Peninsula Valdes - Day 3

When we visited the tour company office in the afternoon on the first day in Puerto Madryn we organized an individual tour to see the commerson's dolphins near Rowson and the magellanic penguins at Punto Tombo. Our guide, Lucas, picked us up at our hotel at 10am (getting to wake up later was advantage to booking an individual tour) and after putting our bags in the back we climbed into the small van and Lucas started the 1 1/2 hour drive to Rowson.

The view out the window on the drive to Rowson was pretty much the same one we looked at on Peninsula Valdes the day before, without the views of the gulf below sandy cliffs. The low bushes sped by our window, spread out against the dry, windswept soil we could see in all directions, with a few hills here and there to break up the view. Lucas was friendly and informative, so by the time we got to Rowson we had learned a little about Patagonia's history, and Erin had managed as she always does to lay bare details about Lucas's family.

Once we reached Rowson Lucas drove to the harbor which was filled with tens of the same orange-colored fishing boats, all docked together like double parked cars waiting for 3rd and 4th grade pickup around 2:20pm any weekday afternoon. The sky was gray and the air was chilly so we bundled up as we waited for our turn to board a zodiac and head out to sea to search for commerson's dolphins. A few fishermen walked the decks of the silent fishing boats, and Jack and I stood watching three workmen pour cement for the new pier they were building.

When it was our turn to leave we walked a half block to the zodiac with about ten other people and climbed aboard. A young boy helped everyone aboard and the captain started the engines and motored us out through the gray water. Along the jetties different seabirds watched us go by, and when we hit the open water a cold breeze came over the bow and fully woke us up. Bundled in our jackets and sweatshirts, and bound tightly in the life preserver, we scanned the water for signs of the dolphins. Commerson's dolphins are white and black, their markings somewhat reminiscent of the orca's markings but are of course much smaller fish in comparison. After having such an easy time spotting the whales the day before I started to think finding dolphins in the ocean would be as difficult as finding a needle in a haystack. Both the captain and his young helper scanned the water expertly until the young guy finally shouted to the captain that the dolphins were in sight.

A small group of three of four dolphins suddenly surfaced near the zodiac, slicing through an ocean swell and across our bow. They were quick and hard for Jack and me to see at first, but with everyone on the boat helping each other out, we soon caught sight of their fins in the water. Unlike the whales who almost languished in the water next to the boat, lingering while we videoed and photographed them to our hearts' delight, the dolphins zoomed around. We'd speed after them, catch up, and then slow our engines while they zipped past us occasionally leaping from the water or even doing little back flips.

We watched the dolphins for about a half hour before turning back and heading back to the harbor. On the way in we saw a seal turning somersaults and sitting in the swells watching us, happy to have company on the cold afternoon. After docking we returned to the office, shed our life preservers and headed to the fish restaurant next door for a meal of grilled shrimp, oysters, calamari, a salad and Jack's usual suprema. After postres we were back on the road traveling to Punta Tombo to see the magellanic penguins.

The only remarkable detail from the drive to Punta Tombo was the dirt road that we traveled for the last forty minutes. The road went through private property, the grazing land for an estancia we never ended up seeing from the van. We bumped along toward the ocean, and by the time we reached the actual penguin sanctuary it was late afternoon, a cold wind came off the water, and the sun would soon sink below the few hills we could see. The single penguin who "met" our van driving into the parking lot watched us pile out of the van and waddle our way toward the bathroom for a pre-penguin shi-shi break. The cries and groans off the penguins nesting with their eggs and their mates who were hollering to find them sailed through the air from the direction of the beach and the sand/soil dunes.

The penguin sanctuary set out a wooden walkway winding through the penguins' nesting ground, which allowed us to walk past the nests dug into the dirt, always giving the penguins right of way - they appear to be the only pedestrians in Argentina given this right. Because the female penguins return to the nests they left the previous season, there were a few forlorn nest-and-mate-seeking birds wending their way almost to the parking lot, like this guy who at least had gravity in his favor in this direction.

The cries of penguins seeking their mates sound like kazoo hoots, a few sharp ones followed by a last, long, drawn-out honk. Down on the beach the waves were coming in, their crashes gusting in on the cold blasts of wind also coming across the dark water. The penguins pattered along the wooden walkway, through a bed of stones, or across the dirt, seeking their little dugout nests. Sometimes fights broke out, and we heard the clatter of their beaks until one bird backed down.

Deep in their nests, the females (mostly) sat atop white eggs, keeping them warm and safe from intruders such as the big birds circling overhead and the Quicksilver sweatshirt clad kids who kept leaning over and peering into the holes trying to make friends. Apparently, since his classmates at Lange Ley speak little English, Jack has been working on effective non-verbal communication.

This had to have been Jack's favorite stop the whole weekend. He towered - like, twice as tall - over most of the penguins and had no trouble keeping pace with them.

After hanging for about thirty minutes with the penguins we had to get back on the road and bump our way through a hurried van ride back to Trelew and the airport. We watched an amazing sunset fall along the horizon ahead and around us before Lucas dropped us off at the airport. Though our flight was delayed, we were buzzing with excitement as we walked out across the tarmac to our flight. And neither the twenty-month-old boy drinking Coca Cola in the seat next to me at midnight, nor the taxi line we stood in for forty-five minutes until 2:00 could ruin our memory of such an amazing and wonderful trip.