carpeted, windowless room and resume being talked at-- all of this for four days straight until you are in a near-coma-like state, at which point you are released back into the wild, presumably better off, ...but I am not so sure). Anyway, it was fun to see them too, and I have also gotten to partake of the quebecois culinary delight known as poutine (fries drenched in gravy and cheese curds; pictured here) and tomorrow I will go for smoked meat. So, the confines of the conference haven't completely reined me in, but in collusion with the weather (which went from 70 degrees and sunny to 30 degrees and snowing in one day), the powers that be are trying. Speaking of which, the second half of the afternoon session starts in a few minutes... more from Texas soon!
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Oh Canada!
This post comes from the mothercountry-- I am in Canada this week at a conference on Mobile DNA. I have blogged once before about transposable elements (the things I study) but I promise not to bore you with too much on that this time. Mostly it is just fun to be back in Montreal, were I lived as a child before moving to Chicago. My first memories are all from here, and before the conference started, I went back to the old neighborhood and visited my oldest friend in the world's mom, Angie. It was great to be at her house (same one where I used to hang out 32 years ago) and see old pictures and talk about old stories. Then I came downtown for the conference, but it happens to be about 3 blocks from McGill University, which is where my old advisors (from grad school in Florida) are now, so I got to have a fun picnic with them before really digging into meeting mode (which involves non-stop 15 minute talks, occasionally separated in time by surreal, nearly identical coffee breaks during which you simply clear enough brain space to go back into a heavily 
carpeted, windowless room and resume being talked at-- all of this for four days straight until you are in a near-coma-like state, at which point you are released back into the wild, presumably better off, ...but I am not so sure). Anyway, it was fun to see them too, and I have also gotten to partake of the quebecois culinary delight known as poutine (fries drenched in gravy and cheese curds; pictured here) and tomorrow I will go for smoked meat. So, the confines of the conference haven't completely reined me in, but in collusion with the weather (which went from 70 degrees and sunny to 30 degrees and snowing in one day), the powers that be are trying. Speaking of which, the second half of the afternoon session starts in a few minutes... more from Texas soon!
carpeted, windowless room and resume being talked at-- all of this for four days straight until you are in a near-coma-like state, at which point you are released back into the wild, presumably better off, ...but I am not so sure). Anyway, it was fun to see them too, and I have also gotten to partake of the quebecois culinary delight known as poutine (fries drenched in gravy and cheese curds; pictured here) and tomorrow I will go for smoked meat. So, the confines of the conference haven't completely reined me in, but in collusion with the weather (which went from 70 degrees and sunny to 30 degrees and snowing in one day), the powers that be are trying. Speaking of which, the second half of the afternoon session starts in a few minutes... more from Texas soon!
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Spring Break, Day 3 and thereafter
I am so sorry for the delay, devoted reader(s). Although usually I would agree with you (blog before you forget the details!), the trip took a decidedly less death-defying turn once we decided to give up on our little dingy. Because blogging about disaster is always more interesting than blogging about success, I just wasn't as urgently motivated to tell you about the rest of the trip.... but I will.
We got back to the mainland and immediately (I am not kidding) ordered a margarita at the restaurant that owned the dock. We needed a new plan. While drinking said margarita, we
decided to ask our waiter if HE knew of any way to get to the islands. He said there were fisherman that would be at the dock within the hour and that we should talk to them because they would be happy to take us. And so we did. Who'd have thunk it was that easy? $120 one-way to the island(s) of our choice. Given how much the boat cost to buy, I mean fix, and then tow, and then fix-- this was a steal. Why we didn't just go with fishermen who have sea-worthy vessels and boating experience in the first place, you might ask? I also asked. Here's a pic of Michelle and I celebrating life.
