Blog from the Sea of Cortez: Baja Coastal Institute

Last Saturday marked our third visit to La Paz — but this trip was different. Instead of hosting public showings, we focused on a series of research and educational events organized in collaboration with our partners at the Baja Coastal Institute (BCI).

BCI is deeply concerned about the future of southern Baja California. They've witnessed the unchecked spread of resorts and condominiums along the coast between Cabo San Lucas and San José del Cabo. Now that this stretch is nearly saturated, developers are setting their sights on the next frontier: the coastline north toward Cabo Pulmo.

When you've built up everything between Cabo San Lucas and San Jose del Cabo, where do you go next? Why you keep going towards Cabo Pulmo!

A powerful "hospitality-industrial complex" is entrenched in the region. Children are often steered toward careers in hotels and casinos, and many local communities have come to see those jobs as the only viable economic future. BCI is working to change that narrative — to give communities a more informed and empowered voice in this imbalanced conversation. They’re doing it through research, education, and outreach.

Their research program is focused on water and fisheries — essential but finite resources. One recent white paper revealed a troubling fact: the region’s aquifers are recharged annually with about 47 million cubic meters of water, yet existing permits allow for 51 million cubic meters of extraction — and that’s without factoring in new hotels or golf courses. The risk of overexploiting water is real, and it could severely limit the future of these communities.

Their education program brings these insights directly into schools. While hospitality will likely remain part of the region’s economy, BCI wants the next generation to understand the tradeoffs and consider broader possibilities for their future. Their message: it’s okay to dream bigger.

This mission aligns closely with the goals of our Foundation. 

One moment stands out: one of their leaders was thanking us for the use of our microscopes so their students could see what was literally in the waters around them. Even this simple instrument is lacking in these rural schools. She grew quite emotional as she told us that not only can the schools not afford them, but with they didn't even want them. When a child’s future is assumed to lie in the hospitality sector, who needs to study plankton?

The idea that children are locked into limited futures before they even begin — that hit home.

We started the week with an exploratory mission into the mangroves on the south side of El Magote, the sand spit across the bay from La Paz.

Looking at a nudibranch, found in the mangroves of El Magote.
Marcos, the instructor, had an amazing ability to keep even jaded teenagers spellbound.

We then took two groups of high school teachers out on day trips on the boat, doing some research and education activities in the area north of El Magote, the big sandspit across from La Paz. There had been a fish kill there a few weeks earlier and we wanted to see if there was any causal evidence left behind. We looked at some plankton samples and did some ROV surveys, but by the time we got there, we were way too late for a forensics analysis.

Using a refractometer to measure salinity.

Plankton tow off El Magote

We also had two "docked" programs at the wharf in La Paz. BCI students traveled from their remote schools to the boat to enjoy 2 hours of hands-on experience.

A "Docked" program in La Paz with rural high school students.

Blog from the Sea of Cortez: Squid

William ("Gilly") Gilly, is one of the scientists on board, as well as a Foundation board member and Stanford professor at Hopkins Marine Lab. He is also an expert on the Humboldt Squid. He first got interested in them because of their unusually long and accessible axon, which allows experimentation on how nerves work. Since then, he's gotten interested in their natural history, including the boom and bust nature of squid fisheries.

Through 2008 it was a huge fishery, the fourth largest in Mexico. Then with the arrival of El Nino in 2009-2010, and the higher temperatures it brought, the fishery collapsed. Squid that used to grow to well over 4kg sexually matured at a small size (<1kg). The fishermen in their small pangas and using a jig, simply couldn't collect enough to make a living.

This is not the first time this has happened, but when previous El Ninos relaxed and cooler water came, the squid always returned to their former jumbo size. Unfortunately, this time the squid stayed small. The waterfront in Santa Rosalia that used to support ice plants, packing houses, and a huge fleet of pangas disappeared with the squid. 

Until this year.

On Tuesday (29 Apr), we intended to anchor in San Lucas Cove for the night after a long passage from La Paz. Ahead on the radar we could see dozens of small radar signals. It was very calm, so our first thought was that they might be pelicans resting on the surface (our X-Band radar is that sensitive), but as we got closer we realized it was a huge fleet of pangas heading out from Santa Rosalia looking for squid.

As mysteriously as it disappeared, the squid were back.

