LAS PLAYITAS

I remember when my kids were growing up, the youngest turned 14 and I thought, ‘I really do love these kids but I’m glad there aren’t any more.’ That’s how I feel about herding turtles this morning. I can see light at the end of the tunnel and when I get there, it will be good enough. Today is day #10, 4 to go and one of those will be a day off. Ain’t it the luck; back in 2012 in Nova Scotia I spent nearly 3 months exploring and discovering. In the last ten days I made a dozen new friends with fun things going on every night and I suppose that’s the way you want it; save the best for last. The ‘New’ is wearing off with the baby turtles; you notice it’s as much work as it is fun. When you hold one in your hand, only a few hours out of the egg, only minutes out of the sand, it still moves you in ways holding a new chicken does not. But repetition has a way of making the fantastic feel normal.

Yesterday, back against the dunes, a couple from Seattle was camping in their VW Vanagon. They are headed for Panama. We talked solar panels, tires and gray-water. The evening before, he lost his cell phone in the sand at the turtle release. Our new, quasi-volunteer from Sonora went up, shuffled around in the sand and found a blue I-phone. “I found your I-phone” she called back. But it turned out not to be his phone. It was locked but messages were showing up and she re-messaged the sender on her own phone. Within an hour the couple who lost the I-phone were there to reclaim it. I thought social media would change the world but it already has. 

By now what I can’t overlook about Olive Ridley babies is that they all look alike, absolutely cool but all alike. The magic, even the romance of herding turtles can lose its luster and you start paying attention to the pelicans, skimming low across the water in single file or staggered, double rows. They remind me of NASCAR races with birds drafting on each other’s tails. Just a foot or two off the water they bob up and down over waves, keeping the perfect, efficient flight relationship with the water. Unlike NASCAR, the front is not the best place to be so they alternate like bicycle racers in the peóton. You take your turn at the front so you can enjoy the free ride in someone else’s slip stream. I didn’t have to come to Mexico, I’ve been a pelican geek for years. 

We only released 20 or so babies last night. The beach was a mess and we had to go 200-250 meters down beach to find a stretch without tire or foot prints. Then, with the little Ridleys about half way to the surf, a huge pit bull came from nowhere, down into the turtle herd. We got to him before he could do any damage. He was a big pussy-cat, didn’t want to kill anything, belonged to people camping back behind the berm where the couple in the Vanagon had been. They apologized and no harm done, the turtles all made it. As wonderful as the experience is, as interesting as the visitors are, at the end of the day you can forget to be thankful. When there is so much “Cool-Beans” going on and you get used to it, life is treating you right. 

Everything I’ve experienced in Canada, the people, the culture, it’s all being validated here in Baja. Not a day goes by that Canadians haven’t dropped in. They have a collective conscience and a sweet little accent that I recognize without asking. Most have been from B.C. but all have been anxious to engage, to share a genuine concern for our planet’s well being and generously donate dollars and pesos to “Tortugueros Las Playitas”. They all express a need to be giving back. I really like Canada and its people. If I could start again like a little Olive Ridley and I surfaced south of Halifax or on the beach in Charlottetown, that would be a really good start.