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Voyaging through Mexico's Sea of Cortez
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/travel/2002023001_stei...
By Kenneth R. Weiss
September 03, 2004
ISLA CORONADO, Mexico ? As warm saltwater lapped against his legs, Chuck Baxter took delight in the creatures clinging to rocks and skittering around
the tidal shallows. His sunburned hands dipped beneath the shimmering surface for a closer examination of starfish, crabs and sponges forming a
palette of red, orange, yellow and brown.
Out of this bustling seascape surfaced a question: Why does the marine life look so rich here, when 64 years earlier author John Steinbeck considered
this same spot so devoid of life that it appeared "burned," as if exposed to mild "radio-activity"?
That question also rolled around the rear deck of the Gus D., a shrimp trawler jury-rigged into a marine lab. Baxter, a retired Stanford University
marine-biology professor, and his mates from Monterey, were retracing the 1940 voyage of Steinbeck and his pal, marine biologist Edward F. Ricketts.
Steinbeck made the 4,000-mile trip famous in his nonfiction book "The Log From the Sea of Cortez."
Using the book and Ricketts' original field notes as a baseline, Baxter and his group spent two months seeing what has changed in this long finger of
ocean that separates mainland Mexico from Baja California.
On "tranquilo" afternoons on the boat, with a balmy breeze and chocolate and cream hills drifting by, the group stumbled onto the reason the tide
pools on Coronado Island impressed them as biologically rich, while Steinbeck considered them especially poor. It all depends on what you're used to.
In Steinbeck's day, the marine life on this tiny island near Loreto was meager compared with places that he and Ricketts found to be "ferocious with
life," such as Cabo San Lucas. Now Cabo has been picked nearly clean by fishing and shellfish harvesting, and tainted by polluted runoff from an
urbanized coast.
By contrast, tiny uninhabited Isla Coronado just north of Loreto has remained a refuge for sea life, said Baxter, 76, who spent decades lecturing at
Stanford's Hopkins Marine Station in Monterey. But overall, he said, "It's not like it used to be."
The Sea of Cortez, officially known as the Gulf of California, has experienced a stunning decline of sea life in the past few decades, as have many
other places.
It's rare to come across the once-plentiful goliath groupers that reached 500 pounds, the giant manta rays known to leap out of the water, the
frenzied schools of yellowtail jacks chasing sardines to the shore, the circling columns of hammerhead sharks that once delighted fishermen, tourists
and inspired the late oceanographer Jacques Cousteau in 1986 to call the Sea of Cortez the "aquarium of the world."
Still, if you hadn't been here in Steinbeck's or Cousteau's day, the sea wouldn't seem empty, especially along undeveloped stretches where the desert
meets the sea.
Motoring north of Isla Coronado, past other small islands that poke out of the aquamarine waters, the boat regularly encountered pods of dolphins,
surfing on the bow wake before returning to gambol in the sea, feeding on bait fish. Pelicans glided by and then dropped like winged arrows to pluck
fish from the ocean with their oversized beaks.
It wasn't until the end of this spring's trip that Jon Christensen, who helped organize the expedition and is writing a book about it, noted what he
and his colleagues didn't see: turtles, sharks, giant manta rays. Without the benefit of Steinbeck's log or Ricketts' notes, he said, it wouldn't have
occurred to him how empty the ocean had become.
Steinbeck's book, the first biological survey, provided a crucial early marker for studying changes in the Sea of Cortez. This expedition was a rare
opportunity to work from a rediscovered copy of Ricketts' 1940 field notes, as well as the book that incorporated those notes and was polished by a
writer who had just completed his most famous novel, "The Grapes of Wrath."
The Sea of Cortez, of course, was far from its natural state when Steinbeck and Ricketts arrived. Most of the pearl oysters, which created an industry
that the town of La Paz is founded on, already had been stripped from the sea in a massive treasure hunt. U.S. and Japanese fishing boats had begun
pursuing tuna and shrimp, and sea lions for pet food, as well as sharks for their livers, to remedy iron-poor "tired blood."
