swimming with sea lions in the galapagos

 From my journal... 

I carried our clean clothes from the laundromat up the last hill to our guesthouse, and I sighed. With the weight of the clothes and the complaints from my feet. And in that moment I felt like a natural, a local - like I lived here, almost. That's the sweet spot of traveling - the moment when assimilating feels closer than being a tourist.

Our last day in the Galapagos was more perfect than I could have imagined it would be. Zan and I took a Viator tour to La Loberia Island off of Santa Cruz. I'm writing about it for viator.com, and that's what it feels like to be a travel writer. It feels pretty great.

We were wary of a tour - aren't I always? So the joys were unexpected. Standing a foot from a blue-footed booby while a marine iguana sunned at its wide-webbed feet - it was wild experiencing nature like that. My wide feet, clad in blue Toms, fit right in with the peculiar and beautiful bird's. Later in the day we swam with sea lions. We ungracefully flapped our limbs, those dangly arms and legs unsuited for aquatic life. We took enormous breaths and plunged as deep into the ocean's surface as our ears could handle to see the sea lions glide and dive with grace and ease. They were dancers down there. I came eye-to-eye with one and could have stayed there for an eternity if I didn't have those pesky human lungs.

Later we hiked to a natural swimming hole - Las Grietas. We walked in our swimsuits, ocean water still dripping, in sandals and flip-flops, over lava rocks and an expansive pink salt mine. I scaled boulders taller than me, piled one on top of the other, next to each other, supporting each other, until I reached one 10 meters high. I had to sit on my butt and scoot forward inch by inch, stretching my legs and pointing my toes as hard as I could to balance while trying to reach the narrow ledge of the rock right below it. And then I stood on that bulging boulder, the ledge thinner than the length of my feet, holding on to the one behind me for life - and a twig of a branch reaching out from a crevice in the rock beside me. The water was so clear I could see the rocky bottom from the sky, it seemed. And in that moment, it felt like I was standing on the sky. I counted to three- 1...2...3... fifteen times, but finally, on one of those "3s," I jumped.

The adrenaline rush and pounding of my heart could only be matched by the thrill of the ice cold water rushing over me. I'm a junkie.

We watched the sunset back on the boat with eyes wide open, eager to hold on to the moment for as long as it could last. Our boat captain cut the engine right as the sun started to fade, and he shhh'd us all and pointed. And there, a foot from the boat, two larger-than-life sea turtles were rolling over each other, first one's hard shell popped to the surface and a second second later, the next. They were mating. We watched with rapt attention and awe. So that's how they do it, you know we were all thinking. 

We ate ice cream twice - once after lunch and again after dinner. We shopped for final Christmas gifts and souvenirs. We walked slowly down Santa Cruz's streets, and savored life as we were experiencing it.

Zan almost didn't stay on Santa Cruz today. He considered taking the 2pm ferry back to San Cristobal and meeting me there tomorrow for our flight. Exhaustion almost got the best him. But at the very very last second - right as the tour guide arrived at our hotel - he changed his mind. I'm so glad he stayed and we powered through our fatigue. We were rewarded a thousand times over.

Ciao ciao the local people say in the native language Quichua to say goodbye. Ciao ciao, Galapagos Islands. 

the galapagos | 2

From my journal... Read Galapagos part 1.

The highlight of being in the Galapagos is falling asleep on the beach and waking up with a sea lion pup or a giant iguana napping or sunning by your head. It happened to me yesterday afternoon. I dozed off, my book still open in the sand beside me. The book pages flapped just a little louder in the wind, and I woke with a start and came eye to eye with a sea lion pup. I jumped a little in shock, and the pup looked on wide-eyed, nonplussed as I scrambled to get my bearings. My laughter rang out over the waves until Zan's head popped up, snorkel goggles still on his eyes. He saw the tail end of the scene and lamented not getting it all on video. It would have been a good one.

My favorite spots and moments have been El Chino beach on San Cristobal, where we saw blue-footed boobies up close and a frigate nest. The water there was a shade of brilliant turquoise like I haven't seen since Koh Phi Phi in Thailand. I was certain then I'd never see water so beautiful, but a few of these Galapagos beaches come close. I also love Los Loberia, a beach on San Cristobal that's only accessible on foot. It's a sea lion reserve.

At first I was nervous around sea lions. They're territorial and defensive; they roar the second you come to close on land. I joked to Zan that they're kind of jerks. But on Loberia, they're friendlier - that is, less likely to roar in protest of your very presence - and the pups are curious and lovable.

And now I'm on Tortuga Bay on Santa Cruz island. It's said to be one of the most beautiful beaches in all of the Galapagos. When I'm thigh-deep in the ocean, I can see all the way to the bottom with the clarity of clean glass. It's so translucent and just the right amount of cold that envelops you until it starts to feel warmer under the current than above that I want to stay in the water more than on land. Every time I dip my head under the rolling, soft waves, it's so refreshing that I go back for more.

Giant iguanas are to this beach as sea lions are to Los Loberia. I like them! They don't care about humans. They do whatever they want. They're also confident, if that can be said of a reptile. The way they stand with perfect posture and their heads lifted as if in a sun salutation - they're the zen animals of the Galapagos. There are 12 giant iguanas around me that I count as I write this.

The one downside of the Galapagos beaches is the horseflies. They are as abundant as the sea lions on San Cristobal and the iguanas here. They're a nuisance. My legs are covered in their bites or stings or whatever pain they're inflicting. I finally bought repellant. Now that I've coated my body in it a dozen times or more in the last hour, I have a sneaking suspicion that it attracts the sun. Burnt or bitten: pick your poison.

I've been thinking that if I were to come back to the Galapagos - and I'd like to... maybe when I have kids - that I'd still want to do it land-based and independently instead of on a cruise. Meeting locals and participating in local culture and daily life has been the best part of our trip.

While I write this, Zan is on a day trip to Isabella island. I can't wait to hear about his experiences with flamingos, penguins, sea turtles, and friends he meets along the way. And I'll tell him about the joy and beauty and wonderment of doing nothing but being on this beach, watching the waves lap and the iguanas sun, and journaling about nothing more serious than this perfect moment -- horseflies aside.