Baja

Adventures in Mexico 2018: 600 Miles South of the Border

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By Lauren Parker, Ichthyology Lab

I can hear the waves crashing on the shore somewhere nearby and the bristle of polyester as someone shuffles in their sleeping bag. It’s not enough to make me open my eyes to check the time; I’m hoping its early enough for me to let the sounds of the ocean breaking on the sand lull me back to sleep. Then someone’s alarm goes off; someone else unzips a mummy bag. I open one eye, then the other. I resign to untangling myself from my sleeping bag and crawling towards the ladder that will let me down from the topmost bunk. I hit my head on the ceiling because it’s about a foot above my face where I sleep. Someone has started water boiling for coffee on the camp stove to keep the caffeine vultures at bay for the time being.LP_1

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Island life is quiet, aside from the gulls and the waves. The town is nestled at the south end of the island where it is more or less protected from the prevailing northwest winds. It is characterized by colorful houses and even more colorful people. Everyone here has been more than willing to share food and drink with us, open their homes to us, and pick us up in the back of pickup trucks as we hike a mile from our cabins into town. Our boat captains and dive masters are indispensible aids as we adapt our class projects to the rotating dive teams and changing ocean conditions.

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Our first dive was rough. Strong winds resulted in rough seas and a boat full of vomiting scientists. What is more, we jumped in the water and our carefully planned dive fell to pieces. Currents were strong, visibility was poor, and everyone was a little rusty. I surfaced from that dive thinking we all seriously needed to re-think what we were doing here. However, after spending a much-needed surface interval in the sun, we followed the recommendation of our crew and jumped back in the water somewhere nearby. I rolled backwards off the boat and into an aquarium. The kelp reached 50 feet from sand to surface in thick vertical pillars. Sheephead weaved in and out of the underwater forest and Kelp Bass stared at us from the darkness between the columns as we descended. Sunlight shown through the kelp fronds creating beams of yellow in all the green. It was beautiful, and completely unexpected.

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We spent two weeks systematically planning, failing, and re-making our plans. If there is one thing I have learned from traveling, it’s that nothing turns out exactly the way you plan it. Tires crack, caravans split up, radios fail, water jugs leak, and you realize that coffee for 20 people cannot be made quickly enough to satisfy the demand. However, beautiful things happen just as often as the unfortunate. Friendships form and others strengthen; new skills are discovered and developed. A flowering cactus forest turns out to be one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. The wind slows and the sun comes out. We stared with open mouths as the desert changed around us: from city to farmland to high desert to salt flats. We sped along cliffs dodging semi-trucks and stray cows, ate fresh fish tacos and slept among the boojum trees.

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I hope other students took away from this expedition as much as I did. But for now, I will focus on lessons I have learned. Always talk to people and make as many new friends as you can. Each person is unique and can be learned from. If you do not speak the language, make an effort learn it. A word or two, even. Take advantage of every opportunity: go yellowtail fishing after no sleep, eat snails straight out of the ocean, stay an extra night in a foreign city, take a shower in the freezing ocean. You may never be here again. Lose your expectations. More importantly, if you have expectations, be OK with it when they are not met. It is my experience that, usually, things will work out.

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Adventures in Mexico 2018: Recollections of a Baja Field Notebook

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By Sloane Lofy, Phycology Lab

Hello!

I would like to introduce myself; I am the field notebook of Sloane Lofy. She is a student of Moss Landing Marine Labs, and this Fall 2018 decided to take the Marine Environmental Studies of Baja California, or as everyone at MLML calls it, the “Baja Class.” This is where I come in, as a requirement for the course each student must keep a field notebook so that thoughts, ideas, and notes from the field can be used in their research papers later. To give you a feel for what the trip to Baja was like from leaving the parking lot to coming home I will share with you some of her entries.

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Adventures in Mexico 2018: Vivan los Aves!

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By Nikki Inglis, visiting student of California State University Monterey Bay

Photos by Nikki Inglis unless otherwise indicated.

