November 2006

Whale of a Kiss

The first time I visited San Ignacio Lagoon in Baja California, I kissed a whale. It was a picture-perfect scene, like that in a romantic movie: our skiff drifted along in the breezy lagoon as brown pelicans coasted by. Mesmerized, I was jolted back to reality when a California gray whale bumped our skiff, its body extending beyond the edges of the craft.

My heart raced as I reached over the side and touched the soft, rubbery face with my fingers. I let my fingers feel for a few seconds, and then I did it. I leaned over and gave the whale a quick kiss.

When I tell people my story they wonder if the whale was wild. It was. They wonder if it was a male or female. I don’t know and I don’t care. Most of all, they wonder how kissing a whale compares with kissing my husband. Although it’s impossible to compare kissing my soul mate with kissing a wild creature, I must admit it is an amazing thing to touch and kiss a creature that man almost hunted to extinction. I am constantly amazed by the fact that some gray whales seek out human touch.

It was a dozen years ago when I kissed the gray whale. Recently I went back to San Ignacio, but this time my husband, Mike Vining, was along for the adventure. Two of our friends, Gudrun and Beuford Durmon, also joined us. I had told Mike and my friends about my last adventure in San Ignacio and I wanted them to experience the same. I was on a mission to have them pet, and hopefully kiss, a whale.

Wet Arrival
We left sunny Colorado and were welcomed in California with record rainfall. Despite the gloomy, wet weather, we sported umbrellas and spent our first few days visiting local sights. We explored the world-famous San Diego Zoo, enjoyed the emperor penguins at Sea World, and marveled at the expansive realm of Wild Animal Park.

Our day of departure dawned bright and sunny. We met up with the other folks from Baja Expeditions and Summertree Expeditions, and boarded a charter bus from the lobby of our hotel. It was 6:30 a.m. and everyone was beaming as brightly as the sunshine.
We crossed the border into Mexico, headed to the Tijuana Airport and soon boarded our private charter, a 1955 Convair 340. Before turning on the ignition, the pilot smiled and warned us not to worry if we saw smoke. We all smiled at one another and realized that this was going to be a real adventure.

The skies were partly cloudy as we flew south, but it was cold on the airplane and many of us bundled up, grabbing clothes from our luggage in an effort to stay warm. Before we knew it, we were landing on a dirt strip near a lagoon.

As we left the plane, tanned and smiling passengers were waiting to board. They had been at the camp for five days and were obviously happy. We boarded a waiting bus for a 45-minute ride to camp, stopping along the way to explore desert plants and shell mounds and have lunch. Meanwhile, Jose, our tour leader and camp manager, memorized the names of all 24 of us. We were amazed by our charismatic leader.

Tent Camp
Our accommodations at Camp Baja Expeditions were in the heart of the Vizcaino Biological Reserve. In the far distance two other camps—Campo Cortez and Baja Discoveries—were visible. We stayed in white canvas tents, equipped with two cots, sleeping bag liners, a floor, and two plastic chairs. After unloading our gear, we headed out for a stroll on the beach, moseying along in sunshine and looking for shells (which are easy to find—sometimes nearly “tiling” the beach).

As we looked out over the lagoon, we saw several whales breach—propelling themselves out of the water. We were counting the hours until tomorrow, when we would go whale watching in a skiff. But first there was Happy Hour, dinner and a crimson sunset.

We woke up to a pastel sunrise, sunny skies and calm waters. A perfect day for whale watching. The four of us headed out with Jim and Fran, a California couple, a driver, and our guide. Our driver maneuvered the skiff around the lagoon searching for whales, and while we saw plenty of them, none was ready to be petted. One whale breached six times near our skiff, nearly lifting all of his body out of the water, before turning and falling back. No one knows why whales breach, but our guide said they do it “just for fun.” Gudrun named the whale Felix, saying the name means happy.

When we returned to shore, we learned that the other three skiffs had encountered a friendly baby whale that allowed itself to be petted. Though friendly whales had eluded us, we were learning plenty about whales. Gray whales migrate annually from their feeding grounds in the North Pacific to breed and calve in three lagoons in Baja California.

Whale of Surprise
After lunch, the wind came up and the waters were rough. Again we searched for whales and were surrounded by them at times, but none was close enough to touch. Then the whales disappeared completely. Our guide, our driver, and we six passengers were alone in the white-water surf with our eyes peering in every direction. As soon as Mike said, “I guess the whales are gone,” a whale popped up at the bow of our boat and blew. We screamed with joy, and almost immediately another whale bumped our boat. We laughed, excited at the close encounter.

