have mattered. We were young and adventurous, so we loaded up the van, tied a Grumman canoe to the poptop,
exchanged a few dollars for pesos, and drove south.
Our first stop was Ojo de Liebre, also known as Scammons Lagoon, about 425 miles south of the border. It's named after a notorious 19th century
naturalist and whaler, Charles Scammons, who had discovered these nurseries, and then hunted the grays to near extinction. (When a few survivors were
spotted off California in the 1940s, they were protected in the United States coastal waters.)
Even though it's a national park, that year it had no services, no campsites, and only a handful of people using it. We asked a guard at the entrance
if we could launch the canoe, and he simply shrugged and looked at us as if we were a bit loco.
I suspect the outhouses that are there today are the same ones from that trip. It was a desolate and lonely place.
We arrived at sunset and set up camp under a blood-red sunset and threatening skies. The clouds opened shortly after dark and we barely slept during a
night of heavy rain and howling winds. We awoke to a gray, windy but rain-free red-tinged sunrise over the eastern mountains. Within minutes we saw
our first whale off the beach and gulped down our coffee, drove the van as close to the water as possible and launched the heavy Grumman.
As best I can estimate: we parked near the area where the dock is now located, and didn't realize the low area behind us would soon fill with water,
as the wind and tides pushed it behind the vehicle.
Once in the water, we made nautical mistake #1: We paddled after the whales, which were heading inland, so the wind and tide were at our backs as we
began, instead of later when we would be tired and in need of the assistance.
The recently consumed coffee and the thrill of the chase provided extra adrenaline, and we made good headway. The wind and incoming tide helped us
keep pace with the whales, and after a half hour of vigorous paddling, they actually slowed and approached us. They kept a few feet away, just out of
reach.
We learned later that the whales in this lagoon were slower to become friendlies. Also, they are accustomed to the put-put sound of the pangas
outboard motors. We also were told (later) that large, quiet floating objects (such as canoes) actually disturb them, and could trigger aggressive
behavior.
Fortunately (or miraculously, in our case), the whales seemed genuinely curious, coming a few feet away and rolling on their sides to look us in the
eye. It was an incredible first encounter.
One glimpse of those intelligent appearing eyes- about the size of a small grapefruit- took our breath away. The whales were large- over 30 feet long
with dark, mottled skin covered with barnacles, scars, gouges and Orca bite marks on the tail flukes that flashed past, just a few inches underwater.
As we admired these massive beasts- the oldest of all species of whales- we began to realize that one flip of their tail or fin would send us
splashing into the cold, stormy lagoon, far from the empty shore.
Only at that point did we put on the flotation vests that stowed between the canoe benches.
It was early January, and the whales we saw that day were likely males, looking for receptive females to engage in courtship. In other words: we
weren't their type. So, after a few more glances our way, they headed back towards the coast and the mouth of the lagoon, where females would be
entering after their 6000 mile migration from the Arctic and Bering Sea.
As we tried to follow and return to the Westy, we quickly realized that paddling INTO the incoming tides and increasing winds would take much longer
than paddling out. Our caffeine/adrenaline rush had subsided, even as we required more energy than during the first part of our voyage. We watched the
whales disappear westward, as the clouds cleared away, blown by strong winds that had followed us down the coast from California.
We reached the shore of the lagoon and immediately noticed the tide had been coming in high and fast, pushed higher than usual by the storm waves and
winds. The van was on a narrow, slightly elevated stretch of beach (today the area is posted off limits), between a low-lying salt marsh and the
waters of the lagoon. The water was already filling in the marshlands behind us. The road we had driven in on- a barely visible two-track used by
fishermen- was already underwater and impassable.
We debated driving the van into the salt marsh, but didn't want to damage the soil. Plus, we could see that the soft soil would trap our 2 wheel drive
VW bus before we made it to solid shore. So, as the sun finally broke through the clouds, we beached the canoe and began 6 hours of mandatory whale
watching. Since we didn't have a tide table, we drove a stick into the ground behind the van to monitor the rate of the incoming tide. As it rose,
every few minutes we removed the stick and placed it closer to the rear of the van. At the highest point it was about 2 feet from the bumper!
