Land Before Time - Fernandina Island

Tuesday, July 7th - Land Before Time - Fernandina Island

We make a dry landing on Fernandina Island, disembarking onto wet lava rocks, slippery with seaweed and the morning tide. Hundreds of marine iguanas are there to greet us and John and I are mesmerized by their presence. We were on Fernandina Island 5 years ago, and know what to expect, but the presence of hundreds of these aquatic lizards is amazing. These are the biggest of the marine iguanas, black and meaty, some nearly 4 feet long. Several lone iguanas graze on the velvety green seaweed exposed by the low tied. They turn their heads sideways, scraping at the close-cropped seaweed with the sides of their mouths. Barnacle like protrusions grow from the tops of their heads and raggedy grey and black spines adorn their backbone. The iguanas sneeze frequently, expelling the excess salt from their nostrils and through a third hole at the top of their heads. Iguanas are swimming off the rocks, heads held high, their spiny tails undulating back and forth, propelling them forward. They submerge to graze on the silky beds of seaweed below the water's surface and clamber awkwardly up onto the rocks to bask in the morning light. We walk slowly and carefully towards shore, mindful of the treacherously slippery footing beneath our feet. Piles of marine iguanas bask on dry rocks near shore, seemingly in affectionate groupings, but more likely, just sharing body heat. Each grouping of iguanas is more fascinating than the last and John and I lag behind, observing and taking endless photographs. The terrain is breathtakingly stark. Slabs of black lava, the flow patterns frozen in time and sculpted by the wave action slant down to the ocean's edge. Shallow, sand filled, turquoise blue tide pools are contrasting jewels in the black lava landscape and brilliant red crabs scurry along the rocks, darting into holes and crevices when we get too close. As much as the crabs are vermilion splashes of contrasting color, the marine iguanas are camouflaged; black against black. More than once, I nearly step on a sleeping beauty, flattened upon the rock absorbing the suns heat from above and the radiant heat emitted from the rocks. The iguanas allow us to get within inches of them, to admire every crusty scale, sharp claw and ragged spine. For myself, these are the most miraculous and beautiful creatures on the planet and would our guide allow, I would curl up with a pile of iguanas and spend a delicious hour basking in the sand with these gentle, near prehistoric creatures.

Art carries the tripod and the gigi-pixil contraption and sets up and takes several panoramic shots during the mornings excursion. I see him from afar, tripod balanced on the lava, bending over the equipment, trying to capture the remarkable beauty of this place. An adjacent lagoon is host to a myriad of water birds and a lone eagle ray glides in the shallows, it's wing tips breaking the surface of the water. Mangroves stand spider like, sentries of the shore and two large semi submerged rocks morph into aquatic turtles. Magic is present. We retrace our path back to our landing spot. The zodiacs are waiting but John and I lag behind, not yet ready to leave this enchanted island.

During lunch, we sail to Isla Isabella for deep water snorkeling along the cliffs. Our pangas take us from our boat to the sheer wall of rock where this part of the island meets the ocean. My initial plunge into the water takes my breath away, but the cold water entering my wet suit is soon forgotten when I spot a green sea turtle just below me. The turtle is undisturbed by my presence and grazes placidly on the algae growing along the cliff' walls. Sunlight streams down illuminating her carapaces a velvety green and she moves in slow motion, undulating with the ebb and flow of the current. Huge sea star jewels cling to the rocky wall; chocolate brown with brilliant orange knobbles catching the sunlight. Tiny brilliant red and purple wrasses take shelter in pockets and crevices along the rock wall and we see other sea turtles grazing, their strong armored flippers propelling them gracefully. They wear an eternal placid smile and stories of wise old turtles flash through my mind. We snorkel with the sea turtles for over an hour and later, John tells me that he caught a ride on one. He tells us that the turtles had different personalities; that some were shy but that one in particular, allowed him to swim underneath it, seemingly enjoying his company, and then allowed him to hold onto it's shell and glide along with it. Touching the animals is absolutely forbidden, but I am unable to scold John. The magic of the hour-spent swimming with the turtles is something that I will remember always and John is fortunate to have made a closer connection. Earlier on, during our snorkel, John catches my attention and I swim towards him. He has circled back away from the group and points to a ledge several feet above the waters edge. Two flightless cormorants are beginning their mating dance. These silly birds have dis-evolved and have tiny useless wings that they hold away from their body to dry in the afternoon sun. They are sidestepping and cooing and soon the two birds plunge into the water, just a few feet away from us. They perform a most incredulous and undulating mating dance; craning their necks gracefully around the other's and after two or three graceful twirls in the water, the male points his beak straight into the air, propelling himself vertically and emitting a breathy whistle. The cormorants continue in this fashion for several minutes and we watch, fascinated and amused. I surmise that they will continue this ritual for some time and although I wish to watch the finale, the sea turtles lure me away.

We motor back to the boat to shower and change but return in the zodiacs for a final, late afternoon cruise, further along the vertical cliff. The magic of the day continues when we see the small Galapagos penguins roosting on slanted slabs of rock, thick with white guano, dipping into the ocean. There are less than a dozen birds and half are rather scruffy looking, in the midst of molting. They stand with their backs towards us, absorbing the heat of the late afternoon sun. The molting penguins do not swim, but two or three of the other penguins, side step down the slanted rock and shoot like a miniature torpedoes, into the water below.