During his Baja adventure, Steinbeck boarded a Japanese shrimp trawler and was appalled that the weighted nets would tear up the ocean floor, and pull
in nine pounds of fish that would be shoveled overboard dead for every pound of shrimp. He saw good men "caught in a large destructive machine," which
he accused of "committing a true crime against nature."
These foreign fleets were long ago booted from Mexican waters, and replaced by a fleet of Mexican shrimp trawlers and tuna boats, and thousands and
thousands of small skiffs, called "pangas," which multiplied with government subsidies in the 1970s and '80s. Each panga spreads gill nets ? banned in
many parts of the world ? which indiscriminately kill anything large enough to get snagged in their webbing.
Steinbeck had a tough time finding a ship. There were plenty of sardine boats in Monterey in 1940, but they were busy supplying the packing houses of
Cannery Row.
Many captains turned him down. Even the Sicilian-American crew of the Western Flyer, a white sardine boat that eventually took them, revealed their
disdain for Steinbeck's mission.
"Aw, we're going down in the Gulf to collect starfish and bugs and stuff like that," crew member Sparky Enea radioed a friend on another boat that had
just hauled aboard 15 tons of sardines.
Lining up the Gus D. for this year's trip was much easier, even though captain and owner Frank Donahue kept telling Mexican fishermen his passengers
were "locos scientificos."
This was no luxury cruise. Many of those aboard slept in tents pitched on the upper deck and clustered together like a cliff-side encampment of
mountaineers. The 73-foot vessel is sturdy and seaworthy, but far from the sleek, polished boat that ferried Steinbeck. The Gus D., although about the
same size and color as the Western Flyer, is easily distinguished by the plywood patches on the hull and rusting outrigger booms overhead.
This trip, like the first, was designed as a getaway adventure. It began as dreamy talk over some beers one afternoon at Hopkins Marine Station.
William F. Gilly, a neurobiologist there, had been casting about for a new direction in his field of study.
He also wanted to design a last great adventure for his septuagenarian friend, Chuck Baxter. More than 50 years earlier, Baxter had been so inspired
by a copy of Ricketts' "Between Pacific Tides" that he abandoned his engineering studies at the University of California, Los Angeles, and switched to
marine biology. He was besotted with the idea of literally following the footsteps of the man who changed the course of his life.
Baxter invited a former student, Nancy Packard Burnett. The two are among the co-founders of the Monterey Bay Aquarium.
For Christensen, a freelance writer, the trip offered a subject for his first book about science and adventure. He kept a blog ? www.seaofcortez.org ? so that others could track the journey.
When they arrived in the Sea of Cortez, the difference that 60 years can make slowly became apparent.
Steinbeck wrote effusively about "schools of leaping tuna all about us, and whenever we crossed the path of a school, our lines jumped and snapped
under the strikes, and we brought the beautiful fish in." The Gus D. crew also set their lines, hoping to catch dinner. "We've only had luck fishing
with pesos," Baxter said. That is, buying fish. There were no tuna to be seen on the trip.
This group worked hard to keep alive the spirit of the original voyage. They stopped at the same tidal shallows as their predecessors; they hunted for
the same marine creatures that Ricketts had cataloged and collected in jars of formaldehyde.
"Never before on this trip, even when we were walking directly in their footsteps and surveying the same tide pools, have we felt as close to the
spirits of John Steinbeck and Ed Ricketts," Christensen wrote in his blog, juxtaposed with Steinbeck's observations.
"Here, instead of following them, we are doing what they did, exploring the Sea of Cortez and life in an open-ended leisurely fashion, letting the
great force of the gulf carry us along."
