Isla Santa Catalina
Perhaps it burst up out of the ocean depths in one surprise thrust; a new granitic island suddenly appearing in the Gulf of California. The tremor would have been massive and prolonged. More likely, though, it rose slowly, over a period of centuries, with each increment accompanied by relatively minor shakes and quakes. In either case, Isla Santa Catalina stands proudly today as one of the only land masses in this exciting body of water that was not exposed to the air, sun and weather patterns while still attached to mainland Mexico. It originated as barren igneous rock rising up from great depths. All life forms now on this colorful island have drifted or been carried here from other places. Scientifically it is important among the many islands of the gulf.
Endemism is that aspect of plant and animal evolution that results in species that are unique to a given geographical area; species that are found nowhere else on Earth. Santa Catalina presents excellent examples of endemism. Being far offshore, additions of small mammals, reptiles and plant seeds are extremely rare. The species that arrived early, perhaps centuries ago, progressed within a limited gene pool. Mutations occurred within this pool and have resulted in forms that are now different from their parent stock. Scientists have described them as distinct species, and endemic to this tiny part of the world.
We walked among some of them this morning, admiring the endemic giant barrel cactus (the largest in the world); photographing the endemic desert iguana, sleek, fast and cryptically colored; and the endemic side-blotched lizard with its startling emerald-green tail. But we failed to find the prize of Santa Catalina. In spite of our heated search, the endemic rattleless rattlesnake eluded us, even though its numbers are increasing remarkably now that feral (and non-endemic) cats and other destructive invaders have been eliminated, thanks to Lindblad Expedition’s Baja Forever campaign.
The desert was hot again today, even by early morning. Our walk was a fitting excuse to enjoy the cool ocean water. Swimmers and snorkelers came and went at their leisure, and even the seniors among us pulled rank on the youngsters, in a valiant effort to show them just how to lean to the left and lean to the right on the banana boat. Inevitably, the sudden, speedy plunge was a welcome wake up for the best of riders.
No one was in a hurry in the afternoon. We wandered southward into San Jose Channel searching for marine life and enjoying the comforts of the Sea Voyager.
Perhaps it burst up out of the ocean depths in one surprise thrust; a new granitic island suddenly appearing in the Gulf of California. The tremor would have been massive and prolonged. More likely, though, it rose slowly, over a period of centuries, with each increment accompanied by relatively minor shakes and quakes. In either case, Isla Santa Catalina stands proudly today as one of the only land masses in this exciting body of water that was not exposed to the air, sun and weather patterns while still attached to mainland Mexico. It originated as barren igneous rock rising up from great depths. All life forms now on this colorful island have drifted or been carried here from other places. Scientifically it is important among the many islands of the gulf.
Endemism is that aspect of plant and animal evolution that results in species that are unique to a given geographical area; species that are found nowhere else on Earth. Santa Catalina presents excellent examples of endemism. Being far offshore, additions of small mammals, reptiles and plant seeds are extremely rare. The species that arrived early, perhaps centuries ago, progressed within a limited gene pool. Mutations occurred within this pool and have resulted in forms that are now different from their parent stock. Scientists have described them as distinct species, and endemic to this tiny part of the world.
We walked among some of them this morning, admiring the endemic giant barrel cactus (the largest in the world); photographing the endemic desert iguana, sleek, fast and cryptically colored; and the endemic side-blotched lizard with its startling emerald-green tail. But we failed to find the prize of Santa Catalina. In spite of our heated search, the endemic rattleless rattlesnake eluded us, even though its numbers are increasing remarkably now that feral (and non-endemic) cats and other destructive invaders have been eliminated, thanks to Lindblad Expedition’s Baja Forever campaign.
The desert was hot again today, even by early morning. Our walk was a fitting excuse to enjoy the cool ocean water. Swimmers and snorkelers came and went at their leisure, and even the seniors among us pulled rank on the youngsters, in a valiant effort to show them just how to lean to the left and lean to the right on the banana boat. Inevitably, the sudden, speedy plunge was a welcome wake up for the best of riders.
No one was in a hurry in the afternoon. We wandered southward into San Jose Channel searching for marine life and enjoying the comforts of the Sea Voyager.
