The final day trip to an island other than our base of Santa Cruz was to North Seymour, a relatively short journey compared to the first two excursions. This lump of rock possessed a distinct character from the other three. This is the impressive feature of the Galápagos, the fact that each island is so different from its neighbours. North Seymour is famed for its friggate birds and blue-footed boobies but these weren't the first animals we would encounter. As we arrived offshore, three large sharks swam over to check us out. These oceanic white tipped sharks were at least two metres in length but looked more like three to my wide-open eyes. At last, the situation suited the type of boats we were aboard and I could finally quiote Brody's wise words, "You're gonna need a bigger boat."
Once ashore, I was again impressed with the guide. Not only was he knowledgeable and enthusiastic, he even managed to keep the overly-keen paparazzi in check. In particular one Polish guy whose sole aim was to get that dream shot no matter what delicate flora and fauna he destroyed in the process.
Once again, we were in a landscape directly from the pages of Arthur Conan Doyle's novel. Birds were flying everywhere in the sky, mainly the friggates who I've long admired. Their tactic of bullying other fish into dropping their food has long impressed me - why work so hard when you can get others to do it for you? Stealing food was not their main activity here, however, being more interested in securing a mate and setting up home. The friggates silhouette against the azure sky was striking, their sharp-edged wings and swallow tails resembled something like a pteranodon. In their nests, the males would sit, bright red throats inflated into huge balloons. Very occasionally one would be lucky enough to attract the attention of a choosy female. She would descend from her cricling flight for a little slap and tickle atop a thorny tree. Impressive creatures.
Passing the terrestrial iguanas resting in the midday heat, we searched for blue-footed boobies. Apart from these animals' blue feet, they didn't really do much to impress me. And
vice versa I suspect. Nor their red-footed cousins who, the guide informed us, were extremely rare and were only seen about three times a year. However, only a few moments later the guide almost suffered an anyerism when we saw four in one place at the same time. Despite his inspiring enthusiasm I was left a little nonplussed at the sight of these modest birds, quietly preening themselves in the trees. Far more impressive was the bull sea lion on a rocky beach, displaying his prowess in front of his ladies in the surf.
We returned to Puerto Ayora in the vain hope of finding our fictitious tour organiser, Andrea. With one day left in the Galápagos and no tour to speak of, we had given up hope and decided to arrange a little excursion ourselves. This with the strong intent of recouping some of the $130 dollars we'd paid for the final day on our return to Quito.
The final day trip to an island other than our base of Santa Cruz was to North Seymour, a relatively short journey compared to the first two excursions. This lump of rock possessed a distinct character from the other three. This is the impressive feature of the Galápagos, the fact that each island is so different from its neighbours. North Seymour is famed for its friggate birds and blue-footed boobies but these weren't the first animals we would encounter. As we arrived offshore, three large sharks swam over to check us out. These oceanic white tipped sharks were at least two metres in length but looked more like three to my wide-open eyes. At last, the situation suited the type of boats we were aboard and I could finally quiote Brody's wise words, "You're gonna need a bigger boat."
Once ashore, I was again impressed with the guide. Not only was he knowledgeable and enthusiastic, he even managed to keep the overly-keen paparazzi in check. In particular one Polish guy whose sole aim was to get that dream shot no matter what delicate flora and fauna he destroyed in the process. 
Once again, we were in a landscape directly from the pages of Arthur Conan Doyle's novel. Birds were flying everywhere in the sky, mainly the friggates who I've long admired. Their tactic of bullying other fish into dropping their food has long impressed me - why work so hard when you can get others to do it for you? Stealing food was not their main activity here, however, being more interested in securing a mate and setting up home. The friggates silhouette against the azure sky was striking, their sharp-edged wings and swallow tails resembled something like a pteranodon. In their nests, the males would sit, bright red throats inflated into huge balloons. Very occasionally one would be lucky enough to attract the attention of a choosy female. She would descend from her cricling flight for a little slap and tickle atop a thorny tree. Impressive creatures.
No comments:
Post a Comment