Soon a pangero paddled his boat up to the front of the van- the nose of his panga touching the front of the bus- and offered a ride (for a fee) to see
the whales. We thanked him politely and declined, offering him some lunch instead.
Today, no private kayaks or canoes are allowed in any of the lagoons. You must contract with certified professional whale tour operators to get close
to the thousands of whales that visit each season. So our brief encounter was remarkable in many ways.
As the tide reached its peak, a 70s era Chevrolet appeared on the far side of the salt marsh, with two men inside. The car had California plates, and
seemed completely out of place: a 4-door Chevy sedan, in a remote Baja lagoon? When they began trying to cross over and approach us, we jumped out to
warn of the soft salt marsh. As we waded into the mud, the driver and passenger exited the car to introduce themselves.
They were German travelers who had purchased the beat up car in California, and planned to sell it in Panama once they got to the Darien Gap. They saw
the '71 Westphalia and wanted to say hello to owners of a familiar German car. As they attempted to back out of the marsh, the Chevy's engine died and
wouldn't restart. We placed some rocks in the soft soil and I carefully backed up the VW, opened the rear engine compartment, and extended jumper
cables to the front of their slowly sinking Chevy.
The engine started and they were able to back out of the soft marsh. The last thing we heard them shout was "&*$#ing American car! We need a good
German vehicle!"
By mid-afternoon we were able to drive the van out to Hwy. 1 and continued south. The brief encounter with the gray whales had whetted our appetites,
and left us us wanting more. San Ignacio lagoon promised friendly encounters. Two hours and 90 miles south, we arrived at the town of San Ignacio. We
purchased additional supplies (beer, tortillas, tomatoes and date bread) and headed out of town into the roughest 40 mile stretch of road I had ever
encountered.
For those who drive it today: you missed out on an epic adventure thru rocks, sand, cattle and volcanic peaks...
For the next 3 hours we dodged deep potholes, large rocks and soft sand while admiring cactus, volcanoes, and mudflats. Today, the road is in the
process of being paved, and much of the adventure of getting to the lagoon has disappeared.
But I often tell people that on that day, travel to the lagoon took us 3 hours of slow driving with 1 harmonica for entertainment, and a 6 pack of
Pacificos to ease our aching backsides. The harmonica was needed since there were no radio stations, and the VW had no tape player. The beer
anesthetized our posteriors as we bumped, rattled and rocked our way along.
Unfortunately, another storm blew into the coast just as we made it to the lagoon. We asked the locals about the friendly whales, and while they
agreed they existed, no one would consider launching a boat in those conditions.
Lightning flashed, thunder rattled the van and rain pelted the windows. All hopes of canoeing out to see whales vanished. We were due back in San
Diego in a few days, and had to plan our time carefully since driving into headwinds kept us at a creeping 55 MPH. We only drove in the daytime, since
Baja is open range and livestock slept on the warm pavement after dark.
Once again, the whales were just out of our reach.
For our final attempt, we headed south to Magdalena Bay and Lopez Mateos. As soon as we arrived at the old fish processing plant a whale cruised past
the dirt parking area. We launched a canoe and made chase, and proceeded to paddle around, seeing lots of spouts and tails in the distance- but none
approached us the way they had in Ojo de Liebre.
We had launched the canoe into the channel, north of Cd. Constitucion. We continued to see and hear whales from our makeshift campsite, and in the
evening, wandered thru town for local food, and more beer. It’s where I first was offered “tacos de cabezas” (brains)- I declined.
The mystery and allure of the friendly whales remained with me. I returned a few years later, and went to San Ignacio lagoon. That time, I camped in
the yard of a local fisherman named Maldo Fischer, who agreed to take us out to see whales in his fishing panga and, well... that's another story!
