A small boat to Baja
http://www.kansascity.com/mld/kansascitystar/living/travel/8...
50-cabin ship allows passengers to get up close and personal in ways big cruisers can't
By DEBORAH CAULFIELD RYBAK
Mar. 21, 2004
ABOARD THE SPIRIT OF ENDEAVOUR ? It was shortly after sunrise, and everywhere I turned there were dolphins. Not by the tens or twenties but by the
hundreds.
Surrounding our ship, they arced and spun out of the crystalline waters of the Sea of Cortez in perfectly choreographed pairs, trios and quartets. I
raced to our cabin and yelled for my husband. ?Michael, come quick! You're not gonna believe this!?
As the news spread, the polished wooden decks of the Spirit of Endeavour filled with 90-plus sleepy-eyed passengers with whom we were touring Baja
California's spectacular inland sea. Soon, oohs, ahs and frenetic camera-clicking joined the symphony of splashing emanating from the water just 20
feet below.
As we reached the end of what seemed to be a mile-long swath of dolphins, I sighed. One of the most astounding sights I'd ever seen had come to an end
too soon.
Just then the ship shifted and began to turn around. As the sun rose in the peach-streaked sky, we pulled alongside the pod of dolphins, and the
magical scene reappeared. Then we turned around and did it again.
Forget about those big, impersonal 3,000-passenger cattle boats. Small-ship cruising is the life for me.
During our eight-day sojourn in the Sea of Cortez, we traveled with the loosest of itineraries. We followed whale spouts on a whim; hiked, snorkeled
and kayaked around magnificent cactus-strewn desert islands; visited towns untrammeled by tourism; and simply gawked at the
desert-mountains-meets-the-sea scenery. All this aboard a 217-foot, 50-cabin vessel that seemed more like a private yacht than a cruise ship.
Focusing on exotic destinations, unconventional land tours and environmentally oriented travel instead of lavish midnight buffets, casinos or cheesy
entertainment, companies such as Cruise West, Lindblad Expeditions and American Safari Cruises have become highly attractive alternatives to travelers
weary of big ships.
We'd arrived in the Sea of Cortez courtesy of my parents, who became small-ship converts after taking a Cruise West trip in Alaska one summer. They
came back enthusing about whale-watching in inflatable rafts, glacier-hiking and navigating tiny inner waterways with onboard naturalists providing
commentary. They invited us and my aunt to join them in the Baja for a warm-water version of the same. We were more than happy to oblige.
Our shipmates were a seasoned and terrifically energetic bunch. With a tour plan heavy on hiking, snorkeling and sea kayaking, it wasn't hard to
understand why.
The Baja is an 800-mile desert peninsula that is relatively uninhabited outside its fast-growing cities, which include the capital, La Paz, and Los
Cabos (Cabo San Lucas and San Jose del Cabo at the southern tip). It is the Sea of Cortez, however, that is the star here.
Jacques Cousteau once described the slender sea separating mainland Mexico from the Baja as the ?world's biggest aquarium? because of the
extraordinary range of aquatic species, about 3,000 in all.
After years of neglect, the Mexican government is finally regulating access to the region, which is why you won't find big cruise lines any farther
north than the tip of the Baja Peninsula; their impact on the fragile environment would be too great.
We set off from the historic colonial waterfront at La Paz (after a bus trip from Cabo San Lucas, where most flight connections are made) and motored
leisurely up the coast. Because the cruise wove in and out of islands and didn't cover much distance, we spent a lot of meals and nights at anchor,
which was most pleasant.
Cruise casual
The atmosphere on board was decidedly casual. No dressing for dinner, no assigned seating or separate mealtimes. Although people generally gathered
for happy hour before dinner, the onboard lounge was usually empty by 10 p.m.
It wasn't advanced age that cleared the decks, it was advanced activity: We weren't exactly spending our days in lounge chairs watching the world pass
by. When we stopped for island visits, the crew sprang into action.
For example, there was the day we explored Isla Espiritu Santo (Island of the Holy Ghost). Our destination was Bonanza Beach, a 3-mile-long white-sand
crescent. The crew set up chairs and sea kayaks, and our 10-person inflatable boats got us to shore with none of the waiting involved when there are
hundreds trying to disembark at the same time.
