Galapagos day 12.5; cruise day 7.5 – end of the trip

When local tour boats advertise 8 day cruises, they count every day you actually set foot on the boat. However, since they usually begin in late morning and end in early morning, it’s really 7 days counting one day as 24 hours.

Our last little outing was a 6 a.m. dinghy ride in Turtle Bay. At that time, the water was clear and still, the sky soft with the colors of early morning. We moved through the dense greenery of mangroves under the low hum of the motor. When the driver turned the motor off, it became so peaceful. We heard only the flapping fish, the buzz of mosquitoes, the swish of the paddles and the tweets of male yellow warblers making territorial calls. We looked out at the misty hills of Santa Cruz Island and watched the sun rise bright yellow-orange in a pink sky.

We watched giant groups of golden stingrays pass by us, their fins sticking up out of the water, appearing like an evil army on its way to attack. Several sea tortoises swam by, including a male with a very long tail. We found baby black tip sharks feeding on mullets. We watched mullets and white salemas jumping out of the water as though in synch with a symphony. We watched a brown noddy following a pelican, trying to catch its food.

The environment around us looked so peaceful, but when we looked closer, everything was struggling and fighting for survival. The mullets jumped so as not to be caught and eaten by the sharks. The pelican risked losing the food it fought hard to catch to the brown noddy.

I realized, as much as we’d like to create an idea and an ideal of human goodness, that we live in the same kind of world, where we fight for resources, for influences and for safety. Some are lucky to live out their lives in a cocoon, without feeling the effects of this fight. But for the majority who come into contact with violence, injustice, and fear, it seemed to me that there is a lesson to be learned from the animals. That while one can hate predators and thieves, happiness will not live in fear, bitterness and regret. Rather, like the animals, the faster one can accept the loss as a natural part of existence and move ahead with the same verve as before, the quicker they can find peace.

Our boat - The Beluga

The crew

The upper deck

View from our cabin

Galapagos day 12 – Cruise day 7 – James (Santiago) Island

Our last full day on the boat, today was a jam-packed and enjoyable adventure. We rock up next to a large, forest-covered volcano. Ocean waves hit against the sheer cliffs made of compacted rock, covered with visible soil, then greenery.

We took a dinghy to land at Puerto Egas (James Bay) of James Island (also called Santiago). Again, we came in onto a black sand beach and walked around on lava rock and terracotta tuff cone. Inside the tuff cone, water from the ocean filters in and makes an expensive, good quality salt.

In the 1960s, a man named Salinas opened a salt mine here. The last owner was Hector Egas, who the bay is now named after. He tried to found a settlement in Santiago, but it was hard with little freshwater and few ships. He eventually went broke.

Another change in the island is the disappearance of the 74,000 goats that used to live there. Juan told us how he volunteered with the goat eradication project on a neighboring island. Nineteen hunters, two volunteers, and a chopper with a gunman covered 30 square kilometers. Juan said he did it for the real life ecology experience.

“By participating, you learn there are a lot of things about conservation that aren’t necessarily right. You see how we can screw up nature and it’s too late or too early to do something about it.”

On Santiago, the goat elimination was successful. But the result was the appearance of invasive mallows, which the goats used to control. Juan didn’t consider it a serious problem. He said it’s a low level of vegetation and only during the rainy season, so it’s not taking space for anything else. When dry season comes, they will put on herbicide so the next generation of seeds don’t germinate. It will take five to six years because of the many layers of seeds.

On the beach, we found a few week old sea lion and marine iguanas who had drawn designs in the sand with their tails. We walked on a path through white cordial, thorny fortia, incense trees and shore petunia. Along the path, we found the discarded skeleton of a baby sally lightfoot crab. They grow out of and discard everything, including their eyeballs.

Darwin himself spent nine days on this island, climbing the Sugar Loaf Tuft Cone. As we watched the sea lions, Galapagos fur sea lions, pelicans, dolphins, marine iguanas, oyster catchers, a Galapagos hawk and a ring plover, among other birds and animals, I imaged Darwin seeing the same scenes, but so much more isolated from civilization.

Juan showed us a place along the lava cliffs that is called Darwin’s toilet. It’s a round hole in the rock in which frothy white ocean water builds up, then suddenly “flushes” and drains out, before filling again.

Later in the morning, as we sailed towards Bartolome, on the other side of James Island, we saw the beautiful scenery of rocks shaped as an elephant and a bishop. We passed Bucaneer’s Cove, where Darwin, and many pirates landed for fresh water. The ensconced nature of the cove helped keep the criminals hidden.

Best of all, we saw a couple of bryde whales. Together with one other tourist boat, the Flamingo, which doesn’t treat its waste and emitted a smell like a massive fart, we circled round the whales, allowing us to see them rise out of the water several times, often quite close by. It’s truly amazing to look out over the blue waters and suddenly see a submarine-sized mammal emerge. At the same time, a manta ray glided toward us, a Pacific Green sea turtle paddled by, and a sea lion was swimming unusually far from shore. I felt surrounded by large aquatic life and it was so rewarding to see them in their natural habitat.

