Friday, April 18

I awoke at 6 AM, took a shower and pulled on my clothes. We have been instructed that because one of the prime opportunities to see certain wildlife is in the early morning, a naturalist would be on the upper deck of the boat before breakfast to assist early-rising passengers in spotting and identifying any interesting activities. My shower turns out to be a mistake – probably not for my co-travelers, but certainly for my list of must-see items. Because of it, I only reach the deck at 6:30 AM – a few minutes after a mass of boobies have given their plunge diving display.

Boobies are remarkably streamlined birds. They have long pointed beaks and narrow bodies. Indeed, the Spanish name for the bird is “piquero,” which means “lance.” (The English name of “booby” supposedly comes from the Spanish word “bobo,” which means “stupid” or “clown” – because the birds have very comical traits). They soar about 50 or 100 feet over the ocean, and when a fish is spotted, they streamline their form and dive almost vertically into the water to catch it. They hit the water with stunning force – both to themselves and to the fish. The depth of their dives may reach up to 10 or 15 feet. If a school of fish has attracted a whole flock of boobies, many birds are simultaneously dive-bombing the water in a rat-tah-tat-tat display. Such a mass display of plunge-diving is considered to be one of the A-list things to see in the Galápagos. But I missed it. Strike one.

A little dejected, I returned to the cabin to roust the kids. At the passenger meeting the evening before, we had been warned not to expect too much in the way of wildlife sightings. In particular, although we were guaranteed boobies (of the blue foot, red foot and masked varieties), guaranteed marine iguanas and guaranteed sea lions; we were told that there are many animals that we might see only on a catch as catch can basis. These include big hitters like Galápagos penguins, land iguanas, albatrosses and tortoises in the wild. Happily, we were soon to find out that these warnings were either lies, or simply the naturalists’ way of reducing passenger expectations in order to be heroes when the star animals are delivered.

At breakfast, we ran the kids’ typical drill of not being able to find anything to eat. Reminder, we must get their eyes checked when we get home because the ship offered two large buffet tables filled with all sorts of goodies that provided their parents and grandmother no lack of (and probably too many) good choices. Finally, Jeffrey found some “baby” bananas that intrigued him, and we were able to order some hot chocolate – which is usually a big hit with both of them. This hot chocolate, though, was rejected on sight. It was made from powder mixed into hot water. All of our observations that this format is exactly identical to the Swiss Miss that they eagerly consume at home were unavailing, and hot chocolate was henceforth rejected as an acceptable beverage for the remainder of the trip.

Our first shore excursion shoves off at 8 AM. The drill for these was generally as follows. Prior to the excursion, it would be announced if there was any desired segmentation of passengers. On some excursions, this could be by language spoken; on others, it might be by degree of strenuousness of the activity (e.g., an extended panga ride might be offered in lieu of a difficult walk or landing). It would also be announced whether the landing would be “dry,” or ”wet.” Dry landings are onto piers or rocks. Wet landings are onto beaches, and require you to wade into shore. For the latter, a lot of the passengers would wade in barefoot, then spend many unsuccessful minutes trying to dry off their feet and brush off the extremely clingy volcanic sand (usually with limited success) before putting on shoes and socks. They then had to contend with a filthy wet towel. We had been forewarned. Wet landings are best negotiated in walking sandals like Teva’s. You just wear them on your feet while wading in (which protect you feet from rocks and provide securer footing), and as you hike on the island, your feet dry and the sand falls out.

This morning’s excursion at Tagus Cove on Isabela Island is split into two consecutive activities. Because of the limited hiking space on the island, the first several panga-load groups of passengers would be transported to the island for their hike up to Darwin’s Lake, and the remaining several groups would start with a panga ride along the cliffs. After an hour or so, the activities would be reversed. The groups finishing their panga ride would be landed on the island for the hike, and the first groups given their cliff-watching panga rides. Later, at about 11 AM, all passengers that wish to snorkel will be taken by panga to a spot close to the cliffs for that activity before lunch.

