Report: Penguin Crossing

During our first Antarctic landing -- at the Arctowski Station on King George Island -- I was in the right place at the right time to capture this video.  Penguins have got to be among the world’s most amusing animals, and this little character is no exception.  Why did the penguin cross the road?  You’ll find out in this delightful little Report from The Voyage of Macgellan!

Logbook: Cape Horn

As usual, I was up very early on Monday morning for our port call at Punta Arenas. Rather than have you thinking this early morning routine is natural, I will tell you the truth: My cabin is the most forward on deck four starboard, right under the open deck where all the mooring gear is located. This means that as soon as the deck crew begins its preparation for docking -- including the use of heavy machines such as windlasses, etc. -- I hear it all at rather thunderous levels. Since they usually start their work at least an hour before the ship actually arrives at a port, I have plenty of time to get up, get coffee and observe the process. This is not as bad as it may sound, because I’m generally happy to make the most of my port time and, on the whole, my cabin’s remote location means that it is quiet and away from passageway noise on all other days -- especially the all important, relaxing days at sea. Anyway, as soon as the ship was cleared by immigration, I hit the streets.

Not having the charm of Puerto Montt or the size and vitality of Valparaiso, Punta Arenas is sort of the poor, blue collar sibling of Chilean Ports. The home of a large -- by Chilean standards -- naval presence and the base of operations for a fair amount of Antarctic support, the town is busy and functional. I found a cafe in which I got a decent cup of coffee and wandered around for an hour, watching the town wake up. I also found the local “Seaman’s Center” where I was able to get online to update this site and Skype. A couple of hours later I was back on the prowl and was able to get some supplies, take a few photos and follow my nose to a tiny little restaurant where I had a delicious lunch of roast lamb. Back on board, we departed and continued our way down the Straits of Magellan toward the Beagle Channel which we cruised through all night. By late afternoon yesterday, we were clear of the Channel, in sight of Cape Horn and ready to begin our crossing of the Drake Passage.

In brisk winds and lively seas, our Chilean pilot left the bridge, boarded a sturdy little Chilean Navy boat and left us to our own devices. For days now, there has been growing apprehension about what our crossing of this famous waterway would be like, along with much strategizing of timing and dosages for all manner of seasickness medication. As evening fell -- very late at this latitude -- the seas were lively and windswept, but not at all rough. There were a few bumps in the night -- nothing even remotely uncomfortable -- and by this morning we were in calm seas with very little swell. All in all a remarkably smooth crossing and a bit of a let down to those of us who hoped for something really exciting. We will continue to steam due south for the rest of the day, looking forward to seeing our first icebergs. In the morning we should arrive at King George Island and begin our Antarctic exploration!

Logbook: Puerto Montt - Chilean Fjords

Thursday was a particularly good day because our port of call, Puerto Montt, is one of my favorite little cities. Set deep in Chile’s inland waterway, at the base of the Andes and at 41 degrees of latitude, Puerto Montt has the same kind of environment as all my favorite places -- Southeast Alaska, Newfoundland, the Shetland Islands and the South Island of New Zealand to name just a few. As a center for fishing, agriculture, hiking, tourism and other commercial activity, it has a lot going on and a fairly robust economy. It offers a pretty wide variety of activities, restaurants, shops, etc. without being pretentious, and it is clean, safe and friendly. To top this all off, it has many, many dogs and very, very hi-speed internet. In short, Puerto Montt is a perfect place for me -- assuming, of course, that it has a laundromat!

As soon as we docked on Thursday, I hit the streets and walked about a kilometer along the shore to the center of town. I found a tidy internet center and made full use of its completely stable, screaming fast, 4 megabit hi-speed pipe to do all the usual plus download about 10 gigs of media to enjoy during the long voyage between ports ahead. With my online stuff completed in an amazingly short period of time, I wandered around the streets and enjoyed the sights of street vendors, the sounds of street corner bands and the smells of fresh bread and fresh fish -- though thankfully not all in the same place at the same time! The day was mostly overcast with occasional mist but it started to pour down rain at one point and I ducked into a cheery little restaurant for a bite to eat. Thirty minutes later I was back on the prowl, checking out the hand crafts, comparing the many trekking and outdoor offerings and generally thinking what a nice place Puerto Montt could be to spend a season or two. The ship’s departure time came too soon and I felt my first twinge of reluctance to get back on board.

