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While there are distressing exceptions — the collapse of the Atlantic cod fishery off Canada is a vivid one — fisheries will rebound if managers enforce scientifically sound quotas, protect habitat, and reduce bycatch.
Fernando steers our panga over the turquoise water, away from a beach-lined cove and away from El Don, the yacht our group chartered to take us to Isla Coronado and the Parque Nacional Bahía de Loreto. He is of medium height, muscular but not overly so, tanned from his Mexican heritage and from working in the subtropical sun.
“Ooh, beautiful man. Relax bro. He can hear you, the whales are telepathic, dude!” A naked woman starts to blow a didgeridoo toward the water right next to my ear. I’m playing high, detached notes, basking in the sun up on deck, leaving space for that whole whale song. Is he grooving on the didg and the reed? We don’t know what they hear, what they sense.
Like turquoise seamounts, islands emerge in our collective imagery of escape and transformation. In film, print, and dreams, we arrive involuntarily at islands where we are lost, deserted, thrown together with strangers, swept away. Or we seek them out—longed-for places where we can escape toxic modernity and be restored.
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