Because of the usual delays associated with preparing the kids, we were in the second group. Mom, Barbara and Jeffrey went in one panga, Eric and I are in another. Our guide that morning was the chief naturalist, Pierre. He is excellent. There is little wonder why he is in charge. Pierre is about thirty, (most of the guides seem to be in their mid to late twenties), and from Antwerp. He works 5 or 6 weeks on the boat, then spends 5 or 6 weeks back in Belgium. Because his wife has just had a second baby, he believes that after 9 years, he will soon be leaving Metropolitan Touring and hopes to open a bed and breakfast in Belgium with his wife. Galápagos’ loss, Belgium’s gain.

Even before we reach the cliffs, we see a large sea turtle – and upon reaching the cliffs we immediately we see boobies, sea lions, flightless cormorants, and a penguin – except this one is dead and floating in the water – “pinguino muerto” as it is called out by our panga driver. But not to worry, we soon see several live penguins. As we cruise along the shore, we also see gulls and herons, more sea turtles, and lots more boobies. Already the pressure is off. If this is the profusion of wildlife that you see in the first half hour of your first shore tour, you are clearly not going to finish the week unfulfilled. Indeed, the hits did keep on coming. We even caught a Galápagos’ penguin and a flightless cormorant together got a single picture. The only two sea birds in the world (to Pierre’s knowledge) that cannot fly. Furthermore, it is estimated that only about 1500 members of each of these species remain in the Galápagos, and they exist nowhere else in the world.

We then landed (dry) on Isabela Island. A flightless cormorant has placed its nest right next to the landing site, and large chick still in its down stands quietly in the nest – apparently unconcerned by the activity around it. We then began our climb up to Darwin’s Lake which is a body of water has filled in an old volcanic crater. I called this crater a caldera, but was corrected by Pierre. Evidently, a caldera is formed when an area much larger than the original volcanic crater collapses in on itself. So the two items are considered to be distinct. Second note, even though the lake is called Darwin’s Lake, Darwin never visited it. Instead, he visited a different lake a short distance away that is now called Beagle Lake.

The hike up to Darwin’s Lake is very steep. In several places, it runs up wooden staircases. While this degree of development may seem disconcerting, it has a purpose. Rather than allowing the entire terrain of the islands to be despoiled by tourists, Galápagos National Park regulations restrict tourist landings to a fixed number of locations. And to reduce the wear and tear on these sites, certain improvements may be made to allow the sites to bear the intense traffic. Along the sides of this steep trail, are the eerie dormant trees that I referred to on Santa Cruz Island. Evidently, they leaf only for about two or three months out of the year. This year, which has been exceptionally dry, this leafing occurred only during January and February. From the top of the trail, we overlook Darwin’s Lake and Tagus Cove. Both are very blue and the sky is cloudless, and most desirable, there is a cooling breeze. Very welcome after the hike up in roughly 90 degree heat. I note that several of the older members of our group have bailed out of the climb and are waiting for us along the trail as we descend back down.

When we reach the boat landing area by the cove, we are given a visual treat. A group of about a half dozen penguins in the water below us are trying to harass a pelican into dropping its just-caught meal of fish. Although I hesitate to say it, the penguins seem to be swimming and playing just like you may see in a zoo. I don’t know whether I should be happy or sad. One way to look at it is that penguins in a zoo continue to behave just as they do in the wild. The other way to look at it is that I came all this way to the edge of the earth to see penguins swimming around in just the same fashion as I’ve seen many times in a zoo. But I guess there is a difference. In a zoo, each species gets fed separately and without much contention because there is plenty for all. In the wild, species compete with each other in the way that best suits them to gain a meal. The pelican is a great flyer and fisher. But in the water, it is rather ungainly. In contrast, penguins just wheel and fly through the water.

The next order of activity is snorkeling. It was announced that unless you are a good snorkeler, you shouldn’t go on this outing because the water where we will be swimming is rather rough. In addition to rough, the water is cold year around in the Galápagos. Although we are on the Equator, two out of the three currents feeding the islands are cold. The most famous is the Humboldt current. It sweeps up the west coast of South American on a frigid beeline from Antarctica. The second current is the Equatorial Counter-Current which runs in from the west along the Equator. But because it runs deep underneath the westward surface current, it is cold. The warm Panama Current, coming down from the tropical north, tends to be no match for the two cold currents. Only in El Niño years does it predominate. Thus despite air temperatures that reach the 90s, the water temperature is only about 70 to 72 degrees Fahrenheit.