With a wave as we headed out of the harbor, I promised myself I would be back. That night we continued south and have spent the past two days cruising the Chilean Fjords. It is impossible to describe the Fjords, and almost so to capture them in pictures. Steep hills, rounded by glacial activity, come right down to the water with a backdrop of rough, ragged mountains behind them. From time to time we have passed other ships, but mostly have had the peaceful majesty to ourselves. Stopping at one of the several glaciers along our route, the captain dispatched a Zodiac to fetch some floating ice. To the amusement of everyone on board, the small craft with an intrepid crew of six braved the elements and succeeded in their assignment. In the evening, those of us who are drinkers -- which I believe is all of us -- had a small piece of thousand year old glacial ice in our cocktail. It has been a lovely and relaxing couple of days, and this evening we will enter the Straits of Macgellan -- now officially renamed. In the morning we will be making a port call at Punta Arenas, the southernmost city in Chile and our last landing before crossing the southern seas to Antarctica. As my good friend Rob says, “The next starts now, or maybe sooner” on The Voyage of Macgellan!

Report: We Need Ice!

MV Discovery uses a lot of ice. When the Bar Manager raised the alarm, “We need ice!” the Captain gave the order and the crew responded. Set to another perfect song by Hobo Jim, this Report chronicles the ice fetching mission in the Chilean Fjords on The Voyage of Macgellan!

Logbook: Valparaiso

Arriving in Valparaiso yesterday had a very different “feel” to it from our other recent port calls. For one thing, we were pretty far south into higher latitudes so the temperature was more moderate -- you know how much I appreciate that! Second, as major ports go, Valparaiso -- unlike Callao -- is a pretty, colorful place. Third, being in Chile means being in a relatively well developed country with all of the advantages that has to offer. So, I was once again ready to go ashore as early as possible. My first funny experience had to do with getting out of the port. Although I could see the “center” of town right outside the port gate, I was not allowed to actually use that gate. Instead, I had to take a shuttle bus to the “terminal” about 2 km down the shore road. Once there, I cleared security -- they’re pretty strict about agricultural quarantine down here -- then made a short walk across the street to the rail station. Here’s the deal: The rail system uses only electronic cards, so you have to by an “empty” one -- cost 500 pesos, about $1. Then you buy your fare which, to the center and back, is 400 pesos. The system keeps track of “usage” and off you go. Compared to the last rail system I was on in Mexico City, this was totally hi-tech. It wound up about 10 times as expensive to go a much shorter distance, of course, but the trains were clean, cool, etc. and I enjoyed the ride.

Arriving back at the center -- standing not 100 meters from my ship -- I looked for and found the “Seamen’s Center” which was recommended to me as a top quality internet cafe. Sadly, it was not yet open so I walked around until I found a center that was open. The connection there was painfully slow, so I did the minimum and left to explore. Valparaiso is famous for its many “asensors” -- or funiculars -- so I rode one. It costs 100 pesos -- about $.20 -- to make the one minute ride up or down. While the old age of the machinery makes it a novel and somewhat interesting trip, there’s really not much to recommend it. Besides, there’s little to see or do at the top so it really is a tourist thing. I spent another hour walking around and generally enjoyed the sights before stopping back at the “Seamen’s Center” and finding it open. What a pleasure! Owned and operated by a guy named Jamie who is a former cruise audio-video operator, the place has a nice cafe upstairs and a huge internet center downstairs. He caters to ship crews -- and passengers like me, of course -- and has just about everything they could want: Beer, food, games, phones and internet. With a megabit connection speed, I was able to finally download a bunch of podcasts and TV shows as well as update this site and call some folks. Skype was working so well, in fact, that I let a few of the crew from my ship who were there call their family and friends in the Philippines. After their first Skype experience, they’ll never be the same again!

At about 4 o’clock it was time to head back to the ship via the circuitous route I had used to get to the center. Don’t ask me why, but I ended up having to kick in another 100 pesos back at the terminal station. Either I was charged the wrong rate up front or it was some kind of “rush hour” premium. Who knows, maybe it was just a petty Gringo tax. Anyway, I got on board and was treated to quite a show: The crew had been loading stores onto the ship all day but were still a long way from being finished by the time we were to due sail. Apparently, some of the conveyor machinery had broken down and the Chilean dock workers were either unable or not in a hurry to fix it. By the time that was sorted out, it was obvious the loading would not be finished on time so the port agent hired a bunch of guys off the street to help hand haul boxes on board. Like an army of ants they made trip after trip on several gangways. The problem, of course, is that there was no way to get all the stuff properly stowed so it was just heaped into piles in every open area of the ship. The climax was when “haste made waste” and a bag of rice broke open on the conveyor then a skid of goods broke open and tipped over on the pier.