So we set out that evening for Cabeza de Caballo (the ominously named, if you like The Godfather, Horsehead Island). This island was rumored to have snakes, but none have ever been collected. We arrived just at dark, and since I was the only one (besides the dog) who had never actually caught a snake before, I volunteered to set up camp and cook dinner while the other three set out looking for C. mitchelli. This earned me the nickname Cookie, at least with Matt, for the remainder of the trip. About two hours later, Jesse came back with a snake. Half an hour later, Matt came back with 1 more. Given that Jesse had told me that he would be
happy if we caught a handful of snakes during the entire trip, this seemed like quite a coup. Michelle came back a little while later and we hit the hay. The next morning, we searched again (this time, even yours truly was on the prowl). Lots of chuckwallas were out. They are big, skittish, and loud (=easy to spot). Mitchelli, on the other hand, are not. To emphasize this point, I have pasted a picture below. Try and find the snake in it. Unfortunately, I have not mastered the blogosphere sufficiently to have you click on it to see the snake pointed out, so I just pasted the photo again below with a circle. This may not be lifesize on your computer screen, but I think you see my point (or don't; punny, huh?) So, I didn't find any the first day. But I did find a baby chuckwalla! And I wanted to grab SOMETHING. So I picked it up and made kissy faces.
That morning, Matt found another one (right near our camp), so by the time the fisherman came to get us at mid-day we had 6 snakes and even a chance to snorkel in the beautiful bay. Success! Off to island number two-- Piojo (= louse). This island was farther away, with steep sides and a relatively flat top. Most notably, the island was covered with pelicans. Pelicans seem docile and majestic when you see them flying in small clusters at the beach-- gliding along the wave lines, parallel to the shore, occasionally dipping down to score some small fish snack treat. When you are in their hood, however, they do not seem docile. They seem irritated, and prehistoric, and gigantic. Still majestic, but just more.... real. We arrived on Piojo in the evening and made a quick dinner and then set out to find snakes in the dark. The snakes move at night to forage and mate making the trade-off between lack of light (night) versus lack of movement (day) pretty worthwhile if you have a good flashlight. We climbed up the not-so-steep cliff by our beach and got on top of the 
flat-roofed island to look around. The wind was blowing fiercely and the shiny-eyed pelicans seem to be everywhere. We tried to avoid valleys where they were nesting so as not to disturb their roost, but it was hard because there were so many. Seeing pelican babies in a nest squawking from their freshly hatched eggs will not be an image soon erased from my mind. Nor will the shadowy swooping overhead of vigilant pelican parents expressing their utmost dismay that I might be having an unforgettable moment peering into one of their nests. But we weren't their for birdwatching, we were there for snakes. And snakes we did find-- actually, Jesse found. Four to be exact-- I didn't take any pictures because it was dark, but he was just as ecstatic as he was the previous day on Cabeza, so I can show that. We had plenty, and really did not want to put the pelicans out any more than we already had, so we camped on the beach, relieved to know we had (again) gotten plenty of snakes on an island with no guarantees. The next morning was once again spent snorkeling and exploring near the shore. Amidst my poking around in the 
intertidal zone, lo' and behold, I found a snake! Practically with one foot in the ocean! These snakes are not swimmers, but the fact that I stumbled upon on so close to the water made Jesse's raft hypothesis to explain the colonization (or re-colonization) of some of the islands very plausible. It was so weird, but now it was official: I became a herpetologist. Admittedly, they are easier to spot on the giant dark rocks near the shore, but still, I became one.
The next day, the fisherman, and Michelle, and Michelle's husband (Claudio) and her labmate, and her labmate's boyrfriend, all came to Piojo to pick us up (me, Jesse, Matt, and the dog, and the snakes-- all alive, in pillow cases knotted at the top to prevent their escape). We headed north for Smith Island with enough camping supplies to last six months. We were spending one night. But look at Gilligan's Island-- who knows how long we might have ended up there? With 7 professors and no MaryAnn, I am not sure how great the ratings would be. We landed on the east side of the island and set up camp. Everyone set out to find snakes, and with our expanded crew and our previous two days of good luck, we were extremely hopeful. Jesse and I found one within about 30 minutes of looking, and then another one about 40 minutes after that. We figured that, at this rate, we would catch more than we could take with us. But alas, the rest of the night was fruitless, and the next day spent searching yielded only one snake for the whole group, bringing out total to 3 for the island. No matter, we had adjusted our expectations a bit after the snake parade the previous two days, but happily accepted this as our catch before returning to the mainland.
