GUERRERO NEGRO, MEXICO – When a place consists of dust and unpaved roads, I usually know I’ve ended up somewhere remote—a corner of the world that people normally don’t visit. I had arrived exactly in such a place.
After 14 days of traveling, some nerves lost on the way (just two days before, a gringo had falsely advertised a hostel that didn’t exist), and a big hit on my savings, I had done it. I was in Guerrero Negro.
A strong wind blew dust and sand into my face as I walked from the bus station to the Airbnb. It was an early night, around 8 PM, and I couldn’t detect any locals in the darkness. The place appeared to be deserted—besides packs of stray dogs that haunted the broad roads and took a particular interest in the new arrival. Something foreign to harass.
I started to feel a bit uneasy.
This is where I meet the Gray Whales? I asked myself, picking up a stone. The two snarling dogs that had pursued me backed off.
ABOVE: A street dog roaming the town, a common sight in Guerrero Negro.
The whales had actually chosen an excellent location. Guerrero Negro was notably remote: Situated on the coast and the Mexican desert, and 750 km from La Paz, the nearest major city. This small backwater town didn’t even exist until the 1950s when some rich American established the world’s largest salt works here.
The place was stamped out of the ground, under the condition that only Mexicans are employed, and named after the whaling ship „Black Warrior“ (in Spanish: Guerrero Negro). Ironically, this was the ship, run by another corporate gringo, that had driven the Gray Whales to near extinction in the mid-1800s. They only survived this massacre because the Mexican government got annoyed that the Americans were exploiting local resources.
Today, they live in peace in the nearby lagoon Ojo de Liebre, which is part of a larger biosphere reserve. From December to April they use this lagoon to mate and calve before heading back to their feeding grounds in the Arctic. Around this time in late March, there were mostly mothers with their calves left in the waters. And I was here to see them.
But at what price?
That question hung in my mind when I entered the two-story concrete cubicle that would be my home for the next three days. I was excited, however, I deliberately avoided any look at my bank account. This trip had cost me way more than I expected. I hadn’t done my homework.
And unfortunately, there was another catch to this unpleasant fact: I had only two full days to see the Gray Whales. My budget didn’t allow me to dedicate any more time to the pursuit of the whales. So if I didn’t see them in that time… the whole trip would be for nothing.
I went to bed with a question buzzing in my mind: Was it clever to pursue my dreams at all costs?
ABOVE: The dusty, unpaved roads of Guerrero Negro.
The next morning, as I stepped out onto the street, I couldn’t see more than 30 meters ahead due to the dense mist cloaking the town. Ay ay ay, great conditions to see the Gray Whales, I thought as I started walking toward the tour provider.
I discovered Malarrimo Ecotours through Cristina Mittermeier’s episode on Gray Whales. Like other local providers, they stood out with a commendable practice:
During the whales’ mating season, the local fishermen can’t fish in the lagoon. So they apply their skills and wildlife knowledge to offer sustainable tours into the biosphere reserve instead. This way, they maintain a source of income, while at the same time having an interest in preserving the ecosystem. In the end, locals and whales benefit equally from each other—a great example of conservation and local interests combined.
I entered the hotel grounds, from where the tour would start, and checked in. The captain I had seen in the episode greeted me and told me a little bit about the tour: Since it was low tide this morning, the whales were more spread out over the lagoon. But at the same time, the water was calmer, which made it more probable that the whales would approach the boat.
„Does that mean the chances to encounter the whales are high, right now?“ I asked the captain.
He shrugged his shoulders. „Yeah, you can probably see whales right now,“ he said. That was a bit vague…
„Or is it better to postpone the tour to the afternoon and set out on high tide?“
„Oh yeah, on high tide the whales flock together. So there are more at one spot at the same time. Whatever you like.“
Oh man, that doesn’t help me at all. I decided to go for the tour now.
Besides me, there was only an elderly Mexican couple with their grandson joining the tour. This was good news, since I had noticed on past tours that animals pick up the frantic vibes of tourists who only come for the Instagram shots. Animals tend to avoid these kinds of people.
We boarded a minivan and were greeted by a friendly tour guide, who told us a little bit about the town and the whales. The mist seemed to clear up as we headed towards the lagoon.
ABOVE: Breeding pair of ospreys in the Lagoon Ojo de Liebre. The local biosphere reserve boasts the world’s largest concentration of ospreys, thanks to various protection measures, including the provision of nesting platforms.
After driving for around twenty minutes, we passed a gate and I noticed that it didn’t signify the entrance to the national park. No, I realized, this was the gate to the salt works. The whales’ lagoon was located inside the corporation’s territory.
When I asked the guide if the corporation wasn’t negatively impacting the local ecosystem, he negated the question.
He told me that the salt works was actually protecting the local biosphere, since non-local tourist companies had to get an extra permit from the corporation and the national park. Furthermore, other corporate competitors were blocked out because the salt works had the sole mining rights. So the salt work’s presence in the lagoon actually ensured that local wildlife is left in peace.