We finally sailed about an hour later and one of the young officers with whom I have become friendly confirmed that the captain was “to be steered clear of at the moment.” We left port and returned to our southerly course, heading to higher latitudes still. Today has been another lovely day at sea and we are due to arrive in Puerto Montt in the morning. All in all, Valparaiso is a nice port and an interesting, well developed place to visit. Another recommendation from The Voyage of Macgellan!

Logbook: Northern Chile

Saturday morning we pulled into Arica, Chile, a beautiful little port city at the very northern end of the country -- just barely south of Peru, to which it once belonged. I was so happy with the prospect of being out in the sunny -- and cool! -- weather that I was one of the first passengers off the ship. As usual, I had my Mac pack on my back, but this time I also had my laundry bag -- a simple white pillowcase about half full -- slung over my shoulder. A couple of other passengers teased me a little about taking my laundry ashore, but I easily defended myself by reminding them of what they were paying to use the ship’s laundry! Just outside the port’s gate is a pretty little square -- shown in the inset -- with a mesa of sorts overlooking the town. The climate is dry, almost desert-like, but it is not barren. Leading off the square is a pedestrian boulevard which I started wandering up to find internet and laundry. After walking along a seemingly endless row of closed shops, I realized that it was only 8 o’clock on a Saturday morning. So, I sat down on a bench to wait for a while. Looking around, I started to smile, then chuckle, then laugh out loud. You see, there were a number of other benches in the area, most of which were occupied by vagrants who each had some sort of back pack and a pillowcase-like bag. Noting the similarity between us was hilarious. Thankfully, I was notably cleaner!

Back on my feet, I wandered around and soon found a little slice of heaven: A laundry and an internet center side by side! Perfect! I dropped off my laundry, got on-line and did my usual. A couple of hours later I signed off, picked up my clean clothes and wandered around for a while. On my way back to the ship I passed a pretty big camera store so I stopped in and got a new camera. Yes, that’s right, another new camera! The Nikon that I bought in Atlanta had many of the features I need, but turned out to be missing a couple of really important ones. Namely, a viewfinder in addition to the LCD display -- which is impossible to see in bright daylight -- and a better menu/button interface for making adjustments. So, I got a Canon A540 which really does have it all -- including the vastly superior interface that I love so much! A little more walking later, I was back on board for departure from Arica which I would happily visit again -- and even stay in for a while.

Yesterday was a day at sea, highlighted by a request from the cruise director for me to do my Iditarod presentation for the passengers. A few days earlier I was joined at dinner by Jill, the purser, and in conversation we found we have a love of dogs in common. I showed her a little of my Iditarod video and she suggested to the cruise director that the passengers might like it. So, he asked me, I said yes, and spent some time yesterday reviewing my media and framing up a presentation which I did this morning. I talked for about an hour then handled some really good questions for about 45 minutes. It was very well received and I enjoyed doing it. The cruise director liked it as well, and has mentioned that he will put me in touch with the person who organizes speakers on future cruises. So, who knows? Early afternoon we docked at another lovely little city called Coquimbo which is much like Arica -- though a bit more likely to become a “resort” town in the near future. We had a very short time ashore, so I only got to walk around for an hour or so, have a “typical” Chilean lunch -- mixed grilled meats -- and head back to the ship. Tomorrow we will arrive in Valparaiso for a day then continue our progress to ports along the way to the Antarctic. All is well on The Voyage!

Musing: Teddy Wins!

Great news! I just got word from Aliy Zirkle that my dog Teddy has won the Copper Basin 300 Sled Dog Race! With help from eleven of her kennel mates -- ChaCha, Venus, Butterscotch, Pingo, Hoss, Skittles, Tony, Manny, Pepper, Heeler and Oddball -- and with Aliy’s husband Allen Moore aboard, Teddy finished the 300 mile race in 58 hours and 58 minutes, more than an hour ahead of the second place team!

