Tag Archives: Isla Isabella

More Galapagos

6/5/2015

We left the Galapagos the 2nd of June 2015 and arrived in Nuku Hiva, Marquesas June 25th. Since arriving, our lives have been full to the brim with amazing local experiences, but before I blog about these more recent experiences, I want to recount a couple more special things that we enjoyed while we were on Isla Isabella before I forget.

Marina Iguana Yoga
Marina Iguana Yoga

The marine iguanas were the absolute favorite wild creatures that we saw, perhaps because they were literally laying around everywhere we traversed: on paths, on docks, in streets, on rocks, etc. DSC03754They are wild and prehistoric looking, and yet it turns out are incredibly vulnerable. From what we learned, these cold-blooded creatures eat algae off marine rocks, but swimming in the tepid water lowers their body temperature significantly, so they must spend a great deal of time out of the water sunning themselves. And if they expend too much energy moving about, the effort could actually kill them, especially if they are chased.

Marine Iguana (photo by Leslie)
Marine Iguana (photo by Leslie)

We spent a lot of time observing these interesting reptiles and taking pictures of them sporting various yoga positions. DSC03781 If you got too close, they’d warn you to stay back by snorting projectile saltwater spray. Yuck! Once while snorkeling, I witnessed an iguana swimming through a group of unsuspecting snorkelers. Its movement was similar to a snake, using only its tail to slither through the water. Its head stayed above water, its feet did not paddle but limped alongside its scaly body. DSC04109Yet when it ran, its legs propelled him rapidly over the land; its long, wiggly toes gripped the sharp lava along the waterside and along the wall with surprising agility. We found the iguanas to be excellent climbers and often witnessed them sunning on rooftops.

DSC03926Landside, we spent a day bicycling 5 miles to the wall of tears (Muro de las lagrimas), to the tortoise-breeding center, and to the flamingo habitat. We rented three extra bikes so that all five of us could ride together, including Uncle Bill. The bicycle ride was partially carved along the beach. A couple miles along the path, the setting turned into wetlands with a coastal group of lagoons and mangroves scattered about.

DSC03910Three miles in, the path headed uphill changing into a wild semi-arid landscape with the addition of cactus and succulents. Along the way, we came upon a medium-sized wild tortoise trying to cross the road. DSC03807We accosted it with cameras and it immediately hissed exhausted air by pulling its head back deep into its shell. DSC03804Wild! Arriving at the wall of tears was a bit anticlimactic. Yet considering the sad story of its construction, it was worthy of seeing for historical perspective. During the late 1940’s when a penal colony was established on Isabela, prisoners built the wall out of chiseled black lava bricks as forced labor. Tragically, many suffered and died while building that non-essential wall; work created out of spite by the sadistic warden. When the truth came out, the entire colony was disbanded.

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After our insightful visit, the ride back was all downhill and enjoyable. The tortoise long gone, had disappeared into the brushland. Before entering town we biked a side street leading to the Arnaldo Tupiza Tortoise Breeding Center, reported by fellow yachters to be superior to Darwin’s tortoise exhibit located at the more popular Puerto Ayora on Isla Santa Cruz. At the Tortoise Center, we found ourselves completely alone among the tortoises of all sizes. Bryce and Trent had a blast tempting the larger tortoises to come alive by offering them green vegetation to nibble. These large clumsy creatures clambered over each other like World War II tanks, trying to get at the proffered leaves.

Trent at the Galapagos Tortoise Breeding Center
Trent at the Galapagos Tortoise Breeding Center

It was amusing to watch them stretch out their long necks and waddle in their odd fashion on four wide-stretched legs. The exhibit offered sights from the smallest newborns to the largest active breeders. We were later told that a female lays about 160 eggs in one batch, and when protected at the Breeding Center, all 160 typically survive to be reintegrated into the wild near the remote volcanoes. Nice odds! After our tortoise visit, the flamingo habitat located nearby was, in comparison, not heavily inhabited. Those flamingos present were an exquisitely bright salmon color…healthy and prospering. It was an altogether great day of sightseeing!

