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To This May
by W.S. Merwin
They know so much more now about
the heart we are told but the world
still seems to come one at a time
one day one year one season and here
it is spring once more with its birds
nesting in the holes in the walls
its morning finding the first time
its light pretending not to move
always beginning as it goes
Our ship pulled into the harbor of Cabo San Lucas midday on Sunday. Some of the passengers had visited Cabo ‘back in the day’ and were horrified. The powdery white sand and calm blue water still rim the island, but now they are crowned by a horizon of hotels. The dockside swarmed with greased tourists roaming the harbor with drinks in hand; competing sound systems dueled it out from crowded bars (“Wasting away in Margaritaville…”) hawkers hawked souvenirs. Sea lions gone lazy lounged on a lower pier. After the breathtaking solitude of Copper Canyon, and after our Sea of Cortez days where, other than a handful of small wooden fishing boats, SilverSeas was the only vessel in sight and we didn’t see a single building - the transition was jarring.
Culture Shock
From ship notes: “A five-story hotel complex at the edge of the harbor blocks the water view and sea breezes from the side streets. San Lucas may soon be Mexico’s gaudiest tourism capital.” A scary thought if you have ever visited Cancun and Cozumel. (I feel honored, ancient ,and anxious that I saw Cozumel when the surrounding water held a kaleidoscope of tropical fish and at night the unelectrified islands went dark.)
Sunday morning we finally saw a whale, a small orca dip diving not very far from us. Score! But the best was yet to come. Sunday afternoon we joined a group on a catamaran and circled the harbor. About 25 of us took the Zodiacs over to the docks; once on board our own loud music was playing, we had drinks in hand and were mightily smeared with sun block.
“All of those tourists covered with oil…"
Then… then, as the boat took us out into the waters where the Sea of Cortez meets the Pacific, a pair of Humpbacks suddenly preceded the boat blowing and breaching. Each time one would breach and twirl its massive body into light and air, we would cheer and scream and hug like football fans when the quarterback makes that final touchdown in a tight game.
Humpback Whales Breaching off Cabo San Lucas
While the Sea of Cortez was a turquoise sheet of glass, the Pacific has been nothing but high rolling sea, passengers staggering around like drunks with nowhere to go. Not I. My first, ever, seasickness, I‘ve mostly been prone, as I suspect is true for a number of our fellows. Early tomorrow morning we disembark in San Diego for two nights with my sister, Gretchen, and her husband. But the first thing we’ll do is take our dear friend, Molli to lunch. She innocently showed the manuscript of Midnight Lemonade to her literary agent neighbor and changed my life forever.
Rick’s Fun Facts
The water in the Pacific Ocean just north of Cabo San Lucas is a place where Humpback whales breed and raise their calves, then begin to migrate north along the California coast during the Spring and Summer to feed mainly off Alaska. Different from what Ishmael says in Moby Dick – “it is not down in any map; true places never are” – it was right there, a five minute boat ride away from the tourists covered with oil. Unlike humans, the female Humpbacks are typically bigger than the males, but seemingly like many of us on the SilverSea cruise, they eat about one and a half tons of food a day.
THE END
Friday morning, April 27th, just after 5AM, they loaded us all into 3 buses for a long 2 hours to the Ferrocarril Chihuahua al Pacífico railway station in El Fuerte and then a six hour train ride on El Chepe following the Septentrion River upstream, part of the amazing Copper Canyon.
Baskets for Sale.
Climbing...
We rode a puzzle system of bridges and tunnels on a railroad that was 90 years in the building. We would twist through a dark tunnel and then magically emerge into a different landscape. Again and again: arid desert deep gullies, the riverbed almost dry; then the canyon walls abruptly verdant with twirling-leafed bright small trees; later, tall (really tall, 10 feet?) thin canary yellow blossom masses crowned by what appeared to be cactus, pools and rivulets reflecting jade in the climbing riverbed; a pencil thin waterfall plunging (trickling?) maybe 2 thousand feet; chugging from dark to light into minty green light filtered through gigantic pines with long delicate thread needles; higher and higher through apple orchards, snowy with blossoms. At 2PM, almost a hundred strong, we spilled out for a late lunch on the canyon’s rim.
Arrival.
To the Canyon.
