Local woman kisses a whale in Mexico and witnesses firsthand the effects of climate change (2025)

In the bays and lagoons of southern Mexico, where gray whales have gathered for thousands of years to give birth and nurture their young, tourists flock for exciting, close-up encounters with the ocean giants.

But there are troublesome signs that the whale population is suffering from lack of food, due to climate change, and a low birth rate.

"They look thinner, you can see their vertebrae and ribs more," said Pepe Garcia Rodriguez, our friendly, small-boat captain who took us out for a day-long whale-watching tour at the end of February in Magdalena Bay, off Baja California Sur, Mexico.

The gray whales make a remarkable 10,000- to 12,000-mile round-trip migration from Alaska to their Mexican nurseries each year, fattening themselves up in the Arctic before starting their journey south.

But "they don't have enough food in Alaska," Garcia Rodriguez said. "When that happens, there's going to be less babies on the next year, more and more whales dead."

On our trip this year, we saw plenty of whales, some that came within 20 or 30 feet of the panga, or outboard-powered fishing boat. They would show a fluke, flipper, or poke their head out of the water, "spy hopping" to get a glimpse of us.

But fewer of the whales are coming right up to the side of the boat, in contrast to previous years when we traveled to another whale sanctuary at Laguna San Ignacio, where some friendly ones lingered to let you touch, pat and even kiss them.

"I kissed a whale and I liked it," was my wife's refrain after she leaned over the side of the small boat to plant a big smooch on one of the cooperative gray whale moms in 2019, the last time we were in San Ignacio.

Touching the mottled, heavily barnacled whales in the wild, looking them in the eye, and getting baptized by their spouts, was a bonding experience for me.

To witness the affectionate mothers stroke and rub against their newborn, 15-foot-long, one-ton calves deepened my appreciation and fondness for the whales, especially considering they were hunted to the brink of extinction in the late 1800s and early 1900s.

Once the waters ran red with blood in the Mexican lagoons as whalers slaughtered adults and calves, harvesting the whale oil to burn in lamps, and using the baleen in their mouths to shape women’s corsets and parasols.

The grays were given the name "devil fish" for the fight they would put up after being harpooned. But now, other than an occasional feisty male, they are pretty docile when it comes to approaching the well-regulated whale-watching boats in Mexico.

Steven L. Swartz, a marine scientist who has been studying the whales of San Ignacio for nearly 50 years, said it's not certain what's behind the "curious" or "friendly" behavior, but "the present generation of gray whales have not been hunted or harassed by humans, and they have no pre-conditioned fear of whale-watching boats."

One of the larger whale populations in Mexico is in Ojo de Liebre, originally Scammon's Lagoon, named for Charles Melville Scammon, a whaling captain who discovered it in the 1850s.

Scammon eventually had a change of heart and turned away from killing whales to studying them. His work led him to warn against whaling — that it would lead to the extinction of the whales.

He wrote an authoritative book on the gray whales that is still referenced by scientists.

Scammon also would go on to become a gentleman farmer in Sonoma County. He lived near Sebastopol, overlooking Laguna de Santa Rosa, along with his brother-in-law neighbor, Jared Poole, who was also a former whaling captain.

The gray whale species Scammon pursued is the same one that migrates up and down our North Coast, with a southern journey that lasts from around November to February.

They depart from Arctic waters in Alaska, go past Canada, Washington, Oregon, California and into the warm waters of Mexico to give birth and mate. Then from February to May they travel back to Alaska.

On the way, they have to dodge ships, avoid entanglement with fishing gear, and evade orcas, or killer whales, which prey on the young grays.

But along with those hazards, the whales have had to contend with less food, linked to warmer Arctic temperatures and an overall decline in sea ice.

Changing water temperatures and currents are diminishing the availability of the small, shrimp-like crustaceans the whales scoop up off the sea floor. They make up most of the gray whales’ diet.

"They're suffering because of the impact of climate change," Swartz said.

The estimated population of gray whales along the West Coast has yo-yoed from nearly 27,000 in 2016 to less than 15,000 in 2023, before rebounding to an estimated 19,000 in 2024, according to researchers with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.

But the population is still struggling to recover from a die-off, or "Unusual Mortality Event," declared between 2018 and 2023, similar to a previous one that occurred from 1998-2000.

The number of dead and stranded whales this year is about the same as the most recent mortality event ― more than 60 in Mexico as of late March, according to Gray Whale Research in Mexico.

In addition, "calf production has remained low, likely reflecting that some females have yet to regain the energetic resources needed to sustain pregnancy and lactation," said Aimee Lang, a NOAA research biologist who tracks the whales.

A census taken in San Ignacio on March 23 showed only five female-calf pairs and 43 single adults without calves.

On March 11, in Magdalena Bay, located 180 miles south of San Ignacio, there were no females with calves, and 303 single adults.

"This pattern of continued low calf production seems somewhat concerning," Lang said in an email.

On the day we spent on the water in Magdalena Bay we were a bit disappointed the whales didn't come right up to the boat. But at least they were close and active. Our captain told us they were more focused on eating than interacting with humans.

Thousands of people still head there every year to go whale watching. In our case, we’ve happily stayed twice with Pachico's Eco Tours at Laguna San Ignacio.

In February, we stayed at the Hotel Vista Mag Bay in San Carlos for two nights, where the accommodation and whale-watching excursion came to a very reasonable total of $320 for both of us.

Swartz said that at San Ignacio, all of the eco-tourism companies appear to be doing all right. Their boats are out on the water, with sporadic reports of friendly whales.

As far as the future of the whales, he is cautiously optimistic. The whales have endured changing ocean conditions over millennia.

"They're robust. They put up with a whole lot. They're very hardy and hopefully will make a recovery," Swartz said.

You can reach Clark Mason at clarkmas@sbcglobal.net