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For the surfers aboard Kandu, Bryce and Trent found the only local surf site just east of La Playita by the lighthouse. Before attempting to surf, they consulted with Puerto Villamil’s local surf instructor and bike rental owner nicknamed “Junior” who spoke English well and confirmed that La Playita was indeed the only nearby surf location and was generally safe. Very beautiful, the site sported an all-sand beach and a surfer’s shack.DSC03890

The waves, however, were generally large, blown out, and arrived one after another with little time in between to get prepared. Bryce and Trent felt safer and enjoyed themselves more when locals showed up, including Junior, who was the only local who surfed in a wetsuit, possibly for jellyfish protection. With no jellyfish present, the water temperature for Bryce and Trent was perfect: no wetsuits required having hailed from the much colder waters of Ventura. DSC03868One day in particular was especially exciting. There were several local surfers out bobbing in the waves when Bryce spotted a shark near the surface. He waved at a nearby local surfer and pointed to the shark. The local surfer hailed the other surfers then instantly paddled over to Bryce and propelled him from his own board into a wave toward shore, then paddled over to Trent and likewise thrust him out of harms way. All the surfers immediately made their way back to shore and quickly exited the water. Bryce and Trent went out to surf the morning after, but due to another shark sighting, swiftly returned to shore. When local surfers race out of the water, it’s wise to follow suit.

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During the short 15 days that we were visiting Isla Isabela, in between making necessary repairs for Kandu’s upcoming 3000-mile voyage to the Marquesas, Eric worked additionally to arrange a Skype exchange between their local middle school and Ventura’s Cabrillo middle school. Arranging for a dependable wifi connection at the school site was a challenge. But with the help and dedication of the staff and our beloved friend and yacht agent, JC DeSoto, they succeeded and tested the connection before the event. With a torrential rain pouring outside and off the large roof, the English teacher situated her English students for two half-hour sessions to take place in an open-air classroom. The young teenagers enjoyed asking questions of one another about life and free-time. Being quite modern, we discovered: that the Galapagos students enjoy access to mp3 players, smart phones, and video games just like their Ventura counterparts, and that the two groups share a love of surfing, water sports, and soccer or “football” as it’s called in the rest of the world. The Skype session ended with the middle schoolers playing ‘rock, paper, scissors’ together – evidently a universal game.

JC DeSoto
JC DeSoto

I got a chance to sing at the local Catholic Church one Sunday morning. Their lovely folkloric Ecuadorian-style music and choir were simply accompanied by a drum and other percussion instruments; the singers seemingly found their pitch out of thin air. I, on the other hand, carried my pitch pipe to be sure that I sang on the correct pitch when I sang Schubert’s ‘Ave Maria’ during communion. The acoustics were terrific. My voice carried beautifully through the grand hall and after the service, the priest and parishioners enthusiastically thanked me for being a part of their worship. I wished that I could have participated with the choir too, but the choir members performed everything from memory, not even reading their lyrics from a score. Since I don’t speak Spanish well, I couldn’t easily join in, except on the universal ‘Alleluia.’ The church itself was relatively new and modern looking with great tall beams supporting a wide, lofty roof. One side of the church was beautified by large stained glass windows, each displaying an image of one of the special animals that glorify the Galapagos: penguin, marine iguana, blue-footed boobie, giant tortoise, and seal. The opposite side of the church displayed the images of Christ during his persecution, exquisitely carved in wood. The alter was equally impressive. An enormous and beautifully rendered carving of the same animals as represented within the stained glass, now depicted together, supported a large, exquisitely finished, wooden tabletop. I felt privileged to be able to sing in such a lovely and holy setting within this world-renowned archipelago.

