MistyNites

My Life in Motion

Archive for the tag “Puerto Ayora”

Life in Slow Motion, Part 3

It was my friend’s last day, and we awoke from our exceedingly late night with plans to chill out in Puerto Ayora. From the pier we jumped on a panga (water taxi) to cross to Angermeyer Point, an upmarket part of the island which has no road access. There is a well-marked path to Las Grietas, one of the island’s recommended tourist spots. On route, we passed a lagoon where a great egret and heron were perched, then we skirted past the already busy Playa Aleman and on past a salt lagoon. At the top of the canyon, we first followed the path along the cliff top which gave us a view down into the canyon as well as back towards Puerto Ayora and out to sea. Retracing our steps, we then took the short branch down the steps to Las Grietas. A canyon in the rocks has trapped a deep saltwater basin with no apparent connection to the sea. There are a chain of pools to explore which are divided by previous rock falls which need to be scrambled over with no dignity at all. The entrance though was swarming with paper wasps, large creatures that don’t leave you alone. It meant getting in the water fast, and once in, it was incredible. Whilst not containing a lot of sea life, they are surprisingly deep, so it is worth snorkelling purely for that reason alone. The final chamber does have a shoal of a reasonably sized fish, and whilst it’s not a good snorkel in terms of seeing marine life, I was really glad I had done it. Unfortunately my friend got stung by one of the wasps whilst we were negotiating one of the rock barriers, and with them flying around everywhere at the exit, we didn’t hang around long before leaving. Playa Aleman was busy with locals and tourists, but it was a great spot to relax and sunbathe the afternoon away, before catching a panga back to Puerto Ayora.

 

Suddenly, it was my final week and it hit me that I was going to have to leave. Outside of work I was intent on seeing and doing everything that I could. Who knows if I’ll ever be back? I spent a few evenings playing tourist, wandering around the many tourist shops looking for memorable souvenirs, and on one of my lunch breaks, I made a last (and all too brief) return to Tortuga Bay, my absolute favourite part of Santa Cruz. It was in the blistering heat of the middle of the day, and I had to power walk to make it there and back in time as well as be able to take some photos. Every time I’d been before I had not had a camera, and I just wanted to see it one last time. Normally an hour walk, I got there in 40mins, and then had nearly an hour to wander between Tortuga Bay and Playa Mansa, the sheltered beach through the mangroves. There were lots of marine iguanas on the spit of land that demarcates the divide between the two beaches, and even a couple negotiating the surf. Even though it was a week day, both beaches were busy, and I tried to soak it all up before I had to leave to get back to work. I was unbelievably sad leaving, having wanted to just kick back and enjoy it, but now I was just a few days away from leaving the islands behind.

 

My last day volunteering came and went and before I knew it, I had only a weekend before the start of my long journey home. I’d decided to head back to San Cristobal, the island that I started on, to try and snorkel with sea lions again. It had by now been over a month since my last visit there, and it was strange how unfamiliar it seemed at times. Getting up early to catch the boat, I was pleased to look at the sea and see utter calmness, the sure sign of a smooth ride. And for the first 45 mins it was, whilst we were in the shadow of Santa Fe. But when we hit open, unprotected water, the crests started and we became airborne again. For over an hour I had to grip onto whatever I could as we slammed onto the ocean surface from a free-fall again, and I fought hard to keep relaxed to prevent the shockwave damaging my spine. But inevitably my back had had enough, and about half an hour away from Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, a shooting pain shot up my neck. It was jarring and repetitive, and my heart sank at the thought of having a flare up of my chronic back issues on a small island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

I arrived to sunshine and went in search of somewhere to stay. It was third time lucky before I got a room, and despite a slight Spanish misunderstanding, I got a really good deal without even knowing it. Following some refreshments near the waterfront, I followed the waterfront round past sleeping sea lions and Playa Mann, and up towards the interpretation centre and out the other side. I took the direct path up to Cerro Tijeretas (Frigate Hill), and caught my breath for a while before deciding to follow the track onwards to the north. Very quickly it became obvious that not many people came this way as it was rough going and quite overgrown. I had only jandals (flip-flops) on my feet, and despite finding it uncomfortable, I pressed on down the far side of the hill and on across the lava landscape. On the way down I nearly stood on a Galapagos snake which thankfully disappeared into the bush before my foot hit the ground. I followed the track for about 40mins for little reward. The going was rough, and in places the path was not obvious or involved rock hopping. There was little to see and I never reached the promised beach at the end of it. Sweating in the heat of the day, I turned back and headed straight for Darwin Bay.

