Got up in the wee hours (5 am), ate and finished packing.  Chris didn’t call, as instructed, and Ed and I were sniping at each other about the necessity of taking the car and leaving it in the airport parking garage for over a week, when he walked in the door, saying he had overslept and rather than call, he just rushed out the door.

The moment of panic averted, we zipped everything up and piled it into the car.  I drove to the airport, then worried about Christopher driving that big car back through rush hour traffic while it was still dark.  I hope (assume) all is well (note:  It was).

No problem in getting to Miami, although the wait until the next flight was tedious.  We finally took off for Guayaquil, Ecuador approximately on time, somewhere around 5:30 pm.  The plane was jammed, and I had the impression most of the Lindblad passengers were seated together.  The seats were 3 across and we sat on the window and middle seats, next to a delightful lady (Lila?) from Birmingham, Alabama, who promptly spilled a drink all over Ed's lap and spent the rest of the flight apologizing. 

Watched “Autumn in New York”, ate, drank a little, read a little Umberto Eco.  What a kick he is.  I can only read a little bit of a time or my brain starts to overload.  But a couple of pages, and it makes me smile to look at the world in a totally different way, to see us all as artifacts of our language, to examine the fundamental questions of what constitutes ‘being’, and how we perceive and define it totally self-referentially.  I wish I knew more, read more, was smarter than I am.  I think I’m just too lazy.  I like this kind of philosophical discourse, but I just can’t become passionate about it.

The Hilton in Guayaquil was very modern.  Only a slightly musty smell made it any different from other modern hotels I have occupied so many times.  The Lindblad staff met us with passion fruit and orange juice and melon drinks, delivered our luggage to our rooms and gave us vouchers for cocktails in the bar.  The hotel was, we were told, the best in the city, and was the location that night for an elaborate wedding.  We got off at the wrong floor coming down for cocktails, and there were actually guards there -- to prevent crashers to the party, I guess.

Then we had some of the worst pina coladas I’ve ever had, while listening to a live jazz band in the bar.  We were already tired, and had to get up early, so we went to our rooms. 

Saturday, January 06, 2001

Slept fairly poorly, and we were called at 6:45 am.  They knocked on our door to pick up our luggage several minutes before 7, which annoyed me, but eventually it all settled out and we went downstairs for a really nice buffet breakfast, and got on buses to go back to the airport at 8:15.  What we could see of the city was fairly depressing.  Little traffic, a lot of buildings looking they had been abandoned halfway through the building process.

The flight to Baltra was uneventful, except that some military high mucky-muck got off first, to be met by some other high mucky-mucks, and a young woman holding a bouquet of flowers with a banner across her chest proclaiming her Miss …  something or other.

The ‘airport’ at Balta was primitive, to say the least, one low wooden building.  But they did check all our hand luggage, I guess for illegal fruits and non-indigenous animals, the importation of which is a huge no-no.

Eventually, we made it to the Polaris via zodiacs from a quite dingy and depressing dock.  The ship which was larger than I expected, and our rooms were nicer than they had been in the Seabird.  We were told it was once a channel ferry in Scandanavia, carrying 1000 passengers and who knows how many vehicles.  It was bought by Lindblad and converted, and is quite comfortable as a passenger ship, although it shows its age a little on the exterior.

We went through the usual introductory schtick with a lecture from Lynn Fowler, the Expedition Director, about the history of the Galapagos, how they were formed and how life reached the area.  Then we had an absolutely delightful lunch, went through a lifeboat drill, and much to our relief, got a couple of hours to take naps, while we sailed to Santa Cruz, after which we piled into zodiacs for a couple of hours of touring around an islet off this larger island.

Our guide was Lucho (which he translated as “Lucky”, although I was later told by Lynn that he was yanking our chains).  He was funny and sweet and charming.  The zodiac driver had a hat naming him “Super” with a last name that I recall as anachronistically Italian.  Both of them were excellent at their jobs, with each keeping a careful lookout for interesting flora and fauna.

The first thing we spotted against the wet lava rocks of Santa Cruz island were bright dots of color, which on closer inspection turned out to be dozens, if not hundreds of Sally Lightfoot crabs, which begin life as black, then turn a brilliant red-orange after they have mated.  Watching them scrabble over the lava rocks in such abundance was only the beginning treat, though.

Lucho told us all about the mangrove trees, both red and white, and pointed out the differences, and we quickly spotted what Lucho assured us would be the first of many, many blue-footed boobies.  Much to our delight, we soon spotted a number of sea lions carousing among an outcropping of lava rocks, with ocean waves periodically crashing over them.  One especially large sea lion slithered into the water then stuck his nose up to look at us with a snort before he sank beneath the waves.

We made our way into an inlet that was barely passable because it was close to low tide, exposing more of the rocks that created a barrier to the open sea.  We quickly spotted a few, then a few more, then dozens of white-tip sharks, most of them between three and four feet in length, swimming among the exposed roots of the red mangrove trees.