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Jack Swords
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Location: Nipomo, CA/La Paz, BCS
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Sealife in the Sea of Cortez
There cannot be any comparison between the intertidal life in the SOC and that in the cold Pacific in the Monterey area. Just the O2 saturation level
in cold water enables a greater quantity of organisms. Our sailing in the SOC started in 1967 from San Carlos, Sonora. Rays (jumping out of the
water) and turtles were common, as were dolphins and whales. Currently sailing in the Sea one rarely sees turtles or rays. Dolphins and whales are
still a common sighting, but rarely do we see turtles. It is just not the same. There are some very nice tide pools in rocks just S of Tecolote
Beach that are interesting due to the diverse life forms. The local octopus fishermen do vey well in these areas.
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Skeet/Loreto
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Sir:
You ruin a very good Article with False Statements!
Specfic--"Every Panga spreads Gill nets"
This is Totally and completely False.
In the past 2 months I have spend 5 days Fishing in a Panga, catching 2 Large yellowTail a Day within a 1/4 Mile of Coronado Island, including 2
Dorado per day.
I observed at least 20 Thesher Sharks, many Dolphins, Loads of Bait Fish, Small Mantas jumping and cleaning themselves, and of Course several
"Americano Fishing Boats" using their GPS, Tryin to catch Fish.
I think that your Investigation is incomplete.
2 weeks ago I spent 8 Days fishing on an 80 Ft. Yacht owned by "Sea Watch" fishing and obseving much of the Area in and Around The islands near La
Paz.
There are Millions of Squid, Bait is Abduant, Dorado was limited{as the Squid compete for the close in Bait}/
After 35 years Fishing and observing the Sea of Cortez, living and being part of the Panga Fishing Community of Loreto and San Nicolas I think that a
more complete Investigation on you Part would be helpful.
Please consider some time with the "Old Time Pangeros" as well as the "newbies'.
Skeet/Loreto''
"In God I Trust"
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velella
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Location: Orange County
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The Sea is not what she used to be...
I have been going South since 1970 and I remember huge schools of yellowtail boiling in Las Animas and L.A. Bay in the late 70s and early 80s but not
in the last 15 years. I do see lots of big humbolt squid though -- maybe they have utilized the food available after the gill netters and long liners
decimated the yellowtail populations. Would that I could... ban all monofilament gill nets today and shrimp seiners a moment later.
I hate telling people, "You should have been here yesterday!"
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David K
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Mood: Have Baja Fever
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So many squid lined the shore of Bahia las Animas... this fellow was stuffed! He just finished swallowing one of the squid when I took this photo.
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wilderone
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Another article - and this was written 9 years ago:
Copyright ? 1995 The Sacramento Bee
Despair is fishermen's daily catch
By Tom Knudson
Sacramento Bee Staff Writer
TEMBABICHE, Mexico -- With no electricity, telephones or running water, this remote fishing village on the Sea of Cortez is a monument to the
durability of the Mexican people.
For generations, people have withstood saunalike heat, savage storms and primitive living conditions. Now they face their biggest challenge yet -- a
largely unregulated binge of fishing that is turning their rich sea into a watery desert.
"I feel the fishing is going to be over soon," said Cruz de la Toba, 47, a local fisherman. "The moment is coming when we're not going to be able to
take one fish to eat. That's how it is."
Such sentiment is not unusual. It is the sort of thing one hears often in fishing communities up and down the remote desert coastline of the Sea of
Cortez -- a spirit of sadness and concern for the future.
But there is more than local misfortune at work here. The despair is part of a larger current touching fishermen worldwide. As seas are depleted,
something else is damaged, too: the human communities that depend on them.
The spread of suffering
Few places are hurting more than Mexico, where economic turmoil, overpopulation and fisheries mismanagement have given rise to a frontier-style
fishing frenzy that is decimating a way of life.
The federal government in Mexico City -- in a statement faxed to The Bee -- said overfishing is not causing hard times in the Sea of Cortez. But the
governor of Baja California Sur -- one of four Mexican states bordering the sea -- feels differently.
