My impressions of the Baja Desert

My impressions of the Baja Desert

In the newsletter today, I want to talk about the desert areas we pass through as we drive to and from the lagoons of Central Baja. I usually talk about the whales in these newsletters. This time I will say something about the desert and the mountains of Baja. We travel through this desert week after week as we bring people south to see the whales of Mexico.

This narrow region of hot desert mountains visually characterized by huge rock gardens and dry stream beds stretches 120 miles east to west, from the Pacific Ocean to the Gulf of California and 1,000 miles north to south. It has mountains, sandy white beaches, high and low desert, bustling industrial towns and remote villages without electricity.  There are mines that have been chiseled deep into raw rock and factories along the border that produce everything from auto parts to kids toys.  There are areas so remote they have remained unchanged for thousands of years.  There are resort hotels with swimming pools where the guests float in heavily chlorinated fresh water while viewing the salty Pacific Ocean just a few steps away.

In this newsletter I will only look at Central Baja, where there are no large concentrations of people.  This area of few towns and a population of about 50,000 people stretches across an area over 700 miles long. Beginning at the small village of Socorro just south of San Quintìn the area I think of as Central Baja continues south to Ciudad Insurgentes and spans both Baja California Norte and Baja California Sur.

Much of the moisture that the plants and animals survive on in this region is deposited on the plants and rocks during the fog shrouded nights that are a regular phenomenon throughout much of the year in Central Baja. All along the Pacific coast of California and Baja California a vast layer of low lying marine clouds seems to always hang just offshore.  In the evening this marine layer moves in over the shoreline covering all exposed surfaces with a cool moist layer of dew.  Mice, insects, plants and birds obtain some of their water from this moisture.

As we drive south on our whale watching trips that depart from San Diego, the scenery undergoes radical changes.  The bustling frenetic energy of the border towns of Tijuana and Ensenada is replaced by the more serene, but highly productive agricultural industry.

We pass thousands of acres of cultivated farmland.  These fields are tilled and manicured month after month, year after year to produce an unending supply of tomatoes, peppers, onions and other assorted vegetables that go from the field to tractor trailer rigs to the dinner tables of Americans in the USA.  San Quintìn is a large town, getting bigger, that marks the end of this agricomplex.  Now we see the scenery begin to change from rolling oak and grass covered hills to the rugged desert I’ve grown to know and love.

The roadside rest stop at Cataviña is in the mountains at an elevation of about 2,500 feet.  The town grew up near a spring known for centuries to the native Indians who populated this desert, long before the Spanish padres began building missions in Baja.  This tiny village survives on the money spent here by people driving the highway north and south.  Just a few years ago, Catavina was an essential gas stop.  Now, with new stations in El Rosario and Villa Jesus Maria, it is possible to drive right by without even thinking about gas.

There are thousands of Cardon Cactus dotting the landscape surrounding the town of Catavina.  A look alike to the southwest Saguaro Cactus these slow growing plants live over 100 years.  Slow growing to a height of 30 feet, the tall frame is supported by a hidden hardwood core.  Cardon wood is used by ranchers for corrals and buildings.

At first sight this land seems barren and lifeless. A typical first impression is that there is nothing here except cactus and rocks and of course the ever present turkey vultures soaring high overhead. Nothing could be further from the reality. This land is teeming with life.

The oceans that surround this desert peninsula are well known for the abundance of fish they contain. Fishermen from around the world dream of traveling to Baja for at least one great fishing adventure! The land has its share of wildlife, too.

On the way home from Guerrero Negro one morning, I stopped in the mountains just north of Catavina to stretch my legs. There, where our ride down trips stop for lunch I decided to climb up to the cave painting site that I hadn’t been to for several months. My good friend, the Indian cave guide Alex was back after a brief stay in the hospital and had a new palapa style home half finished.

I talked with Alex about his new home and then walked alone up to the cave paintings.  I sat quietly for two or three minutes admiring the blossoming scenery around me.

