November 17th 2014
I wake up just after six, a full hour before bed after a long rough night with short bursts of sleep interrupted by long bursts of being tossed around. No sickness but a whole lot of discomfort. Still I’m smiling when I step outside and catch my first glimpse of Genovese barren dark grey cliffs. Even anchored well out in the bay I can tell right away this is an island for the birds. Countless flocks dance over the islands coastline and half the rocks are stained enough to be considered white.
I spend the next 45 minutes wandering around the boat and getting my stuff ready for the first landing, all while watching the birds above us. Before long the bells ringing again and the 16 of us hurry to the dining room for our first breakfast on the boat. It’s the best meal yet, fresh eggs, sausages, lots of fruit, toast with jam and butter and delicious muesli with tasty fresh yogurt. Over the next week the muesli and fruit grows to be almost as sought after as the lounging chairs, and certainly no one’s late for breakfast.
After breakfast we have a quick few minutes to pack up our stuff before another wet landing on a small beach. There’s a sea lion there waiting for us and we snap a few photos as it rolls around trying to get comfortable and not much caring what we do. The 6 foot rule of the galapagos is roughly followed by most of us.
Only when I finally look away from the beach and the sea lion do I notice all the birds. Nasca boobies hop along the barren deep grey rocks while the magnificent red footed boobies stick mostly to the mangroves and other shrubbery, their feet as candy apple red and the their beaks electric blue. Both species watch us quizzically but otherwise seem more or less unruffled by our sudden presence in their homes. Johan gathers us all and we step back from the beach, leaving our friend the sea lion to relax as we well and truly enter the kingdom of the Boobies. (And a few frigate birds)
As we walk along the scrubland we see countless birds all watching us curiously. Not exactly unwelcoming, but theirs tilt of distrust to their beaks. Before long they’ve gotten used to us and go back to their daily lives, flapping their wings and pecking at other randomly while perched up in the trees. The Nazca (masked) boobies are much cooler than I expected, but it’s the red footers that steal the show. In fact I decide it’s safe to say that if they were more widely spread out across the Galapagos they might be more popular than their famous cousin with blue feet.
We walk a little further along and encounter our first juvenile. The young Boobies haven’t acquired their coloured feet or beaks yet, but, to compensate on the cuteness scale the are covered in thick layers of fluffy down. There are no newborns on the island right now, so with the down added to their skinny frames they look to be almost the same size as their parents.
As we step carefully through the infested island keeping the two meters distance becomes more and more difficult. Johan gives us a seemingly endless stream of interesting information as we walk on a narrow strip of sand in between two black masses of rock. Johan tells us that we’ll have to take a different path back as the tide’s coming in.
We view a few gulls and iguanas alongside the countless Boobies and frigates and eventually cut up a well marked path away from the lowlands and up onto the cliffs. the birdlife only grows more plentiful as we walk and learn. We even spot a few white red footed boobies, a rare genetic mutation turning their main feathers white, something that only occurs in 10 % of the population. They’re my favourite bird on the day, the red feet and blue beak seem to shine even more brightly against the snow white plumage.
We come across a ball of fluff in the form of a baby frigate bird, nestled into the ground in the middle of our path. We step around him quickly and carefully and he gives inquisitive little pecks in our direction. Honestly, even despite the face I want to pick him up and cuddle him. He looks so soft and warm.
We reach a lookout point and I stand jaw agape as I look up at the sky, hundreds if not thousands of birds flying all around us. Many of them fight over a narrow weather station landing spot, squawking and flapping their wings vehemently.
We climb out over the rocks as far as we’re allowed and look down on a sheltered and shaded beach where two sea lions have chosen to rest. One of them rises with sudden vigour and rushes towards the other one. Were sure a fight or a happy time is about to occur but halfway there the sea lion collapses back to the sand heavily, the movement ceasing just as suddenly as it began. Sea lions are incredible like that, in a flash a determined run turns to full out collapse.
We take lots of photos of the birds and watch a few of them diving into the azure waters of the pacific before turning around and heading back towards the beach, through a secondary path which is even closer to all the birds. We learn that some of the birds can be a little bit territorial if you are forced to get close. Phil understands the lesson better than anyone.
We make it back to the beach and find a few more sea lions have joined our friends. A loud male swims around int he shallows honking every few seconds to make his presence felt. Johan warns us that while the females are usually quite friendly, on land and in shallow water the males can be dangerous. (A lesson I learn well enough a few days from now)
One female poses for us in the shallows before being joined by another and we’re lucky enough to witness a minor confrontation on the beach.
We head back to where we were dropped off, where another group of 16 tourists have landed. Looking at their group makes me al the happier with my boat choice. I have nothing against older people but our travel styles and desires often vary and this other group is comprised of 14 senior citizens and one couple who look to be about 30. I can’t help but feel bad for them as our much younger and energetic group leap into the Zodiacs from knee deep water and take off back for Guantamera for a quick snack and to grab our snorkel equipment.
This time around we snorkel off the dingy along the cliff walls of Genovese in a huge circular bay which Johan tells us is actually an ancient volcanic crater. Incredible. On the way we get our first glimpse of the most famous booby of them all, the one with blue feet, though this one nestled in the cliffs refused to show off his best assets. We also find the illusive fur seal, a smaller and different version of the sea lion and one of the animals I most wanted to see, thanks in large part to my parents stories about swimming with them. Sadly they are supposedly not quite so playful and we only see them on the rocks. Still they make me smile as I think back to the stories of my youth, unable to believe I’m actually here.
