Sometime the desert gives us what we expect. Creeping over a rock wall, a tarantula seemed to typify all that is injurious about the desert—spiny and venomous. Sometimes the desert gives us what we do not expect—nearby, a flowery shrub was alive with butterflies. Long-tailed skippers danced among the blossoms, and queen butterflies—clearly a close cousin to the monarch—fluttered and bobbed. We found these in an arroyo on Isla San Jose. This island is quite large, and so supports lots of diversity. There are deer here, and bunnies! The arroyo wound into the island’s flank, and seemed to beckon us ever on with its variety. Many reached entrenched meanders, deep-cut and sinuous, with white walls rising high above.
Walking on Isla San Francisco earlier in the day was completely different. We walked through a wide bowl. The stony slopes of this bowl were loosely scattered with trees and cacti, all stunted into diminutive forms by the severity of this island. Yet life finds a way, even in the most difficult circumstances: amid cactus tangles were piles of cholla links, each the bristly lair of the engaging packrat. Some of us crossed the island to do a bit of tide pooling, others paddled about in kayaks, or went for a quick snorkel.
At day’s end, we gathered on the beach of San Jose. There, the ship’s crew had prepared a barbecue dinner. We feasted around a fire as the sun dropped behind the mountains and the stars emerged.
