16 August 2000
This is the third day of the Galapagos trip but only the first chance I have had to write. We really started on Sunday night the 13th: I was late in picking up Sarah (Pedersen, traveling companion) because I really wanted to get some colored pencils, just in case the artist inside decides to make an appearance. We drove to the Rodeway Inn at the airport, making conversation about various colleagues and finding out a bit about each other. Our night was disrupted: a midnight wrong number phone call, various loud thumps from next door, and the chirping alarm at 4:50 am. I got a latte at the airport (along with yogurt and a pastry) and decided that I was awake.

I had some misgivings about checking my bag through to Quito but went ahead with it, because I really didn’t want to drag bags through the Miami airport. The first flight was okay -- I read The Beak of the Finch and learned about the great work of Peter and Rosemary Grant, who study finch populations on the Galapagos island of Daphne Major. I had some difficulties with the book’s portrayal of Rosemary’s work (clearly appearing secondary to Peter’s) -- there were even quotes of her and Peter talking: “So you see, the finches change their beak size according to the availability of seeds,” says Peter. “Really?” says Rosemary. “I see!” No thanks. I also disliked the couching of the entire evolution discussion in war-like terms. But this was only the first part of the book; I finished it today, ten minutes prior to arriving in Baltra.

At Houston, I got on the plane with Sarah and heard a smiling voice call out “Redheads rule the planet!” I turned, thinking that it must be a man I know, but no: it was the pilot. He and the co-pilot were beaming at me. I stood there for a fraction of a second in my traveling academic mode before my snappier side kicked in and allowed me to react appropriately (“Well, of course!”, smile, etc.) Yuck. So I sat down with Sarah in our seats, and she said “Welcome to the South.” Oh yeah. Time to polish up one or two Southern personae.

I only then realized that my academic persona was just about all I brought -- it’s nice, in a way, because it allows me to focus so well. It has, however, also left me underprepared to deal with men either in the South or here in Ecuador. When we got to the Miami airport, Sarah and I checked in and had a hilarious conversation with the woman at the ticket counter. We got to the head of the line and she looked at both of us, saying “Ecuadorian men are the WORST, I’m telling you, the WORST!” and she went on as if she knew us well. She had a strong Spanish-language accent, but I have no idea where she’s from. Miami? The experience reminded me of New York City and the salesladies there -- so intimate and catty, simultaneously.

It turns out that we narrowly missed a major tropical storm in Texas, and landed in Miami just before another storm hit there. It was great: big flashes of lightning and crashing thunder. Sarah and I were still laughing and commenting about the ticket lady when we ran into some other folks from the trip. We had a beer and found our gate, and discovered that the plane was going to be delayed by several hours. So we watched the storm, enjoying the fiery pink and gold sunset very much. For dinner we had sushi after noting that one place happened to be full of pilots and happy flight attendants.

Susan Auerbach of the UW ethnomusicology department (1982, I think) saw me at the gate and called my name. I was embarrassed not to remember her name until she told me. She introduced me to her husband and two sons, and we had a great conversation -- they’re taking the exact same trip next week! It made the time seem to pass quickly, although the plane was really late. About five and a half hours late.

We boarded at 10 and watched a movie (“Return to Me”) en route to Quito. The film was barely tolerable; the flight was uneventful. When we arrived in Quito, immigration was as easy as getting into Canada. My bag, however, didn’t arrive. To make a long (and dull) story short, I got on the airport bus at 1:30 am feeling guilty as hell for delaying the entire group, and off we went to the Hotel Colón -- now the Hilton Colón -- without my bag.

Quito is at over 9,000 feet, so I was surprised several times at being short of breath, even when lying down on my bed. The Colón is luxurious and safe and wonderful, and I was happy to be there. I also had the vague hope that the Wilderness Travel folks could help me get my bag. I still didn’t sleep much, though. In the morning Linda (Kahan -- my roommate) and I went down for breakfast and met Carlos King, our travel guide. He is pleasant, courteous, and very much at ease with Americans. His knowledge of specialized English is excellent. I was very impressed that we all felt we’d known him weeks just after breakfast alone!

Andrea, our drop-dead gorgeous Quito tour guide, met us at the hotel and took us on a tour of Quito. She was careful to point out all the new hotels and tourist infrastructure, and noted that eco-tourism is rapidly becoming Ecuador’s most essential economic force. We went up to the top of a hill to see some spectacular views of the city, and then into two churches as well. We were also at the main plaza, housing the Presidential palace, the mayor’s home, and an impressive monument. I took a photo of the monument for its symbolism: a lion (the Spanish) with a dagger in its side, the national flag, and the cross. Oh, and a condor up above to represent the Andeans (and, by extension, the Ecuadorian national character). There was a crowd of exquisite little school kids in pink smocks (boys) and pink pinafores (girls) playing on the plaza steps. Darling kids! All I could think about was how much I missed Morgan, and how I wanted her to see this.

We went to a stunning church (built in the 1500s, I think) with very worn wooden stoops, near which a number of Andean women were crouched with children, begging. They were old women worn down by years of poverty and intense sun exposure. Just inside the church was a very old huge door, painted red with elaborate gold leaf. I longed to take a photo of it, but couldn’t (no flash allowed and my camera wasn’t able to capture it). It had a pale blue ceiling and was very light, tall, and airy. The second one we went into had thousands of flowers, all of which were in full, perfect bloom. The service was going on. It was the church at the Plaza San Francisco in old town, started in 1534 and not finished until 70 years later. I was moved by the elements of the service -- the people rushing forward to get splashed with holy water, the brilliant flowers, the solid pews, the creaky floors. Andrea did a great job all day: she found water and bathrooms, knew when to explain and when to be silent, and how long to let us stand there, gawking. She described the whole Baroque period as “fear of emptiness” in terms of art and architecture. She used the phrase several times and the concept really stuck in my head. It made me want to discuss the idea with a philosophy professor and an artist. We then got a few things at the nice museum shop nearby.

Then we drove up to Ecuador’s version of Corcovado (El Panecillo -- “little bread loaf”) to see an enormous statue of the Virgin Mary, standing on a snake (“The Devil”), and on top of the world. She’s called the Virgin of Quito. She’s made entirely out of aluminum. From where we stood we were quite close to the big volcano that blew up just last year. It was exciting! The statue reminded me that in Brazil, she is Iemanja and a snake/ocean deity. Her color is blue in Brazil. In Ecuador, she usually wears the colors of the flag (blue and red, I think). The statue was done by an Italian.
We didn’t see many dogs in Quito. No birds, no cats. Lots of Andean children, begging. I was saddened by them, wondered what sort of life would come to them.

For lunch we went to the institute (CIMAS) run by José Suarez, former Evergreen exchange faculty. It’s a fine place: computers, well-trained English-speaking staff, and roughly set up similar to the Evergreen interdisciplinary model. José’s English is great, too. He has much to be proud of. For lunch we had HUGE corn on the cob: the kernels were so big that you had to eat them individually (mighty starchy). We also had enormous 2 inch long fava beans and a delicious potato soup (locra) made with cheese and avocado chunks sprinkled over it. Pineapple and papaya for dessert. We then talked to José about his institute. Then the bus came and we went back to the Hotel. Free time!

My bag still hadn’t arrived, so I panicked and went shopping with Linda and Gerardo. As we went through the streets I felt a strong set of memories from Bali, especially seeing the hand-carved tropical wooden fruits and birds. I got a few of this and that, but I don’t much care for Ecuadorian handicrafts. Besides, they’re readily available in the States. What I really needed, though, was underwear and swimsuit. Poor Gerardo was a good sport and bravely translated my needs for underwear in a lingerie shop -- the 50 year old ladies kept glaringly presenting me with the most kinky underwear in shocking colors. I died a lot, mostly because of Gerardo. I ended up with four pairs of fairly lacy and only slightly kinky bikini underwear and a frightening suit that I didn’t even have the guts to try on. I also had to find tampons, which I didn’t, because no one uses them here. Everyone had offered to lend me various items as need arose, just in case the bag didn’t arrive.