The Elephant trees were in bloom.  The flower is not colorful, but the insects seem to find them anyway.  There was a ribbon of blue and yellow wild flowers running alongside the highway paving.  The colorful flowers that were bright yellow or a nice shade of pale blue as I drove south a few weeks earlier were fading now.  The cardon cactus was about to bloom.  Dozens of green appendages sprouted near the top of each cactus.  The flowers sprouts grow mainly on the west facing side of the plant.  The pitaya cacti were loaded with green fruit that ripen by mid-August or early September.  The cirrio trees were as full of life as I’ve ever seen them.  The top notch of every cirrio was crowned by a starburst of blossoms.

The heavy winter rains of the year past caused the desert to bloom with life.  With more green plant life growing, the fauna increased noticeably.  The population of rabbits and kangaroo rats had doubled or quadrupled.  This undoubtedly would lead to an increase in coyote and cougar populations later.

Sitting up on the big rounded rocks by the cave site my senses gradually slowed down, following my quick drive up the peninsula.  As the vibrations from the road slowly subsided, my fingers uncurled from the shape of the Suburban’s steering wheel. I felt myself come into sync with the just awakening desert.  All around me there were animals moving in search of an early morning meal.

Across the road I noticed a cottontail nibbling on some tender green shoots that were just beginning to sprout. Then there was a flock of 25 small birds pecking at the ground near the rabbit. I was too far away to identify what type they were or what they were eating.  Nearer to me, hundreds of large red ants swarmed from an anthill to harvest food scraps stuck tight to a paper plate that had been carelessly discarded by a previous cave painting explorer.

Overhead a pair of midnight black ravens cruised north, following the highways’ white striped centerline.  The clever ravens have learned to search for crushed insects and the occasional rodent to be found early in the morning on the highway.

Drawn from my momentary study of the many critters searching out their morning meal by the deep rumble of a diesel engine, I turned and watched a heavy tractor trailer rig creep by in slow motion. The driver shifted gears, gashing the metal teeth together, slinging Spanish curses out into the morning air while he fought his ancient rig to get up the momentum needed to carry him over the steep incline that is the road north from Catavina.

His noisy passage broke my quiet contemplation of the land around me.  I thought back on the days past when Cataviña was nothing more than the La Pinta hotel and a Pemex station.  In the last 20 years an entire community has grown up here as I’ve zoomed by.  There’s now a police station, city hall building and dozens of other stores and houses scattered about.  There’s even a new and very strange dome house that was just built north of town and has a sign saying it is a museum.

Looking at the many graffiti covered boulders off in the distance I continue to believe that it is only a matter of time before someone defaces this ancient cave that I’m sitting just outside of.

Thankfully my thoughts were pulled from those unpleasant thoughts by a ruby throated hummingbird that darted from my left side to hover momentarily in place while she sipped nectar from a yellow wild daisy. She moved on and was replaced by a string of honeybees. I watched a stream of these yellow and black insects move to and from a narrow black crack up high on the rocky hillside. Near the entrance to the honey drop a fat horned lizard lay sunning himself in the brisk morning air. The time was 6:35 A.M. and the temperature was 41 degrees Fahrenheit.

A fuzzy black fly landed on my cheek and brought me back to the moment at hand. That was one animal too many for me. I waved the irritating critter away and climbed down the hillside returning to the Suburban. The knobby tires rumbled as I bounced onto the newly re-paved highway, quickly getting up the speed necessary to pass the still struggling big rig that I had observed from atop the Cave hillside.

Two or three miles down the road I got a clear stretch and passed the smoky truck.

It is true that life is hard here. Whether living in the mountains or on a sandy shore side beach every creature must work at survival. Alongside the road ahead of me a trio of vultures squatted down protectively as I roared past them and the remains of an unfortunate cow. There are few fences along this highway. The range cattle roam freely, constantly returning to the string of green plants that grow along the pavement of the highway where the nighttime dew runs off and provides irrigation for this foliage upon which the range cattle feed.

There is more diversity of life forms in this desert than most people realize. After traveling through this dry region just once none of us are surprised to learn that there are over 80 species of cactus to be found up and down the length of the Baja peninsula. But to be told that there have been 192 species of bird identified in the Baja Peninsula region is a big surprise to most people.

One of those birds is fairly common here and that is the roadrunner.  Although I didn’t see one on this trip, last month I saw one sprint across the road with a dead snake in its mouth.