 

Darwin Bay is the place where Charles Darwin first set foot on the Galapagos in 1835, and the water is crystal clear. Notably though the sea was also very cold and despite the sun shining directly on it, I had to keep moving to generate some heat, snorkelling with an increasingly foggy mask clouding my view. It was an awesome spot to snorkel. There were fish everywhere in varying sizes and colours; I watched a marine turtle feed for a while; and a sea lion swam up to me then past me. I saw something floating on the water and realised there was a large chunk of blubber on the surface. I’d seen this once before near a dead whale, but I didn’t want to get too near as rotten blubber usually stinks, and I couldn’t see where it came from. Nothing was feeding on it, and it moved on the surface with the wind and the tide.

 

After a while, I found some sea lions playing. They weren’t really interested in me, so they didn’t come particularly close but they circled and dived in front of me, and then suddenly one of them grabbed the tail of a marine iguana that was swimming to the surface. It would grab the tail then let it go before grabbing it again just to release it again. It did this repeatedly until the iguana finally got itself out the water and up on a rock. I’d heard about this behaviour before. The sea lions don’t eat the iguana, they just seem to like to play with it like a toy. I’m sure the iguana didn’t like it, but I felt lucky to witness such behaviour. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was the last good snorkel I would have on the trip. I sat on the shore for a long time just soaking up the view and watching the sea lions leaping out of the water, whilst another one slept next to me on the rocks.

 

Eventually I headed up towards the large statue of Charles Darwin that overlooks the bay. From here the path follows the coastline round and down to Punta Carola beach. I hadn’t walked this section before, and from the viewpoint I could see sea lions fishing below me and had an uninterrupted sea view. It was just stunning. Further round there was an old armament from the war, and finally I came out at Punta Carola and nearly stumbled over some sea lions that were right at the end of the path. I loved this beach. There were sea lions everywhere, and they were noisy but it was amazing to sit and watch them going about their lives. Early on I got in the water to snorkel with them, but the swell here meant I could barely see my hand in front of my face, and I couldn’t see them coming. I gave up and went back to the beach to relax.

 

I spent several hours drifting between sleeping and watching the nearby goings on. At one point I was woken with a start to something tickling my bare foot and sat up quickly to find a sea lion staring at me from past my feet. It must have sniffed me and touched me with its whiskers. It ambled past me as if nothing was the matter. Later on a group of tourists and a guide appeared. They were noisy and insisted on posing for photo after photo with every single sea lion they could find. There was a group of sleeping sea lions in a bush not far from me and that was where most of the tourists were standing. I tried to fall asleep again to block them all out when suddenly I got covered in sand. Again I sat up with a start to discover that one of the sea lions had run away from the group of tourists towards me. It looked as surprised as me with my sudden movement and then hobbled past me just inches from my head, kicking up sand as it went. I was immensely glad when the group finally left and peace and quiet returned.

 

I had nowhere else to be, so watched the sun set over the beach, during which time a mother and juvenile sea lion ignored the 2m rule that is advertised across the islands, by coming right up to where I was lying, sniffed my stuff then promptly lay down for a suckle. It was an amazing experience and I waited there as long as I could until the light level was dropping too low.

 

I walked back to town in the darkness where local girls were performing dances on the promenade. It was a lovely atmosphere and the evening was warm and welcoming. I had a lovely dinner before doing some last minute souvenir shopping in the local stores, and finally it was time for my second last night in the islands. I crashed out when my head hit the pillow only to be woken ridiculously early by the irritating chirrup of a cricket or locust nearby. The night before, the shops had been over-run with locusts, and the shopkeepers were killing them as quick as they saw them. At 4am, I couldn’t locate it, but I had to put the fan on just to drown the sound out in order to get back to sleep.

It was my last full day in the islands and I woke with a sore back, no doubt the result of the previous day’s boat trip. It was really windy and the sea was choppy, and I started worrying about the return leg and what further damage it might do to my spine. I tried to shake off the feeling and make the most of my last day, so I headed first to a local cafe and enjoyed some delicious fresh fruits and granola. It was a grey day, and following the same well-travelled route I followed the shoreline and headed back to the Interpretation centre. We had visited here as part of my tour on my first day in the islands, but we had skipped sections and our guide had summarised sections, so now I wanted to read it all for myself. It is a really good place to learn about the geological history of the islands and the human history from its first discovery. Human habitation has a lot to answer for with regards to species eradication and introduction of pests and diseases. One of the most sobering sections was the future predictions for the island group, and the things I read there as well as things I had been privy to witness and learn about during my volunteering stint has left me sad for what may occur in these most wonderful islands. I can only hope that positive steps for conservation outweigh the negative steps being made to promote tourism.

