Wednesday, April 23

Our last full day in the Galápagos! All night we have been sailing northeast from Santiago Island towards Genovesa – the most remote island that we will visit in the archipelago. Although we have crossed the equator overnight, there will be no formal recognition of this passage until this afternoon when we reverse our course. But in any event, none of the Clarkes should be liable for the wrath of Neptune because we all have crossed this meridian at least once. (Barbara, Eric and Jeffrey’s first crossing came but one week ago – just as we landed in Quito on our flight from the U.S.)

It was extremely overcast when I awoke at 6 AM and went out on deck to see our entrance into Genovesa’s Bahia Darwin. This bay is really just the remains of a volcanic crater that has long since collapsed. It encompasses an area of several square kilometers and is ringed almost completely by rock walls that range from 30 to 50 feet in height. Unfortunately the leaden color of the sky is reflected in an equally leaden color of the water that affords little contrast with which to view the striations in the rock of this large amphitheatre. Already, I am a bit disappointed. Genovesa is supposed to be one of the “big four” islands that are considered the headliners of the Galápagos. (As I indicated earlier, these highlight islands for a Galápagos trip are Fernandina, Isabela, Española and Genovesa.) Maybe my standard for wonder has become unduly elevated by our visits of the previous six days, but Genovesa gives a first impression of sterility.

As more light begins to break over the island, this initial impression is allayed. Genovesa is known for its birds. It has the largest concentration of red footed boobies in the Islands, and is also home to many other avian species. It enjoys this ranking because of its position at the extreme northeastern edge of the Galápagos island group. Thus, all birds who migrate or search for food to the north and east of the Islands stand a good chance of making Genovesa as their first landfall. And birds have a similar saying as humans, “an island in hand is worth two in the bush.” So for this reason, Genovesa has become the home to so many.

As the panga nears the one small beach that breaks the continuity of Bahia Darwin’s rock walls, it becomes clearer that the island is alive with birds. You see them circling above the cliffs, and calling loudly to each other from both the ground and the air. When we alight, the beach and its surrounding bushes are covered with birds. The most prominent are the great frigates. Many are courting males with enormous puffed-up red pouches – thrust proudly out from under their chins in hope of catching a female’s eye. Whenever an interested female flies over, all of these males roosting in the bushes straighten up, spread and flap their wings, and begin to trill loudly. Although I never saw any shopping female wheel around and swoop in to consort with an unattached male from this gesticulating stag line, I did have one serendipitous moment. While I was taking video shoots of one roosting male with a deflated pouch, his apparent mate flew in and alighted on the nest. They then proceeded to do a lot of vocalization and the frigate equivalent to hugging and kissing – back and forth intertwining of their beaks. This just goes to show that when an amateur like myself is filming, it is far better to be lucky than good.

In addition to the great frigates, the next most prominent bird on Genovesa is the red footed booby. Although about a quarter of a million of these birds are estimated to roost on Genovesa, we only see a few, mostly juveniles. Unlike the blue footed or masked boobies who feed close to shore and return to their nests at least once a day, red-foots go farther out to sea to fish, and they may stay away from land for several weeks at a time. Adult red footed boobies have rather nondescript gray plumage, but with bright red feet and blue beaks. The juveniles have not yet developed these distinctive foot and beak pigments, but do display the same unexciting gray color for their plumage. We see a reasonable number of these juveniles – with dull reddish feet that look huge relative to their bodies. And among the several adults, we spy one who is brooding an egg.

Unlike blue footed and masked boobies that nest on the ground, red-foots nest in trees. Despite their long absences, red foot adults are much more nurturing parents than the other booby species. They lay only one egg, but the hatchling almost always survives into adulthood. None of this, “I’ll have two or three chicks and let them duke it out to see who is strong enough to survive,” or “you stray (or get pushed) one inch out of this nest and you’re history” attitude that is characteristic of blue footed and masked boobies.

Although the nests and roosts of Bahia Darwin’s different bird species are interspersed tightly among one another, it is easy to tell the different birds apart, even just by call. The frigates’ cries are rather melodious trills, while the cry of the red foots is a guttural clack-clack. In addition to the great frigates and red footed boobies, we also see several masked boobies and some lava gulls that are reputed to be very rare.

Returning to the cove, we have a choice of swimming off of the small beach, or taking a panga out to snorkel in deeper water by the cliffs that surround Bahia Darwin. Mom and the boys stay at the beach, Barbara and I head off in the panga for the cliffs. Because of upwellings from the deep ocean surrounding Genovesa, the water is very cold. Easily the coldest we have experienced in these islands. Furthermore, the double dose of a leaden sky and nutrient-filled water from the upwellings makes visibility rather poor.

One of the “big” animals to be seen in the Galápagos is the hammerhead shark, and Genovesa is considered to be one of the hotspots for encountering one (or more) of these ancient animals. Indeed, some of the natural history books that we checked out of the library before our trip show pictures of hundreds of these distinctive sharks circling in the waters off of the northern Galápagos Islands. But none make an appearance for us or others in our group – a disappointment, but maybe just as well.

Other than for a few fishes, my most notable observation on this snorkel excursion was of a “carpet” of rays on the sea bed below me. Each of these diamond-shaped animals had its wings parked in such tight alignment with the wings of its neighbor that the effect was like looking at a diagonally-laid tile floor. Indeed, the visual was so weird that it took me a few seconds before I realized what I was seeing. If I hadn’t been in the Galápagos, I would have dismissed the image as that of an old sheet of patterned linoleum that someone had pitched into the water. Somewhat chilled, we reboarded the panga to return to the ship.

