Isabela & Fernandina Islands
Swells, clear skies, the sun rising and a rock, Roca Redonda. We got closer and saw waves breaking against its shoreline. Where do they come from? How far away did those swells have originated from? Perhaps by storms in the north Pacific? Can waves traveling hundreds of miles tell us about weather west and north of us? Why not? The waters around Galápagos aren’t an isolated patch of sea; our planet is a connected mass of ocean, it is a whole, and as a whole we have to care for it. And how couldn’t we feel like caring? Hundreds of sea birds swirled around the rock; there was a manta ray, and several ocean sunfish, and penguins and sea turtles. How couldn’t we care for this sphere of water when its inhabitants, coming to the surface from time to time, tell us about its mysterious splendor? We get just glimpses, we share only brief moments of their lives, but slowly we learn about their world, which we should consider our world as well. A pod of at least 400 common dolphins, taught us that this morning. They acrobatically painted the sky in yellow, showing their bellies in big jumps.
Coming from the depths of Bolivar channel, maybe from 3,000 feet deep, one of its most enigmatic inhabitants also decided to share its surface time with Lindblad-National Geographic people. We saw the blow, a single one, to the left side and spouting obliquely straight forward. It was a massive head, at least a third of the total body length. Logging on the surface, breathing softly, waited for our approach. It did not mind the screams and jumps of our excitement. It was a male sperm whale. He logged for several minutes to later submerge into the great depths of the ocean; we saw the fluke, the massive tail, and off he went.
Roca Redonda, Punta Vicente Roca, Fernandina, Bolivar channel, sites of today… names and only names. But the feeling will remain.
Swells, clear skies, the sun rising and a rock, Roca Redonda. We got closer and saw waves breaking against its shoreline. Where do they come from? How far away did those swells have originated from? Perhaps by storms in the north Pacific? Can waves traveling hundreds of miles tell us about weather west and north of us? Why not? The waters around Galápagos aren’t an isolated patch of sea; our planet is a connected mass of ocean, it is a whole, and as a whole we have to care for it. And how couldn’t we feel like caring? Hundreds of sea birds swirled around the rock; there was a manta ray, and several ocean sunfish, and penguins and sea turtles. How couldn’t we care for this sphere of water when its inhabitants, coming to the surface from time to time, tell us about its mysterious splendor? We get just glimpses, we share only brief moments of their lives, but slowly we learn about their world, which we should consider our world as well. A pod of at least 400 common dolphins, taught us that this morning. They acrobatically painted the sky in yellow, showing their bellies in big jumps.
Coming from the depths of Bolivar channel, maybe from 3,000 feet deep, one of its most enigmatic inhabitants also decided to share its surface time with Lindblad-National Geographic people. We saw the blow, a single one, to the left side and spouting obliquely straight forward. It was a massive head, at least a third of the total body length. Logging on the surface, breathing softly, waited for our approach. It did not mind the screams and jumps of our excitement. It was a male sperm whale. He logged for several minutes to later submerge into the great depths of the ocean; we saw the fluke, the massive tail, and off he went.
Roca Redonda, Punta Vicente Roca, Fernandina, Bolivar channel, sites of today… names and only names. But the feeling will remain.
