The Galapagos

The Galapagos are a collection of volcanic islands flung some distance into the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Ecuador.  In its geological infancy, this infamous archipelago is not only in a social development boom, but in the midst of its physical formation as well.  During our stay on the island Isabela, active volcanoes turned the horizon of the star scattered sky into a glowing red and perfumed the sea air with the smell of sulfur.

These are tiny islands when thinking about the enormity of the Pacific, a brief underwater hotspot that sends pillows of lava just above the surface, a blip on the nautical radar clustering around the equator.  The ocean here grows and moves and breathes with a different intensity and life that is both awe inspiring and terrifying.  It is profound, perfect, omnipotent.  It’s easy to understand why humans throughout time have endowed the deep darkness of this blue beast with uncanny power. It changes so quickly it’s mesmerizing and you loose your bearings.  Even on a bright and calm morning, ten foot swells easily rise and fall like sighs or momentary passing thoughts.  Its color can travel an entire spectrum in meters, reflecting a myriad of glassy cobalt, sharp turquoise, fuzzy sea foam, steely gray, blinding icy blue, hard deep navy, and soft sprays of white.

It is on a tiny toy of a boat while being tossed thoughtlessly between swells that I clung with white knuckles to the broken buckles of my enormous lifejacket and the steel bar at the front of the boat.  It is here that I prayed.  Please God, Poseidon, sea god, Pacific Ocean, or all of the above, deliver us safely to the lava tunnels for which we paid an overpriced amount to see. Don’t let my body be catapulted from this

 rickety motorboat and swallowed forever by the never-ending water surrounding us.   And the water wasn’t even menacing, just big!  

 

My awe for the ocean only magnified when we jumped off yet another tiny boat several days later for a snorkel expedition at El Leon Dormiendo (the Sleeping Lion) two enormous rock formations off the coast of San Cristobel. Think Lord of the Rings.

I admit, I don’t like to snorkel.  I respect the ocean and the many large, slippery potentially dangerous animals that live there.  Isn’t there something disconcerting about breathing underwater?  In any case, I also suffer from FOMOS, Fear of Missing Out Syndrome. So when my gang sprang off the boat into the deep salty water, I followed with my flippers and mask in tote.  The coral and neon fish were definitely beautiful and I did feel like I was swimming in an aquarium (not that I ever felt inclined to do so in the past)… I even maintained steady breathing as I watched sea life disappear into the bottomless dark abyss below me.  

Sea lions playfully swam around us and seemed to act as our guides around the wall of rock towards a narrow inlet between the two massive rocks measuring about 30 feet wide.  Not surprisingly the current picked up and pushed against us as if challenging us to enter.  Of course we kicked our way through the water, our faces smooshed into fogged masks and breathing through tiny inefficient tubing.   As the afternoon wore on, I realized the weight of the flipper and seemingly increasing curre

nt had exhausted me.  However when I lifted my head in an awkward tread, our boat had disappeared around the rock, as did the rest of my group.  I was alone.  No wait, I wasn’t alone…. I looked down me to discover five sharks circling in the now foreboding black water. 

 

Now it was Leslie who had read Jaws a week earlier, not me.  I had no reason to panic right?  If that was true, then what was that feeling rising in my chest?  Why was my heart pounding?? And why the hell was the current so damn strong suddenly?! In that moment I seemed to logic that sharks could smell fear and that as long as I didn’t touch any of the razor sharp volcanic rock surrounding me they would have no reason to smell my blood.  All I had to do was to swim through the gorge to find the boat, my group, and thus safety.  I was a lifeguard; I could swim.  Panic kept at bay, I plodded through the water powered primarily by adrenaline, which quickly evaporated when I collapsed on the sea soaked floor of our boat.  It is now clear to me that I have no desire to go snorkeling again and have a renewed love for boat deck sunbathing!    

 

Yes, the power, magnitude and subtlety of nature have an undeniable presence here.  The sea, the fearless and unusual animals, the evolutionary anomalies, even the volcanic molten lava… It’s unlike any place on earth filled with adventure and discovery.