Galapagos: Genovesa (Part 2 of 2)

In the afternoon of May 14th we rode the zodiacs to Prince Philip's Steps, a staircase that climbs 25 meters (82 feet) to the top of the cliffs along the eastern arm of Darwin Bay. A trail led inland, passing into a thin palo santo forest.

The name 'palo santo' translates to "holy wood." The oil from the tree can be used for incense, and is traditionally associated with healing and purification. Vanessa gave us some insights into this tree.

Birds were flying all around us. Some nest in the cliffs, and some atop the plateau.

We soon encountered the nesting sites of nazca boobies, which were everywhere in this neighborhood.

A closeup of the shaded chick.

Another booby had gathered or tossed everything within reach of its beak, creating a cleared ring around its nest.

Here two eggs were sheltered in the shade of the parent.

This cannot be a happy family, however; the boobies practice obligate siblicide. Only about 60% of booby eggs hatch, so the second egg, typically younger by several days, is an "insurance egg." If the older egg fails to hatch, the second egg is there. If both eggs hatch, there won't be sufficient food resources to support them both, so the older sibling automatically pecks, pushes, and ultimately kills the younger and smaller one. Other species, in situations where the food supply is variable, may have two or more siblings coexisting unless food becomes too scarce, in which case fighting will break out. That's called facultative siblicide.

One last photo of a booby chick, out in the sun.

Frigatebirds in the palo santo.

Mockingbird at my feet.

One of the many famous species of finch in the Galapagos.

A frigatebird from behind. Looks awkward, doesn't it? As if he's carrying a big valentine.

The feathers on the inflatable sac remind me of decorative pennants. Or indicators of the airflow direction, for streamlining purposes.

The bird Joan and I most hoped to see on Genovesa was the short-eared owl. We are owl fans; they are in the top tier of our favorite birds. As our group walked along, we left the palo santo behind and entered a sere, rocky landscape.

The camouflage of the short-eared owl is superb; there's one in the above photo. (Click on the image to enlarge.) We were thrilled when our guide pointed it out, and were glued to our binoculars for a while. If only it weren't so far away!

We continued on, and there was another, closer short-eared owl. Their territories aren't that large.

They hunt by patience, noting when a petrel enters its burrow, and waiting for it to re-emerge. Then they pounce. In this photo, the owl is checking out some event on its right.

Another owl shot, this time with droopy eyelids.

Here we see a ravine, a fracture in the clifftop,

and what's inside the shaded zone?

The erect posture of the owl clinging to the rocks makes it seem larger than its brethren, but it's not.

It was now time to begin our return, and we passed many clusters of boobies and frigates, some in shadow, some illuminated by the lowering sun.

We arrived at the top of Prince Philip's Steps, and saw the zodiacs coming to fetch us.

As we cast off in the zodiacs we were granted another first sighting, another treat, Galapagos fur seals, another endemic, lounging in the cliffs.

With the low light and bobbing zodiac I took over a dozen photos trying to snag an in-focus closeup. Here's the best of the lot!

What a complete day it had been. We capped it off with the captain's farewell dinner, and then returned to our cabins to (boo!) pack for departure early tomorrow. At least for Joan, Rick, and me the journey wasn't quite over yet; we'd be visiting Quito on our way home.

Galapagos: Genovesa (Part 1 of 2)

The Islander spent the entire day of May 14th anchored inside Great Darwin Bay, the flooded caldera of Genovesa, the "Bird Island," one of the most pristine in the archipelago.

How it looks from above ...

The early morning kayakers returned in time for a landing on the Darwin Bay beach.

They reboarded through a zodiac intermediary.

Most of the rim of the bay is composed of rocky cliffs,

but the promised sandy beach (top of photo)

gave us access.

It was a wet landing, but not bad.

We immediately encountered nazca boobies. They suffer from lesser popularity than their blue-footed and red-footed cousins, even though the black-and-white plumage is striking in its own right.

Birds were flying everywhere above the cliffs,

and, although the breeding season was wearing on, many were still attempting to attract mates, such as this male frigate bird with his inflatable sack.

A red-footed booby! The face and beak were colorful too.

A juvenile waited nearby.