In the afternoon we rode up to Bartoleme. Walking across the high sand dune on the inlet, we reached a bay on the other side, where we could see white-tipped sharks floating in the clear water, just a few feet from us.

We returned to the ochre sand beach where we’d landed and went snorkeling around pinnacle point, a large vertical outcropping. Again, the water was murky (the National Park determines which places are allowed for snorkeling, and at least at this time of year, most of them seem to be murky), but we did come across several schools of fish. Most fun was finding a penguin in the water. In the process of fishing, he flitted by me, just a few inches away, at least three times. Given the uniqueness of penguins overall in this region, it was especially nice to get so close to one.

Some of the group came close to white-tipped sharks. I didn’t and was just as glad not to, after one boatmate told us about a tourist getting bit by a bull shark a week before our trip starting. He was diving at dusk (which is the shark’s feeding time) and a bull shark is much more dangerous than a white-tipped. But still, I preferred to not get too close.

Our final activity of the day was to climb up the tall terracotta tuff cone on Bartholeme, to a lighthouse that offered a beautiful overlook. This required climbing 366 stairs, which I ran up as much as possible, trying to give my heart the exertion it has lacked in the past week. At the top, I was able, again, to get a true sense of the volcanic and geologic activity in the area. Looking out over the very small island, I saw a real-life relief map of spatter cones (smaller parasitic cones). It looked like a mars-scape that was formed yesterday. Only a couple of plants grew in that environment, the leather leaf, prickly pear, salt wart, sperch and the beautiful silver great mat plant. We waited up on the overlook until all the other tour groups had left. We watched the sun begin to descend, then walked down into the sunset.

On the boat, we drank a farewell cocktail while saluting the staff. And for dessert, we had a banana-nut cake covered with marshmallow crème and carmelized syrup, fruit and cinnamon (it tasted much better than it sounds). Our final treat was our guide making the mating sounds of a giant tortoise, a request he’d been putting off for the past several days.

And now it’s almost time to go. This evening we have to pack everything up and accept that tomorrow night, another couple will be calling our temporary abode their new home. We have one small morning adventure to go, then it’s on a plane to Quito.

Whales Under Water

Galapagos day 11 – Cruise day 6 – Isabela and Fernandina Islands

We spent today in some of the most remote and least visited parts of the Galapagos. Again, we saw the world at its early stages. And because it hadn’t had much time to develop, the wildlife concentration was less than elsewhere. But the sense of seeing millions of years of history in the making was there. Not a lot of boats make it to this part of the Galapagos, because the gas expense to motor around the Western side of Isabela is high. It’s nice to be in places with few other tourists in order to truly feel the remoteness.

In the morning we landed on Urbina Bay, a black sand beach on Isabela Island, made from basalt. Walking around, we saw a baby giant tortoise walking through the forest, orange tipped hermit crabs fighting for a shell, and large yellow-gray land iguanas.

Darwin described the land iguanas movements as “lazy and half torpid. When not frightened, they slowly crawl along with their tails and bellies dragging on the ground. They often stop, and doze for a minute with closed eyes, and hind legs spread out on the parched soil.”

My favorite plant was the Galapagos cotton. It had tiny little buds of cotton on the bush, as well as a beautiful, tropical yellow flower with a magenta interior and long, yellow, thick stamen.

During lunch, we sailed north to Punta Espinosa on Fernandina Island. That pristine island, almost entirely lava, has only one little trail where tourists can visit. We got off the dinghy on a little, hidden staircase in the midst of a mangrove. The trail went along the coastline, where black marine iguanas perched on the black rocks, spitting salt through their nostrils, the many little sneezes alternating with the crashing sounds of the waves.

Darwin described these animals as “hideous-looking creature, of a dirty black colour, stupid and sluggish in its movements.” He said that he repeatedly threw one into the water and it repeatedly returned to the same spot on land. “Perhaps this singular piece of apparent stupidity may be accounted for by the circumstance,” he wrote, “that this reptile has no enemy whatever on shore, whereas at sea it must often fall a prey to the numerous sharks.”

Our feet crunched against the sand full of something like looked like dark purple pretzel sticks. They were the legs of pencil slate sea urchins, which had fallen off when that area was underwater.

We watched flightless cormorants do their mating dance, sea lions, and Sally light foot crabs, whose red color burned against the black lava.

Due to the movements of tides, part of the trail was already underwater by the time we returned and I was glad to have my dual water/land Tevas on.

The evening was one of the most beautiful of our sails. Our guide spotted common dolphins (actually less common than bottle-nosed) and we watched them jump and swim speedily away, an entire little community in the blue, solitary world.