Carlos took us all out for an outstanding dinner at an Ecuadorian restaurant, but not before my bag, miraculously, showed up. What a relief! So I wore clean clothes and was upbeat at the restaurant. I think it may have been the Excalibur; in any case, the food was marvelous and authentically Ecuadorian. I had corvino in marinesco sauce, which was sea bass with various seafoods in a sauce (octopus and mussels and the like). We ALL ate too much, and fell into bed back at the hotel. I didn’t have as much trouble catching my breath the second night.

This morning we had an earlier breakfast and went out to the airport to come here. I had a distinct feeling of relief that I wasn’t, for once, in charge here. Everything went very smoothly, the flight was uneventful except for the huge portions of goat meat, and it all looked cloudy until just before we landed.

Baltra, our first destination (where the plane landed) reminded me very much of the desert: lots of cactus, dry ground, barren brown trees. There were lots of other islands visible, and many of them looked quite large and tall. I think I expected the islands to be much smaller than they were, and closer together. After the plane ride (about two hours with a stop in coastal Guayaquil) we hopped on a bus into the harbor area. Such birds! I saw blue-footed boobies diving headlong in huge groups (more than 30 at a time) to catch sardines. There were big old pelicans (nearly unrecognizably pelicans!), and a few frigates and tropic birds with long, pure white, split tails. A whole flock of blue-footed boobies dove right next to the dinghy!!

17 August 2000
My 41st birthday! We are having a wonderful time here -- right now the sun is shining on deep blue water, a light breeze and steady swells are making the boat sway. I was falling asleep last night while writing -- the blue-footed boobies hit the water like torpedoes, a dozen at a time in successive waves. It was very dramatic, like seeing a pelican fly overhead up close. But with pelicans, you’re not sure if it’s a pelican or an enormous flying bear.

We got on the Andando and found our rooms, and got settled. My bed is a lower berth that is wider at the head and narrower at the feet because it’s right next to the captain’s quarters and close to the back of the boat. Dave and Eric (his nephew) are right across from us. There’s about two feet between the beds and the cupboards. The bathroom has a very small toilet, drinking water in a jug, cups, mirror, and shower. It all feels wonderfully luxurious and cramped at the same time. We had a very dramatic-feeling lunch out on deck, under blue shade: sautéed grouper with fresh vegetables and potatoes and fruit. We were all awestruck! Everyone kept making nervous comments about being state employees. Dave, however, reminded us that over the years he has spent thousands of dollars of his own money, just to do his job, and he’s correct. I’ve done the same.

Our first stop after Baltra was a relatively flat island called North Seymour. The landing made me pretty nervous, because we had to leap onto lava rocks from a rising and falling dinghy (called a panga). There was a nursing seal pup right at the landing site! We were mostly there for the blue-footed boobies and the frigate birds. The male frigates puff up their chests into big red balloons (forcing their heads back and up). It takes 20 minutes to puff up and two hours to deflate. They make a loud clicking noise, almost like the way a pileated woodpecker drills. They females don’t have any red on them. The males all gather in clumps (easier for the females to see from above), all puffed up. Their nests are a MESS: a pile of twigs cemented with guano. They also can’t land well -- they just crash into their nests and hang on. Evidently the nest-crashing is the leading cause of death of baby frigate birds. Frigates steal eggs and harass other birds (especially boobies) to make them regurgitate, then make off with the catch. They can tell by another bird’s voice if it’s got fish in its craw or not.

The boobies (Spanish: bobo, ‘clown’) have a hilarious way of moving. They lift one blue foot straight out to the side, then the other. The males have a beautiful multiphonic whistle, and the females have an obnoxious honk. Juveniles squawk and are very fluffy white, and darling. They look cross-eyed (all of them) because they have some kind of stereoscopic vision. The coolest thing was the males’ mating dance: high sideways stepping, then rapidly shaking his beak back and forth, then a very dramatic pose. The head and neck go back, pointing straight up, tail goes straight up, and wings arch so that the ‘elbow’ joints are down and the tips point up. Right at the pose, the whistle is long and runs through the spectrum of harmonics, like a wind tube. The pose only lasts a few seconds, so I’m not sure if I got a picture. There were lots of nesting pairs (and some mating pairs) -- their nests are a single layer of twigs surrounded by a perfect spattered circle of guano. Males and females share egg-sitting duties (they use their feet to warm the eggs because the blood vessels are close to the surface). There were hundreds of them -- I nearly stepped on them! I didn’t really notice the smell. The babies were gushingly adorable -- I took lots of cute photos of chicks at various ages.

As we headed back to the boat there was a mother sea lion guarding the path. We just had to wait her out! Only sea lions are here -- it seems that eared sea lions are very different from seals, evolving separately to life on different oceans. Our guide Carlos says that the current theory is that sea-lions were originally shallow-water bears, and that seals were land otters. I was amazed: I always thought that pinnipeds were pinnipeds, without such powerful internal differences.

When we got back on the boat there was a tray of round crackers with some kind of soft cheese topping (decorative!) and a very fresh walnut piece on top, along with chunks of ham and purple grape held together by toothpicks. Combined with a Club (‘cloob’) beer (Cerveza), it was delicious.

I made a few mistakes with taking pictures, but I’m learning. We’ve all decided to make extra copies. I going to make a collage, so people don’t have to sort through 15 rolls of film to see my pictures.

We had dinner of chicken, stuffed tomatoes, potatoes, sautéed vegetables, bread, and ice cream with peaches and chocolate syrup. Coffee (excellent) too. We were outside again, having rum drinks and chatting, for a couple of hours before dinner. As were done eating, the moon (nearly full) rose over an island and reflected through the scattered clouds onto the water. We were all very, very happy. Oscar read aloud the first section of Darwin’s Voyage of the Beagle (Galapagos chapter) before dinner, so it was great to review it. I read it about six weeks ago, not just the one chapter but most of the book, and loved it in spite of Darwin’s maddening statements about the “savage Fuegians” and “merry Tahitians.” I’m sure D’s Voyage will appear in Ter’s book The Myth of the Noble Savage.

I spent yesterday evening writing until about 11 and had a sound sleep in my little bed. It was noisy but I don’t think I really noticed. I did have a terrible dream about being briefly separated from Morgan in a scary place, and she was unhappy and weary when I found her again. It made me very sad and I wanted to call her right away. The morning before (in Quito) I had a dream in which I was being stalked by Daniel Day Lewis, of all people. Very scary, no fun at all. I never pictured him for an axe-murderer.

Our breakfast this morning was egg-over-easy, bread, pineapple, papaya, tea (for me), cereal, and yogurt. Everyone was happy, though the weather was cooler and the garúa mist (a blend of light rain, mist, and fog) had come in. I was wondering whether to wear my big coat or not, so I just rolled it up into my daypack.

This morning we went to South Plaza island where there were endless seal pups playing and “porpoising” through the water by the shore. It was great to see all the pups nursing -- you could hear them sucking from a long way off, and the sucking sound was interspersed with loud mama sounds, sounding mostly like huge burps. There were brilliant large (5” across!) red-orange crabs (Sally Lightfoot crabs) on the black lava rocks; the juveniles are all black and reminded everyone of spiders. There were also bright yellow warblers on the black rocks, which I didn’t get pictures of because they’re shy.