When we got to Santa Rosalia yesterday afternoon, Gilly, Unai, and I wandered over to the fishing docks to see what was going on. Walking with Gilly, it was clear that he is a local rock star. He is well known for unraveling the mystery of why squid disappeared 15 year ago and for not giving up hope that they would someday return. It's as if they figured he had engineered something for the good times they were now enjoying.

The place was a madhouse. Hundreds of people were launching pangas, filling them up with gas, charging batteries (used for lights to attract the squid) and getting ready for a night on the water. 

We talked to some of the locals and it turns out that the squid are now large enough (2-4 kg), that a skilled jigger can catch 2,000 lbs or more, making it once again profitable. Prices are also high. Unfortunately for the locals, so are costs. Because the local squid infrastructure is long gone, the fishermen have to clean their own catch, then arrange to have it trucked to Ensenada for shipment to China. 

Still, after a 15 year hiatus, the fishery is viable again. 

Gilly negotiated with a fisherman to buy 20 squid early in the morning (0500) so he could dissect them and see if they were sexually mature. Despite their mid-size, most were not, meaning that if they were left alone, they would grow still bigger. The small phenotype that dominated for so long has mysteriously disappeared.

Is it sustainable? Who knows? The fleet here in Santa Rosalia is exclusively small pangas, so they don't have the impact of the large trawlers out of Peru or China. Previous busts have been driven by the coming and going of El Nino, not overfishing.

But, as this old boat can attest, every fishery has its limits.

Getting ready to head out

Some of the 65+ pangas that headed out last night, looking for squid.

Blog from the Sea of Cortez: Exploring Isla San Marcos

Over the last few weeks we have done a lot of science: re-occupation of old CTD sites, eDNA sampling, fish surveys, etc. But it's all been pretty structured.

Today was different. It occurred to me that this was our first real day of pure exploration --- just going wherever out scientific instincts took us, with no particular agenda. Finally, 45 years after I got my PhD, I get to be a gentleman oceanographer.

The morning was spent looking for octopus. Gilly, a Stanford scientist and board member, had seen octopus kill a mollusk, then move into its shell. Once it got too big, it went looking for a bigger victim and so on up the housing chain. A few octopus were found, but they were just living under rocks, not in a victim's shell. We'll keep looking.

For the afternoon, we decided to explore an area north of Isla San Marcos. The charts of the area are not very good and some of them suggested that the ridge was actually two ridges or, possibly, seamounts, with a valley between them. The ridge is of interest because it is relatively shallow, often less than 40m, surrounded by deeper water, so it is likely to attract a lot of wildlife. We had also seen a few local fishermen out there. We decided to take a look with our echosounder and, possibly, ROV.

And, indeed, the area was incredibly abundant with wildlife. We saw hundreds of birds (mostly Elegant Tern, Yellow-footed Gull, Brown Pelican) and several humpback whales. There was a pod of about 100 dolphins swimming energetically around us all day --- occasionally they'd wander over for a closer look if we brought out a new piece of equipment.

We also saw many dense schools of fish on the echosounder, usually pressed up against the bottom, presumably hiding from the dolphins above.

The two seamounts turned out to be one long, continuous ridge trending to the NNW. Much of it was relatively shallow --- 40-60 m.

We collected enough echosounder data that we should be able to make a decent map of the area. That will require one of us mastering Echoview, a sophisticated piece of software, which will take a little time.

The day felt very "Steinbeck and Ricketts". We were out in the sun poking around all day, then retired to an anchorage in the evening for beers and talking.

Maddie taking a turn at the wheel of the ROV.

A pod of dolphins hung around the area all day.

Transect across the ridge, west to east. The lines SM1 and SM2 mark the location of two CTD casts. Note the "fish balls" above the ridge. Also, the deep scattering layer, located at 200m on the west, 350m on the east.

CTD cast "SM2". This shape is typical of the area: temperature, salinity, oxygen, and chlorophyll all decrease with depth. The thermal gradient is strong enough to overcome the haline gradient. Deep water tends to be hypoxic or even anoxic.

After a CTD cast, the line must be brought in and "level wound." That means laying the wraps hard against each other to get nice even layers. Captain Paul nails it every time with his Jedi-like focus.  Oh, and he does it with his bare hands. When it's my turn, it looks like spaghetti.

A reef just off Isla San Jose.

Isla San Marcos. I found its starkness beautiful, but then I've always loved deserts.

An evening of chatting and enjoying a cold beer.