Okay, okay, I know I’m exaggerating. The truth is that Teddy is only a team dog. ChaCha and Venus are the leaders and Allen is an extremely accomplished musher who did an outstanding job at the helm. What makes this win so significant, is that these twelve dogs are the core of Aliy’s “Pro” team and will make up the majority of the team she will race in the Iditarod in March. Get the picture? You may recall my prediction that Aliy will win the Iditarod this year and, while it is crazy to speculate about what winning the CB300 means with respect to the Iditarod, it is fair to say that the team is in great shape and has done better than any other team so far!

Coming out of the summer “off-season”, Aliy reported that all the dogs were looking good and ready to get going. As you can see, Teddy was her usual hyper-enthusiastic self on the first day that Aliy brought out the harnesses for the team’s first training run of the season. Anybody who says the dogs don’t love to run and race -- or thinks you have to “make” the dogs do it -- doesn’t know anything about sled dogs and has probably never seen a sled dog team in action.

Which brings me to the point of this Musing: I have been getting spammed recently by “dog lovers” shaming me and urging me to withdraw my support for Aliy, the Iditarod and dog racing in general. Some “journalist” decided that there wasn’t any “hype” in writing a “Happy Dogs Have Grand Time In Alaska Wilderness” story, so he took a bunch of arbitrary facts out of context and wrote a slam piece. For example: The fact that about half the dogs do not finish the race is not because they suffer, are maimed or die due to the brutality and negligence of mushers. To the contrary, half the dogs do not finish because mushers “drop” any dog that is tired, sick or disinterested in continuing. Who can forget last year when Jeff King, with a slim 45 minute lead on Doug Swingley wasted 20 minutes returning to White Mountain to drop a dog. When one of the race veterinarians asked him why, he simply said the dog “didn’t want to go” then gave the dog a hug, a pat on the head and a loving “thank you.” What a horrible man. I personally remember spending an hour in the dead of night at McGrath, tending to Linda Pletner’s team while she thoroughly checked out a dog who she said “just seemed a little off.” The vet couldn’t find anything wrong, but Linda dropped the dog anyway. She may have gotten the official “okay” but her experience, instinct and concern for the dog said “don’t risk it.” How thoughtless.

I could go on and on, but will instead simply say that I’ve been there, I’ve seen and met dozens of mushers and hundreds -- maybe thousands -- of sled dogs. I’ve never met better people or healthier, happier dogs. To all the “dog lovers” who are so misinformed by the media, I say “use your heads.” You can’t “make” dogs run and race by beating them. Sled dogs run and race because they love it. It is in their genes. It is what they are. Musher’s invest everything they have -- and often everything they can borrow -- in their sled dogs. They don’t unduly put that investment at risk or treat it badly. Their lifestyle depends on that investment. They’re not stupid. Yes, dogs sometimes do get sick or injured. What do you expect? They are the highest performance athletes in the world and running the Iditarod is a difficult, demanding, epic journey.

Most of the things that are worth doing in life -- even in a dog’s life -- are demanding and sometimes even dangerous. Human literature expounds at length about the “bliss” of “doing what you love” and “living the life you were meant to live.” Is this true for humans but not for dogs? I believe it is true for all living beings, and especially true for sled dogs. So here’s my reply to all the “dog lovers” who mindlessly cut and paste spam emails opposing the Iditarod and sled dog racing in general: On the whole, sled dogs live longer, healthier, happier lives than your fat “pets” who lay on the couch, cooped up inside for most of every day, wishing all the while that they could be part of a large, dynamic pack, bond in mutual cooperation with a worthy human, explore vast, exciting areas of wilderness and run, run, run... Just like their ancestors have done for thousands of years.

So, here’s to you, Teddy. You’re a great dog and I’m proud of you. Good luck to you and your pack mates in the Iditarod. Run hard, be careful and, most of all, have fun!

Logbook: Peruvian Ports

Early Wednesday morning, I followed my usual routine of getting some coffee and heading out on deck to take a look. For what I saw, I had only one thought: “We must have docked in the wrong place.” As far as I could see up and down the coast, there was nothing but sand: beaches, dunes and mountains. Directly in front of me -- at the base of a huge sand mountain -- was a small, chaotic collection of run down buildings that I came to learn was, in fact, our intended port of call. Salaverry, is the main port for northern Peru and -- evidently -- a major source of sand. Besides that it has nothing going for it. Although the ship’s excursions to the nearby “old” city of Trujillo -- which focused mainly on shopping for arts and crafts -- didn’t appeal to me, it was immediately evident that staying in Salaverry for purposes of exploration would be of little value. So, I hitched a ride with the tour bus into the town square of Trujillo and hopped off. I walked around the square -- with its picturesque array of fairly well maintained and colorful “old” Spanish buildings -- for a few minutes then came upon a nice hotel with an open foyer. On a hunch, I went inside, fired up my Mac, and found an open, stable, wireless internet connection. After more than a week of limited bandwidth, I spent some quality time checking in with my “peeps.”