The main attraction of South Plaza was the land iguanas, who were near the big cacti. We saw a bunch of them quarreling over cactus pads and taking big juicy bites. Their coloring was primarily gray with yellow -- the males (several feet long) with “spikes” on their heads and backs. It was extraordinary! They move very quickly when they’re warm enough. Carlos says that there is one hybrid marine/land iguana. A naturalist is following it around to see if it’s “viable” (able to produce offspring). I also saw some marine iguanas (black and much smaller).

The rocks on the intertidal areas were slick with hundreds of years of seal fat and feces, although you only noticed the shininess. Any recent feces was obvious and easy to avoid. We saw a few dead seal pups -- one from just a week ago and already mummified. We also saw lots of petrel remains; the short-eared owls eat them. Petrels are the most charming creatures! They dance on the water to kick up insects, and it looks so delicate and fun. Their name is from St. Peter, walking on water. At the top of the island (perhaps a hundred feet above sea level) we saw a cactus finch -- on top of a cactus, of course -- near a beautifully constructed enclosed nest with a finch-sized hole in its side (about 1.5” in diameter). Cactus finches are black with a big sturdy beak (some of them, anyway). We also saw a handful of ground finches -- on, er, the ground. They are tiny: I didn’t hear their voices. A ground finch hopped up to a land iguana, who immediately raised his body and tail off the ground. Carlos said that iguanas get into that position to make it easier for the finches to pick bugs off them.

We are en route to Puerto Ayora, the big town on Santa Cruz and the home of the Darwin Research Station. I will buy a hat: foolishly I didn’t think that this would be so different from Indonesia. There, you stay out of the sun so you don’t need a hat. Here, you find the sun (or it finds you!). We were on the island this morning by 8 o’clock and done by 10:30, so it was just fine in terms of the amount of sun I got. Besides, the garúa mist/rain was still out. It wasn’t great for picture taking but I did my best.

We’ve been sailing (well, motoring but with one sail up for stability) for a couple of hours now. We saw a big sea turtle, a sailfish (I thought it was a shark but Gerardo could tell by the fin) and a whale-watching vessel. No whales. Now: lunch.

Lunch was delicious: breaded beef cutlets, mashed potatoes, vegetables, watermelon and kiwi. I was sure that the beef wouldn’t be good, but it was great. We all ate as if we’d never eaten in our lives. Outside!

After lunch we went to the Darwin Research Station on Santa Cruz. It’s at Puerto Ayora, a small town with a strong resemblance to a Balinese fishing village. All the tourist infrastructure was identical: sarongs, batiks, tourist clothes looking suspiciously like Javanese lurik cloth, as well as the usual wooden carvings. I forgot to bring money for a hat but was lucky to run into Dave, who loaned me ten dollars. I paid him back right away when we got back on the boat -- he’d already forgotten that he lent it to me. We’ve all decided that hats look terrible on virtually everyone, especially baseball caps and -- worse -- “tourist” hats with their floppy rims. My hat is one of the latter, and says “Parque Nacional de Galapagos” or something like it. Yee.

The best part about the research station is that they raise baby tortoises. They’ve eliminated goats on some of the islands (and by the way, that might explain all the goat meat on the plane) and have been able to repatriate tortoises that weren’t reproducing well. This year they released their 1000th tortoise, raised here. We saw older tortoises (they live to be 150 years old at least and can live without food or water for a year). It was amazing -- we saw the cage of “Solitary George” (Solitario Jorge), the very last tortoise found on Pinta island. He was found there 65 years after the previous “last tortoise” was found on the island. He’s in a cage with two females from Wolf island (genetically similar) but hasn’t had any luck mating. He didn’t even try for years until they realized that tortoises learn by watching, and he’d never seen tortoises mating. One researcher has been showing him x-rated videos of tortoises mating to teach him how, and he’s evidently mounted both the females, but no offspring have resulted from his efforts. He’s in the Guinness Book of Records as “the loneliest animal on the planet,” which of course isn’t true because of the females from Wolf. I learned today that in 1974, half a dozen goats got onto one of the islands. Now, there are 125,000 of them on the one island! I think it’s Floreana island. Too bad!

The worst part of today was when I found out that my 3rd roll of film didn’t actually wind. I just didn’t put it in right, and I’m sick about it. All my iguana pictures are on there! And my tortoise pictures too! If I think about it a little, I know I can get duplicates from other people. But if I think about it a lot, I feel miserable about it.

We saw a big female digging a nest to lay her eggs. She did kind of a strange ballet, scooping sand with a back leg, lifting it very high in the air, then setting it carefully down before repeating the process with the other leg.

We walked through the streets of Puerto Ayora to go to the pier, and then we sat on benches and watched the boobies hurtle into the water. It took my breath away, over and over. I tried to get to know Charlie (Baum) a little -- he works (or worked) for the Department of Natural Resources.

When we got back to the boat, the crew had put up confetti garlands, balloons, and a “happy birthday” sign! Everyone seemed delighted at the prospect of a party, so we had a very lively dinner (pork chops, green eggplant circles with Ecuadorian grated cheese, and a ton of bright, fresh vegetables with white Chilean wine). Then the lights went out abruptly and suddenly a HUGE birthday cake appeared (chocolate-type with white frosting and “Feliz Cumpleaños” and 15-15-11 -- 41 -- written here and there). Carlos said that 41 was broken down to make it seem less like 41 and more like 15! It was an exhilarating experience! David Milne asked for a piece twice as big as anyone else’s -- we all laughed as he polished it off and helped two others finish theirs as well. The captain, Nervo, gave me an Andando t-shirt.

The people on the boat (besides me) are Sarah Pedersen (faculty), Linda Kahan (faculty), Barbara Soule (spouse), Oscar Soule (faculty), David Milne (faculty), Eric something (nephew), Gerardo Chin-Leo (faculty), Paul Butler (faculty and leader), Whitney Butler (14-year-old daughter), and Don Bantz (faculty and now dean of money). About half are scientists. Carlos says that it’s great to be able to talk high-level science with us, rather than the usual remedial stuff. I can imagine!

18 August 2000
I wondered last night if Ibu Euis called from Indonesia. We had another lovely breakfast of an unidentifiable juice (tasted slightly like starfruit), scrambled eggs with various items interspersed, cereal, etc. I think I’m the only tea drinker. I know they grind coffee fresh for each meal.

We went to Hood island (Española) this morning. All the islands have both English and Spanish names. Hood is where only 14 tortoises remained after goat predation; all 14 now live at Darwin Research Station. Anyway, Hood had a ton of marine iguanas, many in full mating colors of red, black, and yellow. I took lots of great photos, and saw endless pairs of blue-footed boobies honking, whistling, and mating. Carlos does a great imitation of the male whistle, complete with multiphonics. Very impressive. Oscar does an even better imitation of sea-lions bellowing. He says he’s going to stand up at the next faculty meeting to give an assessment of the trip: AUW-AUW-AUW. We were all helpless with laughter, especially because he does it at full volume! We saw lots of eggs but no chicks yet. No cactus plants either, that I could recall.

We walked on boulders for a couple of miles, basalt mostly. Basalt has about 5% iron, which made the rocks ring beautifully as they clank against each other. It was musical and charming -- I was enchanted and wanted to make lots of noise when I walked. Carlos said that there are actual lithophones at the National Museum -- a revelation! I knew only about the ones in Nigeria and Vietnam.

We saw a Galapagos hawk, which flies differently from the other birds here. We also saw about a dozen albatross with their snow-white eyebrows and waves of gray chest feathers. Carlos says that the crash-landings of the albatross are their #1 cause of death. Their mating dance was very complex and elegant: waving their heads from side to side in synchronization, bending at the neck to 90°, really moving and communicating. None of this male-dances-while-female-pretends-to-ignore-him business. We also saw more red-orange crabs, and two lava herons. The adult had a yellow crest and looked like a night heron, while the juvenile looked like a dull brown tiny night heron. We saw a nursery of seal pups -- a handful of them playing in a tide pool with adults hauled out nearby, bellowing occasionally. The pups were unbelievably cute.