It wasn’t until the last star came out on moonless night that we heard it. At first, it sounded like the incessant wind whipping around the wooden cabin walls. Then we heard it again; a growling rasp, a ghostly whisper and so, so close. We heard wings gliding in from the Pacific Ocean and a welling up of some invisible kind of energy.

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Ninety-five percent of blackvented shearwaters nest on Isla Natividad, Baja California Sur, Mexico. © Greg Gilson 2014.

Within minutes, the sound was everywhere. The hills teemed, wings flapped frantically around us. We couldn’t see any of it, but the soundscape was three-dimensional, painting a picture of tens of thousands of birds reveling in their moonless refuge. Isla Natividad’s black-vented shearwater colony had come to life.

We had been on the island for seven days and not heard a peep. Only two shearwaters had been spotted by our group - birds that had been trapped by daylight and forced to wait it out in hiding. I was starting to wonder if perhaps they hadn’t arrived yet, and only a few early-breeders were scoping out their seasonal nesting grounds. I tried to imagine what 70,000 birds might feel and sound like, but I never imagined this. The black-vented shearwater colony on a moonless night is a singular experience, but it’s not the only reason bird researchers and enthusiasts are interested in Isla Natividad. This remote desert island is a haven for seabirds and houses a myriad of rich desert habitats—largely free from human disturbance—that offer fascinating insight into distributional patterns, morphology and behavior of familiar and uncommon species.

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Nesting black-vented shearwaters

Ninety-five percent of the world’s black-vented shearwater population nests at Isla Natividad. The shearwater colony covers about 2.5 sq. km. on the southern tip of the island, surrounding the town center and lining most of the roads on the island. You can hardly take a step without running into a shearwater nest, so those steps must be taken carefully. Walking off trail is strictly forbidden, and even headlamps at night are discouraged in observance of the bird’s extreme and almost pitiable sensitivity to light. Recent aerial surveys indicate that there are about 35,000 nesting pairs of shearwaters on the island each breeding season, which runs from March to August. On Natividad, the locals call them “los nocturnos.” The locals’ pride over the nocturnos is contagious. They are adamantly protective over the colony, and there’s even a shearwater mural in town emblazoned with the words “vivan los aves.”

The nocturnos are so sensitive to light that even bright moonlight will keep them underground or out on the water. Wait for a waning moon—when the sun sets before the moon rises—and sit on a dark beach. It’s worth a trip to the island just for a brief window of moonless night to wander through the otherworldly din. Quiet just won’t sound the same afterwards.

Other seabirds

If the awe of the shearwaters’ immense but invisible presence wears off—and it might not—the island’s other bird-related curiosities offer endless exploration.  I see massive flocks of brants offshore. Divers on the boats that rounded the northern tip of the island noted double-crested cormorants on the rocky cliffs. Brown pelicans strut indignantly around beaches and glide in squadrons over breaking waves. At one time, least and Leach’s storm petrels nested here. It’s still unknown if they’ve returned since nonnative threats (ie, feral cats) have been eliminated. Researchers are also interested in whether Xantus’ or Craveri’s murrelets are nesting there now.  Circumnavigation of this wild island by panga could definitely yield some notable sightings to any intrepid birder.

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Isla Natividad’s Western gulls are an integral part of island life and have distinctly strong personalities.

Shorebirds

The sunrise casts a pink tinge on the tide’s fizzy froth. With each ebb and flow, a flock of plovers forage in the wet sand, scattering as the water nips at their feet.

I spent several afternoons in the intertidal, where I watched great egrets forage in tidepools draped in kelp, and whimbrels sink their long beaks in the sand. I spotted a tri-colored heron, another bird for my life list, as they don’t make it much further north than this. There are several species and variations thereof on Natividad that can’t be found in central California.

There is a notable pattern in bird ranges in which some species from the east coast of North America snake around through the Gulf of Mexico and pop up over in the Gulf of California and the west coast of Baja, but rarely make it into southern and central California. For example, this pattern is why, on Natividad, the oystercatchers have white bellies. They’re American oystercatchers, and they’re commonly seen in the on east and southeast coasts. But further north in alta California, the black oystercatcher takes over. True to its name, it’s solid black as night. It’s perplexing, as the ecology of Baja’s pacific coast is much more similar than to California is to that of the Gulf of Mexico.