Once on the mainland, we wanted to look for mainland mitchelli (the scientist's quest is a neverending one, yes). We went night driving after dark in hopes of seeing some crossing the road in search of food or nookie, but did not see a single snake of any kind. We did see some people on the side of the road, however, and after tenuously slowing down to see if they were banditos or not, I recognized the tell-tale darwinized jesus fish logo on one of their t-shirts and hollered out to our biologist brethren, "Nice shirt!" After quickly finding out one of them was the author of a marine inverterbrate guide to the Sea of Cortez who wanted to cut us a deal on a recent edition, we stopped to shoot the breeze. Turns out, they were heading into BLA to meet up with National Geographic to dive and look for giant squid. We paid our reduced price, got our books signed, jump back in the car and continued our snakeless drive back to camp. Thanks for the discount Hans!
The next day was spent measuring, photographing, and preserving snakes (note the dog, under the processing table). Claudio and the rest of the reinforcement crew had to leave the next day to catch their plane in San Diego, so there was only time for a few more margaritas and fish tacos before we had to starting thinking about our 2000 mile return trip as well. Despite what you've heard about the border regions and the drug wars in Mexico, our passage went very smoothly and the whole team made it back to Arlington in one piece, despite the near-death theme to the first few days of the trip. Death is a theme in Baja though-- the evidence of the harsh desert conditions is everywhere around you. Even though I was surprised at how green and lush it was compared to the mental image I had before we arrived, I saw more skeletons that week than I have seen since working on bird bones at the museum back in 2002. A good reminder that life is short and death, too, can be beautiful. Although I am very glad to be reporting that second hand.... more adventures and flashbacks coming soon.
We got back to the mainland and immediately (I am not kidding) ordered a margarita at the restaurant that owned the dock. We needed a new plan. While drinking said margarita, we
decided to ask our waiter if HE knew of any way to get to the islands. He said there were fisherman that would be at the dock within the hour and that we should talk to them because they would be happy to take us. And so we did. Who'd have thunk it was that easy? $120 one-way to the island(s) of our choice. Given how much the boat cost to buy, I mean fix, and then tow, and then fix-- this was a steal. Why we didn't just go with fishermen who have sea-worthy vessels and boating experience in the first place, you might ask? I also asked. Here's a pic of Michelle and I celebrating life.So we set out that evening for Cabeza de Caballo (the ominously named, if you like The Godfather, Horsehead Island). This island was rumored to have snakes, but none have ever been collected. We arrived just at dark, and since I was the only one (besides the dog) who had never actually caught a snake before, I volunteered to set up camp and cook dinner while the other three set out looking for C. mitchelli. This earned me the nickname Cookie, at least with Matt, for the remainder of the trip. About two hours later, Jesse came back with a snake. Half an hour later, Matt came back with 1 more. Given that Jesse had told me that he would be
happy if we caught a handful of snakes during the entire trip, this seemed like quite a coup. Michelle came back a little while later and we hit the hay. The next morning, we searched again (this time, even yours truly was on the prowl). Lots of chuckwallas were out. They are big, skittish, and loud (=easy to spot). Mitchelli, on the other hand, are not. To emphasize this point, I have pasted a picture below. Try and find the snake in it. Unfortunately, I have not mastered the blogosphere sufficiently to have you click on it to see the snake pointed out, so I just pasted the photo again below with a circle. This may not be lifesize on your computer screen, but I think you see my point (or don't; punny, huh?) So, I didn't find any the first day. But I did find a baby chuckwalla! And I wanted to grab SOMETHING. So I picked it up and made kissy faces.
