AMAZON AND THE GALAPAGOS DAY 11 - ZERO DEGREES OF SEPERATION

It’s a dreamlike state. Waking up here, knowing in real time how fortunate we are to be in this place. Another fine breakfast made by a pair of very hardworking chefs. They go to sleep way after us and wake up way before to ensure our dream bubble is not burst. Same can be said for the entire crew, tirelessly working to make sure everything is just right, so we can realize the trip we have so long fantasized about.  

At 8:15 we make a dry landing at Punta Espinoza on Ferdandina, where we split into two groups. Forged by a volcano that dominates the landscape and the youngest island in the archipelago, Fernandina has never been developed and is the most pristine.   As we step off the boat, we see our first oystercatcher, it’s bright orange beak betraying its attempt to blend into the landscape.  The marine iguanas blend perfectly with the lava landscape, but for the first time we see them in the ponds instead of the ocean.  Seems that they haven’t stopped adapting. A Galapagos hawk, the super predator here, surveys the scene from above, but none of us are judged to be delicious enough.  

We watch the sea lions play in the tidal pools.  It’s one of those things that does not get old.  Playful pups burn energy in the safe harbor while their mother hunts for dinner.  The fuzzy pups may be the sweetest animals in existence, curious, clumsy and cute, flopping down every few steps in exhaustion.  This experience alone would be the highlight of any trip, and here we are seeing it for the third consecutive day.  

A big sea turtle (turtles swim, tortoises walk) lays at the edge of the black sand beach, warming himself in the sun.  He’s been still there for so long, an inquisitive Sally Lightfoot crab decides to check for a pulse, hoping to scavenge a meal for his entire cast (Yup, that’s the right name for a group of crabs.  It’s another reason one should travel with one’s own degreed naturalist.)  One quick flick of the flipper sends Sally sailing with his answer.  Still, these are some damned photogenic crustaceans. 

 

With all that, the landscape here is still the main attraction.  Lava flows, long frozen in time, create tidal pools that team with life, safe habitat for the tiny sea creature inhabitants to thrive until they are big enough to hold their own in the open ocean.  

Driftwood and the spine of a whale, decades old and still in pristine condition, show in stark white against the black sand.  On the horizon, a small fishing boat draws the attention of the sea birds looking for an easy meal.  The two halves of our group meet up and we pause for a picture.  It’s been another amazing day, and it’s only 10am. 

No morning in the Galapagos is complete without a little snorkel, so it's on with the wetsuit and back into the Zodiacs. I'm running out of superlatives to describe just how magnificent the diving really is.  The density of the sea life is unlike anywhere we have been.  The diversity is unbelievable.  I get it though.  If I was a fish, I'd want to live here too.  And every time we hang out with a turtle it's mystical.  

Back on the boat, expected and unexpected things happen.  We’re greeted with a nice snack upon our return (as we have now come to expect).  We’re towing that fishing boat that we saw (unexpected) as their outboard motor failed.  We’re summoned to the bow of the boat to see a massive pod of dolphins, some flipping 6 to 8 feet out of the water (happily unexpected!) 

Our expected navigation route to the northern tip of Isabella Island leads the captain to call us all to the bridge around 2pm.  At 2:19, we cross the equator (second time in a week!) and we all cheer and take pictures of the GPS screen.  Mandy and I ham it up by wearing our 0.0.0 tee shirts we got at the equator in Quito, then taking turns at the helm.  No, the captain did not let me drift the boat, despite multiple requests.  

At 4, we jump on the pangas to explore Punta Albemarle to tour the mangroves.  A fog has rolled in, but the place is still teaming with life.  Blue footed boobies share the rocks with some Sally Lightfoot crabs.  A yellow crowned night heron waits patiently for the sun to set to start his shift.  Spotted eagle rays soar gracefully under the surface of the smooth water.  It’s quiet here, peaceful, reflective.  Air.  Light.  Space.  Time.  Breathe. 

As night sets on our little voyage, the crew throws a Pirate Party aboard the ship, complete with cocktails, costumes and contests.  The whole bunch ends up dancing and mugs for a quick photo.  We learn the Ecuadorian concept of “yapa”, the Spanish equivalent to “hook me up!”.  Of course, the travelers adapt this idea with much vigor, spending the rest of the night pestering the bartender with “la yapa, por favor” to turn singles into doubles.  Dinner is great, from what I remember 😊.