At noon it was time to hitch a ride on the tour bus back to the ship in time for our early afternoon departure. Back out at sea, we were visited by a very large number of dolphins who put on quite a show. After a quiet night of cruising, we arrived in Callao -- the port city for Lima -- yesterday morning. Again, the scheduled excursions didn’t intrigue me, but Callao is a proper port and a proper port city so I decided to give it a try. With my pack on my back, I disembarked and immediately ran into some immigration officials with whom I started having a typically lively and entertaining chat in Spanglish. I asked to take a picture with them and one of the women asked me in return to show her how to use her new digital camera. I was happy to help, and within a few minutes she was all smiles, shooting away. That seemed to really cement our new friendship, so we carried on for a while longer and I asked for suggestions about what to see and do in Callao. They suggested I go to the old fort, but were concerned that I be very, very careful on the streets: “It is not safe.” I vowed to keep that in mind. Since Callao is a big, working port, pedestrians are not allowed to walk off their dock. So, I again hitched a ride on one of the excursion buses for a ride to main gate several hundred yards away.

As I bid my fellow passengers good day, I sensed a few of them gasping in mild horror as they saw the scene I was about to enter: chaotic traffic, milling crowds, abundant street vendors, vagrants, trash, filth and, of course, stray dogs. I will admit that it was all a bit daunting, but it didn’t make my internal meter go tilt, so I put my head down and walked briskly through the melee to a corner where several cabs were waiting. I hopped in one, pointed to the fort on my map and off we went. Five minutes later, I paid a dollar for the fare and got out at the fort’s main gate. I spent a few minutes admiring its architecture then saw a sign indicating there was a military museum on site. Approaching the guard at the gate, I pointed at the sign and asked if it was open. He made a brief radio call and moments later a man showed up to escort me inside to a ticket booth. I paid my entrance fee -- with the usual comedy of negotiating the conversion rate for dollars -- and joined a small group of locals ready for a tour. The young woman who would be our guide asked me if I spoke Spanish and I explained that I could understand it “mas o menos” if she spoke slowly and clearly. At first I thought this was a big lie, but over the course of the next ninety minutes it turned out to be only a small lie. I found I was able to understand about half of what she was saying and thoroughly enjoyed the tour through Real Felipe and Peru’s long and colorful military history -- most of which, of course, involves their various conflicts with the Spanish.

At the end of the tour I left the fort and sat on a bench in the small park just outside its walls. Within five minutes, three different people -- a Thai woman and two Peruvians -- came up to me and told me to be very careful on the street: “It is not safe.” I decided that this was enough of a “message” to be taken seriously, so I hailed a cab and pointed to the pier on my map. As we proceeded to drive away from the pier along the waterfront, I voiced my objection and told him to stop. We both got out of the cab and I pointed to the ship which was clearly visible in the other direction. We had a good laugh, because it turns out that far from wanting to kidnap me or anything, he had just assumed I wanted to go to the yacht club to get on my own boat! A few minutes later, I was standing at the main gate to the port. After showing my ship’s ID card to the guard, he asked me for a dollar -- an obvious petty extortion -- then allowed me to enter and board one of the port’s shuttle buses along with about a dozen longshoremen and other port workers. There was immediately a little joking going on at my expense, but I just spun my finger around my ear and said “Gringo Loco.” As usual, that did the trick and we all had a good laugh. I got off at the stop next to my ship and walked to the gangway for boarding. All in all it was a rewarding port call. Shortly, the excursions returned and -- after a brief delay while on of Peru’s two submarines cleared the channel -- we set sail for ports further south.

Today has been another fine “day at sea” and has been all the more enjoyable for me because our rapid progress to higher latitudes has been accompanied by milder -- at times even cool -- temperatures. Soon, I hope to break out the warm clothes that have been in my pack for almost six months! Over the next few days we will make port calls in Arica and Bahia Coqimbo en route to Valpariaso, the port city for Santiago, Chile.