That morning, Matt found another one (right near our camp), so by the time the fisherman came to get us at mid-day we had 6 snakes and even a chance to snorkel in the beautiful bay. Success! Off to island number two-- Piojo (= louse). This island was farther away, with steep sides and a relatively flat top. Most notably, the island was covered with pelicans. Pelicans seem docile and majestic when you see them flying in small clusters at the beach-- gliding along the wave lines, parallel to the shore, occasionally dipping down to score some small fish snack treat. When you are in their hood, however, they do not seem docile. They seem irritated, and prehistoric, and gigantic. Still majestic, but just more.... real. We arrived on Piojo in the evening and made a quick dinner and then set out to find snakes in the dark. The snakes move at night to forage and mate making the trade-off between lack of light (night) versus lack of movement (day) pretty worthwhile if you have a good flashlight. We climbed up the not-so-steep cliff by our beach and got on top of the 
flat-roofed island to look around. The wind was blowing fiercely and the shiny-eyed pelicans seem to be everywhere. We tried to avoid valleys where they were nesting so as not to disturb their roost, but it was hard because there were so many. Seeing pelican babies in a nest squawking from their freshly hatched eggs will not be an image soon erased from my mind. Nor will the shadowy swooping overhead of vigilant pelican parents expressing their utmost dismay that I might be having an unforgettable moment peering into one of their nests. But we weren't their for birdwatching, we were there for snakes. And snakes we did find-- actually, Jesse found. Four to be exact-- I didn't take any pictures because it was dark, but he was just as ecstatic as he was the previous day on Cabeza, so I can show that. We had plenty, and really did not want to put the pelicans out any more than we already had, so we camped on the beach, relieved to know we had (again) gotten plenty of snakes on an island with no guarantees. The next morning was once again spent snorkeling and exploring near the shore. Amidst my poking around in the 
intertidal zone, lo' and behold, I found a snake! Practically with one foot in the ocean! These snakes are not swimmers, but the fact that I stumbled upon on so close to the water made Jesse's raft hypothesis to explain the colonization (or re-colonization) of some of the islands very plausible. It was so weird, but now it was official: I became a herpetologist. Admittedly, they are easier to spot on the giant dark rocks near the shore, but still, I became one.The next day, the fisherman, and Michelle, and Michelle's husband (Claudio) and her labmate, and her labmate's boyrfriend, all came to Piojo to pick us up (me, Jesse, Matt, and the dog, and the snakes-- all alive, in pillow cases knotted at the top to prevent their escape). We headed north for Smith Island with enough camping supplies to last six months. We were spending one night. But look at Gilligan's Island-- who knows how long we might have ended up there? With 7 professors and no MaryAnn, I am not sure how great the ratings would be. We landed on the east side of the island and set up camp. Everyone set out to find snakes, and with our expanded crew and our previous two days of good luck, we were extremely hopeful. Jesse and I found one within about 30 minutes of looking, and then another one about 40 minutes after that. We figured that, at this rate, we would catch more than we could take with us. But alas, the rest of the night was fruitless, and the next day spent searching yielded only one snake for the whole group, bringing out total to 3 for the island. No matter, we had adjusted our expectations a bit after the snake parade the previous two days, but happily accepted this as our catch before returning to the mainland.
Once on the mainland, we wanted to look for mainland mitchelli (the scientist's quest is a neverending one, yes). We went night driving after dark in hopes of seeing some crossing the road in search of food or nookie, but did not see a single snake of any kind. We did see some people on the side of the road, however, and after tenuously slowing down to see if they were banditos or not, I recognized the tell-tale darwinized jesus fish logo on one of their t-shirts and hollered out to our biologist brethren, "Nice shirt!" After quickly finding out one of them was the author of a marine inverterbrate guide to the Sea of Cortez who wanted to cut us a deal on a recent edition, we stopped to shoot the breeze. Turns out, they were heading into BLA to meet up with National Geographic to dive and look for giant squid. We paid our reduced price, got our books signed, jump back in the car and continued our snakeless drive back to camp. Thanks for the discount Hans!