Lucho was on the prowl to spot a land iguana, and I thought I had found one, but it turned out to be what was the first of several marine iguana we saw during our excursion.  Lucho told us how to tell the males from the females, and how large the marine iguana get.  He also said we would see many more during our week in the Galapagos. 

We were especially excited to see a sea turtle slowly moving among the rocks of the shore.  It appeared to be going in slow motion, and gave us some nice opportunities for a picture, although the bright, setting sun was not the best for a clear photograph. 

Lucho kept importuning us to look for the land iguana, and said that if we didn’t spot one  he would have to dress up as one just to make certain we could say we saw one.  About that time, another zodiac nearby radioed they had spotted a land iguana, and we moved in to see her parked on a rock underneath a huge prickly pear cactus, a yellowish gold color, about four feet long, sunning herself in preparation for the cool evening to come.  As we made our way back towards the ship, our zodiac driver spotted a very large starfish just beneath the water.

In addition to the blue-footed boobies, we saw many brown pelicans, frigate birds soaring high above, Galapagos mockingbirds, a lava heron lurking among the roots of a mangrove tree (which let us get far closer than I’ve ever been to any bird in the wild), a large blue heron, and a tiny, colorful yellow warbler. 

After two hours we reluctantly headed back to the Polaris, where we then had time to have a very pleasant drink and watch an incredible sunset from the stern deck before the end-of-the-day get together in the lounge, and a very nice dinner.  During dinner, Lynn announced that Lindblad’s PR firm was filming during our trip for a Travel Channel program to air on May 6th highlighting the World’s Best Cruises.  That will be an interesting endnote once we get back, although I hope the film crew won’t intrude on our activities.  All in all a lovely end to our first day of the voyage.

Sunday, January 07, 2001

Reasonable night’s sleep, and a gentle wakeup call came at 6:30, saying that breakfast was being served in the dining room.  I had been awake for about 45 minutes anyway, but was dozing.  The beds are small and a little hard, but I will get used to it.  The shower is much larger than the one on the Seabird (relatively speaking), and therefore easier to use, without bumping every elbow and knee into a dozen different surfaces.

Breakfast was good, as were all the meals, but then we immediately rushed to go ashore to Hood, or Espanola Island, where we would go on a mile and a half hike.  We got to shore on the zodiacs, reaching a small slightly protected inlet, where the Ecuadorian Park Service had built concrete landing area, and laid out a path where we were allowed to walk.  Ed and I both took walking sticks, having learned when we went to Alaska that strenuous hikes were made easier when you had something to help your balance.  I was glad we had them, because the path was rocky, indeed, and in some places, a little steep.

At the landing, walking along the narrow concrete path towards the beach, there were dozens of marine iguanas, with their colorful red and blue-green bodies, ridged backs and long tails, some of them actually on the trail, just looking at us.  As we have been told, the wildlife is utterly fearless, but not tame.  Rafael, our naturalist on the tour (who is actually a native (endemic) of the Galapagos), was extremely knowledgeable about every aspect of what we saw, but was particularly enthusiastic about the birds, which he said was his special area of expertise.  As we paused at the small beach, where dozens of very young sea lions were cavorting in the shallows, Rafael knelt near an Espanola mockingbird, calling the bird to him until it perched on his hand.

And it was truly the birds which were the highlight of this tour, although we also saw little lava lizards with their bright red heads, and many, many marine iguanas and sea lions.  In addition to the beautiful American oystercatcher, and the Galapagos hawk, first seen perched on a rock in the distance, looking regal and predatory, we saw the Nazca booby, a magnificent bird of pristine white and stark black, the male of which which makes a slightly sad whistling call.  They walked among us as though we were irrelevant, and nested within feet of the path.  We saw younglings from a couple of weeks old, small enough to carry in your palm, to several weeks old, about 18” high, with bright white, fluffy down feathers.  The youngster spread its wings, exercising them, only a few feet away.

Rafael pointed out little, dark brown/black ground finches, and a bright yellow warbler.  About half way through the hike, we came to a large level area, with many blue-footed boobies, both juvenile and adult.  Much to Rafael’s obvious delight, we encountered a pair of wave albatross.  Rafael almost bounced on his feet when he spotted them, then proceeded to act out for us their entire mating ritual, complete with sound effects.  As we watched the albatrosses, another Galapagos hawk soared in, perching on a bush with a half-dozen finches, with none of the smaller birds taking note of the predator among them.  Rafael pointed that out as being another unique aspect of Galapagos, where many of the expected prey/predator relationships were contradicted.

At last we reached the end of the trail, on a bluff overlooking a long, rocky flat area that had been exposed at low tide, and where a ‘blow hole’ shot sprays of water noisily into the air every five minutes or so.  Rafael mentioned that it was the only place you would see a flying marine iguana, because sometimes the iguanas would wander down there in search of food, then a high wave would crash in, catching the lizard and tossing it into the air.