It’s lousy weather for snorkeling: choppy waves, a cold wind and sun behind the clouds. My lower lip is a little bit swollen from being sunburned (no sunscreen chapstick! what an idiot), and my face is pink in spite of multiple coats of sunscreen. We had the sails up for awhile but there wasn’t enough wind for them, so we continued to use the motor.

Lunch: soup, rice with plantains, fish-in-a-roll, cole slaw, juice, papaya, and pineapple.

Later, we pulled into a protected area (Gardener Bay) to snorkel, and I got nervous: now I’d have to get underwater. We all put on our wetsuits, but mine (rented from the company) had a large tear in back from the previous person. I instead put on a men’s large wetsuit, which fit beautifully except for the extra crotch space in front -- not too noticeable. It went to my knees and elbows and was just right. My new snorkeling equipment worked perfectly. So out we went in the panga and had to jump overboard, holding onto our masks. There were some very playful young sea lions ready to greet us, and they went all around us, swirling and splashing and leaping out of the water. It was about 20 feet deep there.

I was prepared for terribly cold water, but it was fine -- about the same as Hawai’i in winter. I had a little trouble catching my breath at first, never having worn a wetsuit before, but then Barbara said “I’m having trouble catching my breath!” and I just relaxed a bit. Sarah said that having a wetsuit on for the first time makes you feel that way. It wasn’t even tight around the knees or elbows, which is probably both good and bad. (good for prevention of panic, bad for insulation). My fins really propelled me forward, so I had to not kick so as to see everything. My new mask never leaked a drop! At one point a sea lion leaped and dove right in front of me, creating a dense field of little air bubbles to rise all around me. I felt surrounded by stars! I also saw rainbow wrass, a bunch of angel fish, and others. We’ll snorkel again tomorrow.

When I felt finished, I went over to the panga and climbed aboard via a small ladder. It was easy! There were big fluffy red towels and cups of steaming hot chocolate awaiting us when the panga got back to the Andando. Better than Ibarra chocolate, but it had cinnamon in it, so it was similar. Dave didn’t get out of the shower in time to have chocolate, so he was really disappointed, especially since we raved about it. He clearly has a sweet tooth.

People are really starting to loosen up and get to know each other. It makes life easier to be comfortable with your traveling companions. We’ve been laughing a lot. In fact, whenever one of the scientists wants to discuss something serious for more than a few minutes (or have an Evergreen-style seminar), Linda will point at the sky and shout “Look! Halley’s comet!” which makes everyone laugh. This coming from the most hard-core, alpha female evolutionary biologist. Go figure.

It’s about 9:30 and the captain just called us out to see the bioluminescence!! Linda and I went out -- all the way out -- (with the captain) on the ropes to sit on the bowsprit way out in front of the boat. All the water was sparkling and the boat was cutting through waves of stars. Two dolphins came speeding through the water and leaped in front of the bow waves for a few seconds before going on their way. Oscar described them as two torpedoes as they headed toward the boat. As I sat way out there with the captain behind me and Linda in front of me, I looked directly down at the glittering water and felt the drops of the garúa mist cover my face and hair. The captain (Nervo) got a blanket and I wrapped myself and Linda in it so we could stay a little longer and watch. Tomorrow night we might see whales and currents. Nervo says that where the currents conflict, you can see streams of light.

It’s really rolling right now. We motored all night last night and really rolled. I kept seeing scenes from the previews of “A Perfect Storm” in my head. We had a long trip -- about 50 miles -- and had breakfast when we were still going this morning. We didn’t stop until 8 am.

After we snorkeled and had hot chocolate, I decided to try out the shower for the first time. The spigot on the right said “C” for caliente and “F” for frio. So Carlos had said to let the “C” side run for a few minutes to warm up. It ran and ran -- cold. Then I asked Linda, who said that in our case only, “C” means cold! I washed my hair pretty quickly because Linda was cold, and put on some nice clean clothes.

After a short while we got in the panga again and zipped off to Gardner’s Beach, one of the most beautiful places on earth. The whole area had radiant aqua water on top of white sand flecked with black lava bits, with sea turtles and sea lions and pelicans. We saw a young Galapagos hawk (mottled) and several mature ones. One flew right past us at our level! The sun was setting through the clouds (light clouds) and the water was warm.

We were barefoot the whole time, as we have been every minute on the boat. We pretty much walked the length of the beach (a mile?), watching for sea turtles to pop their large heads up, and letting the water splash on our legs. We had a “wet landing” in which we leaped from the panga into two feet of water. It was very different from getting into the boat on Flores in Indonesia at night, but I won’t go into that. This beach was pristine, perfect, heaven on earth. I’ve never seen anything like it, literally, because there was no garbage (here or anywhere else, actually), no vendors, no untoward sounds, and no one besides us. We were all awestruck. We had to leave the island just before sunset (it’s the law: no one on the islands at night), and we were in a dreamlike state as our panga pulled away from the beach and went back through the aqua water to the ship. We were met by Pedro (the chef: he was the head chef on a cruise ship for 8 years) who stood there proudly with a tray of hot sautéed mushrooms and bacon-wrapped spicy beef. Dinner was a sautéed piece of chicken with cauliflower, carrots, onions, green beans, potatoes, and FLAN!

I’m hanging onto the table as I write this because the boat is still really rolling. Still no seasickness at all (thank you, makers of “Bonine”) and zero stomach trouble, knock on wood. This whole experience is simply dazzling, and it makes me think verrrrrry highly of Wilderness Travel.

Last points before bed: I saw two abandoned albatross eggs. A mockingbird pecked into one of them, eating the contents. The island (Hood) is totally dry, and one of the guidebooks evidently includes the suggestion of giving water to the mockingbirds. So now all the mockingbirds are little beggars. We’re rolling along through the night toward Floreana, a former whaling center.

19 August 2000
We’re moored at Floreana after lunch, having spent the morning on the north side of the island. We saw the olivine beach, which is a source of peridot! I took a picture of Barbara’s hand full of sand interspersed with tiny translucent peridot chips all through it. The beach looks slightly green. We walked inland for a bit and saw brilliant orange-and-white wild flamingos on a marshy mud flat. They put their beaks in the water upside down and scoop up water, then blow the water out and eat what’s left. They have baleens on both halves of their beaks so you see big bubbles blowing out on left and right. They step forward, sweeping back and forth from left to right. The brine shrimp is what colors them, so the ones that were pale (or even white) were migrants from nutrient-poor areas. David pointed out that it’s the brine shrimp that make the loud clicking noise underwater when we snorkel. He would know! He can dive when we snorkel, and he even takes notes underwater.

We went to another part of the island by foot (taking great care to avoid the non-native wasps, particularly nasty when the weather’s warm), and walked around on a sea turtle-hatching beach. The sand was so fine and powdery, it was like flour without being dusty. It was cool and heavenly to walk barefoot on. One in a thousand sea turtles survives to adulthood. On our way along the trail you could see goat trails everywhere. Carlos says that Floreana is completely overrun (“infested”) with goats, cats, dogs, pigs, and wasps. We were quite jumpy about the wasps. Luckily, it was cloudy! But the goat trails were disheartening. A young woman at the Darwin Research Station said that goats are very shy and hard to track. Wildlife officials choose a few goats, neuter them and put collars on them, then set them free on an island. The goats (called “Judas goats”) find other goats, then people can kill them. It’s a happy day, they say, when they find two Judas goats together, because that means that’s all there are.

