The next morning we loaded our mesh bags with wet suits that hadn’t really dried overnight, walked to the dock, and loaded up a boat for “The Sleeping Lion” aka “Kicker Rock”, our morning snorkeling destination.

“Sleeping lion” or “kicker rock”… either name requires a little imagination. For the geology peeps, it is a tuff cone formation. It’s a great haven for birds and sea life, which was why we were there.

Gear donned, we jumped off the edge of the boat, then swam to a crevice between rocks.

The water was DEEP. It’s not like shallow water can’t kill you, but “depths” can be a little frightening when you think about how far there is to sink (fall?), or what can come up from them. I wasn’t thinking about these things, so for me it was very peaceful and relaxing.

Tiny jellies, colorful fish and coral, and fluorescent blue pixels of bio-luminescent plankton, plus sharks and sea turtles, and more friendly sea lions. 

I lost track of time.

The boat picked us up on the other side, then sped toward a peaceful bit of shallow water near a white sand shore.

Here we would eat lunch before accomplishing a “wet landing” on Manglesito beach.

Don’t expect gourmet in the Galapagos. But I was surprised when the crew pulled out a table, and laid out fish, rice, and a lentil soup. I had expected a sandwich.

I half stayed in my wet suit through lunch, because snorkeling was still an option and I just didn’t want to fight with getting it off just to put it back on again. So I took it down to my waist and enjoyed the warmth of the sun for a period of time that didn’t seem very long…

Every time I travel to more equatorial latitudes I relearn why locals nickname red things “gringo”. Costa Rica has a “gringo” tree (red, and peeling), the Galapagos has a “gringo” fish (just red). Apparently, and this was not a revelation–I was not evolved to cope with equatorial sun. We had been warned us of this, but some of us will never learn… as much as we want it to be, the sun is not our friend.

The boat dropped us off within wading depth of shore.

We had the beach to ourselves, and were free to explore. I assume the park coordinates this through permitted times, which allows visitors to experience it pristine–as if it’s a hidden island and no one outside your little group knows about it.

It’s actually part of the island of San Cristobal, but there’s no road there, you can only get there by boat. With a park guide. Probably to make sure you don’t distress the wildlife. And as a source of employment/income.

Mini-Godzilla sunned himself on the beach a few feet in front of us.

Our guide said they use the sun’s heat to help them digest. Digest what? Small cities? No, it’s a harmless vegetarian–it holds its breath to eat algae from the sea floor. Then, back on shore processing its meal, it spits out the excess salt.

Josh and I have a photographer/subject relationship where he pretends not to notice I’m taking pictures, and is rewarded with cool (in my opinion) pictures of himself establishing scale in a landscape (or seascape) shot. They don’t always turn out as planned, though sometimes yield unexpected surprises.

A basaltic outcrop was covered in red Sally Lightfoot crabs.

A giant marine iguana emerged from the water to crest a rock like the opening scene of a bad MST3K horror flick. He had some red coloration, like maybe a little more ominous.

Josh moved to within selfie distance of it and suddenly we heard shouting from the guide. Apparently we’d found the line. It’s hard to know… the animals really did not seem to care in the slightest.

For the most part, I was impressed with our guides. I’d had low expectations, based on a book I’d read just before traveling: Galapagos: At the Crossroads. It had warned of guides that had little interest in conservation, or minimal training, or no English skills, and some that were hell-bent on teaching creationism. The Galapagos, and its human inhabitants, have had to adapt to a multitude of external influences. Its small “indigenous” population where many jobs exploited natural resources found itself at odds with the influx of tourism, growth of emigrant population to support it, and government regulation of what had been their livelihoods. And governments are not known for effective and fair solutions so much as political ones, which I suppose is an interesting new twist on evolution. In any case, our group had great guides, so either we got lucky, or things are changing.

The boat delivered us back to town, where the remainder of the day was ours for exploration.

Somehow, this always devolves to shopping, and OMG there is A LOT of merchandise capitalizing on “boobies”. I have ideas, Galapagos shops, on some at least different chintzy marketing angles! For starters, you need an Endemic Pokemon 🙂 I’ve been thinking about this, and conclude that it would have to be based on an iguana, turtle/tortoise, bird, or sea mammal. It would not be a land mammal. It might have blue feet. Or it might just look like a marine iguana.

And walking around.

The local “tree” was a cactus. I think it’s a species or sub-species of prickly pear or “opuntia”. 

A local statue hints at why it might have evolved this way.

And watching wildlife.

The sea lions own the Galapagos.

When they were not sleeping, they seemed to be doing yoga. Ashley dubbed one of their poses the “upward sea lion”, but for my hundreds of pics, I can’t seem to find one.

As the sun set and the dock lights came on, we noticed one of the wires smoldering.

Most people in a foreign country who don’t speak the language and don’t see an immediate threat would normally ignore it. Not Robin.

She marched down to the police station and typed a report into their computer. When they didn’t understand, she retrieved Fermin, a Peruvian guide traveling with us as a tourist, and marched him down to the police station to translate. (In retrospect, it might have been more interesting if she’d retrieved the master electrician traveling with us who also spoke Spanish.) In any case, the result: the city would fix it immediately. Why? Because it was a “hazard to the sea lions”.

Ok. I don’t know where to work this in, but I have to. These trips bring out peoples’ specialties/professions, and end up with me taking pictures of non-code infrastructure I might notice but would usually ignore. Since I’ve highlighted telecommunications wiring before, I’ll spotlight rebar today. We saw a lot of it sticking up from what didn’t seem active construction sites. Maybe these were for an indefinite future expansion, or maybe the logistics of getting materials to the Galapagos Islands, along with anticipated population growth, make this smart planning?

An early night, for an early flight, we could sleep tight, knowing the sea lions were alright.