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It was difficult for Kandu and Uncle Bill to arrive in the Galapagos. The passage from Mexico to Galapagos was unpleasant and challenging, battling shifting winds, mixed seas, and constant thundershowers, as well as boat issues. Eric indicated beforehand that the crossing would be a challenge, but we both felt we’d already given up too many bucket-list destinations to give up this one too. That said, the challenge in getting here made it easy to cross off Easter and Pitcairn Islands in favor of the simpler Marquesas-direct crossing. I’d still like to see the moai on Easter Island someday. Who knows . . . maybe we’ll fly to Easter Island from Tahiti? The sour memory of the Mexico to Galapagos crossing will certainly fade. What will remain will be the wonderfully amazing experiences on Isla Isabela and in Puerto Villamil, etched in our collective memories, having provided our family a direct relationship with this unique and diverse part of the world. Documentaries and movies do the earth and animal sciences justice, but these modern story-telling tools overlook what it’s like to live among these wonders. Experiencing such things as a normal part of life is an extraordinary circumstance we hope the boys will forever appreciate.

Leslie Dennis-Rigney

Fun in the Galapagos, Part 1

6/5/2015, 8:00 am

Puerto Villamil on the south-eastern "heel" of Isabela. The island is said to resemble a seahorse.
Puerto Villamil on the south-eastern “heel” of Isabela. The island is said to resemble a seahorse.

Traveling to the Galapagos has for as long as I can remember been on my bucket list of places to visit before I died, along with the Egyptian pyramids, the Great Wall of China, the Coliseum in Rome, the Amazon river in Brazil or Ecuador and Machu Picchu in Peru. Well, just a few days have passed since we departed the Galapagos and I have a moment to reflect and determine whether my expectations were met.

While we were getting ready to leave, so many asked: “Are you excited?” as if the journey we were embarking on was to be full of fun. ‘Fun’ was not a big player in my immediate expectations. Surely I anticipated great moments, but the word ‘fun’ is loaded. The dictionary definition of fun is, “something that is amusing or enjoyable, an enjoyable experience or person, an amusing time, the feeling of being amused or entertained.” When I think of ‘fun,’ I think of roller coasters, Disneyland, going to see an anticipated movie accompanied with popcorn, birthday parties, singing onstage at the Dorothy Chandler opening night…and well, you get the idea. From where I stood, I saw a lot of work and discomfort ahead, and thus I was not particularly excited. I did not perceive having a lot of immediate ‘fun.’

Bryce and Mickey @D'land in 2005
Bryce and Mickey @D’land in 2005

Surely there have been great moments since we left February 10th as we sailed south down California and into Mexico. And there are many moments spent in the Galapagos that I consider fun, like when the four of us were snorkeling at Los Túneles (The Tunnels) and I witnessed Trent cozying up to two enormous sea turtles eating algae for lunch (the very turtles Trent had studied in his Galapagos report!). The turtles were bigger than any one of us! The joy and feeling of awe were inspiring.

Lunching Sea Turtle with Trent
Lunching Sea Turtle with Trent

Almost equal to the sea turtles was the adventure in getting to their feeding ground: the exhilarating boat ride to the snorkeling area, jumping over swells at high speed, saltwater spray everywhere, the captain not seeming to care if his craft were in harm’s way. Thankfully all passengers were wearing life jackets, hanging on for their lives. LOL!! Once we arrived near Los Túneles’s shoreline, the traverse became especially technical. We got to experience how the captain surfed our small vessel on enormous swells, navigating at the last second through openings of snarly lava reefs that we couldn’t see before he turned. His skill at maneuvering around the innumerable hazards lurking just under the water convinced me of the necessity to hire expensive yet experienced guides. I can appreciate all the accidents that have been avoided by requiring visitors to the Galapagos to hire professionals. Interestingly, the Galapagos islands are zoned for specific uses.  Los Túneles’s falls within the “Fishing” jurisdiction.  All boats that arrive filled with tourists are officially fishing boats with some fishing equipment and manned by fishermen.

Turtles swimming at Los Tuneles
Turtles swimming in the clear waters of Los Tuneles

The moment we turned into the tropical lagoon, the energy of the pounding waves diminished and we were left to putt along a near placid wonderland of tunnels and magical bridges, winding through Disneyesque dreamscapes.

