Isabela and Fernandina
The day began early, as the ship rounded the northern tip of Isabela Island. We were woken at 5:45 a.m. to the exciting news that whales and dolphins had been spotted ahead. Guests straggled from their cabins in various states of undress to the groggy sight of dozens - even hundreds - of common dolphins, feeding and leaping across the horizon. We spotted the spouts of several Bryde’s whales on all sides of the ship. The boat turned to follow, zigzagging after first the whales and then the dolphins. The whales proved impossible to follow, as Bryde’s whales often are, surfacing only every eight to ten minutes at unpredictable locations. The dolphins, while they did not seem unduly bothered by the presence of the ship, did not stay to visit but continued on their way after thrilling us with their exuberant leaping.
Now we were about to cross the equator. Guests and staff gathered on the bridge to mark the occasion with a glass of champagne (or juice, as preferred) and a cheer, as a commemorative banner was unfurled on deck. After a performance of the hastily penned “Galápagos Equatorial Blues” and a group picture, Mike Beedell led us in a raucous, if atonal, rendition of “Alouetteski”. Some may question our talent, but never our enthusiasm.
Before our first disembarkation at around 10 a.m., most felt we had already experienced a full day. We’d seen nothing yet.
The boat anchored off the stark and imposing Volcan Ecuador, a shield volcano on the west side of Isabela with high, unstable cliffs. After a short safety briefing on kayaking, some guests bravely launched into the (very!) cool waters in the kayaks while the rest of us piled into the pangas for a tour. Within seconds of pushing off from the Islander, we were overwhelmed by wildlife: huge marine iguanas sunned on the rocks, Galápagos fur seals lolled lazily in the water, penguins zoomed by like errant missiles, green sea turtles glided gracefully by, and we caught our first glimpse of both the endemic flightless cormorant and the Nazca (or masked) booby. Those were only the highlights. Almost lost in the fanfare were the flocks of brown noddy terns and shearwaters, scattered blue-footed boobies, a great blue heron, puffer fish, sea lions, and one lonely frigate bird. The pangas returned to the boat after exploring some of the cool caves cut deep into the shoreline of the volcano.
After a short respite, barely time to catch our breaths, over half the group headed out once more to snorkel. As we plunged over the side of the pangas, we were rudely reminded that the rich marine life in the area was due to the deep, cold, nutrient rich Cromwell Current that wells up to the surface here. The cold water was shocking at first, but we quickly forgot about the cold as we drifted over dozens of green turtles lazing on the sandy bottom or sweeping calmly through the water around us. Stingrays drifted along the bottom. A few curious and playful young sea lions stopped by to frolic, seemingly delighting in the contrast between their easy grace and our clumsy splashing about. Some snorkelers were treated to the sight of a school of king angelfish cleaning algae from the green turtles. We returned to the pangas, tearing ourselves away from the wildlife but looking forward to a hot shower and warm drink.
We had earned our lunch. And what a lunch it was! Today’s menu featured an assortment of traditional Ecuadorian treats, including roast pig, fish, ceviche and an assortment of deserts.
After lunch and a well-deserved siesta, we once again boarded the pangas, this time for a walk along the shore and lava fields of Fernandina, one of the most active volcanoes in the world. We saw cacti and lava lizards on the extensive pahoehoe lava fields, and strolled along the shore among countless large marine iguanas, flightless cormorants, and blue-footed boobies. One sharp-eyed guest spotted the endemic rice rat hidden beneath the slabs of lava; a rare find since they are nocturnal.
After dinner, Mike Beedell treated us to a stunning photographic and video tour along Canada’s entire coastline, from the Cape Breton Trail, through Labrador and the high arctic and down the rugged coast of British Columbia, all set to music performed by acclaimed Canadian musician Ian Tamblin. It was a relaxing and fitting end to a busy day.
The day began early, as the ship rounded the northern tip of Isabela Island. We were woken at 5:45 a.m. to the exciting news that whales and dolphins had been spotted ahead. Guests straggled from their cabins in various states of undress to the groggy sight of dozens - even hundreds - of common dolphins, feeding and leaping across the horizon. We spotted the spouts of several Bryde’s whales on all sides of the ship. The boat turned to follow, zigzagging after first the whales and then the dolphins. The whales proved impossible to follow, as Bryde’s whales often are, surfacing only every eight to ten minutes at unpredictable locations. The dolphins, while they did not seem unduly bothered by the presence of the ship, did not stay to visit but continued on their way after thrilling us with their exuberant leaping.
Now we were about to cross the equator. Guests and staff gathered on the bridge to mark the occasion with a glass of champagne (or juice, as preferred) and a cheer, as a commemorative banner was unfurled on deck. After a performance of the hastily penned “Galápagos Equatorial Blues” and a group picture, Mike Beedell led us in a raucous, if atonal, rendition of “Alouetteski”. Some may question our talent, but never our enthusiasm.
Before our first disembarkation at around 10 a.m., most felt we had already experienced a full day. We’d seen nothing yet.
The boat anchored off the stark and imposing Volcan Ecuador, a shield volcano on the west side of Isabela with high, unstable cliffs. After a short safety briefing on kayaking, some guests bravely launched into the (very!) cool waters in the kayaks while the rest of us piled into the pangas for a tour. Within seconds of pushing off from the Islander, we were overwhelmed by wildlife: huge marine iguanas sunned on the rocks, Galápagos fur seals lolled lazily in the water, penguins zoomed by like errant missiles, green sea turtles glided gracefully by, and we caught our first glimpse of both the endemic flightless cormorant and the Nazca (or masked) booby. Those were only the highlights. Almost lost in the fanfare were the flocks of brown noddy terns and shearwaters, scattered blue-footed boobies, a great blue heron, puffer fish, sea lions, and one lonely frigate bird. The pangas returned to the boat after exploring some of the cool caves cut deep into the shoreline of the volcano.
After a short respite, barely time to catch our breaths, over half the group headed out once more to snorkel. As we plunged over the side of the pangas, we were rudely reminded that the rich marine life in the area was due to the deep, cold, nutrient rich Cromwell Current that wells up to the surface here. The cold water was shocking at first, but we quickly forgot about the cold as we drifted over dozens of green turtles lazing on the sandy bottom or sweeping calmly through the water around us. Stingrays drifted along the bottom. A few curious and playful young sea lions stopped by to frolic, seemingly delighting in the contrast between their easy grace and our clumsy splashing about. Some snorkelers were treated to the sight of a school of king angelfish cleaning algae from the green turtles. We returned to the pangas, tearing ourselves away from the wildlife but looking forward to a hot shower and warm drink.
We had earned our lunch. And what a lunch it was! Today’s menu featured an assortment of traditional Ecuadorian treats, including roast pig, fish, ceviche and an assortment of deserts.
After lunch and a well-deserved siesta, we once again boarded the pangas, this time for a walk along the shore and lava fields of Fernandina, one of the most active volcanoes in the world. We saw cacti and lava lizards on the extensive pahoehoe lava fields, and strolled along the shore among countless large marine iguanas, flightless cormorants, and blue-footed boobies. One sharp-eyed guest spotted the endemic rice rat hidden beneath the slabs of lava; a rare find since they are nocturnal.
After dinner, Mike Beedell treated us to a stunning photographic and video tour along Canada’s entire coastline, from the Cape Breton Trail, through Labrador and the high arctic and down the rugged coast of British Columbia, all set to music performed by acclaimed Canadian musician Ian Tamblin. It was a relaxing and fitting end to a busy day.