Luckily, Barbara and I have come prepared. Two months earlier while we were skiing out in Utah, we happened into a sporting goods store in Ogden that, in addition to selling the ski gloves that were the point of the visit, also had shorty wetsuits on sale for $45. Lacking any knowledge about how you try on a wetsuit, and knowing only that the snugger they fit, the better, we struggled into several until we found the smallest ones for which the zipper could (with assistance) be pulled shut. By the way, as “shapewear,” a wetsuit is great. It’s like wearing a full torso girdle. All of your middle age flab is pulled in and you look a lot lighter and sleeker.

But despite these preparations, the first contact with 70 degree water is bracing. It’s plenty cold just on your lower arms, legs and face. I can’t imagine how it must feel directly on your stomach and chest. Despite this, most of the 16 or so snorkelers are wearing only bathing suits. This does give them an advantage, though. The trapped air in a wetsuit makes you extra buoyant, so it is very hard to dive down any distance under the water. I learn this almost immediately as my mask drops off my face and begins to sink rapidly into the deep. Try as I might, I couldn’t get down to the bottom (probably about 20 feet) to retrieve it. Luckily one of the unwetsuited snorkelers is able to descend to the level necessary to collect it. So what goes around, come around. Last summer in the Florida Keys, we were on a snorkel excursion where one lady had a gold earring drop loose from her ear into the water. Not wearing a wetsuit, I was able to dive to intercept its plunge about 20 feet down. I was the recovery hero then, someone else gained the honor today.

Immediately we saw a lot of fish, but it is not at all like diving in the tropics where you have crystal clear water. A major reason for the richness of sea life around the Galápagos is the convergence of three aforementioned currents around the islands – which themselves are volcanoes that extend rather steeply down to the sea bed. This convergence creates upwellings where nutrients from the deep ocean and off of the sea floor are pushed to the surface around the islands. Thus, the water is filled with tiny specks and is slightly cloudy. Visibility is limited to about 20 feet. Many of the fish are dull colored, but we come across a small area of coral where there are a number of the iridescent, multicolored fish that make tropical reefs so famous. Away from this reef we spy one very large red fish, but nobody close by can identify it. I also see sea stars and jellyfish.

The real treat comes after almost all of the non-wetsuited divers have retreated from the chill of the water and pulled themselves back into the panga. All of a sudden a large shape comes out of the depths directly below me. Instant panic until I recognize that it is a sea lion come to take a look. Lying out on the beach, sea lions are loud, barking and ungainly. But under the ocean, they are perfectly silent and graceful. The adults are also very large, so one’s immediate reaction out of our natural element is fear – until you recognize what animal it is. This first sea lion glides away as silently as he arrived. Moments later, two more sea lions come alongside me – blowing big bubbles out of their mouths. A great experience! As I head back to the panga, I see a large sea turtle swimming underneath me close to the bottom.

Returning to the Santa Cruz, we collect the boys out of the upper deck hot tub and go down to lunch. Another large buffet, but with the same reaction from the kids – there’s nothing for me to eat. Their only nourishment comes from the jar of Jif peanut butter that we have brought with us on the trip for such eventualities (certainties, actually).

Although the urge to retreat to one’s cabin and take a nap after such an active morning is overwhelming, we have another shore excursion in the afternoon. During lunch, the Santa Cruz steams the short distance across the Bolivar Channel from Isabela’s Tagus Cove to Punta Espinosa on Fernandina Island. Fernandina is the westernmost and youngest of all the Galápagos Islands – which grow older as you go further east. Fernandina is the only Galápagos island that has avoided the introduction of any alien species and is reputed to be the best of the islands for wildlife.

Before the panga lands us on Punta Espinosa, we cruise slowly along its rocks. Sea lions surface beside the boat, and one comes up only about a foot away from Jeffrey and gives him a long gaze. It is very exciting. We see our first marine iguanas sunning themselves on the rocks – interspersed among penguins and blue footed boobies. In a protected inlet, several spotted eagle rays glide by – each about 1½ meters in width – wingtip to wingtip. All of this, and we haven’t even landed yet!

