a sea lion at sunset on san cristobal

Missing our flight was the best thing could have happened at the time.

Our 7:00am ferry from Santa Cruz to San Cristobal turned into our 7:45am ferry. After we'd finally boarded, a lengthy roll-call ensured all the members of a tour group were on board, in addition to the rest of us. I'd taken Dramamine, and it was the right choice. The water was choppier than we'd seen the whole week. We cut through swells so high that the yacht flew airborne for a stomach-dropping moment before the jarring impact back into the water. For an hour it was a roller coaster, with all 30 passengers screaming and laughing with every jump and plunge. Then it got rough and painful for those closest to the bow and wet and cold for those nearest the stern.

At long last, we slowed to a lulling stop and the engine cut; the silence was deafening. The tour passengers were transferred onto another boat - a yacht rendezvous in open water. Ten minutes later we docked on our beloved San Cristobal; it felt like coming home.

Zan and I hailed a cab and dashed to the airport. But even on island time and at an airport devoid of an enclosed building, checking in 20 minutes before our flight didn't "fly," and we were stranded. I burst into tears. It seems ridiculous that I got so emotional being stuck somewhere so wondrous and coveted. But we were mentally prepared to leave and get to our next destination and survive the 20 hours of travel it'd take to do so. In hindsight, prolonged exhaustion, coupled with the drugged, drowsy effect of the seasickness medicine exacerbated my reaction.

It took us most of the morning to get re-booked on a flight for the next day and switch into "plan b" mode. Our favorite ecolodge was booked, but Harry recommended a simple hotel. We threw our things on the bed, put on still-damp swimsuits, lathered on sunscreen for the millionth time that week, and played on the beach and in the ocean with sea lions and locals until the sun set.

Drugged and worn out or not, our "bonus day" served as a good reminder that being grouchy, not finding the "bright side" right away, and arguing with Zan doesn't mean a trip is ruined, that I'm a "bad" traveler, or even that the day is shot. In fact, it might have been my favorite day of all. We put no expectations on ourselves to see or do anything in particular. And it was then, when we weren't looking, that we made some of our favorite memories and took some of our favorite pictures in the Galapagos, and on our favorite island, in particular.

We ate at San Jose, the best restaurant on the island, one more time, hugged Harry goodbye twice, and woke up laughing the morning away.

And that time, we made our flight.