The Murky Ethics of Swimming With Killer Whales

In the turquoise waters off La Ventana, a sleepy coastal town on Mexico’s Baja peninsula, Claudio Rios, 41, monitored the radio of a fishing boat. It was late March. His eyes scanned the horizon, one hand loose on the wheel as the Sea of Cortez swayed beneath him.“It smells like orcas,” he said: pungent and oily.He waited for a dorsal fin to slice through the waves. For captains to chatter over the radio. For…