Rafael was also excited to see the red-billed tropic bird.  There was a pair of the white and black birds that landed nearby, and it was easy to see their long, white tail feathers stretching out behind.  Rafael said it was unusual to see them land, and that it was difficult to get pictures of them because they were always in the air.

Of course, we saw magnificent frigates riding the air currents at the bluff’s edge, and as we sat for a 10-minute break before heading back, we could see the blue-footed boobies dive straight into the water to catch fish, before they bobbed back up to the surface again.

On the way back, we passed several other groups going in the other direction, including the one with the film group.  They decided to turn around and accompany us, as we appeared to be the first group that had finished the hike (at least no one had passed us, so I assume we were the first group).  We made our way back to the small beach and spent some time with the baby sea lions.  It was, more or less, a nursery area, where one big bull sea lion patrolled the outer perimeter, while the baby sea lions swam among the shallows.  There were numerous larger sea lions out further in the water, occasionally surfing towards shore as a breaker would roll in.  The babies were very curious, and didn’t hesitate to come right up to these odd visitors with the long limbs.

The video man from the film company held out his camera and a small boom microphone, and one baby got very curious, getting closer and closer to the lens until he finally mushed it with his nose, looking a little startled at the feel of the cold, hard surface.  Rafael was very picky about not touching the animals or allowing them to touch us, warning that we were covered with sun lotion and other substances that violated the animals' natural ecology.

We finally headed back to the Polaris, getting in around 10:30 am.  Ed said he felt he was getting cooked, but I was not at all uncomfortable.  However, I was glad we were early out and early back, because being out in that equatorial sun at midday would definitely have been uncomfortable.

At 11:15, there will be a briefing for those interested in snorkeling.  I’m going to give it a try, although it makes me a little nervous (I hate making a fool of myself in front of other people), and I dread appearing in public in a bathing suit).  But what the hell, you only go around once, and this seems like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that I would be a fool to pass up.

Well, appearing in public in a wet suit was about as bad as I expected.  Gack!  Certainly will motivate me to go on a serious diet once I’m back.  But what the hell, can’t pass up this kind of adventure just because I might offend others by grossing them out.

We took a zodiac to this long, stunning stretch of white beach of organic sand, which (as was explained to us in the evening lecture) stayed cool at all times because it reflected the heat (as opposed to inorganic i.e., rock) sand, which absorbed the heat and would have been uncomfortable to walk on.  The beach was well populated with sea lions, and the one youngster among the passengers, an approximately eight or nine year old girl named Julia, was both frightened and fascinated by the sea lions, as they seemed to be fascinated by her.  One of them almost played tag with her along the beach as she would get close, the sea lion would come up to her curiously, and she would squeal and run away.

The beach sloped out gently, then dropped off, making it an ideal place to learn to snorkel.  With some trepidation, I waded in, at first just getting wet (boy, what a difference a wet suit makes!), then making myself keep my face under water, breathing through the tube.  At first, I almost panicked, tended to breathe way too fast, got nervous and a little over-anxious.  Stubbornly pressing on, we novices then went and got our fins and clumsily walked/fell/waddled back into the water.

I sucked in a mouthful of salt water a couple of times and was beginning to think I just wasn’t cut out for this activity, when the guide (Carmen, who, by the way, looked just stunning in her bathing suit, eschewing a wet suit entirely) told me I might have the hose angled wrong.  After I figured that out, things got much better.  Ed and I eventually ended up paddling out a ways until we could see a few small clown fish darting in and out of the rocks below, and I began to really get comfortable with the whole business.

At last we were ready, and we were taken by zodiac to a nearby outcropping of lava rock, and lowered ourselves into the water.  What an absolute treat!  Whole schools of parrot fish, a manta ray digging itself into the sand, a small fish (about 5 or 6 inches), completely flat and covered with sand, moving along the bottom, with both of its eyes looking up at us from the same side of its head.  Sea anemones, more clown fish, and a total absence of anxiety.  Ed and I held hands and just hovered in the water, gently paddling from time to time with our feet.  It was unhurried, and quite relaxing.  We finally climbed back into the zodiac and I had this wonderful sense of achievement.  Not only had I overcome my fear, but the payoff was a view of the world I would otherwise never have seen, with an open door now for more such experiences in the future. My major regret was that I had no camera with which to record the experience, but I vowed to buy one of those throwaway underwater thingys for our next snorkeling outing.

We arrived back at the Polaris close to sunset, showered and then I went up on deck to have a drink and watch the sun go down, attend the evening naturalists’ lectures, followed by a good dinner with some fascinating people who have traveled all over the world many times over.  Ed went directly to bed, but I stayed up to watch a wonderful video on the Galapagos Islands, which lasted about an hour, by which time I was ready to call it a night.

We are scheduled for a 6 am call in the morning (provided Ed set the intercom correctly), and a dawn trip to another island.

