The sleep deprivation had continued as we ‘awoke’ to the barren landscape of Floreana, the skyline dominated by a perfectly curved mountain.
Here we were to encounter the iconic pink flamingo, coloured that way due to the toxins in their diet of little shrimp, according to our guide. This appeared to hold some weight when we viewed a juvenile Flamingo, cloaked in dirty grey feathers rather than the fluroescent pink.
Passing all manner of flora and fauna we made our way to a little cove where the fresh tracks of sea turtles laying their eggs could be seen on the beach. Glimpsed periodically in the small breakers, three of four turtles were apparently recovering from their ordeal.
A snorkel from the shoreline took us past more boobies, resting sea lions, marine iguanas, crabs and even a shy little Galapagos penguin. Once again water-bourne sea lions dazled me with their agility and acrobatics as I chased vainly after them.
The best snorkelling was yet to come, as we returned to the boat and took a panga out to the Devil’s crown. A circular rocky outcrop a few hundred metres from Floreana, the swift currents made for an interesting drift-snorkel. Our first drop off took us along the left hand side of the crown, and the abundance of fish was once again amazing. Big schools of fish darted about in a blinding flash of silver, and colourful parrot fish chomped noisily at the coral. Our second drop off from the Panga took us straight down the centre of the crown, and by swimming forcefully against the current it was possible to remain in one spot for a closer look. A white tipped reef shark sauntered past and once again provided a challenge in trying to chase after it. Lost in all the activity, everyone was back on the boat by the time Dan and I were only half-way through. I discovered a school of five or six sharks hanging out near the bottom of a swim-through cave. It was a long, narrow tunnel and I was tempted to take the plunge past the sharks, through to the other side, but the patience of our fellow passengers appeared to be running thin as they languished in the Panga under the hot sun. I had to settle instead for a close but not too personal examination of the sharks before heading to the surface and back to the Panga.
Our afternoon excursion took us to the ancient post office in the aptly named Post Office bay.
More a ramshackle collection of letter boxes and drift wood than any actual post office, it was reputedly the oldest in South America. Notable pirates such as Sir Francis Drake originally frequented the site, leaving letters for home, which any ship heading that way would collect and deliver. In a way, it still remains functional today. Tourists to the island leave postcards in the mail box and sort through the stack already there to find some addressed close to home. They then have the duty to post them at some point, though time is not of the essence. I left a few postcards as an experiment and searched to find some from back home. Apparently most people are rather cagey about the fact someone else will be reading the card, coating them with such short drivel as ‘here we are’, and ‘hi from john’ rather than anything remotely interesting or humourous.
During our debriefing before dinner, the ship’s Bartender/Waiter who was setting up for dinner, once again suffered in silence as our tour guide scolded him for making the slightest noise during his all important presentation. Feeling sorry for the guy, it was to become a running joke between Dan and I how badly Juan Carlos treated him. “Ernesto be quiet!”, “Ernesto what is in this soup!”, “Ernesto!!”.