Although I haven’t seen a rattlesnake in more than 10 years, I always advise my fellow travelers to tread carefully lest they disturb a sleeping rattlesnake. All told there are 43 reptilian species (and dozens of sub-species) present in the Baja desert.  Although primarily dry desert there are 4 amphibian species found here.

The morning was still too cool, so I hadn’t seen many reptiles moving around.  Sometimes with a little luck we can spot a desert iguana or a chuckwalla.  The vegetarian chuckwallas are the largest lizard in the Baja Peninsula.  Their favorite food is yellow flowers.  I have smelled and tasted several different flowers that I’ve seen chuckwallas eating and they have all had different flavors.  I don’t know what it is about yellow flowers, but it’s almost comical to see one of these large lizards sprawled in the middle of a clump of green foliage with bunches of yellow flowers stuffed in its mouth.

Included among the 69 species of mammals found on the Baja Peninsula is one of my favorites, the kangaroo rat. Those of you who have camped on the shore at Laguna Ojo de Liebre have certainly seen one or two of these interesting rodents early in the morning or late in the evening. When I used to camp on the shore regularly, I loved to wipe the sand smooth around my camp, place a few flakes of oatmeal on the sand, then in the morning I would marvel at the hundreds of tiny rodent prints left by these industrious mice.

Kangaroo rats are nocturnal animals that live in shallow burrows.  They have cheek pouches for storing the seeds that are their primary food. They are all well adapted to living in the dry Baja Desert environment since most of them never need to drink water. They have super-efficient kidneys that can conserve water by concentrating their urine.  This small and prolific animal is an important food source for coyotes, bobcat and owls.  If you see them in the night, hopping across the roadway you probably will not be able to tell that their tail is longer than their body.

In addition to the native endemic species, there are some newcomers.  One interesting and successful transplant was brought to the peninsula by the whaling ship captains.  This is the Osprey or Sea Hawk.  Here’s one raptor that doesn’t eat mice. Guerrero Negro has many osprey nesting on manmade perches placed atop light buoys and power poles all around the town.

Central Baja is home to a small endangered population of less than 200 pronghorn antelope. Near the town of Vizcaino, which is located inside the Vizcaino Biosphere Reserve there is an important antelope preservation project underway. The biosphere reserve has set up a breeding area intended to add to the sparse pronghorn antelope population.

It’s interesting to note that the wild pronghorn antelope are so reclusive that from one year to the next, when the biosphere reserve biologists attempt to take population counts, the number can vary by several hundred percent. One year they may only count 30 or 40 and the next year nearly 200.

Many of the cave paintings found in Baja contain depictions of the antelope. Recently I was thumbing through a book of photos of Baja wildlife when I came across several images of the pronghorn antelope. The photos were made from an aircraft flying at low altitude.

I was instantly struck by the startling resemblance between the photographic image of the antelope herd running and some of the primitive rock paintings I have seen on past trips. I will never again view those ancient drawings as "primitive". The rock artists have captured the spirit of these antelope perfectly! That photo is the glaring proof of my own narrow minded preconception about the rock paintings. Those early painters obviously knew the antelope with an intimacy that I will never know.

The gray whale has been given many nicknames over the years.  One of them is “the desert whale”.  Since these friendly giants live three months each year inside lagoons that are surrounded by this desert environment, they too might be considered a part of the desert ecosystem.

Where else, but here in Baja, Mexico can a person sit on a remote desert shoreline and watch whales spout just a few yards away.

A different version of this newsletter was first printed in 2001, revised and then published again in 2005.  It’s been revised and updated to reflect what I've seen on recent trips through Baja.  This time I added information about the Kangaroo rats.

Author Bio:

Keith Jones is the founder of Baja Jones Adventures, Jones Adventures, Tigress Tours in Thailand and Butanding Tours in the Philippine Islands and has led thousands of people to Mexico and other interesting locations around the world. He specializes in gray whale tour, blue whale tour, gray and blue whale combo tour, giant panda bear tour, walk a tiger tour, shark tour, African safari tour, African gorilla trek, arctic narwhal tour and Magdalena Bay whale watching tour. He also writes about Baja travel and gray whales. Keith Jones is the author of Gray Whales My Twenty Years of Discovery.