That answer actually surprised me, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that a corporate mining entity and a biodiversity hotspot could harmoniously co-exist. Local fishermen and nature? Yes, sure. Mining corporation and nature? Hmm.
ABOVE: A male sea lion sunbathing on a vessel used to transport salt from the salt works to the open ocean.
However, I forgot about these critical voices when we arrived at the lagoon. The place’s beauty caught me off-guard:
Hundreds of marine birds populated the shorelines—herons, cormorants, many species of shorebirds—and as far as you could see: Turquoise water, white sand dunes, and a clear sky. I hadn’t seen anything similar before. A feeling of excitement and passion spread through my chest.
This is my element.
We embarked on a small boat, said goodbye to the guide—from here a young captain would take over—and set out onto the lagoon. At this point, I didn’t even care to see the whales or not. Being in this place abundant with biodiversity was payoff enough.
But we weren’t even fifteen minutes into the lagoon, when I spotted a gray back sprinkled with these white dots that are caused by whale parasites.
„Hey man, there is the first whale!“ I shouted enthusiastically to the captain.
He just smiled knowingly, but kept moving on.
Okay, there is probably a reason behind it, I thought. And there was.
ABOVE: The fin of a Gray Whale playfully toying around in the water.
After a couple of minutes, we stopped. The captain reduced the motor to a slight hum and I knew what he did there: He was attracting Gray Whales.
Scientists are still unsure why Gray Whales approach and interact with boats. They showcase this behavior only in the Mexican lagoons and not around other places on their migration route.
As far as speculation goes, the motor hums at frequencies similar to whale sounds which gets them curious. Furthermore, they use the boats to get rid of the parasites that infest their skin, by rubbing themselves against the vessels. But that doesn’t explain why sometimes they let themselves be touched by humans.
When I asked the captain what he thinks is the reason behind this behavior, he told me: „Probably, they are bored. What else is there to do for them in the lagoon? They are very intelligent and curious animals. So I think they come over, wanting to check us out and interact with us, like we want to check them out and interact with them.“
I liked his answer. Animals have a more complex internal world than we give them credit for, and there is a lot we don’t understand about their perception of reality.
The motor hummed for a little longer and then, out of nowhere, a mother with her calf surfaced, exhaling a spray of salt water.
And then another pair.
And then another pair!
Six whales were suddenly surrounding the boat, sticking their heads out of the water to look at us and rubbing themselves against the bottom side of the boat. And as they got more and more used to our presence, they did the unimaginable.
ABOVE: A curious Gray whale calf approaching our boat.
One of the mothers went underneath her baby and gently pushed it up, so the baby could reach us with its head. The captain was the first to stroke its head and I could see his love and passion for these animals in his smile.
The baby dipped down and then, with another gentle push from the mum, it stuck its head out again. This time right in front of me.
I looked into the half-closed eyes of this baby whale and I guessed it wanted me to touch it as well. So I stroked the region around its mouth.
The skin felt like smooth rubber tire and was more firm than I expected. The temperature was lukewarm.
And while my palm was connected to the baby whale—the encounter was brief, maybe ten seconds—I knew I had realized my dream. I felt one with life and a feeling that can only be described as ecstasy marked the moment.
There are only a couple of moments in my life that I felt this way: Truly alive.
Every hour traveled, every dollar spent, every nerve lost on the journey, became irrelevant. This is what I lived for and it didn’t matter what kind of material resource I spent to get here, it was more than worth it.
BELOW: Touching the head of a Gray whale calf.
LEFT: Touching the head of a Gray whale calf.
RIGHT: A Gray Whale sticking its head out to get a better look at us.
ABOVE: A Gray Whale sticking its head out to get a better look at us.
After the baby whale dove down again, the other whale mothers approached the boat and wanted to show their babies as well. So one by one, they pushed their babies up and presented them to us. Occasionally, they came for a head rub themselves. I lost any track of time, I was just immersed in the moment.
I realized that this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life: Being in nature, and interacting and telling the stories of those beautiful animals that live on our planet.
After a while and many, many head rubs, I started taking videos and photos. The first moments, I had wanted for myself and my dream.
We spent around two hours with the whales this way. Sometimes they came to the boat to be touched, sometimes they rubbed themselves on the underside of the boat, and sometimes they just stayed a couple of meters away and socialized among themselves.
I went out of this experience, realizing that it doesn’t matter how much it costs to realize a dream—especially if those are just simple resources like time and money. If we have a dream, we should invest in it. It will bring us to places that we never even imagined.
And more importantly: They make us feel alive.
POSTSCRIPT: The next day, I went on another tour; this time on high tide. However, the tour was packed with tourists who were just there for the Instagram shots. Although we saw Gray Whales, they kept their distance. The tourists were too frantic and the sea was too rough. I didn’t care. For one, I was too busy puking over the railing and for two, I had already realized my dream.
