How fish escape in the dark

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Saturday 3/30

Today I socialized with my neighbors, who invited me over.  We talked about where I lived, and my drive here, and other simple things, like what the most expensive bottle of whisky in the world might cost.  The night before, I had been explaining to the men of that group a lot about kayaking.  They weren’t aware of the bioluminescence, but seemed interested.

I had asked them if they wanted to try the kayak.  They had taken a picture of one of the men sitting in my kayak, but they seemed timid about trying it.  One man explained that he was completely out of condition.  He also said he might roll over and drown.

This group was composed of two related men and their wives and children.  One family had two younger children, and the other, three older girls, up to the oldest, who was 17 (the one who had been washing her hair).   As before, she seemed pretty disengaged from the group and disinterested in the conversation.  I was surprised to learn that she spoke passable English, but expressed no interest whatsoever in practicing it.  When she spoke, she seemed competent and mature.  Her family said she wanted to become a dentist.  She was now in preparatory school (aftersecondary school, the last years of high school), and was going to go to college in Ensenada.  She said that studying to be a dentist would take 6 years.  I told her about my daughter, who is a dentist.

We helped a nearby camper get his truck unstuck from the sand.

The family explained that another vehicle owner who they had helped had given them a large bucket of oranges for thanks—oranges grown only a little to the south on Baja.  They have me 8 oranges to take home, and we said goodbye.

I set out again for Danzante in early afternoon.  I took everything I needed to spend the night.  The crossing was nearly windless and hot—and when I got to the island, I was too hot to do much.  I ate, put my bottle of beer in the cool water of the beach to chill, and then just sat and vegetated. 

After a while, a small boat with 10 people approached and landed, and I went over to talk.  They were very friendly.  It turns out they were camped on the opposite side of the island, and had come around for a change of scene.  They were two families—a man with his brother in law, and their families.  This group was more active.  The woman went down the shore, looking for shells to make jewelry with.  Some of the children went snorkeling, or played rambunctiously, splashing one another.  Then three of them went of with a sack, a stick, and their snorkel gear—to catch something.  Evidently they did—putting things in the sack with much squealing.

When I asked them what they caught, they said “sea urchins” (erizo).  The were going to eat them raw with some lime and hot sauce.  The men implied that they would make you very “hot,” and that I should try one.  I declined.  They invited me to their camp on the other side for clams, but I never made it.  After an hour or so, the ten of them left in the small boat, waving, loaded almost to sinking up to the gunwhales.

Later when I did pass their camp, it was dark, and I was afraid that I would scare them if I approached their camp out of the dark, since my kayak makes no noise. 

I took a long swim, and had a beer.  It was now getting a little cooler.  I noticed some aggressive bees today, in place of the aggressive wasps who had been bothering me here a few days ago.  (I think the wasps were laying low, since the bees were on the prowl.) I heard a lot of buzzing, and traced it to a swarm of honeybees, who had exited their overfilled hive, and were now looking for a new hive location.  They were buzzed back and forth in front of my face, threateningly, but I wasn’t stung.  I guessed that they are the African variety of honeybees.  Some began to investigate my empty beer bottle with great enthusiasm, crawling inside the entrance.  At first I assumed they were after the beer, for food or drink, but then I realized they were checking out this opening, to see if it would make a good home for the hive.  They investigated the bottle with urgency, and what looked like a kind of intelligence.

Heading north along the E side of the island, I planned to circumnavigate it again.  I stopped to look at the Sally lightfoot crabs, which are social, found nearly always in groups.  I fenced with them with my paddle.  A beautiful sunset caught up with me before I rounded the north side of the island.  I reached the little canal shortcut in the dark, and found it only with difficulty.  Already the bio luminescence was starting, and the was only starting to get dark.

Tonight around the island, the luminescence was the best I’ve seen it.  I’ll describe some of the things you can see, and the different types of fish, based on their behavior.

Some places are just teeming with luminescence, almost eager to explode with light, given the slightest disturbance.  In these places, you can see a spontaneous twinkling at all depths in the water.  When I shine my flashlight here, you can see little skinny fish, about half an inch long (or less), plus some other smaller things (crustacean?), swimming around rapidly.  They are attracted to my flashlight.

Today when swimming, the water visibility wasn’t very good, and I think it’s because the water is so fertile with organisms of all kinds.

Some places are more fertile--and more luminescent—than others.  In these places, my wake is especially bright, and even gently rocking the kayak sets the ripples to glowing.  If you drop a single drop from my paddle into the water, I can see a spreading ring of light, just as you would see the circular ripple in daylight.

If I splash my paddle, for course all the drops create little splashes of light.  But these droplets scare the small fish, who rush away, and create a further wave of fainter light spreading off into the darkness with the speed of a gust of wind.