 

The last hours on the island were spent on Playa Mann. I again tried to snorkel but again the visibility was poor, and with a heavy heart, I drew my snorkelling excursions to a close. With fewer sea lions than Punta Carola, it was possible to get a bit more space to yourself here but there was still plenty of sea lions rolling around in the shallows to keep me entertained. I was daydreaming when someone broke my reverie and I ended up chatting for a while with an Ecuadorian man who was there on a research trip. It was interesting to get his opinion and views on what was going on in the country and the islands, as well as a fantastic opportunity to speak Spanish. I came to realise that whilst my speech hadn’t improved much, my understanding of the language was much better and I found myself a lot more aware of what was being said to me, which was quietly satisfying. I didn’t always know how to reply, but at least I knew what was being said. We walked together back to the pier, from where he was heading to the far side of town to go surfing. By now though, it was time for me to bid San Cristobal adios for the final time. There was the usual organised chaos waiting to board the boat, and on the steps at the side of the pier, a group of sea lions were piled up for a sleep. They were the last sea lions I would see on this trip, and I boarded the boat satisfied yet sad.

 

Despite the apparently choppy sea, the return leg was surprisingly smooth, and to top it off, we slowed down on the way to watch some bottlenose dolphins cavorting around the boat. Back on Santa Cruz, I had my final dinner with one of the volunteers, and then it was time to check my luggage for the last time and try and get to sleep. When I woke the next morning it was torrential rain, the worst rain I’d seen the whole trip which was perfect timing given that I had to wander the streets to hail a taxi. Thankfully it only took about 5 mins to find one, and it drove me to the bus station on the edge of town, where there was only a short wait till the bus left for the port on the north side of town. It was packed, full of both locals and tourists, and most of us got off and piled straight on the cross channel ferry. In fact all the transport ran so smoothly that I ended up catching the bus on Baltra straight away which got me to the airport with 4 hours to spare. I couldn’t even check in yet. There was nowhere to sit apart from a couple of stools in a corner, and I sat here daydreaming for as long as I could. I was hungry but there was nowhere to eat, and nowhere to leave my bag, so I was forced to ride it out. Finally after getting my boarding card, I walked through to the boarding area to discover a food court that I could have accessed pre-check in. I was gutted, because by then I had no time to order a cooked meal and eat it, so I was forced to go through to my departure gate and buy the only food I could find: potato chips and cookies.

But now it was over. I boarded the plane and took my window seat, and after 5 incredible weeks, I watched as first Baltra then Santa Cruz disappeared below us, and I settled in to the flight to Guayaquil that signalled being homeward bound. There really is nowhere on Earth like the Galapagos Islands: a magical place full of wildlife and adventure. I will probably never return, but having managed 10 out of the 17 islands, I think I did good. I definitely have my favourite islands, but it’s hard to fault a place where the wildlife appears to be literally everywhere. I only hope the magic continues for generations to come.

Life in Slow Motion

It wasn’t quite the start that I’d planned. With a month of volunteering ahead of me, I hadn’t expected to find myself prostrate on the couch light-headed and dizzy on my arrival. The place was deserted and I drifted in and out of consciousness. It had been a rough night, and I’d thought I was going to have to have a doctor called. I’ve been hospitalised before from severe food poisoning and in the darkness of my misery during the night, I was recognising the warning signs that had led me down that slippery slope in the past. But after leaving the hotel behind and with each passing hour on that couch, I realised that thankfully I was over the worst of it. I wanted desperately to replenish my lost salts and sugars, and slowly trudged to the supermarket that evening when one of the other volunteers got home. It was a slow and draining process, topped off with nearly fainting in the shop. Not quite the best first impression I’ve ever given. But despite the torture of the night before being the most ill I’ve ever felt in my whole life (I’ll save on the gory details!), it was thankfully a short-lived illness, and within 48hrs I was feeling good, if a little hesitant about what food I put in my mouth.