The next day was spent measuring, photographing, and preserving snakes (note the dog, under the processing table). Claudio and the rest of the reinforcement crew had to leave the next day to catch their plane in San Diego, so there was only time for a few more margaritas and fish tacos before we had to starting thinking about our 2000 mile return trip as well. Despite what you've heard about the border regions and the drug wars in Mexico, our passage went very smoothly and the whole team made it back to Arlington in one piece, despite the near-death theme to the first few days of the trip. Death is a theme in Baja though-- the evidence of the harsh desert conditions is everywhere around you. Even though I was surprised at how green and lush it was compared to the mental image I had before we arrived, I saw more skeletons that week than I have seen since working on bird bones at the museum back in 2002. A good reminder that life is short and death, too, can be beautiful. Although I am very glad to be reporting that second hand.... more adventures and flashbacks coming soon.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Spring Break, Day 2: The Sea of Cortez
Where was I? Oh yes, the Sea of Cortez. Just to help you visualize what I am trying to describe, let me give you some more data. The sea is young (less than 5 million years old-- a toddler in sea years). It is 900 miles long, and in the Midriff Channel where we were, the water can be up to a mile deep. In a nutshell, the geology and climate of this area are unique and the result is major upwellings of water, high levels of mixing, and, as a consequence, tons of nutrients to support organisms, which in turn support all kinds of life higher up on the food chain.
In the water, there are invertebrates (including El Diablo Rojo-- the giant man-eating squid, one of which Jesse found washed up on shore), sharks, whales, dolphins, sea turtles, and sea lions, in addition to coral-esque reefs and tons and tons and tons of fish. The largest animal known, the blue whale, lives and breeds here (averaging 75-80 ft long and weighing 110 tons). The largest fish (whale sharks) also live here and can reach over 45 ft long and up to 15 tons. The wildlife in this sea was first described by Ed Ricketts and John Steinbeck in the book The Sea of Cortez (1941), which was part biodiversity survey and part travelogue. The prose is so beautiful, I have pasted the first paragraph from the log below. Overall, I just want you to seed your imagination with these pictures, but then go further to imagine the most spectacular, productive ocean you can possibly envision. That's the setting for Day 2's adventures....
So, Pancho (the mechanic) had gotten all the rocks out of the engine and recharged the dead battery for us and we were ready to get back to work. After the previous day's events, we were hesitant to overload the boat for the longer trip from BLA out to Piojo, the island furthest from the peninsula on which we wanted to find snakes (over 2.5 miles away; bottom right red circle on the map). So we decided to take two trips-- first, we would go over with gear (Michelle, Jesse, and I) and then Michelle and I would come back and get Matt and the dog. This plan seemed perfect. Yes, Piojo was far away and the trip was likely to take well over an hour each way. True, we were traveling through deep channels and choppy seas. Admittedly we did not know exactly how much gas it would take to get there and back. Granted, the boat had broken down just 20 yards offshore the day before, leading to relative mayhem. But none of this eclipsed our desire to go get these snakes.
As a precaution, Michelle and I did test drive the boat for about 2 minutes and 30 seconds around the bay. It seemed to work fine! When we were completely loaded up, again we noticed it's power dropped precipitously. No matter! We had accepted the fact that we were going to spend the rest of the day shuttling the expedition across the sea piecemeal, so what if we had to do that a little bit more slowly than originally planned?
