While living and fishing here in La Paz I’ve seen my fair share of amazing aquatic life, from sea lions, to dolphins, to enormous sailfish. But not much can compare with seeing large groups of mobulas (cousins of the manta ray) breaching the surface, flying 5 to 10 feet in the air spinning and flipping, just out of arms reach. Clive and I tried our best to capture photographs of these amazing creatures, but we were often too focused on the fishing. Luckily for us, Michael Albert was able to capture a handful of amazing photographs.
There couldn’t be more than 60 minutes of light left. My brother begins to set up camp while I scramble to unlash the kayak resting on the roof of my pickup. As my kayak arrows towards the activity, I grow anxious, willing the sun to stay up a just a bit longer. About half an hour later, I am paddling among them, in the middle of a pancake commercial, flapjack-like creatures tumbling over themselves, flying everywhere, some of them off in the distance, some only feet away. From the shore, which is now far away, the impromptu camp too small to be seen, you’d think there were a dozen, maybe twenty, but here, sitting on my kayak surrounded by them, it becomes immediately clear, there were hundreds.
And it isn’t too long before I glance down and I am forced once again to revise upward my earlier figure. I look down into the plankton-rich green water and note that as far as I can see, the ocean is carpeted with the creatures, thick with black flesh. There they are, hundreds of them gliding in unison with each other, a parade of black kites.