Monsters are Real!

Galapagos: The Second Half

Currently, we’ve begun our three week sail to the Marquesas. I haven’t written a single letter of the blog since the day before our naturalist, Fernando, joined us over a week ago! He kept us running from island to sea to island, with very little down time. With this crossing, there will be lots and lots and lots of time for writing….

Fernando’s family founded the island of Isabella in the late 1800s. He is a Galapagos native, through and through, and very excited to help others fall in love with the islands and their inhabitants. He’s impressively knowledgeable and eager to answer any of our questions or research the answer if he doesn’t know it. He joins us at 3 pm on Thursday, March 14th and we immediately make our way to Floreana Island. It’s around 9pm and deeply dark when we arrive in Post Office Bay. Only one anchor light is in sight far in the distance - no other vessels anchored around this uninhabited island. In order to see to drop the anchor, the lights on the front deck are illuminated, which quickly attracts a frantic myriad of activity in the water around us. The first visitors to show are a couple of sea lions darting through the water after fish attracted to our lights. The sea lion, so intent on its task, smashes head on into the hull of the boat twice, without pausing in its pursuit. The night hunting Swallow-Tailed Gulls begin swooping through the lit scene from above, diving for fish or squid. As we examine the water, trying to discern what type of fish we’re seeing, a couple large, dark shadows become visible at the edge of the light cast by our deck lights. The long, graceful bodies of a couple, large Galapagos sharks materialize, surveying the scene, hovering at the far periphery of the light, leisurely swimming back and forth, hunting. We are deeply immersed in nature, as protected from the influences of man as possible. Thus, not afraid of man. This is the draw of the Galápagos Islands. We’re all in!

The morning dawns with sun casting warm light on our first view of the beautiful, lush green Floreana Island. The darkness had been so intensely deep the night before that we couldn’t even make out land. We are currently the only boat anywhere in sight. Post Office Bay is a long bay lined by white sand beach and lava rock. Sea turtle trails up into the brush and other tracks back to the water are clearly defined in several areas where eggs have been laid. Rob drops us off with the dinghy (we are not allowed to anchor the dinghy so someone needs to stay with it) and Fernando takes us to the namesake for the bay, The Post Office. This is a small rum barrel mounted on a post with a little door. Inside, we find zip lock bags full of hundreds of post cards from people who hail from all regions of the world. They’ve dropped off a card addressed to someone else in the world. No stamp. No post office employee. We look through these cards to see if any are addressed to a place where we’ll be able to hand deliver them. I find one addressed to a woman in Baldwin Park, a couple miles from where we live in Orlando! And several to Salt Lake City and Park City, Utah, to give to Jacob when he visits. This honor system post office was originally started in 1793 for whalers, sailors and fishermen passing through. We walk further on a trail to a hole in the ground with rickety wooden ladder-like steps leading straight down into the darkness. Fortunately, we have headlamps - once we’re inside, the absence of any light at all makes them necessary. We are making our way through an old lava tunnel, which begins narrow and then opens high and wide into a cathedral-sized space. Beyond this area, sea water runs along the bottom of the tunnel. We wade through the dark water until a large rock blocks our path. At that point, we happily turn around.

Later, Fernando leads us to a couple of snorkel sites. The first being Devil’s Crown, a jagged, exposed rim of a volcano. Ellie and I spot a large hammerhead shark as we snorkel toward the Crown. We see it moseying slowly along the bottom. However, it seems to take an interest in us and swims upward and circles around behind us. Trying not to freak out, we both turn and face toward it. What relief when it slowly turns away, dismissing us! We’ve been coached to push a sharks head away if it approaches you. Sounds so simple, but doesn’t feel at all like a natural response. RUN!! seems most appropriate!

The inside of Devil’s Crown is a shallow, clear snorkel with lots of reef fish and a beautiful Hawksbill turtle resting wedged down in the rocks. The periphery of the volcano is a steep drop. We swim around the outside and then within the space of the caldera. Champion’s Islet is the next short snorkel, and then on to Santa Fe, a tiny, uninhabited island south of Santa Cruz to set the hook and spend the night.

Another beautiful morning greets us and Fernando has a full day planned. I drop everyone on the beach at Santa Fe for a hike followed by a snorkel in the bay with sea lions. We motor over to a beautiful anchorage between North and South Seymour (also called Baldra) Islands. Here, we have several other Oysters with us and we all meet on s/v Babiana for happy hour. Babiana is a beautiful, new 885, highly customized to be more of a racing model. British owners, Anthony and Sophie, are wonderful hosts. That evening, back on Jolie, Fernando points out the Southern Cross to us. We’d been searching for it, but this was our first official sighting. It’s low on the horizon, four stars in the shape of a kite, positioned on its side. Over the next six hours, it will rotate so its orientation is like a proper cross. Imagining the sailors of old, who had no weather predictions or electronic navigation, must have felt comfort in grounding their location in the vast ocean by the Southern Cross. I like that. In the northern hemisphere, we’ve always looked for the Big Dipper. Maybe we should rethink that name?