"It is a problem," Gov. Guillermo Mercado said in an interview this year with Televisa correspondent Armando Figaredo in La Paz. "Conditions are very
hard for them. My government is doing what it can."
Ironically, those who suffer greatest are those who need the sea the most -- simple fishermen and their families.
"The richest investors, they don't care. They destroy everything. When they're done fishing, they move to another business," said Carmelo Olivarria, a
fisherman on the Sonora coast. "But what happens to the fishermen here in the villages?"
It is a familiar concern around the world. Consider Canada, where three years ago, in response to overfishing, the government banned cod fishing on
the famous Grand Banks of Newfoundland.
Most of the overfishing was done by large, corporate-owned commercial boats, subsidized by the government. But today, it is the small "inshore"
fishermen who suffer most.
"We have a society that is totally devastated," said Cabot Martin, a fisheries specialist in St. John's, Newfoundland. "It is a horrendous situation.
We have 28,000 people on permanent economic disability."
Cod fishing is not expected to resume until sometime next century. Meanwhile, Canada pays around $400 million a year in benefits to out-of-work
fishermen.
"It's a generous package," Martin said. "But it can't continue forever. And what does it do to your moral fiber, your work ethic if you're being paid
to do nothing."
The hard life of the sea
Fishermen in Mexico face a much harsher reality. For rural fishermen, there are no weekly welfare checks, no social workers to suggest career changes.
Their only safety net is a fishing net. Their only option is the sea and its diminishing bounty.
Not that their life has ever been easy. As John Steinbeck wrote in 1941 in his book, "The Log from the Sea of Cortez:
"There is no happiness for fishermen anywhere. Dreadful things happen to them constantly: they lose their nets; the fish are wild; sea lions get into
the nets and tear their way out; there are no fish and the price is high; there are too many fish and the price is low."
Today, the hard life continues.
"You take a lot of hits," said Eduardo Renteria, a deckhand on the shrimp trawler Norliz in the northern Sea of Cortez. "It's real easy to get hurt.
I've seen pulleys fall down and hit people. Another time, some pieces of wood came together and killed someone."
On the Norliz, conditions are primitive. The bathroom is a bucket or, more typically, the side rail. The crew works night and day, sleeping only at
slack times. The deck is slippery with fish blood and slime. Waves rock the boat like a bathtub toy. It is serious business.
"I don't like to fish, but I do it as a necessity," said Renteria. "It's tough. It's so hard you age real fast."
It's even tougher on the much smaller, more abundant Mexican "panga" boats used by most rural fishermen.
Many panga fishermen have only the most primitive equipment -- hand lines that they thread through their fingers and slip into the sea. When a fish
bites, they yank upward on the line. All day, they sit in small boats with no life jackets, no cold drinks, dressed only in the most simple clothing,
exposed to salt spray and hot sun.
It is a timeless life -- one that reaches back to biblical times. But in Mexico, modern problems are bringing it to an end.
A way of life challenged
"Little by little, we are running out of fish," said Jose Inez Castro, a fisherman in Ensenada Blanca, south of Loreto, where catches have dropped
dramatically in recent years. "It is the big boats with the big nets from the mainland that are hurting us."
"Fifteen years ago, one guy could catch 1,400 pounds of fish a day," said Guillermo Vald?z, 39, a fisherman at Palma Solo, an isolated village on Isla
San Jos?. "Now, that's impossible. Now, 60 to 80 pounds is typical. And 100 pounds is a lot."
Another Palma Solo fisherman, Jose Manuel Vald?z, said: "In seasons before, we could always make enough to buy a new motor. Now we have to wait. We
have to repair the old ones."
It is a classic example of what fishery specialists call "overcapacity" -- too many boats chasing too few fish.
