Galapagos: Floreana (Part 2 of 2)

After the first two activities of the day, and before lunch, it was time to go snorkeling for the second time on this trip. Both the advanced and the beginner groups would swim just off Champion Islet, the advanced snorkelers on the more active side in terms of current, and the beginners on the calmer side. However, unlike the first snorkeling trip for beginners, there would be no beach; we would slip into the water from the zodiac and never set foot on a solid surface. This was enough of a step-up in challenge for me that I decided to again use the snorkeling flotation vest, and leave the underwater camera behind. (I will have underwater photos, just later in the trip.)

Lynn Fowler, the expedition leader, accompanied our beginner group. I enjoyed it and felt a sense of accomplishment, although this was the first time I'd swum in a group. I needed to stick close to Joan, my snorkeling buddy, without bumping into anybody else. One highlight was when Joan spotted a chocolate-chip sea star.

After lunch Lynn gave an absorbing presentation on her graduate study work in the Galapagos. To quote from the Lindblad web site:

Lynn completed a doctorate (also at the University of Florida) in 1983, based on her research of the giant tortoises of Alcedo Volcano on Isabela Island, where she spent a year and a half living on the rim of the crater collecting data.

Then the Islander began to sail around Floreana to the site of the first "post office" in the Galapagos. In this photo, taken from the stern, Champion is on the left and Floreana on the right.

It's a wet landing at the post office beach.

Here's the post office. It was established by whalers in 1793; seafarers would deposit letters in the barrel and pick up the ones they could carry onward.

Vanessa explained the history and operation of the post office.

Then all the letters and cards were brought out of the barrel, and the destinations read out by our three naturalists, Vanessa, Christian,

and Jeffo, whose picture hasn't appeared in this blog until now.

There were one or two Ohio-bound pieces, but none close enough for Joan and me to consider hand delivering.

After returning to the Islander there were two activity choices: kayaking and zodiac cruising. Joan and I opted for the zodiacs, but saw some of the kayak operations. Here the kayakers are being helped into their vessels from the embarkation zodiac. (Click on the image to enlarge.)

The kayakers' zodiac kept an eye on things after all the kayaks set out.

This zodiac cruise was the best so far. Early on we approached a beach full of resting sea lions.

The sand must make a great back-scratcher.

Some sea lions were enjoying the surf.

At least one was determined to investigate us.

Sally Lightfoot crabs, and oystercatchers.

Here's a brown pelican.

I love this picture of the snoozing sea lion and the sally lightfoot.

This great blue heron didn't want to pose for me, but instead sat stealthily in the mangrove, where these birds nest.

Two kayakers passed in front of a large mangrove thicket. These salt-tolerant plants have extensive underwater root systems that provide invaluable shelter for young fish and turtles. The extensive nutrients in the brackish water (sea water diluted by freshwater seepage) also encourage bird nesting. The endemic and endangered Galapagos penguins of Isabela island depend on mangroves.

This clump shows that the tide is in.

Kayaks as well as zodiacs must take the channels between rocky islets.

Other tour boats are at anchor here, but we seem to own this patch. The Islander does have the 2pm-6pm slot.

A visit from another Islander zodiac.

Rick shares our zodiac, and he's having a great time too.

Sunset comes quickly at the equator -- the sun doesn't approach the horizon at an angle, but drops straight down.

It's time for everybody to return to the Islander and the evening program.

Not to mention dinner!

Galapagos: Floreana (Part 1 of 2)

This post covers only half of May 10. As with most days of this week-long Galapagos trip, it was almost non-stop.

We awoke at the Galapagos island of Floreana, having sailed west during the night.

Joan and I joined the pre-breakfast outing, which began with a wet landing at Punta Cormorant (named for a wrecked ship, not the bird). In Lindblad-speak, a "wet" landing means the zodiac will go as far up the beach as it can, and then you slide out into an inch to a foot of water and walk the rest of the way. This means wearing appropriate footwear, and perhaps changing it at the beach.

Punta Cormorant is known for its brackish-water lagoon that attracts flamingos, and for having two different kinds of sand: Green Beach, built from ground olivine crystals, and the Flour Beach, made from pulverized coral. Our wet landing was at Green Beach. We split into groups, and Joan and I joined the one led by the naturalist Jefferson "Jeffo" Marquez. A heavy fog hung over our heads as we made our way to the observation point for the flamingo lagoon, where it was difficult to see much.

The trail led up over a low ridge and back down, to the Flour Beach. Green sea turtles nest at this beach.

A frigate bird, hoping to spot an egg or baby turtle, patrolled up and down the beach.

Various other birds were using the beach, including yellow warbler, plover (probably semipalpated, but there are 5 species in the Galapagos), and sandpiper (25 species!) The lighting wasn't good for photographing active little birds ...

Sally Lightfoot crabs abounded.

What are these pits in the sand? (Click on the image to enlarge.)

Jeffo explained that they weren't green turtle nests, but were borrow pits from which the turtles scooped dirt to refill a nest and cover up the eggs. A true nest might be harbored somewhere around the rim.

We returned the way we had come,

to discover that visibility at the flamingo lagoon had improved.

Most of the flamingos were on the far side, sharing the waters with a heron ...

but two came in closer. Our binoculars proved worth carrying into a wet landing.

A striated heron snatched a meal.

Then it was time to return to Green Beach and the waiting zodiacs.

An alert went up! Just down the beach a pair of blue-footed boobies were going through courtship/bonding rituals. Here is a collage (click on the image to enlarge).

Returning to the ship, we launched into breakfast. Afterwards our expedition leader, Lynn Fowler, announced zodiac tours to the islet of Champion, barely off the coast of Floreana, to view wildlife and scout snorkeling locations. Of course Joan and I went. In this photo we're leaving the Islander behind.

