We awoke this morning on the island of Santa Cruz. It does not take stellar vision to realize that the Galapagos is no tropical paradise, but a string of islandic eye-sores. The terrain (or terrafirma as our British boatmates say) is a hybrid of black lava rock much like the big island of Hawaii and the desert of Africa: dead, ivory weeds and shrubs, leafless trees, and cacti. It´s thus no surprise that animal life is these islands´ claim to fame.
After a brief morning hike through Santa Cruz, our boat sailed to the island of Rabida. Here we waded through maroon sand beaches and lagoons. Rachel and I snorkeled with sea lions and sharks...yes, sharks. Our renowned level three naturalist guide assured us it was safe...with an oh-so-reasuuring chuckle. I struggled to get my snorkeling gear on and turned to Rachel for help. She burst into giggles. I then realized the mask was upside down and the nose hole was on my forehead. Oops. The gearing up humiliation was well worth it, though. The water was turqoiuse yet crystal clear, schools of shimmering fish glided through intricate coral rock formation, and sea lions bolted by like silver bullets. Nearby, fire engine-red crabs climbed on the black lava rocks as canary yellow and orange land iguanas with short stubbly mohawks stood guard. Quite spectacular to say the least...even to me, the non animal enthusiast. The day ended with a yacht-wide salsa dance. Yes, even I got up off the seat and moved my feet.
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