It almost seems as if some of these birds observe the U.S.-Mexico border, and want to avoid the Tijuana traffic as much as we do.

 

 

Desert birds and raptors

Ospreys rule the island. Nests occupy almost every power pole in town. During our visit, one osprey nest between the store and the laborotorio, was a constant source of entertainment. Mom, dad and two fledglings lived out a mini reality show that featured nest-building, the occasional argument and one confused teenager on the ground looking up at his nest in frustration.

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Horned larks are abundant in inland habitats on Isla Natividad.

Away from shore, the seemingly barren scrub and cactus forests come alive with lark songs. The horned lark will look familiar to California birders. Petite but statuesque, these songbirds are instrumental in the desert soundscape, balancing out the honks of the seagulls with their delicate tune.

Ravens patrol the skies over the island, roosting ominously at the lighthouse, making bold, throaty calls and sending the resident rodents cowering in their burrows.

Pack your binoculars and field guide and make the walk up to the lighthouse that crowns Isla Natividad. On the short hike, you’ll pass through seagull colonies and be subject to their insistent harassment. You’ll watch hunting raptors rocking in the sea breezes. You’ll see blue water in every direction and the flocks of seabirds beyond the breaking waves. And you’ll understand why these creatures fly so far just to be here.

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Skulls and corpses are often the only signs of black-vented shearwaters during daylight hours. But on a moonlit night, the colony comes to life.

Adventures in Mexico 2018: From Scientist to Local

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 By Jacoby Baker, Ichthyology Lab

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Boat crossing to Isla Natividad.

After three long days of riding in a car through the desert the glint of sunlight on water was finally on the horizon. The energy in the van shot up as everyone shouted in excitement, eager to get out and stretch their legs. When the caravan finally pulled into Punta Eugenia we unpacked, made camp, and hoped that the wind would settle down enough that we could cross over to Isla Natividad the next day.

In the morning many, if not all of us, were skeptical on the conditions and thought it might be better to wait another day for the winds to slacken, however, we had put our faith in the locals, who knew the area better than any of us ever could.  The boat captains seemed to laugh at us as our faces showed our apprehension to get into open water, and soon enough our apprehension calmed as we saw how masterfully he navigated the waves and we began chatting about the local waters and were amazed by the environment around us.

After we arrived on the island we met with the local fishing cooperative, and proposed our field projects to them to gain permission to dive and collect samples  in their waters. The whole process was a little nerve wracking as our projects hinged on their decision to allow us to enact our research. Our  “translators” (a pair of students from La Universidad Autónoma de Baja California (UABC) in Ensenada, Jeremie Bauer and Andrea Paz) helped to relay our proposals to the locals. As each of us gained permission relief set in and we began planning our next steps. After the meeting we dove right into working on our projects, with help from the locals. The days seemed to fly by as we rose with the sun and went to bed well past dark.

It is easy to get caught up in the research and logistics while out in the field, constantly reminding yourself to not forget your data sheets, quizzing yourself on your field methods, and strategizing on what site would be best to sample next. Granted, the larger scope of the class is to learn, develop, and enact methods while in the field and learn how to adapt to situations as they arise. Something that pairs right alongside with that is navigating a new environment with locals who may, or may not, even speak the same language as you and is an experience that ordinary classes cannot prepare you for.

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Students (Jacoby Baker, Lauren Parker, and Ann Bishop) with Divemaster Jhonny and Captain Rafael.

Every day we worked with locals, spending hours with them in the pangas, learning the areas where we were diving and what species we may find. Our relationships quickly morphed from strangers, to colleagues, and finally to friends as we shared our dives and helped each other with our projects. While on Isla Natividad, the cultural festivities of Semana Santa occurred and we were all invited to join the town on the beach to celebrate, share food, music, and company. As soon as we arrived on the beach we were ushered off to every tent and introduced to the families of our hosts and everyone offered us food and invited us to stay, eat, and visit, their generosity towards us was astounding. As the night progressed barriers broke and conversations blossomed all around the tent and fire. Even though most of us spoke very little Spanish (or some none at all) and they spoke very little English, stories were being told. This had to be one of my favorite moments on the island, sure, the diving was fantastic, but the chance to be taken in by the town and being accepted so fully into their culture was an experience that you can’t find just anywhere.

