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.