Fernando gets us up early on Sunday for a hike. In general, the schedule of activities is very tight in Galapagos. We are set to hike between 7-9 am and then to snorkel at 10. We have to abide by these times or we aren’t permitted to see the areas. This is to avoid groups running into each other. It’s inconvenient, but we do appreciate how few (usually no one but us) people are around on our hikes and snorkels. Our early hike is on North Seymour Island through a nesting area for Magnificent and Great Frigates (different varieties of Frigates with one being a day scavenger and the other a night hunter), yellow iguanas and blue-footed boobies, among other birds and critters. The dinosaur-like yellow iguanas are lounging about in numerous quantities. It’s the beginning of the rainy season, so food is abundant. They are fat and happy and not concerned with our presence at all. And the frigates are all nesting in the small, low brush (no tall trees here). The males rest on the nest with their big red chests all inflated to grab the attention of the females. If a female flies over them, they spread out their huge wings and begin a frantic shaking dance, along with an annoying high pitched sound. Hard to believe that display would attract anything. The conclusion of the trail was along the beach where male blue-footed boobies had their own unique ritual to attract a mate. Females admire the males’ blue feet - the bluer the better! And to show off their feet, the male has a special waddle where he extends one foot out to the side and then the other, waving his blue feet for all the ladies to admire. And lastly, we spotted a few of the gray, swimming iguanas, perched on the gray lava rock of the shoreline. They appear smaller and more agile than the lazy yellow ones we saw earlier.

Quick turn around on the boat and we went off for a snorkel along the rocky coast of North Seymour. Five modula rays gracefully swam by at the beginning of the snorkel, resembling a smaller version of a manta ray. Remarkable how they move through the water; the slow motion flight of a huge bird with liquid wings.

Later in the afternoon, we sailed to Sullivan Bay on James Island (also called Santiago or San Salvador Island, among other names.) and anchored between James and the small island of Bartolome. This may be my favorite spot in the Galapagos, in terms of the topography of the islands. The other-worldly feel of James Island is hard to describe. The beauty of the starkness of the black lava field covering miles of the eastern portion of the island is unlike any landscape we’ve seen. Ever. The eruptions that created this spectacle were from the late 1800s. Fernando explains it takes about 2000 years before the lava rock breaks down enough for plant life to flourish. Thus, this large expanse of lava is starkly black with some shades of gray, and no other colors. The patterns of the liquid lava have solidified into beautiful, flowing movements captured in time. No two areas are the same. Some look like a sheet draped on a bed in gentle folds and others like thick braided rope laid in rows or dense cake batter poured into a pan. Occasional impressions in the lava exist where branches lay as the lava cooled. And the waves of movement across the field - high crests and deep troughs - similar to the ocean frozen in time. Incredible. In contrast, rusty-reddish, rocky hills abut the black lava flow. These areas are from an older eruption, changed through time in color, texture and its fertility for plant life. Sparse, bright green scrub growth periodically dots the hillsides. The black, lifeless flow leads directly into the sea which sharply contrasts with waters teeming with the busyness of underwater life. We follow our hike with a snorkel along the rocky shoreline of Bartolome Island. Penguins!! These tiny fellas(about 15 inches tall) standing so erect on the rock by the water, decide to jump in and swim near us! Adorable!! They’re like little black and white bobbers floating on their bellies on the surface scanning the area below for anchovies, sardines or mullet. When they decide to dive, they’re very quick - changing directions in an instant - using their wings in the water like most birds use in the air. Surprisingly agile, compared to their awkward movements on land, where they waddle along seemingly moments away from toppling over at the slightest variation in the rock. Or the unsteady, rigid landing when they jump down a few inches from one rock to another. One couple stand with their backs to us, the taller one with its wing around the shoulder of the other. Fernando explains their feet get sunburned, thus they tend to stand with their backs to the hot sun. They may be my favorite animal thus far. I mean the sharks are cool, but I could see taking a penguin home.