Seemingly just as quickly as we arrived our time on Isla Natividad drew to a close and we began cleaning up our camp and preparing to leave the island. On our last night on the island we invited those on the island who we worked closely with to dinner as a thank you and goodbye. The small restaurant was packed with good people, food, and conversation. And the tension of being in a new environment that we all felt the week before was no longer present as we all felt like we were now part of the community. It was with a heavy heart that we left the next morning, however, we did so knowing that we would be welcomed back any time and knew that we had found a second home on Isla Natividad.

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Town on Isla Natividad

Adventures in Mexico 2018: A healthy southern kelp forest

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By Ann Bishop, Phycology Lab

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Ann Bishop examining seaweed (Photo: Laurel Lam)

This year the Baja field class traveled to Isla Natividad to experience a giant kelp forest at the southern end of Macrocystis pyrifera’s range. Looking from the surface, the waves of turquoise water and the tendrils of sienna scimitar blades mirror those of Monterey Bay and of Southern California. It’s only once you dive beneath the surface you can begin to understand that we are not in Monterey anymore.

The Monterey Bay kelp forest has its own structure of over story, understory, and benthic covering seaweeds. But, these layers and the species that develop them are not always so clear cut- based on a patchwork of substrate and exposure to the storms. Much like an eastern forest can be a mix of deciduous, conifers, shrubs, and meadows.

The kelp forest on Isla Natividad, is less this patchwork and more like standing at the bottom of an old growth rainforest. The kelp grows in thick stands, sometimes so dense that becoming tangled and un-tangled is a habit rather than an event. The understory Ecklonia grows in incredible abundance. Their waving blades create the impression that the bottom is right there, maybe not even a hands breadth away. But, instead it hides yet another layer. Underneath the Ecklonia, are a fascinating array of wine-red algae, feathery pink corallines, gorgonian fans, anemones, sponges, and most unlikely of all- rotoliths! These slow growing crustose coralline algae are often mistaken for rocks rolling across a sandy plane, but here they were, thriving under their towering brown cousins.

Like their terrestrial counter parts, these forests reflect the impacts of the human communities who rely on them. Isla Natividad looks the way it does today because of the careful management practices and intense love the people have for their island. The willingness of the co-operative to learn, flexibility to adapt, coupled, with their ability to exclude poachers has resulted in the rich underwater world we were permitted to visit.

Yet, even the best laid plans and managers can face new challenges in the changing oceans. Other kelp forests, faced with warming seas have been heavily impacted by an increase in invasive species. Invasive seaweeds Sargassum horneri and an aquarium variety of Bryopsis to name some of recent new arrivals. The impact of invasive that may be familiar to Californians might be the difference that can be seen in the growth of S. horneri on Santa Catalina, off the coast of Los Angles, before and after the 2015 El Nino.

On Isla Natividad, both these invasive seaweeds are present but, fortunately have not been able to dominate the island. At least not yet. My project focused on identifying and quantifying where S. horneri was present around the island. While only a few of the sites we explored contained S. horneri, I am hoping the data from my project can assist with monitoring and future management. Knowing the baseline of an invasive species gives the managers important information and tools should those species begin to take the place of the native and endemic species. With knowledge, management, and a little bit of luck the community of Isla Natividad will be able to fish, share, and protect their underwater forests for generations to come.

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Invasive seaweed Sargassum horneri (Photo by Diana Steller)

Adventures in Mexico 2018: Best-made plans versus the reality of adjusting to field conditions

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By Hali Rederer, student of California State University Sacramento

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Left to right: Map with my rocky intertidal research site inside an Marine Protected Area (MPA) circled in red, picture of me, overview of my site, and a tide pool within the MPA.

