The Galapagos

I woke up at 4 am on our first morning, eager to begin the day. Alas, breakfast (or as our guide with his thick accent says, "brekies") wasn't until 6, and our landing at 6:30, but my body didn't want to sleep. I was too eager to jump in that beautiful blue water and explore the outrageous landscape. Anybody who knows anything about my luxuriously long sleeping habit can appreciate my excitement for exploring the Galapagos considering how early I voluntarily woke that morning. However the sun would not rise for another two hours, so I managed to convince myself to doze in snatches until it was time to ready myself for the day. The sun would also set promptly 12-ish hours after sunrise, thanks to the fact that we were within 30 miles of the equator, so while days start early, they also end early.

The Galapagos is at the intersection of the Nazca, Cocos, and Pacific plates, creating hot spots of activity which allowed for the formation of the Galapagos. Because the archipelago is located on the eastward moving Nazca plate, the older eastern-most island, Espanola, is the shortest at 200 meters, while the youngest, biggest, and tallest island in the West, Santa Isabela, is 1,000 meters at its highest point. Theory suggests that Espanola is shorter, not due to erosion, but because the Nazca plate is subducting, thus moving downward. Notably, the Nazca plate moves eastward at a projected rate of 7-10 cm each year, scooting slowly under South America, creating the Andes.




After visiting Florida, June challenged Will to identify 27 birds in one day, so he focused his tour on bird identification. Our bird encounters were numerous, and I believe Will identified 30 birds--though not in one day. During one hike across the scrubland lining an empty, remote beach, a female flycatcher attacked my lens 4 times as I was photographing it. I realized that it could see its reflection in my polarizing filter, and likely thought that it was another flycatcher encroaching upon her territory. The most unique opportunity we had was to visit the mating and nesting ground for frigates and blue footed boobies. The boobies would whistle and march, extending their brightly colored webbed feet as far up and out as could be extended. Their awkward marching could easily be twisted into a form of satire against the military. Once a female was attracted, the males would continue their hilarious dance, as well as pluck small twigs and pebbles from the surrounding area as a gift for the females and delicately deliver it to them with their beaks.



A colony of frigate birds was beginning the mating ritual just feet from the booby colony. Males would fill their bright red gullets with air and flash them to females flying overhead in hopes of attracting their attention. While I saw no interactions between the sexes, I can understand why the color red is successfully used as a form of mate attraction. No other color is as bright amid these black volcanic rocks, white sands, green shrubs, and blue waters. At the end of the day we sat on our private porch and drank wine. Frigate birds soared effortlessly in the boat's wind stream and storm petrels skated across the glassy water as we motored toward our next destination.

The most extraordinary aspect of the Galapagos Archipelago is that the wildlife is so fearless of humans that the animals will often instigate interactions with people rather than the other way around. Sea lions, being the most charismatic of mammals here (though there are very few mammals) will occasionally frolic with snorkelers, playing games of chicken by rocketing as close to our faces as is possible without actually touching us, save for the brush of a wiry whisker. The sea lions are bored with snorkelers in most areas, but we were fortunate enough to be the sole boat of the day to visit a snorkeling location that the park had just opened. The water happened to be quite cold that day, so Will and I had paused to snuggle together to slow the chatter of our teeth, and in that time, 7 juvenile sea lions began to swim circles around us, occasionally challenging us to play in a mischievous but friendly manner, but sometimes just floating past, examining us with one large eye and blowing bubbles.




The sea lions tend to steal the show with their prankster antics, not only while snorkeling, but in their interactions with other animals. Marine iguanas feed on the algae below the water line and swim to these locations using only their tails. Sea lions amuse themselves at the iguanas expense by sneaking up behind them and tugging their tails, making the iguanas lose control and sink--though not without protest. The surly reptiles seem to scowl all the more for being so humiliated. On another occasion, a great blue heron was plucking its way carefully along the waterline, hunting for small fish. Out of nowhere, a sea lion came bursting out of the water, sending the elegant bird squawking uphill with the sea lion right on its heels. Dignity does not survive in the presence of a juvenile sea lion.

My experience is best told with photos, though I have none of the life below the waterline. A week of swimming with Galapagos penguins, eagle rays, manta rays, black tipped reef sharks, 9 sea turtles, and multitudes of colorful fish darting about the crevices of the volcanic rock left me feeling thrilled. The underwater world is one that I've seen so little of, but this problem was remedied by about 14 snorkeling trips during the tour.