Logbook: Galapagos II

My second Galapagos exploration began early Friday morning. I had given myself a little “attitude adjustment” the night before following my first disappointing tour, so I was in good spirits and ready to go. The weather was beautiful and the small boats that were to take us on our three-part circuit of “Isla Lobos, Kicker Rock and Beach” arrived promptly on time at 8:30am. The only problem I noticed at once was that the boat to which I was assigned was set up more as a “water taxi” than as a “viewing” boat. In other words, the 35 foot craft had a large open area in the back that had a long bench on each side facing in. While it would be awkward enough to sit on the seat and try to look out over one’s shoulder, this problem was made worse by the fact that the seating area was enclosed and the “windows” were a hideous blue plexiglas. The only way to really see anything -- let alone take pictures -- would be to stand in the small exposed area right at the back of the boat. The problem with this, of course, is that there were over a dozen of us who would be trying to use this small space that would have accommodated something more like four of us. This was going to be “interesting.”

Anyway, the skipper hit the gas and off we went, pounding through the choppy seas. The naturalist guide assigned to our boat had better English than my guide from the day before, and he gave us the usual review of the rules and a brief itinerary for the day. After about 30 minutes of pounding along -- during which I read my book while many others turned various shades of green -- we arrived at Isla Lobos. For the next 30 minutes we drifted about 50 meters off shore, spotting blue footed boobies, iguana, sea lions, crabs, etc. Most of the group were considerate about sharing time in the open area, but there were -- as always -- a few who took the prime spots and never budged. Using my trusty Canon S2IS on full, 12x optical zoom -- and sometimes on higher power (lower quality) digital zoom -- I battled the effects of boat movement, distance and level of zoom to get some decent photos.

My favorite is the one you see above which shows three species hanging out in harmony on the rocks with the sea spray behind them. If ever there was a “Galapagos Classic”, this is it. With our time on location used up, we made another pounding hop to Kicker Rock which is basically an ancient volcanic cone that is sticking up out of the water. I asked the naturalist guide a couple of questions like “How old?”, “What kind of rock?”, etc., but didn’t get anywhere so, after a quick cruise around the formation, we headed for our third and last stop. The “Beach” -- as it was billed in the brochure -- was a fitting and surreal ending to our tour. We pulled up to a small island with a clear, light sand beach and disembarked into warm, shallow water and waded ashore. The thing that astounded me is that besides a few small birds -- which the naturalist wasn’t sure but thought might be some species of Darwin Finch -- and some annoying insects, the beach was entirely devoid of animals. No sea lions, no crabs, no nothing. In a land teeming with wildlife, where you have to step around sea lions at the town dock, our tour landed on an empty beach. I gave up, passed the 45 minutes we had on land working on my tan then made the hour long boat ride back to the ship and embarked.

Not wanting what I had experienced so far to be the sum total of my Galapagos exploration, I took a tender into town and checked in with some private tour companies about options I might have for some more “independent” excursions. I’ll spare you the details and just say that logistics, length of time needed to go places and minimum passenger requirements pretty much shut me out. So, once again I visited with my sea lion friends on the town beach and headed back to the ship. On Saturday morning I thought about trying to round up some folks on the ship who might want to do something, but for the first time on The Voyage I wasn’t feeling too well. A scratchy throat and a stuffy nose -- clearly a result of being on a ship with hundreds of people -- convinced me to spend the day hanging out, napping, reading, etc.

On Sunday I felt better, but we only had a few hours before it would be time to set sail so I decided to bag the idea of arranging any more exploration and went into town, got online and did some iLife until it was time to leave the Galapagos. As you can no doubt tell, I was disappointed with my experience in the Islands. Had I especially selected this cruise with the Galapagos in mind, I would have been very dissatisfied -- as many folks on board who did just that were. By the way, I talked with a number of folks who were able to go on the “optional” (i.e. “good”) tours and the review was predominantly disappointing -- too much time in the boats, not enough time on location, too little information, too much hustle, etc. I don’t want to do any more ranting about the “Galapagos Gestalt” here in the Logbook -- though I may post a Musing or two -- so I will leave it all at that.