"Everybody knows there has been a rapid decline in product coming out of the Sea of Cortez," said Niki Rodr?guez, whose family owns Las Cruces, one of
the most prestigious resorts on the peninsula, south of La Paz.
"If things continue at the rate they are going, it will not be profitable to fish commercially within 10 years. You won't make enough to pay the
fuel."
For some, that is already happening.
Just ask Rogelio Pozo, 33, who fishes near Isla San Jos?. One day last summer his catch totaled 20 pounds of red snapper, worth about $8.20. Pozo
wasn't pleased.
"It doesn't even pay the gas," he said.
Fishermen, of course, aren't blameless, either. But they are in a tough spot. As catches shrink, they fish harder. The harder they fish, the more
catches shrink.
For many, there is no option. They either fish or go hungry. One sad spectacle took place not long ago on a beach in La Paz, as fishermen busily
unloaded nets and began filleting fish more easily measured in ounces than pounds.
"It's all there is right now," said Jose Luis Contrares, cutting the fish into fillets, some no longer than your finger. Someone else said simply:
"Very small."
Jesus Manriquez, a former fishermen, stood nearby watching. "They're not supposed to be fishing here, in the bay," he said. "But these guys are poor.
They've got families. They have to feed their kids."
Angry desperadoes
Desperate times breed desperate acts.
Earlier this year, mainland fishermen crossed the sea in open pangas and draped gill nets near the Cabo Pulmo National Marine Reserve, not far from
Cabo San Lucas. The sanctuary -- home of one of the northernmost living coral reefs in the eastern Pacific -- is one of the few formally protected
spots in the sea.
"The way they were fishing, they would have wiped out everything," said Robert Van Wormer Jr., who manages a nearby sport-fishing fleet. "Everything
they didn't want, they threw in the trash. Small roosterfish, pargo, stuff like that."
Authorities eventually ordered the fishermen to leave the Baja coastline. But not before an angry confrontation on the beach.
"It was almost a war," said Van Wormer. "It was not too far away from bloodshed."
One gill-net fishermen said he felt betrayed.
"The Americans come here and fish and it is no problem," he told Figaredo of Mexico's Televisa. "This is our country. Why can we not fish?"
Too many fishermen, not enough fish
One of the biggest problems is also one of the most basic: overpopulation.
Tiny Tembabiche, founded in 1901 by one family, now has 10 families, and 72 people. That doesn't sound like much. But multiply it by hundreds of
villages scattered throughout the region, and it adds up.
"Before, there weren't so many little boats," said Fernando Reyes in Ensenada Blanca. "Before, there were eight boats. Now there are 30 to 40.
Sometimes there are more. Sometimes there are 60 or 70 that come from other places. With these numbers, there is a massive loss of production."
It's much the same story across the Third World.
"To compensate for ever smaller catches, fishermen take juvenile fish before they can spawn, thereby further reducing fish stocks," says a study by
the World Wildlife Fund's Latin American specialist Evelyn Wilcox. "In many areas, fishing, even when combined with farming, is not enough to maintain
rapidly expanding coastal populations."
"It is a big economic problem," said Luis Bulnes, owner of the Hotel Sol Mar in Cabo San Lucas. "There are thousands of pangas in the Sea of Cortez.
The problem is: If the authorities stop them, what are these people going to do? How are they going to make a living?"
"We need to try to create jobs for these people," Bulnes said. "We need to find investors, to create industries. The mainland is rich in agriculture.
There are opportunities there. But it will take years."
Vicente Amador, a fish buyer in Agua Verde, put it simply: "We're killing ourselves," he said.
"If it (overfishing) continues, in five to eight years, we're not going to have any fish," said Leobarbo Romero, a schoolteacher from Ligui.
The problem touches everyone -- young and old alike.
"Years ago, fish were so abundant people gave them away," said Beatrice Murillo, 75, inside the church at the oldest Spanish mission on the Baja
Peninsula in Loreto. "Now we have no more. Only God knows our future."
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