After we got off the island (wet landing) we zipped back to the Andando, put on our wetsuits, and went out to snorkel. The panga took us waaaaay out past the “Devil’s Crown” outcropping, so that we were in the open ocean. Everyone overboard! Barbara and I looked very nervously at each other. We seemed too far out, and the waves were rolling. But in we went, and I took my lead from Nervo, who went right in overboard with a big splash. Again, the cold wasn’t much of a problem. However, the sun wasn’t out and we couldn’t see much. I was nervous about the waves, and about the currents. Having perfect equipment, however, gave me confidence and helped tremendously. Not a drop of water got into my mask. I started to see fish shapes in a few minutes, and got to see some “cow-nose rays” (about twelve of them) in stunning formation, gliding about a dozen feet below me. I didn’t see the sea turtle that some people saw, but I did get to see a Moorish idol (an angelfish-type with a long, glorious “banner” trailing from the dorsal fin). I took some underwater photos, and some of the fish I recognized from Hawai’i. I saw several kinds of angelfish, a couple of parrotfish, trumpetfish, and others. We got back in the panga and, a bit to my dismay, went back out into the open ocean to try again! I gamely jumped in, and it was actually much better than the first time. We went right up against the rocks (after floating along in the powerful current for a few minutes), and saw all kinds of fish, including some very brightly colored ones. And a great reddish sea cucumber.

When we got back on the panga I wasn’t very cold, and I realized that it was because of the wetsuit: my body warmed up the water trapped in the suit. Nice invention, wetsuits. It’s a good thing they never show Jacques Cousteau struggling into or out of his wetsuit; no one would ever go snorkeling! We were all laughing about it and pretending to do the blue-footed booby dance with our blue fins. I thought a lot about my water phobia while I was out there. My only really annoying moment was when water got in my snorkel and I didn’t have enough breath to blow it out. Otherwise it was fine. I got back in the boat when I strayed abruptly into a very cold current. Eeeee!

Lunch was goat stew, rice, fresh raw salad veggies (we have those every day: carrots, tomatoes, radishes, lettuce, hearts of palm), string beans with bits of bacon and onion, and for dessert: pineapple and plums! This trip is not for the unadventurous. The stew was delicious and the meat was tender. I’d be in real trouble if I tried to go the vegetarian route here. At lunch I thought “Oh yeah, this is South America. Meat.” (as Carlos says, “Chicken is a vegetable in South America.”)

You can find all the scientists scribbling away at their journals day and night, especially Dave. The scientists’ notes include all the long Latin names of plants (for the plant scientists), animals (for the biologists), and fish (for the marine ecologists). I’ve thrown in a song or two for fun, with mixed success, but today we’re on Floreana so it’s sea shanties. Everyone actually joined in, much to my surprise.

Before dinner we took the panga out to a point on Floreana where there’s a lookout. We could see the flamingos way in the distance, sea lions down below, yellow warblers here and there, various finches, and endless vistas. Carlos had to stand at the end of the panga and direct Segundo (that’s his real name) through the reef. Several sea lions came out to investigate the panga, and we saw four penguins (there’s a small colony here of about 15 penguins). The penguins swam close to the boat, floating like ducks. They float along on top of the water, then dart under and absolutely fly. It was glorious. It was almost as strange to see wild penguins as it was to see wild flamingos. All penguins live in Antarctica (except New Zealand, I hear), but these are the furthest north of any penguin. Seeing penguins swimming with cactus in the background makes little sense to me, but there they were. I may get photos tomorrow on Isabela.

Dinner was spaghetti with a sauce of chicken and mushrooms, with a huge platter of vegetables, plus a dessert of baked cinnamon apple covered with a bittersweet chocolate sauce. We have been singing the praises of Pedro (the chef) all week. We ate outside this evening after a round of Scotch in the back of the boat and few choruses of “Haul Away, Joe.” As the rest of us sat out there drinking and eating, the stars started to come out and the light began to fade. Soon we were in open water again. Eventually the stars came all the way down to the horizon. I just fixated on the Corona Borealis, Scorpio, the Southern Cross, Alpha Centauri and the few others I knew. There were shooting stars! We all sat close together, swiveling this way and that, pointing at stars or constellations, and talking about celestial navigation and astronomy. It was like a dream come true.

It’s another really rolling night. This afternoon we went to a place where you could walk down a lava tube. Right after you land, there’s a barrel (it’s called “Post Office Bay”) where you can leave an unstamped postcard if you pick one up to deliver at home instead. It’s charming! I picked up a letter in an envelope for someone in the States, which I’ll mail when I get back home. Maybe someone will mail the postcard I wrote for Mom and Dad! Someday! Anyway, the lava tube: we walked uphill for a ways, noting the droppings from wild donkeys, as well as the old stone foundations for homes that were once there. Then we got to the lava tube, noting the bins filled with sugar water to trap those nasty wasps. There were very steep ladders and a rough trail inside -- it was pitch black. I was a bit nervous not to have a flashlight, but Carlos was in front of me and Sarah was behind, both with lights. At the bottom everyone shut off their flashlights and we talked for about half an hour. The boat was rocking really hard in my mind, so much so that I thought I’d fall down any second there. Later I found out that several others were really struggling for balance, too. We could all see MUCH better when the flashlights came on. Too sleepy now.

20 August 2000
It’s been an incredibly rich, full day. Last night we all fell apart at 9:30 and went to bed. I couldn’t believe how heavily the boat rolled: looking up at the mast against the stars and seeing it wave wildly was awe-inspiring. None of us were uncomfortable or frightened, but it was very exciting to experience. We were all up at 5:45 to catch the 6 am sunrise. It was wonderful. We had the usual delicious breakfast, reminding me of the hearty breakfasts we ate at the kibbutz in Israel.

After breakfast (we were on Isabela, where we are today and part of tomorrow), we took the panga over to Punta Moreno (“black point”) to explore a lava flow. It was desolate: black, jagged, very very rough. Darwin landed here and wore out several pairs of shoes just walking on the lava. It was very hard to get around on it, mostly it was pahoehoe lava -- ropy -- but that had been uplifted and twisted and many of the “ropes” were broken up into a’a-like clumps. It took us hours to get around.

The lava has brilliant sounds: sometimes it is like stepping on ice and shattering it, other times it was like knocking tiles together (ceramic), and sometimes it sounded like a deep cupboard closing -- very resonant. Every step I took was a revelation and made me think about things like metal content in lava, why glass can ring (and, by extension, obsidian), and how much more aurally-attuned to things I am. People on this trip seem to have had some fun trying to listen for things (especially if I point them out), when they don’t appear to have ever listened to anything in nature beyond bird songs for identification.

We saw a few cacti in flower -- no, in fruit -- and got to try some fruit. It was really tart and seedy but pleasant, like extra sour kiwi. We also saw some plants in flower, sticking up through the cracks. I kept hearing that Heidi Muller song that has the metaphoric line “but sometimes small and twisted things can break the hardest stone.”

We saw an inland pond that had a high-tide passage out to the bay -- there were eight white-tipped reef sharks there that have made it their home. They were about four feet long. We also saw boxfish and a bunch of unrecognizables. We saw a “gallinul” -- a moorhen, with a cry like a small marmot. The male has a dazzling red bill.

In another pond we saw a pair of flamingos right next to pelicans and moor hens, with huge clumps of red mangrove and reeds. And many red crabs (with their black young), looking for all the world like so many huge crawling spiders as they scuttled along.

Flamingos are most closely related to geese, not to stilts, storks, or heron. That was news to me.