I can distinguish at least three different kinds of fish based on their evasive behavior when scared in the dark.

Fish type 1 is usually found alone, away from shore.  They rush away with great speed, as straight as an arrow, near the surface or just on top of the water, leaving a straight track of light.  They always go away at 4:00 o’clock or 8:00 (with my bow as midnight).  This orientation suggests they sense the pressure wave of my boat, and orient at right angles to the wave—a good strategy for getting out of the way of a predator.

Fish type 2 are found in groups not far from shore.  They suddenly explode with a burst of speed to escape from under the front of my boat.   They don’t go entirely straight—sometimes curving a bit—and not so far.  But their explosive burst—all at once—can be a big surprise.  One group exploded from the tip of my bow in all directions, looking just like a bursting white fireworks display, with my kayak in the dark shaped like the fireworks rocket.  These fish apparently go part of their way in the air—which allows them to move faster.  You can hear them skipping across the surface.  One wacked into my boat.  It wasn’t just a dull, rubbery thud, as you might expect.  But it sounded hard a a rock, making a sharp cracking sound the the fiberglass.  These fish can be heard sometimes disturbing the surface in front of you, so you suspect they may be there.  If you sneak up on them, and slapthe side of the kayak, they sometimes explode in a starburst on hearding the sound.

Fish type 3 is also found in groups near shore.  These seem about the size of a squirrel, making a trail of stardust in the water somewhat larger.  They take avery zig-zag course, stopping briefly, then continuing for a short distance in another direction.  It looked as if they were stopping to hide on the bottom a few feet down, but when I put my paddle down all the way, I couild not feel the bottom.  When I withdrew it, there was something cold, wet, and spiny on the paddle.  I was scared out of my wits for a moment, but it turned out only to be a large piece of seaweed.

Fish type 4 is not very common.  They are found alone away from shore.  They may be squid, because when they shoot off in one direction to the side, they leave a trail on the opposite side of the kayak as well.  Perhaps the second track is their jet of water, stimulating the luminescence just as their passage does.

Fish type 5 is the “bump in the night.”  Once, crossing the open channel, I felt the boat give a heave, as if something very large like a dolphin had passed close under the kayak.  Or, it may have been an unusual wave, though the sea was very calm.

Fish type 6 is seen close to shore.  Sometimes, I see large luminous shapes under the kayak, kind of like ghosts.  They move slowly without a track, and are gone.  Perhaps they are manta rays, or they may be  boulders illuminated by many small critters on their surface.

Sometimes a dark shape passes close overhead.  I don’t know if these are owls, or just seabirds coming home late from a night at the cantina.  I have seen night herons in the area during the daytime.  Paddling close to shore, I did disturb something that flew away with loud “GROKs” and GRAAKs.  A resting blue heron, no doubt.

Passing close to the cliffs, I can hear crickets singing—several kinds—the same songs as we hear at home, but nowhere near so numberous.  Sometimes, I get strong whiffs of a very sweet blossom, where in daytime the cliffs seemed burned and barren as cinders from Hell.

In the starlight before the waning moon will rise, it’s dark, but not black.  The towers of the island stand out as pure black against the dark grey of the sky and water.   Against the black silhouette and reflection of the island, it’s the darkest, and the luminescence is most visible.  I can tell when I’m getting too close to shore, because I can hear the waves lapping.  I never hit a rock.  Other than the waves, the only sounds are the occasional mewings of romantic sea gulls.

The temperature was just perfect for a single shirt and light exercise.  The slightst of breezes.  The water was a mirror for the stars.  This is one of the premiere nighttime adventures for anyone who loves water, and loves the night.

On my return around 11:00 pm, things were more quiet than the preceding night, which seemed to be the culmination of the holidays on the beach.  Some tents had packed up and left.  The beach quieted down at an earlier hour.  I’m going to miss all the hustle, bustle, and whoopla.

Safety

Lest readers think I’m oblivious to danger, here are precautions I follow. First of all, I know the area, and the configuration of lights on shore, where home lies.  (A map or satellite navigator would be a must if I didn’t know the area).  I know the currents, and there is only one shoal.  I have camping gear, food, and enough water for four days, in case I can’t make it home.   I have two flashlights, one a headlamp with blinking red lights, which I light if I hear any boats approaching.  I have a weather report, and respect the strong winds, which can come up suddenly.  I’m carrying all the usual safety gear, available from my cockpit, and most of it is attached to the kayak with cord, so it can’t drift away if I capsize.   I also have a marine radio (which can send my GPS location) , plus a personal locator beacon.  There are numerous strips of reflective tape on my kayak.