Day 20: Saladero- Life on the Beach

Backed onto Piedras Blancas National Park and only accessible by boat sits the ecolodge of Saladero. On the most glorious travel day of the trip so far we boarded a 20-foot boat with supplies to last us a week, our research gear, and our camping equipment heading for the opposite shore and the ecolodge. We slipped past the other boats in the Puerto of Puerto Jimenez managing to only slightly nick one of them. Lazaro, our Capitan, assured us he knew the owner and they were friends. After an obligatory return to shore to explain that fact to the onlookers on the pier, we were off again shooting gingerly and attentively across the gulf.

The Golfo Dulce is classified as a tropical fjord. Most fjords are created by masses of ice carving their way, glacially slow, through mountains while the ocean fills the valley left behind. A tropical fjord, in contrast, is created by the even slower separation of tectonic plates. However, they both have steep drop offs from shore, are hundreds of meters deep in the center, and have shallow mouths. This makes them hotspots of diversity since nutrients are trapped and many species are protected from ocean predators.

None of that even remotely registered to me as we buzzed across the surface. I was overwhelmed with joy. The wind ripped past my ears pulling back my hair and opening my face into an unstoppable smile. On that boat ride I decided at some point on my life I would work on a boat, live by the ocean, or both.

We arrived at low tide on the rocky beach and lugged our gear to our campsite. A little rectangle of that grass that grows at the beach under palm trees with a roof over a sink and two picnic tables protected by a sea wall. At high tide we were the shoreline. At night my tent would be 3 feet away from the lapping tides and peaking waves. Suffice to say it was idealic.

We were there in order to do a survey of one of the coral reefs in the area that our partner organization is going to be restoring. So, every morning, ideally before low tide, we shuffled into kayaks with ropes, chains, notebooks, snorkels, and snacks and kayaked out to a coral reef. We counted fish species and did surveys of what the substrate was, whether it was live coral, dead coral, sand, or algae. Doing real work underwater might be one of the most logistically difficult things to do. Even setting a simple straight transect line takes almost an hour. But, being in the water makes up for every difficulty.

The world below the waterline is mind boggling and was something almost completely unknown to me. One of the first things I noticed was the lack of sound. Silent, except for the clicking of the herbivorous fish eating coral and algae. It is a world where gravity seems to pull you up and down at the same time. Floating high up in the water column, I could see stingrays, parrot fish, and the brain coral that is one of two surviving species on the reef. Diving down 3 meters up close and personal with the coral there were eels, sponges, beautiful fish species I couldn’t even begin to identify, and organisms I didn’t know existed. Then running out of air and panicking I would shoot myself out of the water like a tiny, uncoordinated, sputtering whale.

We only had enough snorkeling gear for four people to be in the water at a time. So, those who were without the plastic propulsion systems fish laugh at called flippers and the air tubes dolphins scoff at sat on top of the water in open kayaks. The first day we were doing research on the reef I was on the “support kayak.” I was responsible for paddling a two person kayak around with snacks, water, sunscreen and the research gear. I was also a resting place for tired ill adapted swimmers.

It is peaceful above the water as well, sitting and floating around with the swell. When everyone else is underwater you get bursts of alone time, a rarity on this program. I was basking in one of these rare moments, looking out over the gulf, when I thought I heard someone come up for air behind me. I turned to offer water, sunscreen, and rest when I realized it was a dolphin. A dolphin 2 meters from me. Then, another one popped up behind the first, and a pair appeared in in their characteristic breathing arc behind them. A whole pod of dolphins at least 10 strong was moseying past us.

I was mesmerized by these creatures. They were close enough to the boat for us to make eye contact, not that we did necessarily. I may have seen their eyes but I’m not sure what counts technically as eye contact. Neglecting my caring duties, I started paddling along with them. For a minute I got to be part of the pod! Or at least I was part of the pod’s interest. Or at least I was keeping up with the pod. Ok, maybe I was just close to the pod as it passed by. Whatever my role actually was, I felt unbridled joy just from sharing this place and experience with them. Something about their perfectly designed bodies, their intelligence, their community, and their ability to play awakened some sort of peace and happiness I can’t really explain. Maybe somewhere deep in my evolutionarily designed mind I remembered a time when all life was below the water living in the silky blue world. Maybe they imparted some sort of wisdom through our incidental glances. I wondered what else I could learn from the clear blue below my butt.