Halfway to the Stars
Saturday morning: whippoorwill to rooster, we rose to watch the sunrise. When the day brightened a small bird with a bright red chest and white-stripped wings teased (& evaded) Rick’s camera. We took a cable car across the canyon & emerged to Tarahumara family clusters, friendly dogs, a man playing a fiddle. The vastness, the scent of sage, the crystal air, music playing out over the magnificent vistas—all so impossible to translate by word or picture.
I would like to return, maybe shortly after the rainy season, to see the six rivers running full, the water falls really falling. How amazing it is that there are only 3 hotels along the canyon and likely not to be more. All of this splendor is owned by the Tarahumara who don’t want more buildings, don’t want a hospital, a shopping center… They want their language, land and customs to remain the same. The Tarahumara live high in the canyon in the summer and descend to the lower levels in winter, when the heights are cold and sometimes see snow.
Canyon (how do you photograph 25,000 square miles?)
The Copper Canyon region covers 25,000 square miles in Mexico’s Sierra Madre Mountains. It was formed relatively recently as the ancient Farallon oceanic tectonic plate slid under the North American plate and pushed it upward. Six rivers in the resulting elevated region in northwestern Mexico gradually eroded the upthrust igneous rocks and formed the branched canyon area. The total length of those rivers today is 335 miles, compared to the 277 miles of the Colorado River in the US’ Grand Canyon, and the Copper Canyon’s maximum depth is 6135 feet, compared to the Grand Canyon’s 4855 feet. The Grand Canyon was formed by an entirely different process; it resulted from the river erosion of much older sedimentary rock that was formed at the bottom of an ancient sea, and the bands of colors on the Grand Canyon’s walls are due to the colors of the stacked sedimentary rock layers. Although some copper has been found in the Copper Canyon region, the copper color of the canyon’s walls comes mainly from the greenish lichen that grows on the rocks rather than the greenish color of copper carbonate that results when copper tarnishes.
The 70,000 native Ramamuri or Tarahumana people who live in the Copper Canyon region are descendants of the Aztecs. During the Spanish colonization period, they were forced from their original lower-lying agricultural lands by Spanish settlers and moved up into the more rugged and less welcoming mountains where they primarily became subsistence farmers. Ramamuri means ‘the light-footed one;’ they are known for their long distance running ability.
We have left the oldest river to come to the youngest sea.
This morning, early, the harsh coast peachy with dawn, we set out in the little rubber dingy for the mangrove forest of Isla San Jose.
A strange green environment: shallow clear water running through the greenery, the flash of flying fish, an occasional sea turtle spotted, one huge sea lion stretching in the distance.
The barren mainland, ridged across the horizon, made the morning look as though we were floating in a lagoon beside the moon.
Later, Rick went off for the deep-water snorkel to swim in the currents with sea lions. I stayed behind. While I love, love being in the water, I find the less encumbrance, the better. Still wish we could swim off our New River beach unbound by suits.
the 'elephant rock'
Yesterday morning was ‘at sea’ where Rick attended a gripping lecture on “plate tectonics” and participated in a lively discussion afterwards about acoustic wave propagation in layered media, while I read A TALE FOR THE TIME BEING*. Then we both attended a lecture (“Baja Blue”) by “The Crocodile Dundee” of Baja. He showed great photos and videos of his folks swimming with the whales, several species (& I’m beginning to think those videos might be the only whales we see), sharks and mantas. He spoke of the movement to protect this incredible natural preserve. His group trains former fishermen to be guides, trade in the hook for the camera.
In the afternoon we dingy-ed onto the rocky, steep beach of Isla Santa Catalina where I swam and Rick snorkeled by the ‘elephant rock.’
Back to today (Thursday), we had a mid afternoon dingy drop off to a stunning white sand rimmed cove. We swam and swam in the clear turquoise water, figuring it to be our last swim.
After a fine dinner, we are scurrying about to pack for our overnight (bus to train and 6 hour train ride) to the Copper Canyon.
It is amazing that we are about the mid-age range for the ship (is that possible?) but accommodations and support make it possible for the elderly and really not spry adventurers to snorkel and hike and completely experience this adventure. The old, deep pocketed and well traveled. Another planet away from Giles County.
*Tuesday I finished (Mary North’s recommendation) EXIT WEST, so good. Rick read it in a couple sittings and, after that and YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING MR. FEYNMAN; he is onto a 2nd collection of Annie Proux stories.