When we finally got back to the boat, Segundo had caught a sierra mackerel and Pedro had prepared it for lunch. I had a small piece (with Ecuadorian peanut sauce) and it was pretty good. I usually don’t care for mackerel, especially as sushi, but this was not like any previous experience. Besides, it came with sweet potato croquettes and great fresh vegetables. Pedro had taken the head and tail of the mackerel and posed them on the platter with garnishes.

After lunch we sailed for a couple of hours, and several people wrote in their journals. I was having too much fun talking with people to write. I noticed today that I’m not really sun-burning, so the sunscreen must be working. I put it on my face, ears and neck constantly (and lipscreen on my lips, thanks to Sarah who gave me some), but less on my arms and legs because they don’t seem to need it as much. No burning at all there, not even pink. I’ve been about the same color as when I started, and so has everyone else. But that isn’t what we chatted about. I have spent a lot of time absorbing science talk, and I think I am learning how scientists work.

When we arrived at Elizabeth Bay this afternoon (well after lunch), the sun was out and the winds were calm. Perfect for snorkeling! The only thing is that we were at the point on Isabela where the icy-cold garúa current (maybe also the Humboldt current) comes up from the South. I’d been a little worried about it for some days (“So COLD!” everyone said). And me with my rented 2 millimeter wetsuit...

Well, in we went, to a place where no other boats go!!! It was 69° in the water, which wasn’t bad (Puget Sound is colder, I think). Nervo borrowed Oscar’s wetsuit -- Carlos said he looked like a kid in pajamas. I thought he looked like a popped blister. I whooped for a minute when I got in, then put my head right under. In about five seconds I caught sight of a large female sea turtle, headed right for me. I just paddled there, upright, watching with wider and wider eyes as she never veered off course, slamming into my left side like a New Yorker in a hurry! I was absolutely flabbergasted! No one saw it happen, of course, except me. Luckily I didn’t lose my mask or snorkel, but I did yelp through the snorkel. There was a big splash behind me as she went up for air -- I was dazed for a moment just thinking about what had happened.

After that, I was surprisingly calm, and I didn’t feel cold except for a few moments here and there. I could breathe easily, there was no tugging from the current, and the water was clear and bright. There were stunning rainbow wrasses, angelfish, parrotfish, boxfish, scad, grouper, mullet, and a bunch of others. Then a sea turtle shot past me, and I had to decide whether or not to worry. Soon I realized that the turtles were nervous because a bunch of us were splashing around, and that once we dispersed, they’d calm down. In a couple of minutes I saw giant sea turtles slowly gliding through the water -- one at first, then one more, and one more. Soon there were seven or eight of them floating, flying, actively swimming, resting on the bottom, passing each other, looking at me and looking away. There were moments when I’d be looking ahead and see a ghostly shadow, floating and gracefully flapping its fins slowly through the water -- and then it would disappear.

The males are smaller than the females, and appeared to be more active. Linda said it was like a dream. Oscar said that Barbara was almost in tears from the experience. Linda just said that it was like swimming in someone’s aquarium, but I really felt that I was a guest of the turtles. Some of the turtles are huge -- four or five feet long. They are so graceful and slow until they panic, at which point they can fly through the water like a penguin or a cormorant. I took a bunch of underwater photos -- my whole roll!

It was a long trip back to the Andando in the panga, and we were all in awe. We were also freezing. I made the person next to me sit right next to me, for warmth. When we came back there were Vienna sausage-like things (hot), with a spicy sauce. After showers, we hopped back in the panga and visited a mangrove bay where we saw more turtles, without doing any more snorkeling. It was silent and gorgeous, as Carlos and Marcello turned off the motor and paddled, standing up.

When we’d been there an hour (?) we went off to the Mariela rocks, where we saw the largest colony of penguins in the islands. There were dozens of them, small black and white fellows, the second-smallest in the world after the fairy penguins of New Zealand. The Mariela rocks are pretty small, just off Isabela. There were lots of blue-footed boobies there, too. We stopped to watch the sunset on the way back. Dinner was pork chops, more fresh vegetables, and peach pie for dessert. Great fun. I had a “Club” beer, which didn’t appear to have any impact on me. I’m drinking a ton of water, which is probably why. The topic at dinner was “who would you invite over for dinner if you could choose a historical figure?” Getting a large or small slice of peach pie depended on the outcome, so people were less interesting than they could have been: Jane Austin, Jesus, Pericles, Meriwether Lewis, etc.

21 August 2000
Some of us are jumpy about having to go home; no one feels as if they’ve really absorbed everything there is to offer. I really must tell Lyndon and Tom about this. We were all up early again this morning, and had breakfast at 6:30. I could get used to this! Breakfast was the usual array of fruits, cereals, meats and cheese, and French toast. We all commented on how young-looking Aunt Jemima has become, and how she looks so much more like Diahann Carroll than Mammy.

I’m sitting cross-legged on the teak deck as I write this. And I just can’t believe how wonderful, important, and meaningful this whole trip is for me. Sitting up on the bowsprit the other night allowed my water fears to start slipping away -- stars above me and stars below me from the bioluminescence. I can almost hear a song come out of it -- but nothing will ever rhyme with bioluminescence! Being brave enough to snorkel in very deep water pushed aside more fears, and then: the epiphany. Yesterday when I crossed over some lava rocks to get into an isolated pool to see more turtles, I was flapping and struggling with my fins, bending them backward and feeling awkward, ugly, and stupid. I had a lot of trouble with the rocks. When I got in, a did only a quick circuit because people were already in the boat. But for some reason, coming back across the rocks was somewhat easier, and then I simply leaned forward into the water. It was easy, I could breathe, I could propel and turn and stop and go, and I was a fish for the first time ever. I flew with the sea turtles and joined their graceful movements with my own, and I was part of it all, and unafraid.

By 8:00 am this morning we were already at Urbina Bay, brushing sand off our feet and water out of our shorts. The landing was quick and rough because of the waves, so we had to really leap. The whole area underwent a very dramatic uplift in about 1982 when it rose by 15 feet because of a nearby volcano (Alcedo). The trail was gray and powdery, and the ground was more resonant than any place I’ve ever stepped. It positively rang when we dropped stones on it. I imagined a whole underground network of caverns and iguana burrows that might sink us at any moment. The place was littered with entrances to iguana burrows, and we saw several fine land iguanas in full mating colors of yellow and red. They are BIG on Isabela: 4 to 5 feet long.

Then we came upon some tracks that looked like iguana tracks with no characteristic tail dragging between them. All of our walking on Isabela was done on goat trails, so we simply followed these tracks until we discovered their maker: a young (25-year-old?) member of the giant tortoise family!! He was shuffling slowly along the trail, not dragging his body, but he stopped when he saw us. Of course we followed him carefully when he continued, not going too close. Carlos thought he was a young male, because most of the tortoises in the lowlands are young males coming down from the highlands to eat manzanilla -- ‘poison apple.’ We saw lots of tortoise scat and it was full of manzanilla and lots of barely-digested grass. Apparently they are very inefficient eaters, and have to eat plenty of food each day to make up for the fact that their bodies can only digest and use some of what they eat.

A few steps further on, there was another (younger) male, about 20 years old. He was about 18 inches long, maybe two feet. We also came across an enormous carapace and bones, right on the trail, bleached white. Linda and David spent some time (delightedly) identifying the bones. I was fascinated by the “skutes” (term supplied by Oscar) -- they are black/gray plates seated in patterns on top of the carapace. After the tortoise’s death, the skutes came off the carapace. They’re slightly flexible and feel like black plastic. They sound like plastic bending, too. I took some pictures. Then Paul found a goat skull (with horns!) and placed it at the place where the tortoise skull should be, and then he and Dave set the rest of the bones in place. It was hilarious! We laughed because another Wilderness Travel group (on the “Samba”) was coming to the same place in about an hour, and we thought it might surprise them.