Weekdays were all about routine. The workload was variable, and initially it was quite humid making for a rather sticky time to begin with. There were 2 other volunteers for the first half of my stay and we got on like a house on fire. The first week I was there, we got to sample some of Puerto Ayora’s night life. Although it is the busiest town in the archipelago, there’s only a handful of places to choose from for late nights, and despite having felt like I’ve grown out of the clubbing days, it was too tempting to sample the spot in town: Bongo Bar. Wednesday nights are salsa nights and the locals were showing off their salsa moves whilst I, never having done the dance, decided to utilise my well practised Zumba moves. It was the source of some amusement, but I think I faked it well. One of the staff members treated us to a fire dance on the balcony before we headed home tired yet satisfied.

 

The weekends were our own, and whilst the other two volunteers headed to San Cristobal, I headed back to Isabela, my favourite island in the whole archipelago. The public boats were different from the one I had travelled on prior, and we were packed in like sardines such that I ended up with both my shoulders being used as pillows by a local woman on either side. Just a week on from my previous visit, and Isabela felt different. There were barely any penguins or blue-footed boobies – a stark contrast to the week before. My trip coincided with the beginning of the change in season denoted by a shift in sea currents from the warmer Panama current to the colder and nutrient rich Humboldt current. But the locals were full of murmurings about El Niño, a phenomenon where the warmer currents hold on, denying the normal flourish of food and decimating some of the local species. The last El Niño a few years prior had reportedly caused an 80% reduction in the number of Galapagos penguins, a decrease from which they were yet to fully recover. On land though, and the sun shone brilliantly over the gorgeous sands and the sea lions still happily floated around the pier, lazily watching the tourists who crowded around to take their photo.

 

I had a leisurely and lovely stroll through Puerto Villamil and out the far side and along the beach to my peaceful seaside hostel. It was only a stone’s throw to the start of a boardwalk which skirts through lagoons, vegetation, and lava fields on its way to the tortoise breeding centre that I had visited last time. The start of the walk was littered with marine iguanas sunbathing, and through the red-coloured water, a large iguana lazily swam across to shore. The first lagoon had several ducks and stilts around it, and then every lagoon after that had flamingos. It was hard-going in the sweltering heat but totally worth it. I saw flamingos fighting, flamingos flying and some other birds I hadn’t seen up close before, and the lava fields were littered with large cacti plants. Rather than go back to the breeding centre again, I walked past it and continued on up the road back to the quarry where again there were flamingos, before turning back and enjoying it all again on the return leg.

 

Following a beautiful lunch from a little kiosk shop, I found my way to a beach that I hadn’t even noticed last time. On the seaward side of the row of restaurants that line the main street in town, is a lovely white sandy beach where herons, pelicans and shore birds hung out. From here I could see thick clouds hanging over the highlands, but whilst they always threatened, they never quite made it over my way. I lazily walked along the beach to grab my snorkel gear and headed to Concha Perla, the sheltered lagoon near the pier where I’d gone with my group the week before. This time though it was packed with locals and it was very noisy. As a result, there was not a penguin in sight, but once I got away from the crowds in the cold water, I stumbled across a massive stingray resting on the bottom and then hung around the rock channels watching shrimp and shoals of colourful fish.

 

I woke the next morning to discover that the clouds had finally blanketed the whole island. It was overcast and windy but that wasn’t going to get in the way of my exploration. 5km out of town lies the Wall of Tears, a remnant of an old penal colony, that I had biked out to last time. I’d noticed on route that there were lots of little side trails off the main path, so on this day, that was my goal: to explore every inch of access on the trail. There was 1km of beach to walk along to reach the head of the trail, and above me, groups of large frigate birds and the smaller blue-footed boobies would appear over my head. Pelicans skimmed the tidal zone, and then on the first branch of the trail, I stumbled across a large colony of marine iguanas that were draped across the path. They literally will flop down anywhere, and often on top of each other, and there were so many that they blocked the path in two spots. Skirting round them, I found myself face to face with a striated heron in the bushes.

 

Other trails took me to lagoons, or beaches where more marine iguanas lazed and nested. I found myself back at the lava tunnel which was part-filled with sea water and thus had its own marine ecosystem there, which included an octopus. Another trail led me through a tunnel made of trees to a peaceful mangrove lagoon where a sea lion played, and on the main track itself, the so-called Camino de las Tortugas, I came across 5 wild giant tortoises simply out for a meander. They seemed unfazed by the regular passing of people, and 1 even tried to race me along the track for a bit.

