FISHING FOR SOLUTION : MEXICAN LOCALS CHALLENGE PLANT SET FOR LAGOON WHERE WHALES BIRTH.

Byline: Dana Calvo Associated Press 

His black waders streaked with salt, the fisherman reached below the water's sun-warmed surface and patted the nose of a baby gray whale who had sidled up to the hull.

The 40-ton mama whale was still recuperating from labor. She patiently drifted underneath her calf as he basked in the fisherman's attention.

Later that afternoon, the fisherman, 29-year-old Luis Geronimo Murillo Aguilar, restarted the small motor on his wooden boat and sped to a nearby campsite where two American film stars, a Kennedy and a swarm of environmentalists were meeting.

The star power had gathered in the remote location to discuss how to stop a proposed salt factory on the shores of the lagoon - the last undeveloped calving ground for the California gray whale.

``I hope they have details,'' Murillo said of the visitors. ``It's just that I prefer to be a fisherman than work for the factory.''

Murillo and his brothers have always pulled fish from this isolated lagoon more than 500 miles south of San Diego. Several months of the year, they supplement their incomes as whale-watching tour guides for the growing eco-tourist industry. When they're not working on the water, the men live with their wives and children in sagging, wooden shacks without running water or telephones.

The riches of the area lie in the lagoon's 65-degree water, where animals have not learned to fear humans. Gray whales and dolphins gingerly approach small crafts as seals and pelicans bleat at each other from shore-bound rocks. The whales' hydraulic breathing pulses over the water, a fisherman's lullaby that floats above the shore.

Danger looms

Scientists estimate that during migration season from January to late March as many as 300 of the world's 18,000 gray whales are there at one time. Females arrive to give birth and males to protect their mates while they deliver.

Locals insist that successive generations of whales return. Murillo and other fishermen know certain whales by telltale dark patches or jagged harpoon scars that look like huge cigar burns. The older, wounded mammals are part of the small group that fought its way off the endangered species list in 1994, residents said.

But in the weeks that followed, they learned the gray whale was again in danger. A Mexican environmental group called Grupo de los Cien had discovered that a subsidiary of Mitsubishi Inc. was developing plans to build the world's largest salt factory in Laguna San Ignacio.

In 1995, the subsidiary, Exportada de Sal, S.A. (known as ESSA), submitted blueprints for the proposed salt factory to Mexico's environmental agency. But partly because of protests from Grupo de los Cien, the agency said the plant might violate the tranquillity of the world's last undeveloped gray whale calving area.

ESSA has hired experts to assess the plant's environmental risks and will present a new report in the next year, company officials said.

They said if the second study reveals the saltworks would harm the environment, the project would be abandoned. So far, businessmen in the state capital of La Paz and the governor have endorsed the $120 million plant.

ESSA's status as the world's second-largest salt producer is not the only factor that could aid an endorsement for the revised plans. The Mexican government owns 51 percent of the company, and Mitsubishi owns 49 percent.

Salt factory

According to ESSA's plans, their salt factory would drain the lagoon of 6,000 gallons of saltwater per second by a battery of loud diesel engines. The water would spread out on the desert floor where it would crystallize at nearly nine times the salinity of the lagoon's naturally occurring water.

A spokesman for Mitsubishi International Corp. said the salination process is natural and mild.

``It's perfect for a solar evaporation salt factory,'' said spokesman Stephen Weschselblatt. ``Nature created it. You don't have to do anything except wait for two years until the water turns to salt.''

Patricia Martinez, director of the binational group, ProEsteros, which seeks to shield salt marshes from development, disagreed.

``They can't keep taking, taking and taking minerals from the water and not change entirely this area,'' she said.

Workers would rake up the salt and load it onto tankers via a milelong conveyer belt pier. Environmentalists claim the pier would clearly hinder the whales' entry into the lagoon.

