Swimming

Our guide piloted the boat for an hour out of La Paz until we reached an obscure outcrop of rocks off the coast of Baja California. It was hot and we were sticky with layers of sunscreen applied earlier. We put on our flippers and snorkel masks. No other boats were here and the perfect blue sea was calm.

These rocks were home to a busy sea lion colony. We climbed off the boat and slipped with some relief into the cool deep water, swimming now with masks on, looking down under the surface.

The animals we had seen earlier from the boat had been lounging or lumbering about on the flat rocks up there, but here underwater their lithe bodies, fast-moving, turning this way and that, moved sleekly by. I felt nervous to be so close to such huge wild animals—my breaths rapid and loud in the snorkel. The graceful animals with their whiskery faces came racing towards me in excitement, as I tried not to panic. Sea lions as big as me hurtled around me, seeming to be on a collision course, but turning deftly aside at the last moment, as I swam among them around the rocky outcrop.