 

I didn’t go as far as the Wall, but instead stopped at a viewpoint which offered a beautiful vista over the coastline and back towards Puerto Villamil. Passing the tortoises on the way back, there were yet more marine iguanas that had appeared on the main track near the beach, and I was thrilled with the constant wildlife exposure that Isabela offered. Snorkelling again at Concha Perla, I saw another stingray and a giant parrotfish, before heading out for dinner and getting caught in a downpour.

 

I awoke in the night to discover a cockroach on my pillow in front of me, its antenna taunting me. I suspect it had tickled me in my sleep. After checking out, I passed the time reading a book on the beach until the incoming tide nearly caught me off guard. I moved nearer town and sat under a palm tree, where another tourist seemed awfully concerned about my safety should a coconut decide to fall off. Eventually I headed to Concha Perla to discover that the tide was strangely very high, and the sea had flooded it, submerging the lava walls that demarcated the normally protected snorkel area, and flowing deep into the mangroves. I hung out at the pier with the sea lions and marine iguanas until it was time to get back on the boat to return to Santa Cruz.

 

In my 32 years of living and my many adventures, I’ve been on a lot of boat trips on several oceans and seas and in varying sizes of boats, but that trip from Isabela to Santa Cruz was the roughest trip I’ve ever done. Just 5 mins out from shore we hit the open ocean and the captain pushed down the throttle and we literally became airborne. The speedboats in the Galapagos have only a padded bench seat lining each side of the boat which faces internally. There are no individual seats, no armrests, and no seats facing the direction of travel. There is nothing to hold on to, and with several weak-stomached passengers needing the back of the boat, I found myself near the front which has the most movement on the sea. As we ploughed through the water, I could feel the boat rise up on the crest, and going at such speed the boat would take off over the top and free-fall for a second or two before slamming down on the trough that followed. The seconds of free-fall were enough to leave your stomach in the air, and it felt like hitting concrete as the force repeatedly shot through my spine again and again and again. I wasn’t worried about my stomach, but with chronic back problems, I was terrified of the damage that could be inflicted. I tried to reposition myself in an effort to save my back from taking the brunt, but packed in as we were, it was rather difficult. In the end, my lower shoulder was thrown against a bar on the wall of the boat so many times, that by the evening it was swollen. For over an hour of the nearly 2.5 hr boat ride, I played a game in my head to guess how long the free fall would last, unable to sleep due to the constant jolting and shimmying. On the few occasions that the captain slowed the speed down, I knew with dread that it signalled the ensuing drop would be a big one, that even he knew maintaining speed was a risk to capsize the boat. I held dear to the thought that these captains were very experienced in these conditions, but I’m not ashamed to say there was a very brief spell near the start when I was actually terrified. Reaching Puerto Ayora, I transferred onto a panga (water taxi) for the short ride to shore, but the waves were rolling in high, and at the last minute, our driver naively turned side on to the wave which breached the boat and drenched several of us. I headed home dripping wet, confusingly coming back to emptiness. In the darkness of the night, the other two returned home having had quite a dramatic boat trip of their own from San Cristobal. What should have been a 2hr trip for them, had turned into a 5hr calamity, and we all found ourselves with a story to tell.

 

Puerto Ayora offered lots of choice for food. The main street of Avenida Charles Darwin was full of tourist-orientated restaurants and the side streets offered a half-way house between local dining and tourist fare. I was introduced to a cafe called Deli hidden down a back street which had some of the best ice cream on the island, and we all became such regulars here after work, that one of the staff became quite amused by us. They did great food too, and we ate out here a few times. Another regular was Il Giardino on the main strip which had a reputation for their desserts, and a couple of other places on this street were frequented too. But one of the volunteers and myself were keen to go more local. I had already eaten twice at the street kiosks and enjoyed the food but paid the ultimate price with food poisoning on the second visit. One lunch we went to a little restaurant down a side street which was run by a lovely woman who made ceviche, a dish of raw seafood cured in citrus juice. It was absolutely delicious, and well worth the wait of having it completely prepared from scratch. Her kids entertained us with their nosiness whilst she put together squid, octopus, shrimps, and pieces of white fish amongst a salad. Shared between the two of us it was a huge portion and fantastic value for money. On another occasion we had breakfast at a local open-air food court style venue. We stuffed ourselves on bolon, an Ecuadorian dish made from plantain that was served with stew, rice and eggs. Kind of like a dumpling, they are pretty big and the whole dish is very filling. We ate it that day knowing we weren’t going to get lunch, and it didn’t disappoint, satiating us well into the afternoon. Another favourite was heading to the market a few streets away from where we were staying for some lovely warm morocho, a drink made with corn and milk, and sweetened with sugar and cinnamon. With a strong emphasis on seafood, rice and plantain, the Ecuadorian cuisine was certainly one to tuck into and enjoy.