Monday, January 08, 2001

Had a very poor night’s sleep.  The ships motors seemed to make more noise than I was comfortable with, and I really tossed and turned, and was awake before the 6 am wake-up call.  We got on the zodiacs and first headed around various spots on Floriana.  There were a few sightings of sea turtles, but they were just fleeting shadows in the ocean.  We did see a male frigate bird in a huge cactus tree, with his huge red pouch deflated, but clearly visible.  Eventually we turned into a sandy beach along what is called Post Office Bay, which was the first place to be ‘discovered’, and where Charles Darwin landed.  The main object of the trip was to visit the barrel that had been placed there by an English captain in 1793 to serve as a drop off and pick up point for mail in the South Pacific.  Passing ships would come into the bay for fresh water and food (tortoises, which they hunted to extinction on this island, plus goats and pigs they had introduced and which began to run wild, generally causing total havoc in the ecology), and leave letters in the barrel.  Any ships headed back to England would pick up the letters and take them to their destination.

Nowadays, tourists leave post cards and notes and everyone who passes by looks in the barrel, and if they are going to be in the area where the post card is intended, they will take it.  The only requirement is that it has to be hand delivered, not put in the mail.  Carlos and Carmen read off the cards that were inside a plastic bag in the barrel, but while there were cards intended for various places all over the world, including a number in the United States (Massachusettes, Pennsylvania, Missouri, California), there were no takers on any of the post cards.  Carlos said that the turnover on the cards, however, was very fast and that there were substantial differences in the letters from week to week.

A nice breakfast was followed by an attempt at a quick nap, but there wasn’t enough time, because Ed and I were going deep water snorkeling along Champion Rock.  We were fortunate to have Rafael as our naturalist.  He was born in the Galapagos, as well as being an incredibly knowledgeable and highly educated naturalist.  While the rest of us wore wet suits and fins along with our snorkels, he was just in his bathing trunks.

It was an experience that is hard to capture in words.  As a first time snorkeler, it is like a private view into a completely different world.  The abundance of life was nothing short of breathtaking, full of color and excitement and movement.  Bright colored clown fish and parrot fish, ‘gringo’ fish with their three white spots on the tail, thousands and thousands of fish in huge schools that glittered in every color of the rainbow, moving and darting everywhere, and all within arm’s reach.  We also saw shark and starfish, and then the real treat – the sea lions.

The young ones were terribly curious about us, and Rafael, who had patiently named every fish anyone asked about, even occasionally diving down 12 to 15 feet in the crystal clear water to point one out to us, swam with the sea lions, corkscrewing through the water, with them imitating him and playfully dancing all around him.

We had the film crew with us, and the cameraman was obviously an experienced snorkeler and strong swimmer because he chased after the sea lions as well, doing somersaults with them with his camera in both hands.  I later found out that this is the same camera crew and same cameraman that has been filming some of the “Survivor” television show.

Ed and I and one other couple lasted longer than anyone else (to my amazement), and ended up far down the island with a whole new crop of even younger sea lions.  There must have been close to a dozen of them cavorting with each other, eyeing us, coming so close I thought they would touch me.  It was thrilling and a little scary.

Finally we headed in, the four of us the last to arrive back on the Polaris, exhilarated and a little exhausted.  I considered skipping lunch entirely, but the hotel manager announced that today was a special lunch of Ecuadorian specialties.  I couldn’t resist that, and walked into the dining room to find this enormous, colorful display of food, and all the chefs proudly lined up as their creations were inspected.

The dishes were described in detail as we ate our delicious appetizer of seviche (marinated seafood).  It included roast pig, which they had gotten fresh from the island that morning and roasted themselves, some fabulous salads, a native potato patty, with a cheese filling and peanut sauce, stewed chicken flavored with a local fruit that I had never heard of and don’t remember (it was delicious, a little like a sour orange flavor), some wonderful yellow rice that was a little like saffron rice but with a slightly stronger flavor, and deserts of three-milk cream cake (tres leche), a fresh fruit salad of local fruits, and shortbread cookies with caramel filing.  They served sangria to drink, which I couldn’t have but which Ed said was wonderful.

Fortunately, they gave us a little nap time after that huge lunch, but I still couldn’t sleep, although I must have dozed some because I had plenty of energy for an afternoon walk to a lagoon where we saw a number of pink flamingos.  It is one of the many wonders of these islands that there is such an astonishing diversity of life here.  The sun was beginning to go down and these beautiful birds were scooping up food from the bottom with their curved beaks, the youngsters occasionally flapping their beautiful pinkish-white, black tipped wings.  The older birds where completely pink, and got their coloration from the briny shrimp they feed on.

At the end of the trail was a long beach of soft white sand, which was closed to swimmers because it is the breeding and spawning ground for sea turtles.  We were very fortunate to be there during mating season, and we could see dozens of shadows of sea turtles in the breaking waves.  It was very difficult to get a picture that really showed how many we saw, or how close they were.  One or two actually came almost to shore, with only their rounded shells showing, looking like rocks until they worked their way back out to the surf again.