This one has eyes shut. Glare from the sun, or just resting?

It could be incubating an egg, as with this one a few minutes later.

This booby was attempting to maneuver a very large stick into its nest, but it never did fit, and was dropped.

Then we encountered a field mostly of frigate birds.

Lots of red lanterns dotted the landscape, many screeching their mating cry.

A closeup of the sack. Parts of it are feathered!

We inspected the tidal waters. (My camera tends to create vertical stripes when panning a panoramic shot if the lighting changes strongly across the scene.)

Joan found a nearly intact sally lightfoot exoskeleton.

A couple of sea lions were snoozing.

As we waited for the zodiac back to the Islander, I admired these marine iguanas. As usual, they were utterly unconcerned about us.

Then it was time for our fifth and final snorkeling session, along the cliffs on the west side of the bay. I felt like I'd graduated from a five-step program, and now had it all: cycling socks to protect my toes from the fins, a snorkel that fit the mask properly, no need for a flotation vest, the underwater camera in my hand, and the ability to snorkel where there was some wave and current action.

The wave and current action stirred up sediment and other floating bits, so photography was difficult. Some saw a hammerhead shark, but he swam away into the murk before I could get close. I'll give you one highly processed (cropping, contrast adjustment, etc.) photo of a pufferfish, but that will be all.

In the afternoon we'll zodiac over to the east side of the caldera, climb up Prince Philip's Steps, and explore the wildlife there, including owls. (Prince Philip visited the Galapagos in 1965 and 1981.) Next post!

Galapagos: Santiago Island at Sullivan Bay

After everyone was back aboard the Islander she began to sail north through the Bainbridge Islets, just off Santiago Island.

These rocks are not open to tourism, but we can cruise by slowly. One of the islets is known for its brackish caldera lagoon,

which attracts flamingos.

We arrived at Sullivan Bay, where a pahoehoe (ropy) lava flow from a volcanic eruption in 1897 meets the sea. There are patches of a'a (sharp) lava, but the hike avoids them. In this photo, the naturalist Vanessa is being interviewed for the voyage DVD.

A group ahead of us is backstopped by the cone, left, from which the lava flowed in 1897. We were glad to be clambering over this dark jumble in the late afternoon, and not in the heat of midday.

Here, our friend Rick points out some driftwood that's washed up.

The pahoehoe lava created many folds and patterns, no two the same.

This section shares a geometry with a staircase, or folded batter, or perhaps draped cloth?

The first colonizer of such lava flows is Mullago flavescens, sometimes called carpetweed. This plant is endemic (limited to) the Galapagos, and survives on overnight dew.

Hornitos are spatter cones formed when lava flows up through cracks in the cooling upper lava.

Some fractures revealed eruption histories. The pigmentation is due to iron and other elements sealed off from oxygen in the air.

We were in several groups, which made for some amusing perspectives.

Then we spotted this impressive lava cactus, another early colonizer of lava fields.

This could be a chunk of ejecta which plopped into still-elastic lava and years later was dislodged.

Here is a collaboration between vanished plant life and the lava, a tree cast. The lava cooled around the piece of wood, long since vanished. (Click on the image to enlarge it.)

This looks like another tree cast, but shelter-seekers have left debris inside.

 Animal life on the lava, a large painted locust, yet another species endemic to the Galapagos.

There was even a lizard ... hunting the locust or his buddies?

Sometimes the lava had slumped into a few large plates, preserving the overall figure generated by the pahoehoe.

The 1897 flow, only 1½ meters deep, did not completely cover this area. High spots remained; the term for a location completely surrounded by newer lava is a kipuka.

Looking back towards the sea, we saw (far right) the rock formation known as the Pinnacle.

Rick had taken a much better picture of it earlier. The Pinnacle looks a bit like a Lego block.

We returned to the Islander, and after dinner Christian led us in some singing.

The ship's doctor joined in for a couple of songs,

as did Jeffo.

I'll note that in 1997 Lindblad Expeditions "adopted" Santiago Island and created a fund through which 20,000 Lindblad guests contributed to a restoration effort. Feral goats and pigs have now been eliminated from the island, allowing the vegetation and native animals to recover.

Tomorrow we'll explore the northern island of Genovesa.