 

My second weekend volunteering, I stayed on Santa Cruz. One of the volunteers left us early on the Saturday morning, following a night at Bongo Bar for more salsa dancing. Myself and my remaining friend visited the large fruit and veg market a few blocks away, which occurs every Saturday morning in a large open-sided shed towards the back of town. There was fresh fruit and veg for rows, and near the front, large fish and octopus were chopped up for sale, and towards the back, local food was served and a local band played music to entertain the crowds. There were a few tourists, but mainly it was locals and it felt so far away from the very commercialised and touristic front streets by the waterfront.

 

Following breakfast we took the long walk to the stunning Tortuga Bay to the west of town. I’d visited here previously with my tour group to go kayaking, but this time we had no plans and no time limit so it was fantastic to just relax and enjoy the sun, the sea and the sand. I tried snorkelling here but the water was so green it limited visibility and there were few fish in the main stretch by the beach. Flanked by mangroves though, it was well known that rays and sharks hung about on the edges. After spending most of the day sleeping on the sand, we hired a kayak and went exploring. We came across a large stingray on one bank, a marine turtle came up to breath near us when we were out towards the breakline, and eventually we found a cluster of white-tipped reef sharks very close to shore, resting in the roots of the mangroves. We didn’t have long back on the beach before the patrol whistled the time to leave. The beach is closed to access after 5pm as it is within the National Park, and with a long walk back to the gate, the guards were keen to get people moving.

I had an early start the following morning, being picked up at the front door and driven across the island to the port on the north shore at the Itabaca channel. When we arrived, there was a massive flock of blue-footed boobies dive-bombing into the channel for fish, and our dinghy negotiated through them to take us to our boat for the day. The destination was Isla Plaza Sur, South Plaza island, a small land mass to the east of Santa Cruz. It was a peaceful and relaxing slow cruise down the varied coast of Santa Cruz, and we spotted two marine turtles catching a breath on route. On arrival at Plaza Sur, we were greeted by some exceedingly loud sea lions cavorting in the waves, and near the arrival steps, a gull chick waited to be fed.

 

Plaza has hybrid iguanas, the result of marine iguanas mating with the land iguanas. They are not fertile, and as a result, the population will eventually die out, but there were plenty of them out and about sunning themselves, a mix of black and yellow markings making them less camouflaged than each parent counterpart. The path took us up to a clifftop from where we could watch large flocks of Galapagos shearwaters, a cousin of the puffin, flit about and skim the waves. They were so fast it made it difficult to photograph, but amongst them, our guide pointed out a red-billed tropicbird, a beautiful seabird with a rather fancy tail. Along the clifftop path, we were able to peak into a nest hole which contained one of their chicks who looked out at us with crazy eyes. At the far end, some sea lions lay at the top of the cliff, and we wondered how they had gotten so high up. But just as we started to head away, one of them started to head down to sea and we were able to watch him negotiate the rocks until he hopped into the sea with an incoming wave. We passed more iguanas on the way back to the boat, including the skeleton of one who looked like it had died asleep on the rock, still in the classic iguana pose as if it was still trying to catch some sun rays.

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During a delicious lunch on the boat, we slowly headed back to the Itabaca channel where we stopped near a sheltered bay to go snorkelling. Amongst some beautiful shoals of fish that hovered around the various lava rock channels, there were several white-tipped reef sharks. Mainly they were sleeping, but with plenty of time to swim and explore, on a couple of occasions I was caught off guard by one suddenly swimming past me. Averaging 1.5m in length, they are a relatively docile shark (although I feel it is always prudent to give any shark respect), and during the day they tend to spend most of their time resting, choosing to hunt mainly at night. I saw the most sharks on this snorkelling trip as well as a stingray and tons of colourful fish.

 

We returned to town early enough for me to head to Laguna de Las Ninfas, an unusual feature near Puerto Ayora where a fresh-water pond mixes via a stream with the incoming seawater nearer town. The water was a brilliant green colour, and a short and easy walk takes you around the pond through the bushes and to the far side. It was a great place to spot herons and mockingbirds, and it was so peaceful considering it was just a couple of streets away from the town.

 

By this stage, I had seen so much already, but I still had several weeks on the islands ahead of me…

 

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