We concluded the day with a climb up an old wooden staircase to the top of Bartolome. It was a little nerve-wracking attempting to get past an ornery sea lion sleeping on the platform at the beginning of the trail, but after giving him a wide berth as he barked at us, we were able to return to the boardwalk and make our way up to a breath taking view from the peak of Bartolome. Knife-like Pinnacle Rock juts up in the landscape below next to the rock cliffs, surrounded by the calm bay on each side, framed in the distance beyond by the black lava flow. Strikingly stark, yet beautiful landscape.

Our last day with Fernando, we pull anchor at 6:30 am and make our way to Chinese Hat Islet. In the distance, the name becomes apparent, the profile of a symmetrical, wide brimmed, flat-topped hat extends out of the ocean. On our way, Fernando makes us traditional bolons (his grandma’s recipe) made from green plantains. They’re tasty. And green plantains last well on passage, not refrigerated. We need to consider stocking up on them when we provision for the journey to Marquesas. We begin our outing with a short hike along the brim of the hat. The path is well defined and we aren’t permitted to wander off it. Like all the islands of Galapagos, this island is volcanic. The dark grey swimming iguanas pose on the jagged, black lava rocks with the white surf bursting beyond them. Numerous bright orange Sally Lightfoot crabs scamper across the black rock along the shore. We don our snorkel gear for an unexpectedly beautiful scene. A school of very large yellow-tailed surgeon fish allow me to swim along with them - surrounded by them - unconcerned by my presence. Another huge mass of bait fish (same fish as Kicker Rock - black striped Salemas) runs along the coast, attracting a variety of fish and the ominous Galapagos sharks. We witness a couple little penguins on the hunt, darting in all directions through the fish ball. Expert fisherman, the Blue-footed boobies dive bomb the bait fish, as well. Sea lions are floating on their backs along the shoreline.

Nature can be so very frantic, especially when it’s feeding time! At another time, we may swim along this very shore and find very little activity. Once again, we’re grateful to be able to witness these amazing scenes. We complete the day by sailing over to Santa Cruz and saying farewell to Fernando. We really enjoyed the time with him and his depth of knowledge on everything Galapagos.

Our last two days in Galapagos are spent preparing for our longest open ocean journey of the entire trip - three weeks to Marquesas. Several grocery shopping trips, including one with Martina and Estrella from s/v Altaia where we were completely drenched in a deluge of rain, schlepping huge bags of groceries, laughing as we made our way through the sleeping sea lions to catch a water taxi. We also needed to fill up our fuel tanks, which was an unusual experience. Galapagos doesn’t have a fuel dock. They pull an old boat alongside Jolie filled with jerry-cans of diesel fuel, rev up the generator, and start pumping. Unfortunately, Calvin inadvertently moves the nozzle as he’s fueling and shoots diesel in Rob’s face. Tense time for a bit as Rob tries to keep it out of his eyes (thank God he had his sunglasses on). Eventually, all is well with the only casualty being Rob’s hat, too doused to remove the diesel fumes. There’s been much concern about contaminated fuel from Galapagos on a couple of the other boats, but those problems appear to originate from previous problems with old fuel. We decide we have to fill up prior to our long journey, so we’re diligent about running the fuel polisher and hoping for the best.

Our last night in Puerto Ayora, on Santa Cruz, we enjoy an Oyster arranged happy hour with owners and crew of all the boats anchored in the bay. We’re all excited, and a little anxious, about starting our long voyage, thus much of the chatter revolves around the sail. Four of us plan on departing the next day; the rest leaving at different times over the next week. We are aware of not wanting to overly partake - lots of loose ends to tie up in the morning before the Galapagos inspectors board/search the boat. I guess they’re making sure we don’t stash a penguin in the bunk room? Rob and I leave happy hour early for a quick dinner in Los Kioskos, a pedestrian only street lined with small ma and pa local restaurants. Hosts from each little restaurant walk out to you to lure you into their establishment (in Spanish, so wasn’t very effective for us). I ordered the brujo, local term for Scorpion fish. Delicious. My new favorite fish! The rain begins as we eat and crescendos into a loud deluge, at which point Rob realizes he’s not sure he closed the hatch over our bed. We decide we need to weather the storm and get back to the boat ASAP. For the second time in two days, we get completely drenched running from the restaurant, waiting for the water taxi and finally reaching the boat. Only to find Rob did close his hatch! Ha! Better safe than sorry.

On Thursday, March 21st, at 2 pm, after our brief inspection, we are given 30 minutes to depart. Most ports give us 24 hours, so once again, Galapagos is quite restrictive with boats. After two days of rain, we look a bit like a laundry vessel - towels and wet clothes pinned to our lifelines - as we make our way out of the bay. I miss our clothes dryer.