So DEP Pachico Mayoral. I salute your bravery: you were the first to accept the gentle invitation to interact with gray whales. And as we now see
every spring: they continue to invite us to say hello and delight us with their presence.
[Edited on 2-15-2018 by Whale-ista]
[Edited on 2-15-2018 by Whale-ista]bajajudy - 4-8-2014 at 02:07 PM
Great telling!
Thanks
I tell everyone that touching a whale is a life changing experience.
BTW we still like camping at Ojo de Liebre because you can hear the whales so well.Whale-ista - 4-8-2014 at 04:26 PM
Quote:
Originally posted by bajajudy
Great telling!
Thanks
I tell everyone that touching a whale is a life changing experience.
BTW we still like camping at Ojo de Liebre because you can hear the whales so well.
Agree, Scammons provides easier and more direct access, visual and aural, from the shoreline. Also less expensive for camping, but with fewer
facilities. I enjoy the food more at Kuyima, but the restaurant at Scammons is better than my usual campground fare!
I enjoy both places, depending on how much time/$ I have to spend, and time of year. In January the female whales are w/calves in the interior area of
San Ignacio lagoon and you can hear them from Kuyima. Later they are closer to the boca, so you don't hear their breathing.
This year I was able to travel south 3 times and see the babies develop in both lagoons.
January: newborns were barely able to control their bodies and spent most of the time resting on mom's back. Moms enjoyed lots of nap time after long
commute south. Not much interaction w/boats tho a few adults/moms came over to say hello. Lots of solo adults "courting" each other- love was in the
air and water!
February: babies were stronger, swimming a lot alongside mom. More encounters, fewer "dating scene" interactions, but still a few suprising romantic
moments in the midst of the babies in training for the long migration ahead.
Late March/early April- the babies were big, strong, agile and intersted in the boats. Lots of leaping, head raising and boat bumping. Moms still
trying to get them to swim, but they were much more independent and interested in the humans. Romantic period over- only moms/babies still in the
lagoons.
So- 3 months of whales. It was quite educational.bajajudy - 4-8-2014 at 04:32 PM
We have stayed with Kuyima several times. That is really my favorite site for whale touching. I have never heard them that close to the camp.shari - 4-8-2014 at 04:37 PM
Nice story Whale-ista...what year was your journey? Oh yeah and just a note...it's Charles Scammon not George!Whale-ista - 4-8-2014 at 04:49 PM
Quote:
Originally posted by bajajudy
We have stayed with Kuyima several times. That is really my favorite site for whale touching. I have never heard them that close to the camp.
Early in the season you can see/hear the moms swimming and resting with calves, across the channel from Kuyima. When the conditions are right in both
lagoons, their in/exhalations sound remarkably clear and close! If the wind is up (often) it is harder to hear them.Whale-ista - 4-8-2014 at 04:51 PM
Quote:
Originally posted by shari
Nice story Whale-ista...what year was your journey? Oh yeah and just a note...it's Charles Scammon not George!
Year was early 80s- '82 or '83...? We had a few El Nio years then.
oops! thanks for edit regarding Scammons.Sunman - 4-10-2014 at 03:57 PM
Nice story indeed. We just returned from another magical trip to San Ignacio lagoon and Pachico's Camp, it was sad not to see him there this year. We
did stop and visit with him and had a cold one in his honor on our way to San Juanico.BajaBlanca - 4-11-2014 at 02:31 PM
Fun story! How great to have seen the development over at the san ignacio lagoon over the years.Whale-ista - 2-14-2018 at 05:42 PM
It's been 40+ years since Pachico Mayoral was nudged by a friendly whale in San Ignacio. He passed away a few years ago, and in honor of his early
encounter, I wrote this post.
Much has changed in Baja over time- but may people's sense of adventure never disappear! advrider - 2-14-2018 at 07:25 PM
Well said! It is something you can tell people about over and over but when they see it for them self's, well enough said!
