Galápagonian Aquaphobian

Our first full day in the Galápagos started with what I thought would be an hour walk out to Turtle Bay. It was four hours before we stumbled back into town after an up and down hike to the beach and back. The trail was lined with huge cactus trees sprouting ears the size of large serving platters. Many had trunks thick like mature trees and were easily 20 feet tall.  The trail finally opened up to a wide and deserted beach where waves crashed incessantly, pulverizing the coral, shell and lava mix into sand.  We passed splinters of a boat hull that had washed ashore as we walked toward an inlet protected from the surf.  What I had thought to be black driftwood turned out to be dozens, perhaps hundreds of dark iguanas lounging in the sun. They were big, black and mean looking animals with backs lined with razor sharp fins.  We kept our distance.  Further on, the protected bay was inviting and calm. There were a few people snorkeling or competing with sea lions for spaces on the sandy beach to relax.  We did neither and took the long trail back to town.

We had been booked on the boat “Golondrina”, but received a last minute notice moving us to the “Fragata”. The email described the change as an upgrade. Our new quarters contain two bunk sized beds separated by a narrow floor space. We have two small windows high on the starboard wall, each perhaps the size of a loaf of bread.  There’s no looking out of them, but they do let some light into the cabin.  The bathroom has a slanted wall (it’s the hull of the boat) with a cracked mirror framed in a broken ship’s wheel and almost enough room to turn around to get into the shower.

Eight days is a long time to spend on such a small vessel in cramped quarters.  The Fragata is showing her age, but seems sturdy and takes the high waves without a lot of creaking or moaning.  But when the deisel fired up, I must admit my first thought was centered on the “African Queen”. Our below deck cabin is permanently damp.  The hot water comes and goes in the shower.  The sink has one knob that turns in one direction. Cold.

Our friendly captain is William, a hefty sailor who knows his way to the galley.  I did not expect a Gavin MacLeod character dressed in a spiffy white uniform with a cap and matching white shoes and my expectations were met.  He and all the crew wore t-shirts and shorts, save for one evening when they did indeed don dress whites for a welcome cocktail party.  The assistant cook, a short and plump little fellow, looked more than most the part of a pirate with sun bleached purple shorts, bare feet, a torn tee and faded blue bandana tied in the back to cover his head.

Susan and I are the only U.S. citizens onboard.  Our fellow passengers are a Danish man traveling alone; couples from New Zealand, Germany and Holland; and two trios of families; a couple from Mexico traveling with their fifteen year old daughter and a mother, grandmother and young boy from Costa Rica.  We all settled into things at the same pace and we’ve had plenty of laughs together about the plumbing and other amenities of the Fragata. English has been the language of choice for most conversations and I’m almost able to keep up, at least with the subject matter, when Spanish is spoken.  The crew is entirely Ecuadorian.  Perfect.

This eight day sea adventure has been a ton of fun that I would not trade for anything.  The islands are beyond striking and we are far outnumbered by animals of all sorts.  We’ve seen whales, sea lions, iguanas, black tipped sharks, white tipped sharks, assorted rays, exotic fish, a snake penguins, pelicans, herons, pink flamingos and Blue Footed Booby Birds just for starters. Apparently having adapted to gawking humans not bothering them, the animals are wary of us but not afraid. It is a bit unnerving at first to be able to get so close to them, but the sensation fades quickly.

I knew the eight days onboard would feature a lot of snorkeling and I had steeled myself to take it on, despite not being much of a water person.  In fact and now that I’m thinking about it, being underwater is one of the very few things in life I will admit that I truly detest.  I got a break the afternoon of the first day. We were each fitted for and suited up in wetsuits, snorkel goggles and giant flippers. We boarded rubber sided dinghies for a “wet landing” on a sandy beach for snorkeling off the coast.  Most of our landings are “wet”, in that the dinghy gets close to shore and we passengers jump off and fight the waves and surf to the beach.  Think “The Longest Day'' absent incoming mortars, with an “Airplane” twist.  I pretended to be one of the gang for our first landing and strolled casually away to enjoy the beach and admire the sea lions lounging around.  No one was the wiser who snorkeled and who did not.  Susan, who knows me like a book she’s read a hundred times, took one look at me standing alone on the white sand in my damp black wet suit and said, “I know this is hell for you.”  She nailed it.

Day two brought no such reprieve. Now we were setting out into cold dark water to snorkel by jumping off the dinghies into the frigid sea. I once again squirmed myself into the tight synthetic leotard that clinged to my shivering body like giant cold hand. We cast off from the Fragata. As the safety of our vessel faded from view below crests of waves, I felt as if I was on my way to the gallows.  Once stopped, the experienced snorkelers happily slipped on their fins and one by one merrily jumped into the black water that I knew was teaming with thousands of gilled beasts.  I could hear the exclamations of how cold the water was and my confidence waned with each “ooh”, “whew” and “wow, that’s cold!”  I slid off the damn boat.

I wanted to shoot out of the water like a Poseiden missile, but settled for instantly grasping and crawling my way back into the dry dingy. I had lasted twenty seconds, give or take a tick or a tock.  Any remnant of desire, as if there could be any, was completely extinguished when that evening our guide showed a video he had taken a few weeks past of a killer whale chasing a turtle near the dinghies. When the whale leaped one last time for the doomed turtle, it was plain as day that the whale was larger than the dinghy.  He followed this horror movie by explaining that tomorrow he would precede the snorkeling group with a flashlight which he claimed would ward off any sharks lurking in the water.  I firmly believe we are of the species homo sapien for good reason and not classified as homo insipiens aqua.

When not snorkeling - which apparently was scheduled by Dr. Pepper - we’ve enjoyed incredible hikes offshore.  The islands are loaded with animals of every sort. Huge turtles with giant domed backs block the trails in front of us. We walk around hundreds upon hundreds of monstrously large black, tan and murky green iguanas. They ignore us.  The sea lions lounge and roam around as they wish, one even jumping on our boat when we were preparing for a landing.  They play with the snorkelers, spinning around and through the groups of humans who pretend to belong in the water.

The Galápagos Islands have been an incredible and unforgettable experience. We got exactly what we came for and were tickled pink to have been so lucky in our lives to take this trip.

I’m not sure what we will cook up to top this one.