And so we set out. Remember the splashing over the bow that I mentioned from Day 1? We had somehow blocked this out, but were acutely reminded of it as soon as we got out of the friendly confines of BLA. Each wave we hit cast an icy spritz of sea water across the three of us, as we shielded our eyes and blindly push forward towards our island target. We were cold though, and I was driving as fast as possible (which was not very fast) in an effort to shorten the amount of time spent shivering, knowing this was trip 1 of 4 I would be making that day. As we got further out into the channel, the waves got bigger. Our little boat was smacking into them like a jet ski at a summer lake weekend-- can you imagine it? Boom, boom, boom-- jarring our individual spinal chords as we braced for splash after splash coming in over the bow. The series of swells themselves got bigger until we were right about in the middle of the channel and we went boom, Boom, BOOM, and the engine stopped. Just as the boat smacked back onto the water, nose down into the upcoming wave, water spilling over the front of the bow, into the small cavity in which we were sitting. My first thought, we are going to sink. But the nose bobbed back up, and the water stopped spilling in. Michelle yelled "Bail bucket!!!" and started furiously scooping up water and throwing it overboard. Jesse suggested now might be a good time to put on our life preservers, so we pulled out the three gigantic, fluorescent orange old school life jackets from the hold and put them on. We tried to turn the key in the engine, and heard bupkes (that's yiddish for absolutely nothing). I asked where the paddles were so we could start paddling against the current which was going to be drawing us out to deeper waters in the middle of the sea. As Michelle and I paddled, Jesse was wedged between us on the tiny seat. He pulled his hat down over his ears in utter dismay and predicted "We are all going to die." Of course we weren't going to DIE die, but there was a reasonable chance that we were going to drift out to sea, which in turn could have led to all kinds of other problems (capsizing, starving, cannibalism, etc.) So we paddled furiously with collapsible mini-paddles in a vain effort to at least stay in the same place. For a moment, we took solace in the fact that at least one member of our crew was still on shore (Matt), and would surely realize, at some point, that we were missing and call for help. We quickly lost any sliver of consolation that provided when we realized we had never really talked with Matt about some kind of time frame in which he should expect our return, and given the whole signaling debacle the night before, the possibility he would be proactive about some kind of rescue seemed low. And so we paddled. Furiously. To stay put (right about where the yellow star is on the map).
Jesse's cynicism about the utility of paddling was extreme enough that he refused to do it, and was therefore freed up to think about other options. He suggested we try starting the boat one more time, but potentially after waiting a while in case the engine was flooded. We all agreed this would be ideal if it worked, so in the meantime we kept paddling and bailing and discussing the options, if the engine wasn't going to start. I volunteered to swim. In response, Jesse suggested tying himself to the anchor and throwing himself overboard. Michelle kept bailing and paddling and shivering and apologizing for bringing us out on the Sea of Cortez in this god-foresaken boat. If things did go wrong, this would not be the first accident at sea claiming the lives of biologists (see this article on Gary Polis and collaborators who capsized in this very sea about 10 years ago), so we were not completely panicked, but we were intensely reviewing all the options. After about 20 minutes of waiting patiently to start the engine, we gave it a try. It rumbled, and failed. We tried again, and it started. Halleluah!!! We had no idea what was wrong with it, and we could only putter, but putter we did. Straight back to the peninsula, vowing that if we made it to land we would never take this boat out on the Sea of Cortez again.
At this point, you might be asking yourself-- are they ever going to make it onto the islands to catch snakes? We were wondering the same thing. Stay tuned for Day 3 to find out....
In the water, there are invertebrates (including El Diablo Rojo-- the giant man-eating squid, one of which Jesse found washed up on shore), sharks, whales, dolphins, sea turtles, and sea lions, in addition to coral-esque reefs and tons and tons and tons of fish. The largest animal known, the blue whale, lives and breeds here (averaging 75-80 ft long and weighing 110 tons). The largest fish (whale sharks) also live here and can reach over 45 ft long and up to 15 tons. The wildlife in this sea was first described by Ed Ricketts and John Steinbeck in the book The Sea of Cortez (1941), which was part biodiversity survey and part travelogue. The prose is so beautiful, I have pasted the first paragraph from the log below. Overall, I just want you to seed your imagination with these pictures, but then go further to imagine the most spectacular, productive ocean you can possibly envision. That's the setting for Day 2's adventures....
So, Pancho (the mechanic) had gotten all the rocks out of the engine and recharged the dead battery for us and we were ready to get back to work. After the previous day's events, we were hesitant to overload the boat for the longer trip from BLA out to Piojo, the island furthest from the peninsula on which we wanted to find snakes (over 2.5 miles away; bottom right red circle on the map). So we decided to take two trips-- first, we would go over with gear (Michelle, Jesse, and I) and then Michelle and I would come back and get Matt and the dog. This plan seemed perfect. Yes, Piojo was far away and the trip was likely to take well over an hour each way. True, we were traveling through deep channels and choppy seas. Admittedly we did not know exactly how much gas it would take to get there and back. Granted, the boat had broken down just 20 yards offshore the day before, leading to relative mayhem. But none of this eclipsed our desire to go get these snakes.