We reach our start spot and one by one drop over the side of the zodiac’s and into the pleasantly cool water. It’s calmer, but still frustratingly unclear. That said, when it comes to snorkelling I have the enthusiasm of a five year old child, so while others muttered quiet complaints of how much better it could be, I find myself again utterly enthralled by this strange under water world. Again I see countless colourful fish, some minor coral and even manage to spot my first ever shark (while snorkelling) It’s a white tip shark and almost as big as I am, though ti swims away before too long and I’m left with just some inquisitive fish.
After an hour or so we are called back to the Zodiacs. I go regretfully surprised to see some of my friends shivering despite the wetsuits all but three of us ended up renting after the first day of snorkelling. What can I say, sometimes it pays to be from Canada. Snorkelling in Terence bay Nova Scotia is endlessly colder than the Galapagos could ever hope to be.
I’m last in the boat and chomping at the bit for more snorkelling, but it’s time for lunch and I’m not allowed in the waters alone, so skipping the meal would be only an exercise in futility. Besides, the foods good again and I’m surprisingly hungry after a long and incredible morning.
After lunch we have a little time to relax before the bell is ringing again and we’re gathering at the back of the boat climbing into the Zodiacs ready for our first dry landing of the trip. The destination: Prince Philip’s steps, named in honour of said prince’s 1964 visit to the islands. He was actually fascinated by the islands and conservation in general and therefore visited frequently between 1960 and 1980. Jolly good show mate. The staircase itself hardly seems suited to royalty, not that I’m complaining. They are crude steps carved into the cliff and the Zodiacs approach by speeding towards a mostly flat rock and driving up halfway onto it.
As we climb up onto the slick black rock dozens of red and black crabs scuttle away to a safe distance and watch us one by one scramble up the rough hewn staircase of sorts up to the top of the 30 meter cliffs. Above we find another bird haven, not unlike our first landing, though perhaps even more densely populated.
I’m snapping photos when I notice an adult Nazca booby either attacking or playing with a juvenile. Either way it makes a great picture and reminds me of how snakes unhinge their jaws to devour larger than average pray. I’m lucky my camera is randomly set in sports mode as the quick burst of photos all but guarantees at least one good one.
Johan leads us quickly inland past countless Nazca Boobies, Red Footed Boobies and Great Frigate birds (sadly not in mating season so no visible inflated red pouches). We all snap more photos then we could possibly need, of course not using flash, and generally marvel at our incredible surroundings. Genovese is two contradicting types of beauty to me. A barren isolated wasteland where only the toughest plants thrive, and an island absolutely teaming with life, thanks to the countless beautiful birds that call it home. I’ll tell you one thing, I certainly understand why it Johan’s favourite Island.
We leave the mangroves and scrub forest behind and walk out onto long expanses of cliff top, still very much full of bird life. We walk slowly along the uneven path as the sun creeps down towards the horizon. We keep Going Johan intent on finding the rare Short Eared Owl. He says it’s been four weeks since we’ve last seen it but since we did the booby dance last night he seems sure we’ll find it. (I forgot to mention that in my last post, the blue footed booby is famous for it’s mating dance, and Johan taught us all this dance and made us perform with the crew on deck the night before. A sign of good luck and one that certainly worked for us throughout the trip.)
Just as Johan seems ready to give up, Sam a friendly young man from Australia, points out an owl blending into the rock some hundred feet away. How he saw it I’ll never know. Johan congratulates him vehemently and one by one we all find the owl with our eyes. Shortly thereafter we actually find two or three more, though they were further off the path we are forced to stick to.
As I turn around and look back the way we came I’m stunned to see a sky of fire, the sun it’s burning core descending quickly into the Ocean. The scene is undeniably beautiful, birds all around us, on land in the air, and plummeting down into the tinted sea. The sky only grows more luminescent as the sun descends, incredible hues of red, yellow, and above all orange, painting the heavens an enthralling mosaic of colour. Everyone’s impressed and everyone takes more photos than we could possibly need.
Johan seems to realize what time it is and we all hurry back to our landing spot, of course still pausing for more photos, hoping to escape the island with the last glimmers of sunlight. Galapagos National Park regulates the islands quite strictly and all of them have a curfew, usually around 6 or 630 pm. By that time all tourists must be back aboard their boats or else… well the consequence was never really made clear to me.
We settle down to yet another delicious dinner before setting sail back south towards our next island, Bartolome and Santiago. Everyone is still in a state of shock of what we’ve seen. I have travelled and seen an awful lot in this world, but Genovese is unique and will stay as a clear and joyous memory in my mind for as long as I live and hopefully beyond that. We sit through briefing after dinner about our next day and then retire to the lounging chairs where we chat and try to come to terms with the rocking boat before heading to bed. I sleep much better this night, the seas a little calmer and myself a little more accustomed to being tossed around. I go to sleep happy knowing that tomorrow I’ll wake up outside another surely incredible island. Genovese, you are Paradise and I’ll never forget you!