We walked back along the trail to the first beach, which was of inorganic sand borne of lava rock, full of sparkly olivine crystals, making the beach dark and slightly green-tinted.  The water was cold, and although some folks went snorkeling along the rocks, I decided I didn’t want to struggle into my wet suit again, so I just sat and watched the people and the ocean for awhile before heading back to the ship for dinner.

As always, had a marvelous conversation with some fascinating folks at dinner, then around 9 went out on the Sun Deck (I hadn’t even realized there was a sun deck) to gaze at the stars and constellations of the Southern Hemisphere.  The moon was virtually full, which dimmed the stars considerably, but it was a cloudless, cool evening and they had turned out the ship's lights so we could see a little better.  Lynn, the Expedition Leader, pointed to the various stars we were all familiar with, but which were in very different places in the sky, and showed us some constellations we do not see up north.  Orion was almost straight above us, and the Big and Little Dippers were not yet visible.  She identified ten or so constellations, talking about the myths behind many of them with wonderful humor and extensive knowledge.  She knew about the stars themselves, as well, their size and type and how far away they were from the earth.  Quite a remarkable woman.

For awhile I just leaned against the rail at the front as the ship moved slowly through the glass-smooth water, with the bright spotlight of the huge moon shining down on us, then decided it was time to get to bed, since another early day was planned for us on the morrow.

Tuesday, January 09, 2001

Another night of poor sleep and I was a real grump when we got a wake-up call at 6:15 am.  I managed to dress myself without sniping at Ed too much, and went up on deck to watch as we circumnavigated a rock sticking up out of the ocean.  It was called Roca Redonda, and was the tip of a volcano which rose 9,000 feet from the ocean floor, and was a total of 12 miles long.  What we saw were sheer cliff faces rising about 500 feet to what looked like a fairly flat top.  We saw a wonderful variety of seabirds, as well as caught our first view of fur seals, which are really sea lions, but are a smaller, darker species with sharper faces. 

A pod of dolphin cavorted nearby, swimming in our wake and performing some aerial acrobatics for us, and the captain turned the Polaris to follow them for awhile before turning to circle the Roca Redonda again.  The place was beautiful in the light of sunrise, with a clear blue sky above, but with a low hanging mist edging the skyline all around us.

I caught about a half-hour of sleep after breakfast and before the zodiac (ponga is the local term) ride along the cliffs of Punta Vicente Roca.  The sun had burned off the fog we had sailed through to get there, and it was quite hot.  Even so, we saw many sea lions (fur seals), and a total of around 6 or 8 penguins.  They are small birds that look very much like ducks when they are in the water, but on land look like the classic tuxedoed, slightly ridiculous gentlemen, with their shiny white breasts and dark backs.

The marine iguanas here are a little less colorful, but extremely abundant.  The larger males would shake their heads and hiss at the other males because they are in the middle of breeding season.  You could see huge iguanas, seals, penguins and colorful crabs all in the same space.

I was beginning to feel quite cooked in the hot sun, when we went into the shadows of a deep cave in the side of the cliff, where our voices echoed, and the waves boomed against the rocks. 

Everyone was also on the lookout for the mola mola, a rare deep water fish that comes to the surface around here to sun itself.  Our ponga driver spotted one, its dorsal fin periodically poking out of the water and waggling from side to side in its typical movement.  As the naturalists radioed each other about the presence of the mola mola, we were quickly joined by another zodiac, along with the zodiac that had the film crew in it.  The film crew all jumped in the water with their snorkeling gear, trying to chase down and film this rare animal.  We were told later they spent 2 ½ hours in the water in order get mola mola footage.  By the end of the day, though, we had spotted the fins of at least six of these massive fish, something of a record for any of the naturalists.  And I had seen one jump completely out of the water at a distance, looking like a small whale.

It was good to get back to the ship and the shade.  Unfortunately, it was very short lived, since it was announced that snorkeling would take place immediately, rather than later in the afternoon, because all the mola mola chasing had eaten up so much time.  We changed quickly into our wet suits and joined about 10 other folks in a zodiac and headed out.  Boy, that water was cold (66 degrees F.).  Getting in was a shock to the system, but within a minute or two, the wet suit did its work, and I was not uncomfortable at all.  Indeed, after the strong heat of the morning, it felt refreshing.  Unfortunately, the water was a little murky, few fish seemed to be around and within a half hour or so, we gave it up and came back to the ship (that’s when I spotted the breeching mola mola, but by the time I called attention to it for everyone else in the boat, it was gone).  Fortunately, there were some aboard the Polaris who had a much closer view, and were also witness to the display.