We land on some rocks next to a mangrove lagoon, and our pathway through to the more solid ground of the island is immediately blocked by a large number of basking marine iguanas. These reptiles are big. The larger ones may easily exceed one meter in length and weigh 20 to 40 pounds. They are oblivious of any of their neighbors’ need for personal space. They crawl over and lay on top of each other with impunity. Given that it is a warm day, they have their heads raised and their bodies pointing lengthwise into the setting sun. By taking this orientation, they present the least body cross section for absorbing the sun’s radiant heat. Every now and again, one of the iguanas “sneezes,” and a spray of salt mist is ejected from a special gland on the top of their snout. We watch and photograph them for some minutes, and then continue on.

It is high tide and to exit the landing area, we must wade through some water surrounding the mangroves to reach the neighboring beach. Luckily, the bottom is sandy rather than muddy, so we accomplish this without too much mess. We then come to a beach area populated by numerous female sea lions with nursing pups. Because sea lions may nurse their pups for up to two to three years, many of these “pups” rival their mothers in size. The next beach we come to is the bachelor hangout. But just offshore in the water, it is patrolled by the big bull sea lion called the “beachmaster.” In addition to keeping the females pregnant, his job is also to keep the younger males in check so that they do not try to appropriate the affections of any of his nearby harem. Because of the debilitating and strenuous nature of this work, the beachmaster’s term in office is self-limiting. Indeed, one of the reasons why he patrols from the water is to keep from overheating. Eventually, his strength becomes inferior to that of a more rested rival, and his position will be usurped. I do not know whether after some period of recuperation as an ordinary bachelor, whether a deposed beachmaster ever may reacquire the alpha position.

From the sea lion beach we arrive at a more rocky area housing a colony of flightless cormorants. These are relatively large birds with tiny withered wings. One pair in the colony appears to be jointly building a nest. She beckons him to follow her down to the water, and when he declines to follow her, she raises her rump towards him and lets out a spurt of guano.

Animals are everywhere dense on Punta Espinosa. You cannot move around willy-nilly, but must be very careful to avoid accidentally stepping on or disturbing them. This puts a cramp in the typical backing and filling that you do while looking through your camera viewfinder as you try to find the best framing for a picture. Maricarmen is our guide this afternoon. She is very good at explaining things to the children and anticipating what will interest them.

As we head back towards our landing site, we come to a large hole in the lava, probably about 15 feet across and four or five feet deep. In the water that has collected in the hole is a sea lion pup that appears to be blind (supposedly not an uncommon birth defect among this species). We do not know whether this hole is just where the mother parks this pup when she goes off to fish, or whether the pup has accidentally fallen in. But it is clear that when mother’s care is gone, the pup will starve and die. It is rather saddening, but such is life in nature. We continue across ropey lava with many cactus’ growing directly from it and return to our landing area for the panga ride back to the boat. Truly a spectacular shore visit.

We adults have dinner with three passengers from Mexico City, Ignacio, Santiago (both in their 20s) and Santiago’s mother. Ignacio and Santiago were on our dive this morning. Ignacio, in particular, is a very strong snorkeler. Santiago’s mother lets drop that she has been married for 38 years. If this is true, she must have become a bride at about age 15 – we should all look so good. Dinner is quite pleasant because the kids were able to secure their feed of chicken nuggets and french fries early at about 6:30 PM. I then set them up in our cabin with the new Harry Potter DVD and their Gameboy Advances. The latter are equipped with two new games – Pokemon Ruby and Sapphire – both provided courtesy of Grandma. When our dinner ends at about 10 PM, I return to the cabin and shoo Jeffrey into bed. Eric conks out in front of the DVD player about 20 minutes later. I then go out to the upper deck to see if any stars were visible, but it is too cloudy to see anything. I turn in at about 11:30.

Jeffrey at Darwin Lake	Richard and Jeffrey – Punta Espinosa
Blue footed boobies – Punta Espinosa	Nursing sea lions – Punta Espinosa
Marine iguanas – Punta Espinosa	Marine iguanas – Punta Espinosa
Mom, Eric and Jeffrey – Punta Espinosa	Ropey lava and cactus – Punta Espinosa