On our way back we saw a Galapagos hawk -- beautiful. We also heard lots of mockingbirds, and I enjoyed the dramatic variety of their songs. We had more sierra mackerel for lunch (for some reason, it tasted much better today) along with a huge platter of raw vegetables. Fruit was pineapple and papaya (yesterday: SWEET bananas). While we were going over our day, Oscar turned to me and said “So, Sean, when you saw those tortoises, did you just think of so many guitar picks?” We all laughed!

This afternoon (after a brief sail -- no motor!!) we took a long walk on Fernandina (near Isabela). The sailing part was incredible: I went out on the bowsprit with Dave and we watched for whales and talked with Gerardo. I had a lovely feeling of freedom from fear, flying through the air about 15 feet above the ocean, waaaay out in front of the boat. I was able to face the depth of the water (and even the very remote possibility of falling in), and realized that I’d survive just fine.

This whole time I’ve been trying to figure out why being barefoot on the boat all the time is so revealing and equalizing. It’s like having a very vulnerable part of your body exposed in a safe environment. You just can’t be very pretentious when you have bare feet. It really humanizes the folks like Oscar, Barbara, Linda, Don, and Dave. Sarah is so obsessed with boats and especially with sailing that it’s hard to imagine her in shoes in the first place, but I have felt like some of the others might not give me the time of day if we were in different circumstances, like at a faculty meeting. Are shoes (or the lack of them) that important? It’s also very sensuous to walk around on a teak deck, finding your footing and gripping with your toes. It’s quite interesting to see how people take care of their feet (or don’t). Several of my toenails split right down the middle immediately after my arrival, so I had to do my usual surgery. Lots of the scientists have broken, overgrown, infected or worse toenails. We’re ALL relishing the chance to be barefoot, though. It reminds me of being a barefoot kid, and probably contributes to the joy I’m feeling every day. You see people wriggling their toes.

Dinner was beef-and-pepper stew with rice and peas and onions. We fought for seconds. Dessert was odd: small sweet whole bananas (two of them) with a quarter cup of candied fruits, covered with powdered cocoa and a little chocolate syrup. I didn’t finish mine, not having a liking for candied fruit, but everyone else did. All dinner and lunch plates have been going back into the kitchen entirely devoid of food -- we’re all eating like we’d never seen food. My clothes feel looser every day, though, probably because we’re burning off calories like mad. I was surprised to see that all of our shoes were torn up by the lava. We knew that Darwin went through pairs of shoes, but we didn’t expect it to happen to us.

I didn’t mention that when we returned from our walk there were Ritz crackers with cream cheese and parsley, and then bowls of popcorn wrapped in a cloth to stay warm -- there were still hot kernels by the time we were at the bottom of the bowls.

We had intended to snorkel this afternoon, but you couldn’t see much in the water. Instead, we were on Fernandina to walk. It was low tide so ALL the marine iguana territory was exposed. They match the black lava perfectly, but sometimes their leg-scale-skin simply glows. They have quite long toenails (Oscar’s estimate is half an inch) compared to the land iguanas (none or almost none). We saw them swimming around in the water, which look incredible: they fold their arms and legs up against their sides, and propel themselves along by their tails. It made me think about how I pin my arms to my body in order to be efficient when I snorkel. But the marine iguanas have their heads above water. As we came closer to the bay, I noticed the tips of fins poking thinly out of the water like shark fins. Everyone else was looking at the skeleton of a booby or something, so I got closer and realized that it was a ray! I called out, and everyone came over, and Carlos said it was a spotted eagle ray; sure enough, you can see the spots as the rays gracefully lift their “wings” to move forward. Carlos complimented me on my good eyes. We all saw about seven or eight in the small bay that we were next to. There were also PLENTY of sea turtles in the nearby inlets, and a few sea lions. We’ve seen many lava herons, too.

The funniest thing about watching the marine iguanas was that when they’re trying to gather heat, they sprawl across the rocks. When they’re trying to keep out of the worst heat, they face the sun directly. So there they all were, facing the sun in what looked like rapt attention and focus -- eyes open, staring intently, appearing absolutely tense. Oscar joked that he wished his students were half that attentive! Linda took a picture of me squatting in front of them, and they look spellbound, as if they can’t wait to hear my next few gems of wisdom.

Later we walked out to a place where there were flightless cormorants. I guess I mostly felt sorry for them; their wings appear to be in tatters, and are only about five inches long. They still hold them out to dry… little tattered stumps of wings. I do hear that they “fly” as well as penguins when they’re underwater. We saw a baby shaking its head and calling to its parent (well, not a baby, but a juvenile), who then fed it by opening its beak and having the young one put its head entirely inside. You could hear its faint squeaking from way down inside the parent’s neck! I have no idea how the sound got out.

It was exciting to watch the tide come back in -- it was FAST. You could see it pouring into the tide pools, making all the fish and crabs and turtles and rays become really active.

I’m lasting only until 9 tonight -- it’s cloudy and cold, and we’re moving fast but not rolling. The great thing is the bioluminescence, though; it’s green and sparkly and looks like it’s lit from below. I went up on deck to take a look, and almost immediately came back inside to warm up.

22 August 2000
It’s our last full day on the Andando. <<sob>> I am loving the ability to live in the moment, gasping with surprise and delight over each new reef fish or cove or sea lion. I am loving going barefoot all the time, and being with barefooted people. I also have had a wonderful respite from meal planning and preparation and cleanup. Lunch today was curried chicken, rice, and raw vegetables, and beans. We have used LOADS of salsa each day; it’s markedly different from “Mexican salsa” at home. It’s more onion-and-cilantro-based than tomato-based. Yum.

The boat went through some extraordinary rolls last night, but it stayed afloat and I didn’t go flying off the bed. I did need to hang on a couple of times, though. Linda came in from her customary evening perch on the bowsprit when it dipped quite close to the water! Dave was telling me about being on the Te Vega research vessel in graduate school (Guadalcanal to Singapore) for work in marine science, and he said that the bowsprit on that boat actually went underwater, drenching everyone sitting on it and nearly sweeping them away. I can imagine! Of course, he happened to mention it when I was out there with him and Gerardo...

We motored most of the night to Santiago (“James” is its English name) and had breakfast at 6 am. We were on the shore by 7 am, before the other boats were out and about. We walked on goat and donkey trails until we came to where the eared fur seals are. They don’t look at all like sea-lions: their ears are quite prominent, they’re short and stout, and their heads look precisely like hedgehog heads with cream-colored whiskers. We saw a yellow-crowned night heron and its six-week-old chick. The chick was standing up (they don’t fledge for four months!) and looked very disheveled. The pahoehoe lava wasn’t too difficult to walk across. There we all were, complaining about how none of us had gotten a decent picture of a yellow warbler, when one came right up to us -- less than five feet away. We all carefully got out our cameras and the little fellow just stood there and chirped at us. It was ironic, and delightful!

By 10 am we were back on board and putting on our wetsuits. I was surprised to see Don wearing my “men’s L” size suit -- so I put on his. When we got into the water it was just about as cold as when we were at Elizabeth Bay. It was a pretty long snorkel (an hour or more), all the way around a point and close to a rocky beach. The exciting thing about this snorkel trip was the way I’d be going along in water about six feet deep, then suddenly the bottom would drop so far down that you couldn’t see how far it was. Along the underwater cliff face there were hundreds of fish, including giant angel fish and parrotfish. One parrotfish was mostly aqua with an orange sheen and pink “points,” as they say about horses. Around its eye were radiating blue/teal stripes, making its eye look like the sun. I watched it for a long time.

