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.
