Our First Expedition -- Las Bachas:

Was a wet landing (means you hop off the Zodiac into shallow water of the sea) at a beach called “Las Bachas,” which is a derivative of the word “barges” because any number of barges that would be anchored just off the beach.

(I was tempted to use the "Bachas?  We don't need no stinkin' Bachas!" line, but I stayed silent, worried it would fall flat.  After all, we weren't in the American West.  But I do appreciate that you, dear reader, are laughing heartily at it.)

The beach is on Santa Cruz island, which is the second-largest of the Galapagos Islands.  Santa Cruz pales in size compared to Isabela, but that’s not important right now.

Just a short walk down the beach, we came to a lava rock outcropping that was full of the most colorful red crabs I’ve ever seen.  Called Sally Lightfoot crabs, they apparently are very common up and down the western coast of South and Central America.  Also called red rock crabs, they scrambled this way and that, some content to hang on the rocks in the waves, while others stayed out of the waves.  

They are quite photogenic.  In our cabin, there is a photo focused on a solitary red crab on a lava rock, looking like he is addressing a host of other crabs who are slightly blurred, and looking at him.  The photo gives off “a politician addressing the voters” or “a general addressing the troops” vibe.

The scientific name for Sally Lightfoot

crabs is grapus grapus.  I kid you not.

(Well, many times I do kid, but

not this time, not tonight.)

I'm fascinated by everything

about these crabs.

I'm lucky to still be alive.

I know what you are thinking.  "Glen, do

you really need five photos of 

Sally Lightfoot crabs on the blog."

The answer is "Yes, yes I do."

A Ghost Crab.  (That's the type of crab,

it's alive.  I'm not saying it is a ghost!

We walked a bit further down the beach, watching seabirds wheeling and dealing.  We cut across through an opening in the sand dunes to a lagoon where there were multiple birds, but not the flamingos we were looking for.  

We were about to turn around and head back to the initial landing spot for a swim when our naturalist, Paul Vergara, got word on his walkie-talkie that three flamingos were feeding in another lagoon a bit further past where we had landed.

I digress for a minute to talk about the naturalists.  We had four on the trip: the aforementioned Paul, Ixora Berdonces, Anahi Concari, and Walter Perez.  For each landing, each was randomly assigned a different zodiac, and that person served as your naturalist for the trip.  The Zodiacs were filled first come, first served for the most part, although groups that wanted to go together got that opportunity.  I thought all of the naturalists did a great job, although some in the group were underwhelmed by one of the guides.  

All of the guides have to be Ecuadorian, just as in the Peru part of the trip all of the guides have to be Peruvian.  

Anyhow, we walked past the Sally Lightfoot crabs, barely taking a look.  The shore was a little more interesting in the other direction, as sun dappled the water and there were a few rocky segments of lava to walk over.  I spotted a lava gull blending in with the lava rocks out in the water.  It is so well camouflaged the bird couldn't be clearly seen in the photo I took, and I was only six feet away!

An island and the Nat Geo Islander.

The beach.

Paul, one of our stellar guides.

We spent some time marveling at a juvenile pelican at the edge of the beach.  The pelican had no fear of us, a theme to be repeated again and again in the Galapagos.

We looked at a couple of Great Blue Heron who were hanging out at the sand dunes, waiting for the first sign of movement by the turtle eggs buried in spots under the sand.  At that movement, the heron would ferociously attack the eggs and gobble them down.  We did not see that happen, but were assured it will happen.  That’s one reason that a female will lay 200 or so eggs in hopes that a couple baby turtles survive.

The juvenile pelican.  How can you tell

he's a juvenile?  Because he shoots

spitballs at the other birds! 

I shall wait whilst you laugh.

There's no such thing as a 

Pretty Good Heron, so that

makes this a Great Blue Heron.

(That's one of my standard

kayaking jokes, hope you like it!)

The white pipe is put there by

research scientists to indicate

turtle eggs beneath the sand.

The heron ain't no dummy.

The next stop was the lagoon with the flamingos.  And, yes, you guessed it, they paid us no mind.  There are only about 600 Galapagos flamingos alive, and there we had three of them to watch.

Not sure how to caption flamingos.

They were so busy feeding it wasn't

easy to get a picture with their

heads/beaks out of water.

A trio of flamingos is called 

"a trio of flamingos."

Admit it, you come here

for the science.

At least twice we watched a marine iguana swim through the water.  The swimming was not a thing of beauty, but those plucky iguanas reached their destination nonetheless.  I had a fear that they would somehow be snatched and eaten by some prehistoric predator creature, but that did not happen.

Okay, it's not the most compelling photo. 

In fact, it looks a bit like those Loch

Ness monster photos from the 1970s,

but it is an iguana.  Swimming.

Through a lagoon.  A marine iguana.

Unless you've been to the

Galapagos, you've never

seen that before.  (This caption

has turned into its own paragraph.)

Given about ten minutes to swim, we nearly all did, luxuriating in the warm salty waters of a beach empty save for us Galapagos explorers.

After a welcome cocktail party back on board, we headed down to the dining room.  There were not a lot of people staying up late after all the recent travel stress.

(Editor’s Note: How do you know?  You went to bed early.  Blogger’s Note: I hate it when you have a chance of being right.)