Glasses crashed against their none-too-secure railings, objects on the night stand toppled, cupboard and toilet doors slammed mercilessly against the cabin walls and the beds creaked and groaned as though they were ready to give up and splinter into a thousand pieces. We were well underway to Española.
Though the seas hadn’t seemed all that rough, the ship was getting tossed around like a rag doll, lurching first to one side, then crashing back down and teetering dangerously to the other side. It became an effort not to be thrown out of bed. Sensing little sleep would be had under the current conditions, I began jamming all the creaking doors with towels, and shunting every loose object at hand into the crowded bed side drawers. When the sleeping tablet ceased to have any significant effect, I resigned myself to a sleepless night, put on my ipod and rolled with the swell.
Breakfast was a bleary eyed affair with all the passengers looking haggard and worse for wear. The spread in front of us helped to add some cheer, but this was consumed in widespread muteness.
Glad to be anchored again, we all geared up for our day trip around Española. The water was that beautiful blue you always see in tropical travel brochures, and the sun was at its blazing best. 
As we approached the shoreline the dark outlines of countless sea lions gained more definition as the lazed about on the sand and played along the shoreline.
After another informative talk by Juan Carlos we were given our free time to wander up the beach and take a million photos of the sea lions, marine iguanas and colourful Sally Lightfoot crabs. 
Strapping on our fins and snorkels, Dan and I then made our way around a rocky outcrop close to shore and were suprised at the abundance of colourful fish circling around the rocks. Dan gave the recently replaced, underwater camera a whirl and got some good footage of the prankster sea lion that decided to scare the crap out of me by sneaking up behind me and darting past effortlessley. They are infinitely more graceful creatures in sea than on land.
Returning to the ship, those of us with a few scraps of energy left were taken by Panga for another snorkle at a nearby cliff cove. The water was the perfect temparature but the ferocity of the sun began to take its toll, and it was a relief to return to the shade of the boat. Clearing it first with the crew, I headed to the top deck for a 12 metre plunge into the water below. A good refresher before lunch.
Our afternoon excursion took us along a rugged coastal section of Española, past dozens more colourful crabs, marine iguanas, and all manner of birdlife from a Galapagos Hawk, many kinds of finches, Blue-footed boobies, and Nazca boobies feeding their young. We were lucky enough to come across some Marine Iguanas digging holes to lay their eggs, which according to Juan Carlos occurs for only 14 days during the year. As he was explaining this, two tourists from a separate group decided to take a short cut across the breeding ground, earning a frantic response from Juan Carlos, imploring them to get back on the path. Their level one tour guide suffered the embarrassment of a sharp rebuke from Juan Carlos, and mumbled some hasty apologies for not keeping an eye on his wayward group.
Unfortunately Ray had had to turn back for the ship already, and it would have been better for all if the elderly Canadian had followed suit. We all battled with the extreme heat, swarms of insects and uneven terrain, but the Canadian guy also seemed to be lugging a few bricks along in his satchel. Unsteady at the best of times, he began a series of ungainly stumbles before crashing to the rocky ground several times, refusing assistance, getting back up and falling down again. Eventually he agreed to hand over his bag for someone to carry and I began to follow behind him, having to ignore the scenery to concentrate on catching him before the next fall. Bloodied, bruised and with no doubt broken equipment he did soldier on to his credit. During this little tour, Honey, from the mother and son couple, created further annoyance and incredulity among the group about her inability to stay within the clearly designated paths. Juan Carlos was at wits end telling her to stay in the markers, only for her to acknowledge the request and then go sit down somewhere else outside the path.
The pace of the tour grinded at my already sleep deprived nerves and the sun continued to bake through my already copious layers of sunscreen. With the loop past the blowhole completed, I made a dash for the Panga and a return to the comforts of the Queen of Galapagos. A spectacular sunset greeted us from the decks of the ship, and I met it with a weary sunburnt reverie.