This course broadened my field skills, and enabled me to research rocky intertidal ecology; specifically, tide pool fish. This is a new field of marine fish ecology for me. Designing and carrying out a tide pool fish study, in a very short time frame, in a place I had never been, presented challenges requiring flexibility and creative approaches.  Implementing a tide pool fish scientific study was one aspect of my experience. Importantly, and most enriching, was the opportunity to spend time with two university students from Ensenada and getting to know residents of Isla Natividad, and enjoying the food and culture of Baja.  We were embraced by the local community and welcomed.  A youngster named Lalo helped me collect tide pool data daily and we participated in local holiday celebrations. Facilities were made available to us including a comfortable house, cabins, and a laboratory to work out of.

My fellow students and I were immersed in rich practical “hands on” experiences integrating scientific field methods with experimental design.  This course was comprehensive and the pace was fast. Designing and carrying out a tide pool fish study, in a very short time frame, in a place I had never been, presented challenges requiring flexibility and creative approaches. We spent close to eight hours in the field everyday followed by laboratory work and discussions of our projects in the evenings. Topics for specific experiments, laboratory sessions, and discussions derived from our individual research questions, interests, and ideas emerging from our explorations and observations while in the field.

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Road trip from MLML to Mexico

My scientific question: What are the differences between intertidal fish found in higher versus lower tide pool and related tide pool geomorphology?

My research site was a rock strip 400m x 60m. My study accomplished a survey of 30 tide pools for differences in fish abundance, diversity, and distribution patterns in higher versus lower tide pools throughout one MPA rocky intertidal site.  I observed and recorded invertebrates, sea grasses, and algae using quadrats. Location, physical features (substrate roughness, water clarity) and physical dimensions of each tide pool were measured. Vertical and horizontal distance from shore was measured to establish the relative position of each tide pool I needed to be constantly aware of tidal influences as the major oceanographic process regulating this tide pool habitat. Integration of physical and biological data stands to capture a more comprehensive picture of Isla Natividad tide pool fish.

The tide pool fish study I had proposed [before departure] needed to change; I had originally planned to capture and measure the weight and length of each fish found in tide pools within one entire site. Turns out that it took too long to capture fish and therefore I adjusted and changed the methods of my study to a visual survey however the overall goal I had of studying tide pool fish remained unchanged.

Position, location, and quality of water in a tide pool is important to intertidal fish, invertebrates, algae, and sea grasses. Near shore coastal marine habitats are vulnerable to anthropomorphic disturbances and influences. Trash is apparent in the MPA site I studied including being found in the tide pools themselves. I roughly measured the debris field and describe its waste stream contents as a second rapid study since residents expressed interest in cleaning up the MPA.

Intertidal species.
Wavy turban snail, baited fish trap, Wavy Turbin Snail, Abalone, Opal eye, Woolly Sculpin

Science as a Collaborative Social Activity 

This experience reminded me of how rewarding teamwork in science can be. I was ill to various degrees during the entire trip and was unable to work on my project at all for the first three days on Isla Natividad. Lots of people pitched in to help me complete a tide pool fish study. Field biology works well when there is collaboration and sharing of ideas. I found it comforting when I observed some fish or invertebrate that I thought was different and fellow students or the professors concurred or disagreed and further discussed what might be the most probable explanation. Cheers to my fellow students and a heartfelt thanks to the Professors and teaching assistants. I am eager to apply what I learned on Isla Natividad by sampling tide pool fish in other places along the California current.

Adventures in Mexico 2018: Island Life on Isla Natividad

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By Jackie Mohay, Fisheries and Conservation Biology Lab

Imagine; you live in a small community on a remote island in the Pacific Ocean where a hardworking life is simple and fulfilling. One day you are told that a group of 20 will be travelling to your island to study it, using your resources and living amongst you for over a week. The people of Isla Natividad welcomed us with more than just open arms. During our first meeting, they remained patient while some of us tried to speak our best broken Spanish, were genuinely curious about our projects and most of all, elated to help. Mayte, the island’s tourism director, was constantly making herself available to provide us transportation on the island and show us around. Captains Rafael and Jesus drove the SCUBA teams to their sites everyday accompanied by divemasters Ivan and Johnny.  Needless to say, they wanted to be involved as much as possible, and it was much appreciated!