Marine biologist Rob Nawojchik said he is concerned about the twice-weekly presence of diesel tankers motoring in and out of the lagoon. The tankers' noise could disorient the whales or introduce stress during the tender bonding time between mother and calf, he said.

``The noise pollution is a factor,'' he said from his office at Mystic Marine Life Aquarium in Mystic, Conn. ``They're living in an acoustic environment. They don't rely on their sight that much.''

The estimated 6 million tons of salt taken each year from Laguna San Ignacio could be sold to chlorine manufacturers, table salt companies or other companies looking to buy the raw crystals in bulk, ESSA officials said.

``The big money of these waters will be in the labs of Japan,'' said Mark Spalding, an international environmental law professor and author of a report on the proposed factory. ``Japan gets rich, and Mexico doesn't.''

Fighting the plant

Spalding, Martinez and representatives from Grupo de los Cien, as well as activists affiliated with the Washington-based National Resource Defense Council, met at the lagoon March 7 to talk about ESSA's plans. They pledged to continue working together to fight the plant's construction.

Everyone at the meeting agreed a salt factory would permanently destroy an entire ecosystem, which has thrived since 1988 when the Mexican government declared it part of a protected federal biosphere reserve.

But there appear to be few recourses left for opponents. ``Enforcing a federal biosphere reserve is nearly impossible,'' said Patrick Parenteau, head of the Environmental Law Center at Vermont Law School. ``It's really an honorific title.''

Until now, the federal shield has kept this lagoon tucked away from the corruption - and conveniences - of city living.

The nearest town is 37 miles away along a treacherous rocky path. ESSA officials have said they will pave the road, an offer that translates into ``highway'' to many residents.

On a good summer day, Murillo and his colleagues can pull in up to 220 pounds of white sea bass, hammerhead shark and shellfish. Bringing those fresh catches to town is always hampered by the gully-ripped road.

In addition to fishing, some environmentalists say the lagoon's salinity is slightly higher than the ocean's average of 3.5 percent, helping make it a healthy nursery for whales. After a 5,000-mile migration that begins off the Alaskan coastline, expectant mothers enter the lagoon's slightly warmer waters, where they float more easily and can be assured their newborn will rise to the surface almost immediately to take its first breath.

For weeks, the newborns consume only their mother's milk, a nutrient-rich liquid with 55 percent fat content. The babies gain about 50 pounds a day and build muscular strength in an area free from nets, tankers or predators.

High-profile summit

The Natural Resources Defense Council kicked into high gear with a public relations campaign to raise awareness of ESSA's plans and to advertise the summit.

Actors Glenn Close and Pierce Brosnan were billed as crusaders, and the council stressed the involvement of environmental lawyer Robert Kennedy Jr. and Jacques Cousteau's son, Jean Michel.

But at least for Close, the trip was simply a whale watching vacation with her 8-year-old daughter, Annie. The actress said she was too uninformed about the proposed plant to comment.

``Well, then she is like us,'' Murillo said.

He was referring to the information gap between environmentalists and local residents who stand to suffer the most immediate and direct consequences of a salt factory.

One of the lagoon's elders is 57-year-old Chema, who doesn't use his formal name, Jose Maria Aguilador Amador. Nearly two years ago, Chema saw the first news account of the proposed factory.

In the glow of his television screen, Chema fumbled around his one-room home and found one of his few gadgets - an old, rusted tape recorder. He stood by the television panel and recorded the last part of the report.

For the next few days, Chema went door to door and spoke with fellow fisherman, telling them what he knew.

``They are focusing on a lot of things to win us over, but I don't believe it - the houses, the roads, the jobs,'' he said. ``They're going to forget about us and bring in their own specialists.''

Neither the U.S. nor Mexican environmental groups had spoken with local fishermen about the summit or about plans to support area residents.

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Photo

Photo: Surprised tourists reach out to touch an adult gray whale at Laguna San Ignacio, Mexico. Whales use the lagoon to deliver calves.

Associated Press