Early explorers called these "The Enchanted Islands" because, not knowing about the currents, the islands seemed to disappear from their charted locations. There is an other-world feeling here still, as a red AND green iguana swims by, crested head emerging from the water, blowing salt sprays from its nostrils (no, this is not an old Japanese science fiction movie!).
Friday morning found us anchored off Sombrero Chino "Chinese Hat." These are small volcanoes forming little islets around the main islands. We zodiac'd around these small volcanoes, looking for sea lions, penguins and shore birds.
Herons:
Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias cognata)
Sure-footed
lava heron
(Butorides striata
sundevalli)
Yellow-crowned
night heron
(Nyctanassa violacea)
Always strikes me as so comical - to see them relax down into their necks and then watch them "stretch it out" when they spy a possible meal!
And then someone happens to look, not at the rocks, but at the water. Oh my!
Snorkeling saga, part 1:
I have snorkeled - several times. I've snorkeled in the Sea of Cortez, Hanauma Bay near Honolulu, in Molokini near Maui, off the Napili coast in Kaui. I was anticipating a similar experience in the Galapagos and was so looking forward to it, that I "invested" (that means it was expensive) in a mask with goggles hand-made to my near-sighted prescription.
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Galapagos snorkeling was unlike any I had experienced before. They insisted we wear wet suits - I had never worn a wet suit before. They insisted we wear fins - I had never worn fins before. They did give us an hour or so to practice - and I must say, this was the only area where I found Nat Geo lacking. I could not, for the life of me, take the fins off and put them on in water. I also found the wet suit to be very restricting. They gave us no training in using this equipment. Their attitude was "go in the water and practice" - which several of us did - but without instruction or help of any kind, we were lost.
Curiosity:
We practiced snorkeling on this lovely white sand beach - where a young sea lion was extremely curious about my purple-lined purse (aka daypack).
The sleeping sea lion had had several encounters with this lava lizard before giving up and taking a snooze. The lava lizard has a look like "Do I dare get closer - closer - closer?"
Snorkeling saga, part 2: So here's what happened - I went out with the snorkeling group, even though the water was quite - choppy. How choppy? That morning, one of the kayaks flipped because the waves were so high. The water was choppy. That made me a little uneasy. But, I determined on. I lowered myself into the water from the zodiac and began to float on my tummy, making sure the snorkel apparatus was clear. I had been face down for a while and suddenly realized that I couldn't straighten up. Usually you float/swim on your tummy for a while, then get vertical and dog paddle for a while. I could not get vertical. Imagine if you will, forced to be on your tummy and trying to lift your neck out of the water. I thought - this is not good. So I waved for the zodiac to come over and pick me up. It took me forever to get the flippers off; meanwhile one of the leaders was calling for the zodiac to come closer - which the zodiac driver couldn't do because I was trying to get in. It was not conducive to keeping calm, knowing that the leader was yelling for the zodiac, and I was the reason for the delay. I finally got the flippers off - threw them into the zodiac and hauled myself in.
Sally Lightfoot Crabs:
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Snorkeling saga, part 3: Once back in the zodiac, the reason for my predicament became clear. The wet suit had a significant hole in the lower back, right below the waist. Once in the water, an air pocket formed around the hole that prevented me from getting vertical. That - and the water was really choppy! Turns out - I had a terrific view from the zodiac. I got a great pic of a reef shark that no one else saw - they were all snorkeling!
These photos look like they were shot in a pool - but NOT!
They were shot from the zodiac and, I do not, at all regret being IN the zodiac - not once in my life have I ever wanted to swim with the sharks - so thank you whoever put that hole in the wet suit!
This is either a black-tipped or white-tipped reef shark and, again, glad I am IN the zodiac, NOT IN the water.
Now we're back in the zodiac and the naturalist spots this from so-o-o-o far away - this little beaked head in the water. I figure this is my only shot of a Galapagos penguin, I'll take it! Little did I know we were going to be able to get a lot closer! The zodiac went toward the rock islet and we could actually see the penguin through the water, the water was so clear.
and suddenly, there he was:
Endemic species:
Galapagos penguin
(Spheniscus mendiculus)
In the 1920's adventurer William Beebe landed on one of the smaller islands and wrote, "Bagpipes in a mosque would be no more unexpected and comically out of place than the first sound that greeted us here (on James Island). Far up in the hills echoing above the pound of the surf, we heard a long-drawn-out, Hee-haw! Hee-haw! of a donkey...". Here - there is the unexpected at every turn - penguins swimming with sharks!
After snorkeling, we sailed east along the coast of Santiago to an area called Sullivan Bay, named for an officer aboard the H.M.S. Beagle in 1835.
Looking from the lava flow toward our zodiacs, the rocky outcropping across the water reminded me of Planet of the Apes - in the rock jutting out on the left, I saw the Empire State Building (not Lady Liberty) half submerged in the ocean!
While I'd seen evidence of volcanic activity on the island of Hawaii, I'd never seen anything like the geological site we hiked on this day. The black fields of volcanic rock in Hawaii were moon-like, but this contrast of red earth, green shrubbery and black rock was stunning.
This lava flow occurred about a hundred years ago and had been reported in 1897. It covered the entire side of the island. Our hike was one mile inland, two miles round-trip.
It has been a day of unusual sightings - a dragon arising out of the sea, a penguin swimming in warm water, then sunning itself on a rock, a silent shark lazily floating by in a swimming-pool like lagoon. After all the life we've seen today, this island is a contrast. Here there are no birds, no lizards, no sea lions. It is barren, a new creation, yet holding all the possibilities of the newly created. A paradox arises. Here, this uninterrupted space gives free flow to our creative imaginations. We see monkeys, turtles, a mother and child in the swirling patterns of an old lava field. Gazing at the horizon, a mass of rock becomes a lion at rest. Among my companions, there develops a playfulness. One pretends to surf on the smooth, black ocean of lava. Another sings
a lullaby to a "child" in the rock - much laughter. We have grown comfortable with each other and with the unknown. Now, paradoxically, we each talk about home. The trip is almost over we say, somewhat wistfully.