Geology is fun! The Sea of Cortez sits atop the San Andreas Fault, the same fault that extends north into California. The North American tectonic plate and the Pacific plate border each other here. In the Sea of Cortez, the motion of these two plates perpendicular to each other results in the Baja Peninsula moving away from the mainland of Mexico, and that motion is precipitated by volcanic activity in the sea and the creation of some new oceanic islands, mainly composed of dense basalt. Farther north in California, the plates move tangential to each other, so they scrape each other and this scraping causes earthquakes. Other islands here in the Sea of Cortez are lower mass density granite continental islands, and instead of being formed by volcanic activity were formed by splitting off from parts of the lighter weight continental masses. We have seen both basalt-based volcanically formed islands and granite-based continental islands so far on this trip.
It was still dark when we climbed into our dingy to motor over to Isla Partida del Norte, the first light rising as we beached. Most of the group went uphill to hike; a small group (Rick among them) waited for enough light on the water to justify snorkeling. Amazing that on this totally deserted island there were small piles of litter. As we waited for the sun to rise, Rick and I pushed up our ReNew The New sleeves and collected the bean cans, plastic plates and coke bottles. While the snorkelers did their fin waddle into the glassy pink water, I waited for a bit more sun. Two red-billed oyster catchers pecked along the shoreline (& I hope Rick got of photo of them).
I thought of Darrell who bathes in the river before every time I drive him for groceries and the popsicle headaches he says his January baths give him. But he never gets into my car without a river plunge. So I gathered up my Darrell courage and dove into the sea. I found the water wonderful. Icy, yes but electric exciting and silky the way I’ve never know seawater to be. I didn’t want to get out. And shouldn’t have. The very early morning breeze chilled to the bone. Rick & I huddled together for the dingy ride back and dashed to take turns in the hot shower.
Today was all about The Search for the Chuckwalla, a lizard known only to the Sea of Cortez. The ship took off for Isla San Esteban in the early afternoon and we hopped off our dingy round about 5:30 and made our way round gorgeous nesting gulls. Lots of cactus and, yes, the Chuckwalla.
Another day without whales, but flying fish, dolphins, a gorgeous sunset booking our brave sunrise.
ReNew The New on Espiritu Santo beach
The Sea of Cortez - the Mexican Galapagos
Why are we leaving? The question we asked ourselves the Saturday before the Friday we left for our trip to The Sea of Cortez. It was eighty degrees, as the easy sun sauntered the flawlessly blue sky it urged out the first redbud blossoms; the June berry and cherry trees were already in full bloom, the suddenly green grass begged for the sharp blade, and the wild flower walk beside lagoon peaked.
Then Sunday came and the sky ripped open, flooding us with more than an inch of rain whipped by the suddenly cold wind. Monday night it snowed. Wednesday was a re-run of Saturday and Rick came home early to mow. Thursday was drizzly and chilly; Appalachia’s usual taunting striptease in reverse.
On the way—after Friday Park N’ Fly in Charlotte—a typical heart stopping American Airline’s event of - UH OH! Technical problems. We were stranded on a runway in Dallas for almost an hour. Rick made frantic calls begging Silversea not to leave without us. We felt truly foolish when we grouped in the Mazatlan airport with about twenty people from the same plane—all passengers bound for The Silver Explorer.
We drove through a lot of poverty painted bright colors and boarded ship around two.
In our orientation lecture we learned this was the ship’s first trip to The Sea of Cortez (The “Galapagos of the Americas”) and was over two years in the planning; it would all be an experiment and adventure.
Tides and winds are unpredictable; there would be the possibility of seeing 31 species of whales, more than 300 different types of birds (including the blue-footed and the brown-footed booby), snorkeling, hiking (watch out for rattlesnakes and scorpions), swimming off beaches only reached by boat.
The Mexican government (they have already arrived in a small boat with red lights flashing to ensure that Silversea Explorer is not violating any restrictions in this now heavily protected area) has reluctantly given this boat, with 120 passengers, entry.
There is no ensuring there will ever be such an expedition here again. So, though I would be sorry for loved ones who couldn’t share this experience, I guess I am glad that the Mexicans are fiercely protecting their precious natural resources while Trump destroys ours. Especially considering all the damage wrought by the tourist trade in the real Galapagos.
On this second day at sea, we have already attended two fascinating lectures on fish* and fowl—seen and to be seen—we have snorkeled, seeing eels and blowfish, ETC. and leave soon to ride the dingy (8 to a boat) round an island white with guano.
