Getting to Know the Enchanted Islands

For the most part this post is devoted to Galapagos wildlife because for the past two weeks I've had the pleasure of being a 'port dweller' (read: tourist). I have been observing sea lions, seeing volcanoes, swimming with hammerhead sharks and sea turtles, hanging out with blue footed boobies and relaxing on beaches after two months of volunteer manual labor. It isn't exactly what I expected to do for my last two weeks in the Galapagos (I thought I would be working!) but it has been absolutely spectacular. Like always, pick and choose...

  

If there is one thing worth saying first; one thing that I learned this past two weeks, it is how alive our planet is. It can be easy to overlook when you live in a place that doesn't much resemble the natural environment, but the natural environment is without a doubt, absolutely remarkable. And the ocean is the most impressive of all. From the surface it looks like a flowing mass that ends on the surface; underwater, so much of it is alive...but you'd never really know it without exploring somewhere new and putting your head under the water.

With a little help from me, this marine iguana on Playa Tortuga on Santa Cruz Island is telling you all 'Hi!'

This Place Really Is That Special
(this 'story' is long - each animal in focus is in bold so you can skip around I love documentaries. Though I don't watch tons of TV, the National Geographic and Discovery channels have the power to capture my attention for hours at a time, and practically glue me to a television screen. If I thought I could watch animals 'doing their thing' for hours before, being in the Galapagos has really taken that to a new level. I don't think I've ever seen a documentary on the Galapagos Islands; I had only heard about their 'enchanting' qualities, the unique flora and fauna, and the tame nature of the animals. Even with such a big buildup, I'm not sure any visitor to the Galapagos really expects to find what you'll find here. No written description will do it justice, but here's my attempt at describing the indescribable.

If you couldn't tell from my last post, the sea lions are one of my absolute favorite things to observe here. The qualities that they share with humans are astounding - they form large groups; have mother-child relationships; you can literally watch them learn just like you can watch a human learn; the list goes on. I think there's something particularly magical about watching the mothers and babies together. In the whole colony, there are usually about 7 or 8 mother and baby pairs, each with their own distinct call and smell. At nighttime, when it seems time for everyone to pair up, the beach is filled with whines from babies, which are responded to by barks from mothers. It's fun to watch the pairing process to see who will be matched with whom. Sometimes I can even guess the pairs myself, turning my head from left to right, mother to baby, like I am watching a tennis match. This certainly isn't to say that the calling is reserved for nighttime only. As I'm sure every mother reading will confirm, motherhood is a full-time job. And the sea lion mothers behave with innate diligence as they watch over their pups. The other day I saw several newborn pups on the beach - newborns as of that day I was told, because earlier frigate birds had been spotted fighting over placenta on the beach. One of the newborns was being coaxed to shore, along rough and uneven volcanic rocks, by its mother. The mother would bark an encouraging 'come on' at the pup, which would yelp this helpless cry which sounded strangely familiar to a new born human baby's cry. The pup struggled over the rocks, looking so weak, its brown flippers still marked with the raw light pink color of a newborn. Eventually, exhausted from trying to lift itself over a particularly large rock, the pup yelped a different sound, as if to say 'I just can't make it Mom' as the waves crashed around. I watched above, just over an arms length away from the two of them. The tide was coming in, but eventually the mother gave up. I imagine she was exhausted as well and she lay her head on the rocks, perched just slightly higher than her pup who was already asleep on the rocks below. She laid her head down to sleep, but didn't rest more than 10 seconds before she would lift her head up to check on the pup, occasionally letting out a bark, but usually just looking to make sure the pup was where she had left him. A few meters away, another pup was getting a swimming lesson. Both mother and pup were in the water, never more than 6 inches apart, as the pup was literally tossed around by incoming waves, and the mother expertly swam through the water and curved her body around the pup to cushion the pup's body as each wave arrived. The pup would get flipped around in the water, the mother pushing its head to the surface to ensure that it was still getting air.