Studying on Isla Natividad was something that I didn’t want to end. Not only because of their way of life and friendly locals, but because there is so much more to explore. My intertidal project comparing invertebrate and algal cover inside and outside one of the MPA’s was barely the tip of the iceberg. After a week of exploring the intertidal, I was left with more questions than when I arrived. A workday consisted of sampling transects at low tide, then exploring tide pools to look for juvenile opaleye and sea hares while simultaneously birdwatching the osprey nested on “castle rock” as  referred to by locals(basically multitasking at its finest).

I am truly appreciative for this experience and have learned so much in such a short amount of time. I hope my trip to Isla Natividad was not a once in a lifetime experience, but if so, I am grateful I was able to explore and contribute to the scientific understanding of this unique island.

Tacos, Takis, and Fish Diet: A Spring Break Saga

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By Holly Chiswell, MLML Chemical Oceanography Lab

Andddd we're back!

Over our spring break and the week after, 20 Moss Landing-ers drove down to Baja California Sur to conduct fieldwork on the island of El Pardito, off of La Paz…for class! The drive down took three days and we were equipped with: two trucks, a van, two large trailers, two boats, two kayaks, a metric crap ton of dive dear, camping gear, personal gear and food. The first night we glamped, aka stayed in a hotel in San Diego after a day of driving which included going through “fun” Los Angeles traffic trying to get truck drivers to honk their horns. Apparently this is what entertains a car full of students in their mid to late 20s. The next morning, we crossed the border into Mexico, filled out the visa paperwork and trucked on.

We continued down highway 1 through Baja California on the Pacific side to our camping destination of the evening, Cataviña, where an adorable Labrador greeted us in the desert. The next day of driving landed us in Bahia Concepción, which just so happened to have a carnival on the beach! So after we swam, kayaked and explored the bay, we went to the carnival to indulge in a mechanical bull, bumper cars (it may have gotten personal), and a ride that hung us upside down for far too long for comfort. We continued the next day across the peninsula to hit the Gulf side where we were going to camp in Portugues, a small town where the family from the island has friends and our pick up location to get to the island, but that afternoon we ran into trouble. The dirt road we were supposed to take is usually completely dry, but when we got there it was a little wet and the tide was coming in. Therefore, one of the trucks complete with a trailer attached and the dive compressor inside got stuck at about 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Seeing this treachery, the other two vehicles were able to back out but we spent hours attempting to get the truck out, digging and placing rocks while also utilizing local help. We ended up unloading the truck and detaching the trailer before a SEMI truck was able to pull us out at around 11 that evening. The brothers that helped us were so kind and let us camp in what was essentially their backyard before getting to the rally point in the morning.

Alexa snaps a quick photo at our campsite.
Alexa snaps a quick photo at our campsite.

The next morning we loaded everything onto 5 pangas (boats) and traveled about 30 minutes to the island of El Pardito. This was our beautiful home for the following nine days of science. We would wake up around dawn (some of us went out with the fishermen to pull in nets they had set the night before), and then went about fieldwork for the day: diving, fishing, surveying, or spending time in the mangroves for respective projects. At night we would convene, (pretty late because some of us went hand-lining at night and then had to do some post fishing processing), to eat dinner (usually fish of sorts) and go around the circle saying what we did that day, what our plans were for the next day and if help was needed in the form of dive buddies or boat companions. As everyone took their turn speaking, I was very impressed with how on top of his or her research everyone was. They knew what they were doing, had protocols set and made the most of the limited time we had. After dinner, I would stay up pretty late each night processing fish stomachs from the fishermen for my project, a diet study, and now have 88 preserved samples to look through!

The families on the island were the sweetest people you'll ever meet. They were patient with our range of Spanish speaking abilities within the group, wanted to help us on our projects however they could, and were interested to learn about what we did. One woman on the island even let us come into her house and taught us how to make tortillas! Towards the end of the trip we had a bonfire and played music and chatted for quite some time, really bonding everyone on the island.

A view from the island.
A view from the island.