*Huge rays where the male courts the ladies by flinging himself high into the air and landing in a spectacular belly flop. The loudest slam wins the lady ray of his choice. We learned of the love triangle of the moray eel, which loves to eat lobsters, but loves more eating octopus; the octopus—as we all know—completely adores lobster. SO the eels allow lobsters to hide from the octopus by co-habituating (uneaten) in their eel caves. Guess what happens when the feckless octopus sees a cave full of lobsters? The whale shark is the largest fish of the sea; it can be the size of our yellow school buses. The Sally Lightfoot Crab—in addition to being bright red, yellow and blue—spits at its aggressors. She gets an entire paragraph in John Steinbeck’s A Log of The Sea of Cortez (if only we’d known such a book existed). The fascinating lecture of the fish of Cortez was half informational and half Ripley’s Believe it Or Not. Lots of yucks at the expense of the amazing fish.
No sighted whales, but a playful young sea lion has been leaping around the boat and pods of dolphins cavorting nearby on both days.
Dolphins leaping
sea lions barking
the late day sky
a smudge of sea birds
circling cactus
diving into
mother-of-pearl;
small stonewalled
dams holding
reservoirs of bird poop.
There are few sights more tender and peaceful than that of a sleeping baby: all the innocence, all the promise wrapped inside that small bundle. We tend to tip toe around an infant asleep. And well we should. A very young child’s brain is producing seven hundred neuron connections a second, there is a lot going in that sweet, small head. By the time that miniature human being is five years old, eighty percent of the child’s brain development will have occurred. Eighty percent! No matter how much longer that baby boy or baby girl lives, those first five years of life remain, by far, the most important for the development of their minds. That is why it is essential to make our babies safe: hold them close and keep them warm when it is cold, cool when it is hot. It is so very important that those rapidly developing brains be stimulated with colors, numbers, nature, songs and stories. Those babies need to be looked in the eye and spoken to; their small and dependent growing bodies need proper and reliable nutrition.
The Week of the Young Child is celebrated this year on April 16 to 21. That is the one time of the year with a direct and national focus upon our very youngest citizens. That is also the week we set aside to honor and appreciate the professionals working in early learning centers. Our preschool teachers are nurturing enormous journeys forward, taken in small baby steps. Whether you have preschoolers of your own or are just someone in line at the grocery store watching the toddler in the grocery cart ahead of you, help celebrate the Week of the Young Child by supporting our very young children and their caretakers. Please always bear in your own mind the miraculous transformations occurring in the developing minds of our little ones. This coming week and always we--as a community and a country--need to look out for our youngest citizens. Our civilization’s future depends upon it.
The Week of the Young Child™ is an annual celebration hosted by the National Association for the Education of Young Children (NAEYC) celebrating early learning, young children, their teachers, and families. For more ways to celebrate visit NAECY.ORG
Every other Easter, for the past decade, Genie and Glenn Sotile have hosted our family (in different configurations) for a massive Easter feast in Baton Rouge. One year we were 24 at table. There is always an Easter egg hunt, the kids play baseball, we have a little live music (Glenn, as well as son Paul, are great drummers, Iris on guitar), Rick envies Glenn's already-producing garden; the huge dining room table groans with a bounty of food and Easter decorations abound.
Mimosas and Bloody Marys have always been served, pre-feast; Easter of 2013 G&G introduced us to The Sicilian Mule. Now we all just wait for the blood oranges to arrive and comfort ourselves with the chilled copper cup on the off years we don't go South for Easter.
The recipe (only available at times--like now--when you can get blood oranges):
Fill mule cup w/ crushed ice.
pour 1 full oz of Solerna Blood Orange Liqueur
juice of 1/2 fresh blood orange
top with ginger beer
garnish with a blood orange slice
(if you don't have the Liqueur...use a the juice of a full blood orange and your favorite vodka)
We've had a hard forty or so hours of relentless wind which seems, this calmer blue sky morning, to have swept everything clean. Last night a few clouds raced over the full moon like frantic commuters late for a train. A couple weeks of very warm February weather confused the earth: bright yellow daffodils were nodding their goofy heads, oblivious to Black History Month. Now it appears the daffodils held tight during the mighty sweep of wind; the gray brown winter land is dotted with the yellow yolks of flowers.