At last, after lunch, I got about an hour’s sleep and felt much better for it.  We then got into the zodiacs and headed toward Fernandina Island for a hike.  It is the single known example of a completely natural environment, i.e., unaffected by any of man’s influences, especially introduced species.  On the way to the landing, we spotted the flightless cormorant, whose wings have atrophied to the point of uselessness because the bird depends solely upon its swimming ability for food, just like the penguin.  Unlike the penguin, however, the wings have not yet evolved into flippers.  Our naturalist Paul, a tall, rangy Brit, mentioned that Darwin did not visit Fernandina during his trip to the Galapagos.  If he had, he would have found his longed-for ‘missing link’ to prove his theory, showing evolution still in process.  The flightless cormorant is found only here, and there are only about 1,000 of them in existance.

One large cormorant came right up to the zodiac, picking at the ropes that lined its sides, ducking down to swim underneath, going around and around, following us as we tootled around the dark, rough lava rocks looking at penguins and marine iguana.  We spotted the heads of turtles briefly poking up out of the water, some of the quite large, with just their heads the size of small footballs.

We made a landing in a shaded area of mangroves, almost immediately tripping over more iguana.  We had to watch our steps carefully, as they were the same color as the lava around us, and it was easy to accidentally step on one, especially as they had absolutely no fear of us at all. 

The landscape was surreal.  Folded and rippled lava was everywhere, in an infinite array of patterns and surfaces, most of the looking distinctly hostile.  We came across a huge field of what Paul termed “Ah Ah”, called that because that’s what you usually said when you tried to walk across it.  It was volcanic rubble, sharp and loose and large enough to make walking next to impossible without risking a broken ankle or leg.

We saw many, many turtles appear and disappear in the tidal waters, just catching quick glimpses and shadows of them.  There were sea lion families splashing in picturesque lava pools that looked like they had been designed by Disney, and protected by huge, loudly barking bulls.  They lounged and splashed and played or slept lazily in the long shadows of a disappearing sun.

Finally we headed back to the ship, a little footsore because the volcanic rock made for tricky walking, and watched a spectacular sunset and equally spectacular full moon rise.  At the evening lecture, we saw the footage the film crew had taken during the day of the mola mola, which both Lynn and Carlos (who seems to be a mola mola enthusiast and expert) said was the best footage ever taken of this rare fish.  We are likely to see these pictures again on some future Discovery nature special.

And now I’m headed to bed early since we have a 6:30 am breakfast call, and will spend tomorrow in the town of Puerto Ayora, visiting the Charles Darwin Research Station and hiking in the highlands of the island of Santa Cruz.

Wednesday, January 10, 2001

We docked at the port of Puerto Ayora, on the Island of Santa Cruz.  Immediately after an early breakfast, we got on the zodiacs for a ride to the dock, and a short bus ride to the Charles Darwin Research Station.  Once at the station, it was about a 15 minute walk in what was already a very hot sun to where they actually hatched the baby tortoises for release into the wild, in areas where they have been decimated due to species brought in by man, especially goats, rats, and feral cats.  They are working island by island to eradicate the goats first, since they do the most damage, and have succeeded in eliminating them on one or two of the smaller islands.  Now, they are raising the turtles to about age 3, and re-releasing them back onto the islands where they originated.  We were told it costs about $1,000 per turtle released.  The full-grown toroises are fed only a couple of times a week.  Fortunately for us, it was feeding day and they were (for tortoises, at least) quite active.

After a tour of the station, Ed and I walked back towards the town, about a mile and a half, where there were lots of t-shirt shops and little galleries.  The town was small and relatively clean, its people friendly and not at all pushy about selling their wares.  I wasn’t interested in shopping (I rarely am), but we bought a few t-shirts at the Galapagos National Park shop, where the proceeds would go to a good cause. 

We met up with the others back at a small park near the dock, where flame trees blossomed, covering the sky and the ground with brilliant red and orange blooms.  We got onto buses that were clearly made for people of an average height of about 5’, and bounced our way upwards towards the highlands.  Within a few miles, the scenery changed dramatically from stark, arid land full of cactus and trees with no leaves, to a tropical forest full of lush green ferns and tall trees.

We were taken to a restaurant that only hosts Lindblad tours during their once a week visit, otherwise it is the home of a lovely woman by the name of Anita.  There was a big covered eating area with a huge stone fireplace, where they were roasting home-bred chickens, and a swimming pool with a shaded lounging area, surrounded by groves of lemon and lime trees, papaya trees, flame trees, firecracker bushes with bright red teardrop shaped blossoms, and lilac-colored bougenvilla draped over the roofs. 

After a tasty lunch, and a relaxing rest by the swimming pool, we got back onto our tee-tiny buses and proceeded to wind around various reasonably well-paved roads to a huge hole in the earth called a pit crater formed by a volcano, where the crust collapsed into a deep well.  The interesting thing about the trip was not the crater, but the Scalesia forest around it.  The trail we followed through the forest was narrow and rocky, made especially tricky because I twisted my ankle earlier walking through the town (geez, you’d think I’d do it in more dramatic fashion, wouldn’t you, given all the exotic places we had been walking).  But it was worth the effort.  It was a wonderful walk, the very air full of birdsong, the ground covered with deep green ferns, and the canopy above giving plenty of shade from a unique tree that is endemic to this area, the Scalesia, which is, of all things, from the daisy family (yes, I saw the blossom, and it looks exactly like a yellow daisy).  We saw an earlier version of the plant on the coast, where it grows only to the height of a low bush.  But the tree grows quite tall once you get up about 500 feet, where low lying clouds provide plenty of moisture, and all the trees top off at about the same height creating a beautiful canopy effect, which our guide Carlos said was called the “broccoli forest” because of the unique appearance of these trees.