One of many natural lava bridges over an aquarium of clear water
The family standing on one of Los Tuneles’s many natural lava bridges over an aquarium of clear water

We first walked along the crags and bridges enjoying the sights of clear waters and turtles swimming below and hoping to catch up close a blue-footed boobie. As fate would allow, we approached within a foot a nesting blue-footed boobie who gawked at us as we gawked at him.

Blue-footed Boobie watches us watch him.
Blue-footed Boobie watches us watch him.

Quoting Bryce who studied them: “This is Cool!” Later, while snorkeling Los Túneles, along with the many large turtles, we got up close to 8-inch sea horses attached to sea grass, and approached penguins sunning themselves within hands reach.

Galapagos penguin stands unfettered by our gawking at his extreme "cuteness."
Galapagos penguin stands unfettered by our gawking at his extreme “cuteness.”

We were guided into underwater caves where sharks were sleeping. We swam with large stingrays and innumerable tropical fish only inches away. It was spectacular!

Fun? Yes, that was fun, a natural Disneyland but with real hazards, which made it more exciting. For example, the current was sometimes strong and it was easy to get separated from the group. Knowing sharks slept nearby was incentive to stay close. Sometimes the water was cloudy and dark; you couldn’t always see what was ahead, sharp-edged lava rock encircled us. Yet we all made it back to the boat, happy, unscathed, and energized, our heads full of unforgettable images.

Sierra Negra & family
Rigney Family excited to experience the awesome expanse of Sierra Negro’s Caldera, the second largest active caldera in the world (Yellow Stone is #1).
sierra negra trent
Trent watches the impending rain storm approaching our position on the caldera ridge.

Another memorable day, we hired a guide to take us hiking up to the top of Sierra Negra Volcano and into the black lava fields of three separate events starting in the sixties and the latest one being in 2005, to meander safely around the powerful remnants of explosive yet presently dormant cones and craters of Volcan Chico. It was fascinating, learning from our guide the various dates of activity and how long it takes for plant life to take hold. It was also noteworthy learning how the oxidation of the iron-rich lava turns the black stone reddish brown over time.

Older reddish-Brown lava below our feet, newer black lava in front.
Older reddish-brown lava below our feet, newer black lava in front.

We got up close to the heated sulfur cones magnificently colored in yellows, fluorescent reds and pinks like fancy tropical fish.

Multi-colors of sulfur vent
Multi-colors of sulfur vent

We saw lava tubes, cinder cones, vents, got to see and handle Pele’s tears, and we took pictures surfing a lava-wave and advancing down a lava-fall. Neat!

Lava tube "slide"
Lava tube “slide”
Surfing the tube of a "frozen" lava wave
Surfing the tube of a “frozen” lava wave
Pele's tears
Pele’s tears
Leslie holds examples of Pele's tears.
Leslie holds examples of Pele’s tears.

On a side note, all the guides were covered head-to-foot with protective clothing, hats, long sleeves and pants, including scarves over their necks and faces presumably due to the reflective radiation rising from the black lava. It was scorching when the sun peaked through the clouds. Since the four of us weren’t dressed properly, we were fortunate that most of the day was overcast, except the hour we overlooked the Sierra Negra crater. The momentarily clear sky allowed us to gaze down at the second largest active caldera in the world: 10 kilometers wide. The last eruption there was in 2005. Due to that eruption, half the green vegetation in the interior of the caldera was engulfed by barren black rock. We almost didn’t go on this excursion, time and money considering, but we were so glad we did.

Just getting in and out of town from the boat was an adventure. Riding our folding bikes through a frontier town, exploring the unknown, was fun. Puerto Villamel’s streets are black lava gravel covered in a foot of white sand. When it rained, as it did the first five days of our arrival, the streets became completely flooded in about 8” of murky water. Yet because the sidewalks were constructed tall, about 18”-24” above street level, pedestrians and cyclists could still make their way through town. Learning when and where to shop for food proved to be great exercise as the markets were mostly located across town and open early mornings and evenings. If we didn’t make it off the boat early enough, we had to return to town later to shop between 3:30-6:30. My Spanish was meager at best, so finding everything we needed, including dish soap, tested my communication and shopping skills. Transporting the heavy bags home required endurance. At least two times, we rode from one side of town to the other, in the dark, on sand with large grocery bags hanging off our arms because we didn’t have our bike cart. The challenge of shopping was actually rather ‘fun.’