We decided as a group to stay a night in La Paz before driving back up which was amaaaaazing. Mostly because we finally got a chance to shower, but also because we went out to dinner as a group and hit the town after working so hard for those eight days straight! On our way back we had a flat tire one of the days, but we worked really well as a group and got it changed within the hour. After the rest of the journey continued without a hitch, we made it back to Moss Landing and have been playing sleep catch up and life catch up since then.

pardito2Overall, it was an amazing experience. I learned a great deal by choosing a project not in my area of expertise and expanded my worldview... all while getting a tan! Who’s up to take the trip again?

Tales From the Field, Back to Baja: Three weeks in the Gulf of California.

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By Scott Miller

Although MLML has some great resources on campus, students also occasionally have opportunities to get out of central California and do some work in other areas. Some of you may remember my post about my time in the Gulf of California last year with MLML’s “Baja class” where I studied herbivorous fishes. Well, I was given the opportunity to go back to Baja earlier this year to build upon the study that I began previously. In mid-June, I was part of a research team with two other MLML students and our dive safety officer / research faculty, Dr. Diana Steller, to help out on some projects through UC – Santa Cruz and to work on the herbivore project.

Because we needed to transport some large supplies, including scuba tanks and the field air compressor (to fill up the scuba tanks), we needed to drive down and back again this year. Although it sounds tough, the drive is only 3-4 days, and it’s definitely part of the adventure!

Just after sunset at our desert campsite in Cataviña, Baja California.
Just after sunset at our desert campsite in Cataviña, Baja California.
Driving isn’t too bad when you get to camp at sites such as this at Playa Requesón! Photo by Heather Fulton-Bennett
Driving isn’t too bad when you get to camp at sites such as this at Playa Requesón! Photo by Heather Fulton-Bennett

We made it safely to the island (and we even made great time, too!) and were ready to begin our work, which included studies of hawksbill turtles and their habitat, as well as studies of herbivorous fishes in the area. In order to study herbivorous fishes for this project, we first needed to conduct fish surveys to quantify fishes at multiple sites around our base at El Pardito. These surveys were part of a joint effort to survey the benthic habitats as well, and were therefore conducted in small groups, with one person surveying fish, one measuring algae, and another taking photographs of the rocky bottom.

Although the goal of fish surveys is to count and size fishes, they require a lot of underwater writing!
Although the goal of fish surveys is to count and size fishes, they require a lot of underwater writing!

This year, in addition to fish and benthic surveys, we also placed a camera underwater to see what types of fishes we could capture on film when divers weren’t present. We’re still analyzing the data, but here’s a sneak peak of some visitors to our cameras!

An azure parrotfish, Scarus compressus, swimming by the camera. Note the rockin’ algal mustache.
An azure parrotfish, Scarus compressus, swimming by the camera. Note the rockin’ algal mustache.
It wasn’t just herbivores that swam by, as demonstrated by this barred pargo (snapper), Hoplopagrus guentherii. (But notice the bluechin parrotfish, Scarus ghobban, in the background?)
It wasn’t just herbivores that swam by, as demonstrated by this barred pargo (snapper), Hoplopagrus guentherii. (But notice the bluechin parrotfish, Scarus ghobban, in the background?)

Although we travel to these remote places to do work, and we tend to work hard in order to cram as much science into our limited time, some events are too special to pass up taking a few minutes off to experience. On this trip, that happened to be a large school of small fishes that passed by a few hundred feet offshore from the island. As this was within swimming distance, I took the opportunity to snorkel out and see it firsthand.

Although it looks almost like a cloud or shadow from far away…
Although it looks almost like a cloud or shadow from far away…
…when you get closer, you can see that it’s actually made of thousands of small fish!
…when you get closer, you can see that it’s actually made of thousands of small fish!

Supposedly, yellowtail jacks and even a marlin were spotted darting in and out of this giant ball of fish, but I was the only visitor at the time when I was out there. After this short break, it was back to work until we were greeted by another beautiful sunset over the Baja peninsula. Before long, it was time to head back home to California, but not after we had collected plenty of great data and made numerous amazing memories from our short time in Baja.

Photograph by Heather Fulton-Bennett
Photograph by Heather Fulton-Bennett