As the Santa Cruz leaves Bahia Darwin, we stand by the rail scanning the ocean. Because of the very deep water that immediately surrounds Genovesa, it is considered to be one of the more favored areas in the Islands to see whales or other cetaceans. Unfortunately, we see none. The most favored areas for such sightings are off of Darwin and Wolf islands which lie some distance to the north and west of the main Galápagos archipelago. But these are areas that few travelers on standard tours (such as ourselves) get to visit. During our week, we have seen a good number of dolphins, but like hammerhead sharks, we spy no great whales.

We enjoy an excellent lunch in the dining room as the Santa Cruz cruises south-southeast to our afternoon excursion on North Seymour Island – which will be our last stop before returning to Puerto Ayora. As our lunch ends, the ship’s P.A. system announces that we are re-crossing the equator – but again, there are no King Neptune’s Court festivities. Because of my early rising and strenuous morning’s snorkeling, I take a brief nap, my first of the trip.

Several hours later, the ship anchors in a compact channel bounded by North Seymour Island on the north, Baltra Island on the south, and a small islet known as Mosquera on the east. For the first time, we are in an anchorage occupied by a significant number of other boats. Heretofore, our anchorages have either been solitary, or accompanied only by one or two other vessels. But because North Seymour Island is so close to the jumping-off and returning points of Baltra harbor and Puerto Ayora, it is visited by many boats – especially smaller ones that do not have the speed or range to visit the outer islands. Indeed, the most numerous of the Galápagos tour boats are smaller vessels that hold only eight to twenty passengers – and provide an altogether different tourist experience than a larger ship like the Santa Cruz – but one that we would be interested in experiencing on a subsequent visit. Even if your travels do not range as far on such a boat, you can visit some of the smaller, less developed landing sites that are unable to accommodate the load from a large ship.

To even out the rate at which the Santa Cruz’s passengers land on North Seymour, our panga takes a leisurely route from the ship to the island’s jetty. We first cruise along the beach of Mosquera. This islet is really just a sand dune. Both tourists and sea lions cluster along its shore and bask on the sand – under a sun that has reappeared from this morning’s overcast. The pups (both human and marine) play in the water along the beach. Several come up to the panga to inspect us. We then head over to the rocks that line the shore of North Seymour. Our special task is to spot the fur seals that live among these rocks. Galápagos fur seals are really not seals at all, but, rather, are a species of sea lion because they have significant flippers and external ears. But unlike the local subspecies of California sea lion whose close tight coats always look so sleek, the fur seal’s coat is longer and, as you would expect, more furry-looking. As a result, these “seals” have a winsome face and appearance. We see several of these “little bears” perched among the rocks. However, the extreme shade creates a lack of contrast that, coupled with the pitching of the panga, makes it impossible to get any good pictures.

Upon alighting on North Seymour, I am pleasantly surprised. I had expected this island to be a consolation prize provided to the 3-day cruisers who have missed seeing the massive booby colonies on Española – but this small island turns out to be nearly the equal of that esteemed member of the big four. Whole fields are filled with courting blue footed boobies. The males doing their calling and neck stretching, the females playing hard to get – and each going through their ceremonious foot lifting dance. There are also many frigate birds – of both the great (who have a black head) and magnificent (who have a white head) varieties. Many frigate males are displaying their inflated pouches and making trilling cries. How from their perches nestled in the bushes they identify a female cruising fifty feet over their heads I will never know – but they seem to recognize the approach of an interested female long before we humans whose sky-scanning vision is not constrained by a surrounding bush catch even the most distant glimpse of one approaching. We also see several masked boobies.

There are also a number of non-avian animals on view including several large, golden color land iguanas and a couple of marine iguanas. But we spy another highlight as we walk along the top of a rocky height just above a small beach. Here, large rollers are hitting the shore and creating a good deal of surf. In the water we see a number of sea lions swimming just beyond the breakers. Every minute or so, one or two of these sea lions peel off into the breaker zone and begin surfing down the crest of a wave as it carries them in toward the beach – apparently just for pure fun. Although we have seen this behavior on a Galápagos video, it is still very exciting to see in person.

Altogether, North Seymour proves to be a very good stop – far more than just a tasting menu or consolation prize for those who are not able to visit the outer islands. While this island may not have abundance of each of these animal species as they exist on the more remote islands, it definitely has the variety – and all in one compact location. The only negative is that the inland part of the walk is difficult. The trail is really nothing other than a path across exposed lava boulders. While it is uncomfortable for Mom, and forces her (and the rest of us) to spend a lot of time with our heads down concentrating on footing, rather than looking around for views, we all make it successfully without any turned ankles.

As we return to the Santa Cruz, the sun is setting in the west behind two small islands, Daphne Major and Minor. Barbara and I stand by the aft railing to take in this beautiful, golden sight – but we are both sad to realize that this is our last full day in this wondrous corner of the world. Before dinner, there is a recap by the naturalists of the sites visited over the past several days and instructions for tomorrow’s disembarkation. We are excited to learn that we will be able to augment our collection of self-taken photographs with a CD-ROM of photos that have been taken by chief naturalist Pierre over the course of this trip (including some of his highlights from earlier journeys). We eagerly sign up to purchase a copy. Our last evening is spent packing a week’s worth of detritus and dirty clothes (there is no passenger laundry on the Santa Cruz) into our bags for the morrow’s departure.

Displaying Great Frigate on Genovesa	Juvenile Red Footed Booby on Genovesa
Adult Red Footed Booby (Pierre Thomas image)	Adult Red Footed Booby feet (Pierre Thomas image)
Golden land iguana (Pierre Thomas image)	Blue Footed Booby on North Seymour