As a precaution, Michelle and I did test drive the boat for about 2 minutes and 30 seconds around the bay. It seemed to work fine! When we were completely loaded up, again we noticed it's power dropped precipitously. No matter! We had accepted the fact that we were going to spend the rest of the day shuttling the expedition across the sea piecemeal, so what if we had to do that a little bit more slowly than originally planned?And so we set out. Remember the splashing over the bow that I mentioned from Day 1? We had somehow blocked this out, but were acutely reminded of it as soon as we got out of the friendly confines of BLA. Each wave we hit cast an icy spritz of sea water across the three of us, as we shielded our eyes and blindly push forward towards our island target. We were cold though, and I was driving as fast as possible (which was not very fast) in an effort to shorten the amount of time spent shivering, knowing this was trip 1 of 4 I would be making that day. As we got further out into the channel, the waves got bigger. Our little boat was smacking into them like a jet ski at a summer lake weekend-- can you imagine it? Boom, boom, boom-- jarring our individual spinal chords as we braced for splash after splash coming in over the bow. The series of swells themselves got bigger until we were right about in the middle of the channel and we went boom, Boom, BOOM, and the engine stopped. Just as the boat smacked back onto the water, nose down into the upcoming wave, water spilling over the front of the bow, into the small cavity in which we were sitting. My first thought, we are going to sink. But the nose bobbed back up, and the water stopped spilling in. Michelle yelled "Bail bucket!!!" and started furiously scooping up water and throwing it overboard. Jesse suggested now might be a good time to put on our life preservers, so we pulled out the three gigantic, fluorescent orange old school life jackets from the hold and put them on. We tried to turn the key in the engine, and heard bupkes (that's yiddish for absolutely nothing). I asked where the paddles were so we could start paddling against the current which was going to be drawing us out to deeper waters in the middle of the sea. As Michelle and I paddled, Jesse was wedged between us on the tiny seat. He pulled his hat down over his ears in utter dismay and predicted "We are all going to die." Of course we weren't going to DIE die, but there was a reasonable chance that we were going to drift out to sea, which in turn could have led to all kinds of other problems (capsizing, starving, cannibalism, etc.) So we paddled furiously with collapsible mini-paddles in a vain effort to at least stay in the same place. For a moment, we took solace in the fact that at least one member of our crew was still on shore (Matt), and would surely realize, at some point, that we were missing and call for help. We quickly lost any sliver of consolation that provided when we realized we had never really talked with Matt about some kind of time frame in which he should expect our return, and given the whole signaling debacle the night before, the possibility he would be proactive about some kind of rescue seemed low. And so we paddled. Furiously. To stay put (right about where the yellow star is on the map).
Jesse's cynicism about the utility of paddling was extreme enough that he refused to do it, and was therefore freed up to think about other options. He suggested we try starting the boat one more time, but potentially after waiting a while in case the engine was flooded. We all agreed this would be ideal if it worked, so in the meantime we kept paddling and bailing and discussing the options, if the engine wasn't going to start. I volunteered to swim. In response, Jesse suggested tying himself to the anchor and throwing himself overboard. Michelle kept bailing and paddling and shivering and apologizing for bringing us out on the Sea of Cortez in this god-foresaken boat. If things did go wrong, this would not be the first accident at sea claiming the lives of biologists (see this article on Gary Polis and collaborators who capsized in this very sea about 10 years ago), so we were not completely panicked, but we were intensely reviewing all the options. After about 20 minutes of waiting patiently to start the engine, we gave it a try. It rumbled, and failed. We tried again, and it started. Halleluah!!! We had no idea what was wrong with it, and we could only putter, but putter we did. Straight back to the peninsula, vowing that if we made it to land we would never take this boat out on the Sea of Cortez again.
At this point, you might be asking yourself-- are they ever going to make it onto the islands to catch snakes? We were wondering the same thing. Stay tuned for Day 3 to find out....
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