Our guide drove us out through more Patagonian emptiness to see the elephant seals in their natural habitat. To get down to the beach we had to descend a path that seemed to waver somewhere between “steep” and “vertical”. At one point we had to cling to a rope so we wouldn’t fall; the guide of course, galloped down like a natural. It’s an funny thing, the difference between U.S. and Argentinean safety laws. In the U.S. we could never have done something like this; likely there would be wider paths and secure guardrails, but at the same time, I doubt the US would have let us get as close to the sea elephants as we did, at least not without signing a waiver. As it was, we were able to get within ten feet of the napping sea elephants (“elefantes” in Spanish). The elephants are named for the males, who sport a ridiculous nose. The females are more or less like large versions of female sea lions, but with red iris bordering a gigantic pupil.
20% of male sea elephants reproduce, and keep harems of 2-4 females. In general the male and the females, who were with their babies, might glance at us tourists, or even open a mouth and show off teeth, then go back to napping. The elephants spend 2 months in the sea, and 2 months on land; during the latter they essentially don’t eat. (Their diet is squid). The elephants we saw had also just given birth, so were more than content to lay about, recuperating and tossing rocks on themselves to cool down. I think the elephants realized that we tourists weren’t worth the energy it would take to chase us away. I felt like I was to the elephant what a bird is to a human: something you notice, maybe even keep an eye on, but really is no threat.
Babies stay with their mothers for 40 days, after which they get kicked out and live alone, until they mate when they are about 5 years old, and they die at about 30 years. The babies we saw were 2 days to a week old and had fuzzy coats that made them look like little black bears. Later, they’ll shed the coat as they get older. Adults, too, shed winter coats for summer coats. The fins of elephants have nails which are both used for scratching off old skin, and for fighting over mates. (The males sported an impressive collection of scars).
One little sea elephant was fighting with his mother over feeding. He kept whining a cry that sounded a bit like a squeaky toy: Eck-Eck Eehh! This mother wasn’t interested at all, and refused to roll over and offer her nipple (they only have one, and its small, the size of a belly button). It’s an interesting balance the mothers have to play, between keeping their children alive and not giving so much milk that they themselves can’t survive. I noticed one mother who was particularly lean, laying next to a rotund baby. I assumed that that meant that child was about ready to go out alone, but the weight differences could perhaps be that the mother had miscalculated how much milk she could afford to give.
The beach itself was entirely rocks, smoothed by the water. We saw a stiff, dead penguin, and a dead baby sea lion on the walk. The cliff we climbed was sandstone with some sedimentary rocks mixed in, holding shells and similar small fossils. When I examined a rock it just appeared to be sheets of sand packed together. It’s a powerful feeling when you can throw a rock and have it disintegrate. (Of course, this wasn’t the case with all the stone. Harder packed sandstone had a darker color and refused to snap in your hands).
Traveler’s Tip:
Seeing the elephant seals makes a good half day trip. My hostel organized this trip, and it was about an hour or an hour and half drive in car (the guide picked us up at the hostel) out to the point. There’s a few more tourists than other places, but by no stretch of the imagination is it crowded. Our guide spoke only Spanish.
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