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. 

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.