I have technically “been” to the Galapagos and I have learned a lot -- not so much about the islands or the wildlife, but about how I would “do” the islands another time. Namely, I would find a group of 6-10 people, charter a yacht or catamaran with an experienced captain/guide who has excellent English and good knowledge then do a week or so of island hopping. Other than that, I would consider a very, very small cruise ship that specializes in the Galapagos and check its itinerary carefully. Period. Just to bring you and the Logbook up to date, I will add that yesterday and today have been days at sea en route to a port call in northern Peru. I have spent much of the time struggling to write up these Logbook entries -- my first difficulties doing so on The Voyage -- and updating this website. I have also taken time to get my head straight after my Galapagos experience and am happy to report that I am back in the groove and ready for whatever is next on The Voyage of Macgellan!

Logbook: Galapagos I

On Thursday morning -- after my brief, rained-out foray onto the island the day before -- I was eager to embark on my first “excursion” and to see what the Galapagos have to offer. Because I had signed up for this cruise only a few days before sailing, all of the “optional tours” -- the “good” tours -- were already booked up. Accordingly, I would only be able to do the two “included” half-day tours. As you will read later on, this turned out not to be much of a deprivation after all, but at the time I was a little disappointed and was looking forward to making the most of my limited opportunities. So, as my group gathered on board for our tender ride to shore, I was excited to explore the Galapagos. On shore, we were split up into smaller groups of about a dozen each and loaded onto a number of small shuttle vans where each was joined by its appointed “naturalist guide.” As soon as we began to drive, I knew we were doomed. The naturalist guide in my van spoke very, very little English and we could barely understand her as she reviewed -- again -- the strict rules and recited a brief history of the islands.

After a fifteen minute drive up into the hills of the island we pulled into the “Galapaguera de Cerro Colorado” which is home to one of the projects to repopulate the island’s giant tortoises. Arriving at a pretty fancy “visitor center” we got off the bus and made a short -- perhaps 200 meter -- walk into the reserve where we came upon a small man-made pond with a couple of tortoises in its vicinity. The pitch goes something like this: At one time there were 300,000 tortoises on the island, but this population was decimated by evil sailors and pirates who took the animals to use as food while at sea. You see, tortoises can go weeks or months without eating so these evil men would put them in the holds of their ships and butcher them for fresh meat as needed over the long duration of their sea voyages. Due to their thoughtless activities, the sailors and pirates depleted the population to only some few thousand or so. Oh, by the way, the poor hapless people who subsequently made their homes on the islands also introduced species like dogs and cats whose natural instinct to eat the baby tortoises also had an adverse effect on the tortoise population.

The sailors and pirates are long gone -- though the dogs and cats remain -- and the National Park has established several reserves to support and foster the tortoises making a come-back -- with the intention of repopulating them to their original number of 300,000. At ponds such as the one we were visiting, naturalists put food -- laced with vitamins, etc. -- out for the animals twice a day. You can imagine my surprise at finding our visit coincided with meal time when we were “fortunate” to catch sight of a couple of tortoises. We all snapped photos and were asked for questions. Genuinely interested, I asked “How do you know there were 300,000 tortoises on the islands?” The answer: “That’s what the research shows.” Okay, let me try again: “What is the benefit of repopulating all 300,000 tortoises?” Answer: “That was the original number.” Me: “Won’t artificially repopulating that many tortoises have a very large adverse impact on other species that are part of the eco-balance as it stands now?” No answer. What was I thinking? We had been brought to the park, given our view of two tortoises and told the canned speech. What more did we want? A few of my companions asked what I thought were reasonable -- actually surprisingly good -- questions and received similarly useless responses. After a little more time hanging out at the tortoise pond, we were loaded back on the vans and driven another 15 minutes to a place where we were to climb a small hill and have a sweeping view of the island. Upon arrival, we were informed that the path was muddy due to the rain and were asked if we wanted to climb up anyway. Oh, by the way, it is foggy and you won’t see much. With democracy in action -- you know, when two wolves and a sheep sit around voting what to have for dinner -- the van voted not to climb and we drove right back out of the parking area. The good news is that the snack bar at the refreshment stop was open, so people were able to get their drinks, souvenirs and post cards. Color me happy.

When we got back to town and the tender dock, the general mood was disappointed -- even marginally depressed. Spirits were raised when someone pointed out that it was just about time for afternoon tea (“With those yummy desserts!”) back on board ship and most folks made a run for the tender. I stayed in town and communed with the local sea lions for a while, took a repeat walk through the town then hopped a tender back to the ship. With half of my Galapagos exploration now complete, I had seen two tortoises and learned nothing. Not an auspicious beginning. Surely my excursion the next day would be better...