Leslie uses bike cart to do late night provisioning. (photo by Bill Kohut)
Leslie uses bike cart to do late night provisioning. (photo by Bill Kohut)

‘Fun’ is relative. Eric and I like to promote the idea to Bryce and Trent: “Do as I do!” Get out into the world, live actively, learn deeply, explore widely. While journeying, exciting things can happen. Yet much of the time, in the moment, my excitement is more often than not subdued because exploring from Kandu requires great thoughtfulness, unlike at Disneyland where everything is safe, safety nets abound, and I know much of what to expect. Out on the great blue and/or reaching new land sites, things are always unfamiliar, different, and potentially dangerous. Existing safety nets, if there are any nets to be found, generally have holes, large ones.

I have more stories to relate about our time in the Galapagos (look for future posts). Suffice it to say; aside from the concerns about our safety, my bucket list expectations of the Galapagos were surpassed. Just as we were becoming accustomed to our Galapagos lifestyle, friends and associations, knowing how to get things done, it was time leave . . .

by Leslie Dennis Rigney

 

 

Tough Lesson

Mex-Gal 10
Early evening squall

The 18-day crossing from Paradise Village, Nuevo Vallarta (near Puerto Vallarta) Mexico to Puerto Villamil, Isla Isabela in the Galapagos was difficult.  The weak and variable winds, thunderstorms/squalls, and mixed seas wore us down and consumed nearly all our diesel.  Mid-May marked the beginning of the northern hemisphere hurricane season.  For us, that translated into high sea temperatures that saturated the humid horizon with afternoon and evening thunderheads.  At one latitude, sea and ocean shared the same temperature: 89oF, making refrigeration a full time job. Rain forced us to close nearly all Kandu’s hatches and portlights.  Under such aquatic lockdown, internal cabin humidity became oppressive.

Sleeping takes us away...
Sleeping takes us away…

The RADAR scanned for squalls and showers, which formed mostly at night in the beginning, but then bled into the day, such that every hour felt like we were dodging something.  Rain appears in red on our chart-plotter, giving squalls a vampiresque appearance.  Near the end, we gave up running away and took our wet licks hoping we’d avoid lightening. Southern depressions and east-southeast winds made mixed seas the whole way.  We later learned the unusually heavy swell from these southern depressions caused much damage in the Galapagos and in parts of southern Mexico after we left.  For us, that southern swell made for an uncomfortable ride.  It was difficult to get anything done.  Even sleeping was difficult.

Avoiding the storm . . .
Avoiding the storm . . .
. . . and giving in.
. . . and giving in.

Satellite texting was our greatest entertainment, reaching out and communicating with family and friends (and manufacturers).  Every time the device chirped, each of us wondered for who the message would be.  My long time friend, Deren, did a lot of legwork for me from his Puget Sound home, as we tried to resolve problems while underway.  I’d give him the background, he’d do the research and reach out to the manufacturer for support.  Our system worked well.

Repairing a propane issue.
Repairing a propane issue.

As the winds switched back and forth in velocity and direction, we made such little progress.  Normally, over a long distance, Kandu seemed to average about 5.25 knots/hour, or 125 nautical miles a day: our performance when we sailed down the Baja coast from San Diego, and so that’s the basis I used to calculate how long it would take us to arrive in the Galapagos.  With little wind and higher than normal seas, we motor-sailed so we could average closer to 90 nautical miles (1 nm=1.167 miles) a day under the keel.  As we got closer to our targeted port, the wind and swell shifted toward our nose causing us to have to tack back and forth, so while we passed 90 nm of water across our water line, our distance over land shrunk to 40 nm/day.

Another thunder cloud . . .
Another thunder cloud . . .