There was more than one zodiac ... note the sea lion peeking up at left.

Vanessa Gallo was the naturalist on our craft.

She pointed out these prickly pear cacti, a variety elevated on trunks instead of growing closely to the ground. This occurs on islands where the plants would otherwise be consumed by herbivores including the land iguana, 80% of whose diet is the pads, fruits, flowers, and even spines of the prickly pear.

Also visible on Champion were candelabra cacti.

On our tour we saw sea lions on land, usually snoozing,

and curious pups in the waters around us,

sometimes several at once.

Resting birds included the brown noddy,

and the swallow-tailed gull.

As we turned around a frisky sea lion youngster saw us off.

Snorkeling time was imminent -- in the next post. 

Galapagos: Española

We awoke the next morning with the Islander anchored in Gardner Bay (Bahia Gardner), at the island of Española.

Española is not far south of San Cristóbal, where we were yesterday.

For the only time, Joan and I skipped the 6:30 activities, either kayaking or an early morning stretch/yoga/walk on the beach. We needed some sleep and the day would begin soon enough even with this omission. I did take a photo of some of the "beachers." If you click on the image to enlarge, you'll see on the far left someone photographing a sea lion, and some yoga on the far right.

There would be two groups of snorkelers this morning, the more experienced taking zodiacs to a small islet off the beach, and the beginners, including Joan and me, would be taken to the beach, along with the non-snorkelers. Rick, who is half fish and brought his own wetsuit, would go out on a zodiac. We needed to be in our wetsuits by 8:45, and snorkeling would run until 10.

A couple of months before, Joan and I had taken an afternoon's snorkeling lesson at COSD (the Central Ohio School of Diving, no longer in business), and this made all the difference in our confidence level, which otherwise would have been zero. Most of us beach-snorkelers also opted to wear a snorkeling vest for additional buoyancy, so if we were struggling with a piece of equipment or had a leg cramp we wouldn't need to worry about keeping our head above water. I had purchased a waterproof camera specifically for this trip, but I decided I didn't need a distraction my first time out. I left it in our cabin.

Joan and I held hands and walked backward into the surf, so as to not trip over our fins, as we'd been instructed at COSD. So far so good, and it got better after the first ten minutes of awkwardness. We saw rays, sea turtles, and fishes, and gathered enough confidence to venture into water over our heads. In many places there was a distinct background clicking or popping, like someone rapidly popping plastic bubble wrap; our naturalist Vanessa Gallo said it was parrot fish feeding on the algae growing on the rocks. A Google search also shows that some species of "snapping shrimp" are found around Española.

Joan and I were surprised at how quickly the snorkeling time flew by. It seemed just a few minutes until we were back on board for the most difficult part, taking off the wetsuits and fins, rinsing them with fresh water, and hanging our gear up, en masse, even-numbered cabins on one side of the ship and odd-numbered on the other. Eventually we would learn the best way to tackle it.

Here's a glimpse of the Islander lounge, or at least, part of it, where meetings and presentations took place. There are more seats outside the image. At 11:00 Christian gave a talk on nature photography.

Followed by help sessions.

The afternoon activities were either a landing at Punta Suarez for a longish hike, or a short zodiac cruise for those who wished to avoid a rock-strewn walk. This is the small lighthouse on the point.

High tide and swells prevented us from landing on the concrete steps, but our zodiac crews found a spot on the beach, mostly rocks, that we could use.

My first ashore photo was of this Española mockingbird, one of several species of animal endemic (limited to) this island. About 2,500 are estimated to still exist in the wild.

Our friend Rick caught this picture of a female frigate bird, a species that steals fish from other birds flying back with their catch.

This is the Española lava lizard, yet another endemic. (Española has a high number of endemics due to its position on the southern edge of the Galapagos archipelago.)

He collected a crowd of admirers.

The next critter, and there were a lot of them, was the Nazca booby. Only recently was the Nazca booby recognized as a separate species from the Masked booby.

This juvenile has grown a lot but isn't ready to leave the nest yet.

Then we came upon a courting pair of blue-footed boobies. Note the one on the right has been banded. (As many as half the blue-footed boobies in the world nest in the Galapagos.)

At this point our trail gave way to a rocky bluff and beach.

The beach was covered with marine iguanas.

The marine iguanas become more colorful as they mature, with those of different islands favoring different colors. The Española iguanas are considered the most colorful, and have earned the nickname "Christmas Iguanas." These guys appear mottled and might be shedding their skin.

They are completely unconcerned about us.

Not far away was a stony nesting ground for the waved albatross, which breeds exclusively on Española, although a few non-breeders have been seen on Genovesa, also in the Galapagos.

This pair was bill-clacking, a courtship and bonding behavior.

Here an egg has been exposed, perhaps to cool off or even out the warmth.

In the distance a Galapagos hawk, endemic to the archipelago, watched. The hawks of Española in particular are considered among the largest Buteo in the world.

Tramping on, our group visited an overlook for a blowhole, where incoming swells are forced up through a gap in the rocks.

Nearby, more iguanas. I don't think they'd make good lifeguards.

Now I'll offer a picture of a waved albatross in flight. I always admire the long, thin albatross wings, and how they make gliding effortless.

On checking the albatross nesting grounds again, we saw an egg adjustment.

One pair was busily engaged in courtship, bobbing and weaving and bill clacking.

I have a short video clip of the action. I tossed out the audio track because it was all camera clicking and human conversation.

As you might guess from the low, tinted lighting, the sun was dropping down rapidly, its perpetual habit around the equator. Our group threaded its way back along the rocky trail, past iguanas lounging near the beach, and, this time, boarded our zodiacs near the lighthouse. Twilight was upon us as we reboarded the Islander.