Not only did we see whales breach and blow (the blow or spout is a violent expulsion of mucous, water and condensation that escapes when the whale exhales), but we also saw them spy hop (that’s when the tip of the whale’s giant head points toward the heavens, its tail no doubt touching land on the shallow lagoon floor).

During our days at the lagoon we learned all about the whales who were first documented as “friendly” in the mid-1970s. Although no one knows why some whales are friendly, we do know that the whales’ purpose in coming to Mexico has always been the same—to breed and calve.

Long Trip
Known scientifically as Eschrichtius robustus, these mammals—who number around 25,000—are the world’s most elite migrant mammal travelers. Journeying a total of 10,000 miles round-trip, gray whales move from the icy waters of the Bering Sea (at summer’s end) to the warm lagoons off Baja California Sur in winter.

Reaching up to 45 feet in length and weighing up to 45 tons, whales do not feed much during migration and are surprisingly svelte by the time they reach Mexico. They count on their thick layer of blubber for the energy they need during the arduous trip. Adult females can lose up to 30 percent of their body weight during the journey.

After the females give birth to one calf (newborns are about 15 feet long and weigh approximately 1,500 pounds) and breed with one of many suitors, the entire entourage moves north again. They spend their summers in the cold northern water. Some of the non-breeding animals travel only as far north as Oregon and Washington, where they feed on plankton, crustaceans, worms and mollusks.

There are two types of whales—toothed and baleen. Perhaps the most familiar toothed whale is the orca, or killer whale. Gray whales are baleen whales, meaning they don’t have true teeth. Instead, a row of baleen plates—made of material like human fingernails—grows from the roof of the mouth along each side. As the whales sail along the sea floor, they suck up several cubic feet of sediment at a time. Food is trapped on the baleen filter, while sand, mud and seawater pass out through the baleen plates and back into the sea.

Searching for and learning about whales can make a person hungry. Our appetites were satisfied with some awesome meals. We gorged on homemade tortillas, veggie soup, ice cream, and much more. And when we weren’t on the water looking to pet a whale, we were on land searching for their blows.

Friendly Whales
On our second day of whale watching, we went on a skiff with a different group, and soon a baby whale came toward us to play and then another. In no time we were all petting whales. Tears welled and I clapped, happy that Mike and I had both had a hands-on experience. Now I had to know if the Durmons and the California couple, Fran and Jim, had touched whales too.

When we got to shore we found Fran and Jim. I didn’t have to ask if she had petted a whale. Her kind eyes glistened as she told me that she didn’t know if she should laugh or cry, so she did both. As she petted the whale, she said she also exclaimed, “I love you. I’ve been waiting all my life for you!”

Of the two-dozen people on the trip, the Durmons were the only ones who hadn’t touched a whale. My heart ached for Gudrun; I so wanted her to pet a whale. That afternoon we went out again, and had lots of close encounters with whales, but didn’t get to pet one. However, we did talk about petting them. Touching a whale can be fun and exciting, but there are several factors to remember. First, whales are protected by the Mexican government, which prohibits chasing the mammals. And you must always remember to avoid touching the nasal cavity (blowhole), flippers and fluke.

Prayer Answered
Our last day in camp dawned pink and crimson, with strong winds. It was cold, but we couldn’t wait to get on the skiffs. We headed out with Jose, the Durmons, and another visitor. As we searched for whales I said a little prayer. I wanted Gudrun and Beuford to pet a whale. And then it happened! An immature whale came up to our skiff to be petted, kissed and rubbed. It was a happy moment, and I was a happy woman. The pressure was off—my friends had touched a whale. Now I could relax and have fun. And we did. Afterward we explored the mangroves, and Jose showed us many wonderful birds. Jose said there are 171 species of birds in the lagoon. Beuford exclaimed, “This is like a water safari for birds”.

After lunch, we went back out for the last time. We petted a baby whale while its mom looked on, and we marveled at the many whales spy hopping around us. We were happy, yet sad at having to leave such a magical place.

Our last night in camp was extra special. Someone had a birthday and we had birthday cake. We listened to music from Mexico and the Andes performed by a local couple from a nearby camp, and we danced. And we thought about the times we viewed, petted, and kissed gray whales.

Donna Ikenberry is a writer and photographer who lives in South Fork, Colorado.