The past weekend, I took another snorkeling trip out to Kicker Rock, a volcanic tuft cone off the coast of San Cristobal and the most famous site associated with the island. The last time I went to Kicker Rock I saw a few sea turtles, a bunch of Galapagos sharks, and the usual fish that surround the coral reefs. This time, I was with a different group of people, a different tour guide, and the tour owner, Manolo, who has become one of my friends, was with us too. You know those mornings when you wake up and just know it's going to be a good day? That morning was one of them. On the way out to Kicker Rock I sat on the front of the boat with a bunch of the other volunteers. As we approached the enormous rock, just sitting there in the ocean, we flopped around on the front of the boat and I had one of those 'I can't believe this is my life' moments. As impressive as Kicker Rock is from the surface, though, it's what's underwater that makes Kicker Rock so special.

We must not have been in the water for more than five minutes when someone yelled 'SHARKS!' Normally the yelling of that word would strike fear and panic to anyone in the water. In the Galapagos, it means you must swim as quickly as possible to the person yelling, put your face in the water immediately and frantically search for where the shark is swimming. Like a bunch of sharks ourselves, the entire group immediately swam to the guide, and to my surprise and total excitement, I looked down to see a swarm of Galapagos sharks beneath us. (They are vegetarians, just like me!) The water was just clear enough to make out their shapes, and just murky enough to allow them to appear and disappear rapidly, like they were emerging and hiding in a mist. And then, as I was watching the group of Galapagos sharks, someone yelled Hammerhead. I could barely hear, with my head submerge, but thinking that I had actually heard what I thought, I swam closer to the guide and there it was - one hammerhead shark swimming around beneath us. It wasn't in the mist - I could see it perfectly clearly. It's kind of weird to be in the water with a shark - like you are supposed to be afraid, but it's so far away that it can't hurt you; at the same time, it can swim so fast that if one decided to check you out, it wouldn't be long before you were making acquaintances. That one hammerhead wasn't all, either; before we left Kicker Rock we saw two more swimming together, swinging their big tails from side to side with enormous power that you could see even far away, and even while they were swimming casually.

I had to modify the color of this photo to make things easier to see - in the upper left quadrant of the picture you can faintly make out a hammerhead shark. Hammerheads are one of the rarest Galapagos animals - everyone was really excited about seeing this guy/gal. (Click the picture to make it bigger.)

Before we jumped in the water at Kicker Rock, one of the other volunteers on the trip said that all she wanted to see was a hammerhead. At the time, I thought that the chances were probably pretty slim - hammerheads are one of the rarest Galapagos animals to see while you are snorkeling. I had said that I really wanted to see a group of sea turtles swimming together. I had loved seeing the individuals swimming on our last trip, but was really up for a Finding-Nemo-in-real-life-experience...also completely up to chance. Pretty much safe to say that last Saturday was the day when lots of Galapagos wishes were granted!

When we spotted the first sea turtle, it looked like it was swimming by itself. Then slowly, more and more began to appear, almost like they were coming out of the mist the way the sharks had. Being so close to the group, coupled with the three-dimensionality of the water was so cool. (Here's where the indescribability comes in.) My favorite moment was seeing four turtles together, spaced about 4 meters apart, each at a different depth in the water, their flippers moving every 10 seconds or so, and floating for the rest of the time. They are carefree, gliding through the water effortlessly against the backdrop of an endlessly colorful coral reef that is sprawling with life. If there is one thing that I learned this past two weeks, it is how alive our planet is. I can be easy to overlook when you live in a place that doesn't much resemble the natural environment, but the natural environment is without a doubt, absolutely remarkable. Basically I see two things - survival and social interaction. All of the animals that I have seen here share those things with humans: fish and birds, sea lions and sharks, iguanas and crabs. And in terms of the natural environment, I think that the ocean might be the most impressive of all. From the surface it looks like a flowing mass that ends on the surface; underwater, so much of it is alive...but you'd never really know it without exploring somewhere new and putting your head under the water.
It's faint but it's there: a sea turtle on the left...and a rare Galapagos fish on the right.