As we got closer, we also developed a charging problem: the engine’s alternator was no longer charging the batteries.  We were using the ship’s batteries to power our autopilot, chart-plotter, RADAR, and refrigeration.  When wind conditions allowed, we’d use our windvane to steer the boat, but that was not as often as we would have liked.  The 2kw gas-powered Honda generator didn’t charge the batteries very quickly, so at times we had both Kandu’s diesel engine running while we ran the generator: a veritable cacophony of combustibles.

And another . . .
And another . . .
And again . . .
And again . . .

The slow performance, rough motion, high humidity, and power issues brought me to a point of significant doubt, questioning the whole plan to sail around the world.  Having spent more than three years of great effort and financial commitment to get to this point, with no end of effort and expense in sight, with great discomfort to all on board, it wasn’t making sense to continue.  My goal was to bring us closer as a family as we explored together the wonders of the world, working as a crew aboard our proud vessel.  Why not sell the boat, take the money and rent places in beautiful, remote places around the world instead.  At the rate we were going, we could only support ourselves two, maybe three years.  And so far, I was having very little fun, and the boys and Leslie were upset that my attention remained focused on the needs of the boat, no time for play and exploration.  In Mexico, we missed all the good stuff.  We missed seeing and petting the grey whales in Baja by four days. We missed an exceptional festival in Banderas Bay by a couple weeks.  We were late in the season to leave Mexico for Galapagos.  We were always just shy of experiencing some wonderful event or ideal weather circumstance.  I was exhausted and feeling deflated and defeated.  How could I have so misjudged what the experience would entail?  With my previous experience and years of research, how could I be so off the mark?  I don’t recall ever being so wrong.  My normal optimistic demeanor seemed more a sophomorically naive character flaw.  As the rising sun struggled to light the morning sky, standing at the mast, still days away from a Galapagos arrival with fuel running out, batteries not charging, thunderheads still pouring rain on us, I wondered who I was and if I could do this . . . if I should do this.

God cloud?
The “God” cloud?

Captaining a small sailboat across a couple thousand miles of eastern Pacific ocean with your wife, two young sons, and octogenarian uncle with a few more hundred miles to go before you reach the nearest point of land, . . . one has few options.  There is no quitting.  There is no room for self-pity.  So, I ask, what then is the lesson?  What is the reason for all this misery?  Why am I at this low point?  With such self-inflicted stress and burden, what can be learned?  What can I take from this that will make all this loathing worthy?  I’m not getting it, the lesson that must be slapping me in the face, the one that shouts at my soul.  What is it?  What am I supposed to learn from this???  Standing at the mast, I quiet my soul, my brain, my heart, and listen.  I just wait and listen for the answer.  It doesn’t take long, less than a minute, before it comes.  Eric, you must sail the wind you have, not the wind you want, and you must sail it to the best of your ability with what you have, without burden, sans self-pity: realize the terms and adjust accordingly, with resolve and without angst–sail the wind you have, not the wind you want.  It became my motto.  If I have to tack back and forth for the next week, so be it.  If I can do better, I will.  If I can’t, I’ll accept that I’m doing my best and receive the outcome without judgment.  It is what it is, and I’m doing the best with what I’ve got.  What comes of it is good enough, and I will seek to be satisfied with what comes.

In the rain with a new attitude
In the rain with a new attitude
Crossing the equator
Crossing the equator

About four days later, we reached the Galapagos with less than 15 gal of diesel remaining from our tanks’ original 115.  The benign weather normally associated with the bay we entered vanished on our approach, roughing up the bay and flooding the streets.  It took two days to get cleared in and approved for landing, a story in itself, and another 6 days before our charging problem was resolved.  After that, I enjoyed several days of Galapagos exploration together with the family.  For the first time in three years, I was working on being a dad again.  I recognize I have a lot of catching up to do, and that I’ll only get there by . . . sailing the wind I have.

Land Ho! Hoisting the courtesy and Q flags.
Land Ho! Hoisting the courtesy and Q flags.
Arriving in the Galapagos on Uncle Bill's birthday, a lot to celebrate!
Arriving in the Galapagos on Uncle Bill’s birthday, a lot to celebrate!

by Eric Rigney