A lot of time was spent looking for birds (always seen by others first since I spent the whole time watching my feet so I wouldn’t twist my ankle again and have to spend the rest of the trip in my cabin).  We spotted the Galapagos dove, more finches of various kinds and sizes than it was possible to count, the beautiful and colorful yellow warbler, and, most spectacularly, a species of vermillion flycatcher unique to Galapagos.  The birds, like most animals in this place, took no notice of our passing and seemed virtually undisturbed by our presence.

We finally got back on the buses and bounced and jounced over back roads for at least 20 minutes, finally arriving at a cattle ranch.  The owner of the ranch laid all his fences out especially so that the tortoises can walk underneath them, and during this time of year his large, relatively clear fields are full of the huge creatures, which are completely wild.  We spent the next magical hour roaming the fields, slowly and silently walking up to these enormous, prehistoric tortoises, waiting until they got used to our presence, and watching them munch enormous quantities of grass.

I was especially entertained by watching Craig, a delightful young man travelling with his mother, who clearly gets much joy from everything he does, crawl on hands and knees around one of these great creatures, making eye contact and possibly communing with them on some level only he was able to appreciate.
 

Thursday, January 11, 2001

We awoke this morning to find ourselves at Genovesa Island, the furthest northeast island, far from the rest of the archipelago.  The island is formed by a volcano that collapsed, forming a circular caldera around which there are mostly rough volcanic cliffs, but which also has a small, sandy beach where we landed for a walk.  The island is populated mostly by red-footed boobies, Nazca boobies and frigate birds.  The frigate birds are in the beginning of their mating season, so it was hoped we would see at least a little mating behavior, in particular the colorful red pouches of the male frigate birds that they puff up to display to the females.

When we landed, we first saw some of the beautiful swallowtail gulls.  Like most Galapagos wildlife, they seemed unperturbed by our presence, and were only moderately upset when I later approached a small chick that had somehow gotten out of the nest and was wandering among the coastal rocks.  We approached an area where there were numerous frigate birds perched on the low trees, and Rafael went through an explanation of their mating dance.  Fortunately, this time, I got a picture, having missed the opportunity to get a photo of the wonderful display Rafael had put on to show us the mating dance of the albatross.  We were lucky, and encountered a male in full display.

The best part of the morning was when we went snorkeling along the cliffs.  The water was not crystal clear, but there was a great deal to be seen, including a lobster with his spiny appendages and brilliant blue eyes, which was unusual in these waters.  Ed and I also saw a small shark, none of which are dangerous in these waters, and I got to dance a little with a sea lion, having overcome a little of my previous nervousness around such muscular animals.

After lunch and a siesta, we went for a zodiac ride, where we looked at the birds nesting and resting along the barren cliffs.  We spotted the beautiful red-billed tropic bird, with its long, long white tail feathers and its scarlet beak, storm petrals and the usual array of frigates, gulls and boobies.  We disembarked onto a small ledge then climbed some steep  rough stone stairs from the water’s edge to the top of the cliffs, probably about 60 feet, to a completely flat surface of lava rock.

The island is a birder’s paradise, with red footed boobies, Nazca boobies, frigates, dove, mockingbird, finches of many kinds, and even an endemic Galapagos owl seen in the distance.  The birds were within easy reach, and we frequently had to step around them as they wandered along the path at our feet.  Many of the Nazca boobies had either eggs or newly hatched chicks, while the many single males whistled their lonely sound, stuck their tail feathers up and partially spread their wings in an attempt to attract a mate. 

We saw a baby frigate bird in a low nest, about three feet off the ground.  The ‘baby’ was probably two feet in length, with its long, hooked beak, still covered with down, looking like a weird version of a vulture.

The landscape at the top of the cliff, looking out onto the ocean and the setting sun, was surreal and quite alien, with the rough, pock-marked red lava, almost no vegetation, and thousands of birds everywhere.

We returned to the ship at sunset, and had a delightful barbeque meal out on deck.  They are having some kind of amateur night in the lounge, and the thought makes me cringe, so I’ve retreated to our room for an early night.

Friday, January 12, 2001

We were up at sunrise and out before breakfast to climb to the top of Bartolome Island.  What an incredibly alien landscape of lava tubes and flows, with very little vegetation.  The long, sweaty climb to the top was worth the effort, though, as from there you could see a 360 degree vista that encompassed many of the islands, with their volcanic origins written in their shapes shadowed against the blue waters, and outlined by the rising sun.  Ed got a shot of me with the marker at the top of the climb, showing the latitude and longitude.

