Española Island
Today is our first full day in Galápagos. Most of us rose early in the morning to find a grey sky and a calm sea. The oldest island of this archipelago looms on the horizon, mysterious and not quite attractive looking. There is a long, white beach with many boulders strewn on it. After breakfast, at the landing we notice that these boulders are actually sea lions, and they vastly outnumber us. What a wonderful way to start our day, walking among and past many different scenes we almost recognize, because the sea lion is an animal we can anthropomorphize so easy. We are gregarious animals too, caring for our young, touching each other for reassurance, just like them.
We count many pups, the majority healthy and nursing, and we also see pregnant cows, grouchy and almost bursting. We think about them giving birth alone on a beach, without a midwife, or a doctor. We hear the alpha males barking with a high pitch, telling other males not to come closer. They are stressed and have no time to eat. They can binge later, when they give up their stretch of beach and everybody on it. After a resting period of about a month, in a ‘bachelor colony,’ they will return and claim their property back.
The sea lions seem to be so at ease, almost lazy, but when we understand more about their ecology we cannot but have a tremendous respect for them.
While navigating to another site on the island we encountered a huge pod of bottlenose dolphins. They approached the ship and displayed their superior swimming skills around and at the bows of National Geographic Islander. These two different mammals, from a very distinct ancestry, evolved into species with a lot of similarities. They are a classic example of evolutionary convergence.
In the afternoon we headed out for a hike at a small colony of waved albatrosses, endemic to this island. The big colony is further away, where giant tortoises roam. Albatross chicks were patiently waiting for a parent to come back from a week of foraging to feed them. They have to get strong because in December it will be time to walk up to the cliffs and take wing. It is these cliffs we walk along, admiring the soaring giant birds at eyelevel. We also see Nazca boobies, snow white and impeccable. They are noisy and a bit anxious. The young are curious and seem to take an interest in all that moves. They are surprisingly agile, given that they are just a few months old. A Galápagos hawk, perched on an outcropping is looking on, patiently waiting for its turn.
The sun is slowly setting, basking the island and its inhabitants in a golden light, while the heavy surf keeps pounding its shores. All day long we noticed the scarcity of food, shelter and water. Yet the wildlife is so abundant and seemingly healthy. We feel humbled, almost inferior against such beauty and adaptation. We feel nature has set us completely aside.
Once back on board we are pampered with massages, snacks and cocktails. Any discomfort we felt is quickly forgotten. Back on the island the animals settle for the night, full of surprises and danger. All they rely on is their instinct. After this week, most of us acquire a deep respect for wildlife, especially because of these contrasts. It is wonderful that there are still places on Earth that accomplish that.