Looking further off the cliff, I saw a distant sea turtle gliding along. After watching it for a while (I wasn’t really moving), I turned to see an enormous female gliding right next to me! Her flippers went straight up and down as she swam, reminding me of a huge, slow dove. Unlike a dove, however, her “wings” didn’t touch above her back. As far as I could tell, turtles use their back feet only for steering. It’s my most conservative, least exaggerated guess that she was about five feet long.

In addition to the turtles, we saw an octopus (one foot across, not counting the tentacles and arms?) on the ocean floor. It was gray-brown. There were gorgeous day-glo fish all over the place, looking for all the world like they’d been painted. No sea lions. Right now we’re going around Santiago to its other side, and we’ll have another snorkel (possibly with penguins!).

Later on...
I spent at least an hour alone out on the bowsprit, looking toward the right (facing backwards) at the open ocean and feeling freedom from details. I was even able to let go for awhile and just balance, my feet on the nets, watching for splashing rays or fish. Unfortunately, I cut the web on my smallest toe, which made me bleed enough to worry about sharks on the second snorkeling trip. As it turned out, though, we didn’t go on a second snorkeling trip because the wind was too strong. Instead, we went for a long lava field walk on the north side of Santiago.

It was stunning to walk across acres of pahoehoe lava and see it overlaying a’a lava, all oxidized, pyroclastic and lightweight. It was HOT: we would’ve wilted without the light breeze we had. Great sounds, too. We were picked up at the lava’s edge and taken across the bay to Bartolomé, a small island with a peak 350’ high. We climbed to the top, mostly by using stairs, to take pictures. The wind was extremely powerful up there! There was a lot of lava grit blowing everywhere. Dave kindly offered to take a picture of me at the top, and I did my best to smile with the dust blowing and the wind pinning my clothes to my body. It was awkward for all of us when we had a group picture taken. We made it down very quickly. Bartolomé is very often photographed: it has a narrow isthmus which makes it very photogenic. We all did our photographic best to capture it, but the sun was going down very soon. There were penguins at the water’s edge! It was great to see them.

We made it back to the boat in time for several beers, and soon Oscar had found a CD with tunes from the early 60s, mostly pop. Suddenly, Don (extra-quiet, only speaks when he has to, one of the newest college deans) came alive! He was a drummer in a surfer band in the 60s, so he knew all the words to all of the songs, and he danced and sang like mad, right out there on deck! It was really fun! I danced with Oscar briefly. Even 14-year-old Whitney knew all the melodies and the words.

Dinner was a buffet: steak, paella, roast chicken, sierra mackerel, fresh rolls, spinach pie, vegetables, and chocolate cake. It was GREAT. The silverware was arranged to look like the Andando! Drinks, too, plus several glasses of white wine for me. Later on I went out for one last look at the bioluminescence. Sigh.

3 September 2000
I’ve been back for about a week and a half. I can’t remember if I wrote about all the brilliant green sea urchins -- they were all over the olivine beach, and also everywhere on the really long snorkel we did. In a couple of places I was in water so shallow I had to pull myself along just to get back to the deep parts. We all joked about sucking in our stomachs so our wetsuits wouldn’t brush against the lava underwater. I had to be very careful not to bump into sea urchins, not necessarily for my sake, but for theirs. Some are hairy and green, others are smooth, and some are dark brown with thick white spikes. Odd, and wonderful.

We all passed out after the buffet and woke up early the next morning near Baltra. We had breakfast early and went for a panga ride in a mangrove forest. It was eerily silent, and huge. Marcello shut off the engine and he and Carlos paddled silently.

I spotted several rays under the surface, and there were lots of sea turtles and BRILLIANT aqua-pink parrotfish. We were all surprised to see the newly-dead carcass of a blue-footed booby (feet straight up in the air) that had dived down for a fish only to get its head caught in the crook of a submerged branch. It led to an interesting discussion of how few errors there are in nature -- like mountain goats or sheep that fall of the sides of mountains, or deer who get their horns caught in tree trunks. Linda, Dave and Gerardo really know about this stuff. Anyway, we saw lots of nesting pelicans there, and some local blackbird-type of birds, called “ani” I think. We were sad to start up the motor and return to the Andando.

When we got back, Sarah decided to climb the mast, earning her the nickname of “La Capitana” among the crew. Everyone watched and took photos. Up she went with her 6-foot tall blond, fit Norwegian self. You go! We were all impressed. She has a merchant marine license, or something like it, that lets her sail in international waters.

We had a little snack (peanuts and fried fava beans, I think) and then circled Daphne Major, the main research site discussed in The Beak of the Finch. Even after passing the landing site twice, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how they get from their boats onto the island. The sides of the island are entirely vertical for 40 feet. We looked through our binoculars and couldn’t see much finch activity, and no people. Of course, they do all their work on top of the small island, so we wouldn’t be able to see them anyway.

We had a paltry lunch on the Andando before heading ashore: a single 4” by 8” slice of pizza. We were all appalled, but laughed about it just the same. We were thinking nervously of the airline food awaiting us for the next few days. We waited around a long time onshore for the bus, then about four hours at the airport for the (late) plane. I saw Susan Auerbach and her family get off the plane, but they didn’t hear me call out to them. Carlos met his wife at the airport (she was going to lead Susan’s family on the next tour -- on the “Samba” instead of the Andando), and he passed on my news that Susan’s kids are fine jugglers! Wilson, Marcello, and Segundo were going to be part of their crew.

Our flight back was long and uneventful although I practiced my Spanish with the nice lady sitting next to me. We got in to the Hilton late, and had a luxurious but filling and exhausting dinner at the “Portofino” Italian restaurant in the hotel. I had gnocchi, delicious. Loads of white wine. We all went straight to bed immediately -- 10 o’clock. But either I was too full, or up too high in the mountains...I just could not catch my breath. I kept waking and tossing and panicking. No fun. When our wake-up call came at 3 am, I was ready to leap up.

We had a quick breakfast (muesli and fresh fruit) in the hotel café, and were at the airport by 4:45 with hundreds of others. The flight to Miami featured “My Dog Skip” (ack!), a true story of a Mississippi writer’s coming-of-age with his dog. Sheesh. It was very sentimental -- we all angrily wiped away tears when the dog died at the end, feeling like we’d been had. Baseball, racial undertones, wartime, romance, heroism, boy-and-his-dog.

Knowing better this time, ALL of us (except Don, who doesn’t eat when he travels) went right to the sushi place for great fresh sushi. It was delicious and sustaining. We split up with Dave and Eric, and Don and Susan and I charmed our way into exit-row seats with the nice man at the ticket counter. It helps to travel with very tall people. I bought Memoirs of a Geisha and was oblivious to the world until I finished it, one minute after our plane touched the ground at Sea-Tac. Don slept the whole time. Sarah read two books!

I gave Don, Susan, and Dave rides home from the airport, and it’s a good thing because I was nearly falling asleep. Long day, bad food (except the sushi), hard to accept being home.

I wasn’t very happy with the way my photos turned out, but I took some of the best and made a collage anyway. Two rolls didn’t come out, and the others were too dark because I used 100-speed film. Silly me: I forgot about the garúa season and that even the equator gets overcast. I’ve been hard-pressed to concisely or accurately describe the trip to anyone.

Things stopped rocking and rolling for me about three days after I came home. I’m still waking up at 6 each day, just thinking. The good news is that I finally felt “home” one morning when I woke up with a fully-formed spring-quarter program in my head: “The Shore.” I’d want to teach it with a marine ecology faculty. I wrote it up, and I’ll polish it and submit it as part of my final report to the college. I just have to remember not to tell anyone that I dreamed the entire thing.