There we were free to snorkel with vividly colored fish (wetsuits and gear were part of the amenities), sea kayak, take a guided hike (one of our
naturalists used to be a ranger on the island) or simply sprawl in the sand.
At night, instead of a floor show, one of the naturalists aboard would give us a preview of what we could expect to see and do the next day. One day
it was how to snorkel safely with a seal. (Hint: Don't freak out when they playfully blow bubbles in your face.)
Another time, it was the mating habits of gray whales. The other great activity at night, besides taking in the star-packed sky or the moon's
reflection sparkling on the water, was to watch for the dolphins.
When they showed up after dark, they were outlined by a brilliant phosphorescence that made them appear like glowing torpedoes shooting through the
water.
I had given my husband a copy of John Steinbeck's The Log From the Sea of Cortez to read during the trip. It's an engrossing day-to-day account of a
trip Steinbeck took around the Baja peninsula in 1940 that combines biology with the author's personal philosophy. I liked what he had to say about
the Sea of Cortez: ?The very air here is miraculous and outlines of reality change with the moment.?
No kidding about those quick reality changes, especially when you're watching glow-in-the-dark dolphins.
Bahia Magdalena
One of the trip's highlights was some up-close whale-watching. For that we had to dock for a day and take a 90-minute bus ride to the Pacific side of
the peninsula to Bahia Magdalena, where every winter more than 10,000 gray whales come to either mate or calve.
There we boarded small wooden motorboats called ?pangas? for a ride through what I liked to call ?whale soup.? Although we didn't get to experience a
whale swimming up to the boat for a quick pat, as other boats did, just motoring alongside creatures three times the size of our boat was
exhilarating.
So was being in a group small enough to stop for lunch at a funky local restaurant without overrunning the place. Try that with your fellow passengers
on a 2,000-person vessel.
Another giveaway that we weren't on a typical cruise ship was our captain, Jeff Coxwell. I immediately dubbed him ?the hardest working man in sea
business.? He wasn't a remote figure showing up for the captain's dinner; he was everywhere.
In the morning, Capt. Jeff was on deck, handing out life jackets as we boarded our inflatable boats to get to shore. In the afternoon he was there to
take our wetsuits and snorkels and to make sure we had a good time.
During happy hour one evening, an overloaded tray of dirty dishes crashed to the floor. Capt. Jeff was the first one on his knees to clean up the
mess, not because there weren't any other crew members available, but because that's just the kind of guy he is.
What he did even better was navigate (and anyone was welcome on the bridge). On the morning after our incredible dolphin experience, we cruised slowly
along the Baja coast as both crew and passengers kept eyes peeled for whale spouts. With each cry of ?There's one? we'd steer over for a closer look ?
always from a respectful distance ? before heading off for a new sighting.
We saw humpbacks, sperm whales, gray whales and even a blue whale, the largest mammal on the planet (or at least his fin, which was actually pretty
small). We bonded as we bounded about the boat, which, with two levels, gave everyone a perfect sightseeing perch.
A visit to Loreto
The itinerary wasn't all water-oriented. One day we stopped at the tiny town of Loreto, a quiet, palm-shaded village nestled at the base of the Sierra
Gigante mountains. Unearthly jagged peaks rose from the horizon line. Not a Hard Rock Cafe or Starbucks in sight.
Options that day included a rugged van tour into the mountains to the San Javier mission, a trip to a restaurant to make tortillas and sample ceviche
(raw fish pickled in lime juice) and a fishing trip. All of the activities were followed by a wine and cheese party, complete with local musicians, at
the tiny Loreto mission, the first in the Baja.
Michael and my dad left at dawn on a fishing trip in search of yellowfin tuna. Others left to explore the town. My mom, my aunt and I enjoyed a quiet
morning aboard the ship. The two of them worked a crossword puzzle. Barefoot, I padded around the ship, feeling as if it were my private domain. I
called out greetings to various crew members, who went about their daily chores. (Capt. Jeff? Hauling out trash, of course.)
The sea was glassine. Each bird, each ripple stood out in sharp relief. I spotted several dolphins and a couple of whales from our anchor in port. I
watched a small squadron of pelicans fly in a synchronous line just feet above the water, taking their cues to flap, soar or dive from their leader. I
stopped in at the lounge to fetch my mom some coffee and perused the daily two-page news summary. Crises loomed in Iraq, North Korea and Turkey.
Here in the Baja, it seemed like news from another planet.
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