After breakfast on the ship we went back to Bartolome, to a small beach, crossing a sandy rise that separated the two sides of this narrow part of the island (a little more huffing and puffing on legs still a little stressed from the earlier long climb up to the top) to a volcanic beach (a different kind of sand, again), where we could see the tracks of a turtle that had come up to lay her eggs on the beach the night before.  There were lots of sea turtles only feet away in the water, which was also populated with dozens of white-tipped sharks swimming in the shallows.

Back over to the other beach (a little more huffing and puffing), and Ed and I went snorkeling.  Once off the beach, we encountered enormous clouds of sardines and millets, so thick they looked like a solid wall of squiggling, sparkling life.  We also spotted a huge puffer fish, at first just an odd shape snuggled in a cave, until it moved.  They have spines lying across their bodies and odd, almost human faces.

I was surprised by four sea lions who decided to come visit, and Ed had a close encounter with a penguin, who zipped by, brushing his arm as he darted after one of the thousands of small fish that swept by in such great clouds.  The snorkeling was almost as good as the first day, and Ed spotted a shark, and reported seeing turtles, as well.  We reluctantly headed back to the ship at 11 so we could lift anchor and head towards Santiago, our afternoon destination.

What an eventful afternoon!  We went out at 2:30 to snorkel at a small beach of dark, volcanic sand framed by cliffs eroded by wind and water into fantastic shapes and ledges.  Sea lions dotted the sand and the rocks, and the multitude of Galapagos islands nearby loomed on every horizon.

We snorkeled at a nearby submerged rock, and while the water was a little murky, we got a reasonable view of some colorful parrot fish, and sea lions were again there to play with many of the swimmers.  The tide was coming in and was strongly pushing us to and fro, so many snorkelers chose to lounge around on the beach for awhile under the shade of the rocks, unwilling to relinquish our sense of this special place, knowing this was our last afternoon here.

The afternoon walk was the perfect end to a spectacular week.  Lucho took us along the coast line, where variations in volcanic activity made it ever-changing in shape and color, with the stark, sharp black volcanic rock interspersed with soft, windswept brown and yellow lines and swirls of eroded, compressed volcanic ash. The sun was setting and the air was cool and pleasant as we passed more ever-present marine iguanas, final views of the colorful red-orange Sally lightfoot crabs, nesting American Oyster-catchers with their long, scarlet bills, the yellow warbler flitting at our feet, a baby sea lion bawling noisily for its mother, a view of Darwin’s toilet – and a turbulent sea lagoon that filled with sea foam from underground tunnels until it overflowed, then emptied as the waves retreated, making a great sucking noise, giving the phenomenon it’s apt name.

As we climbed back down to the beach to get into the zodiacs, we had to step around a mother sea lion, whose baby was contentedly nursing, both of them unconcerned about our intrusive, curious human presence.  It seemed a fitting, quiet finale.

Saturday, January 13, 2001

A travel day.  We got up very early (5:30 am), but got the benefit of watching as we circumnavigated Daphe Major, a small barren island famous for its finches.  The definitive work on the changing effects of environment on survival traits of finches was done here after a scientific team managed to tag virtually every finch on the island, then track them through some subsequent severe environmental shifts.

But most of the day was spent standing around in humid heat, waiting for the plane from Guayaquil to take us on.  Once we arrived, we were taken to the Hilton again, and then offered a tour of the city.  We road on buses around this city, which has very little left of its early history, having been burned down by pirates a few times.  They have lots of monuments to Simon Bolivar, and an interesting central park inhabited by great big land iguanas that come and go as they please. 

There were armed guards everywhere, and our guide said that it had become a sort of ‘tradition’ that anything of value, or anything anyone wanted to be perceived as having value, required an armed private guard.  The private guards, she said, were absolutely never allowed to shoot their guns, and would be arrested if they ever did.  I have my doubts about her story, frankly.  You don’t have guys in uniforms with big guns wandering around everywhere if there is no threat.  While I would probably have preferred to have gone outside the hotel for a nice, Ecuadorian meal, given the hotel was at least 15 minutes away from any really good restaurants, and that I was dog tired, we ate in the hotel.  It actually turned out to be pretty good, with an enormous buffet provided that included some delicious seviche, at least a dozen deserts, and about a dozen entrees, most of which I couldn’t identify.  There was some kind of goat stew that was delicious, a beef cut that was an tender as it could be, and a fish stew with shrimp that I liked.

Sunday, January 14, 2001

Going home.  Had to get up at 5:45 am.  Lordy, it will be good to sleep late tomorrow.  Then the plane to Miami was 2 hours late so we just sat around the airport.  It did give me a chance to buy an offical panama hat, which was cool.  The flight was long but uneventful, and the trek through Customs was a breeze.  It is now time to board the airplane for the final leg home, tired to the bone, but awfully glad we went.