We cruised nearby northern Isabela Island, an area of jutting rock faces reaching up to the stratus and waves crashing so strongly onto shore that white spray flew up along the edges like geysers.

We gathered in the bow around six when we crossed the Equator. Just afterwards, the yellow-red sun dipped quickly and visibly into the horizon, disappearing behind smooth dark-blue waters.

As darkness fell, a thin sliver of a moon glimmered in the sky. The rest of the moon was illuminated around the edges, and a ribbon of yellow reflection extended from the horizon to our boat deck, glimmering in the darkness.

We crossed the equator once again around 10:30, heading back into the southern hemisphere and towards James Island, the final destinations of our visit. While a few days ago, I would have chosen a shorter cruise, now that the trip is nearing its end (and I know that real life awaits), I wish we could extend it a while.

Galapagos day 10 – Cruise day 5 – Western Isabela Island

I asked Juan today about his impressions of how the protest went. He estimated there were 200 people in attendance – tourist guides, employees of the National Park, their families, and average citizens. He said the mayor spoke at the demonstration and is on their side.

He explained that the Ecuadorian air force controls both the Baltra airport on the Galapagos, and they control the gas station, where international and local ships refuel. He says the air force sells gas at the set price to the local ships. But when international ships come in, they sell gas at a higher price. According to Juan, none of this hits the books. Effectively, they are stealing gas and making money from it.

He said that tomorrow, a commission will be going to the Baltra airport and turning over control of the airport and the gas station (la capitania) to the local government. The air force (about 100 members) will remain only for military functions.

“Our constitution doesn’t allow for the military to control anything like an airport or a gas station. All other airports in Ecuador are under local government control. It is only here because Baltra started out as a military base. They got used to controlling it and they have interests tied in with local politicians that has made it hard to take the control away.”

“Will this be a peaceful transfer?” one of our shipmates asked.

“Of course,” Juan said. “There are 15,000 residents of Puerto Ayora and only 100 of them. For their sake, it must be a peaceful transfer.” He of course forgot that those 100 are probably better armed than the 15,000. The members of the commission are courageous people.

But that’s what I like about Juan – his passion for the environment, for the park, and for education of the young. I like his confidence that something can be done and his commitment to playing a role in the changes.

Last night we sailed all night, for over 9 hours, to get to the western side of Isabela Island, the largest island in the archipelago. No more than 30% of the cruise ships reach this region, due to the long cruise. And so we are much more alone in nature here.

Of course, I appreciate the scenery and the ability to see animals. But the newness of seeing the most common species – the sea lions, the crabs, the turtles, the iguanas, the blue-footed boobies, the frigate birds – has worn off. I appreciate greatly the knowledge we receive from the guide. But rather than walking slowly over a short distance, I find myself aching for some kind of a goal, for something a little more strenuous, a little more challenging. While the schedule is relatively busy, I think it’s the lack of initiative and creativity required from me that’s beginning to bore me. I think I would have been better off with a five day, rather than an eight day tour.

What we did see today was marvelous though. We started off at Punta Moreno, walking across a black lava field – one of the most barren environments I’d ever come across. We could see two volcanoes – Sierra Negra, which we’d summitted last week, and Cerro Azul, both contributors to the ropy knots of solidified basalt we were stepping over. The silica in the basalt (40%) gave it a crunchy, glassy sound as we stepped over it.

This was a place to see how life developed from the beginning. There we were, in a most inhospitable environment – lava rock, ocean, and burning equatorial sun. Yet, in the less than 1,000 years since the last major lava flow, life was developing. This was especially evident around the brackish lagoons, green oases amidst a desert of black.

To me, this was a visual lesson, an analogy, of how things could have evolved after a big bang. For the first time, I understood the baby steps that led to an environment of verdant vegetation and abundant wildlife.

Only a few plants are capable of colonizing in such an environment – Galapagos sedge, candelabra cactus, grasses, and mangroves. These pioneer plants survive and create the soil for secondary plants, more complicated growths. Some plants, such as mangroves, attract insects, which then brings small invertebraes that feed on the insects. The lava cactus is another pioneer plant that uses the strategy of use its parts to generate itself. As parts fall off, they become part of the soil. I found it a fascinating and amazing process, so slow, but the effects, when looking at the islands of different ages, are so strong over millions of years.

We paused at a pond of brackish water, green around the edges, where life was concentrated. Another sinkhole, carpeted in green, stood out brilliantly against the harsh pahoehoe and aa lava. There were a few flamingoes in the water. A feral cat, which feeds on fish and lives on the brackish water, darted through the brush. There were flyless cormorant, the Galapagos martin, a more hen, and blue wing teals. In another little pond, we saw a yellow tail mullet. He’d been trapped in there as larvae, when the waves washed up through rock cracks. And now he had outgrown the pond, but had nowhere to go. And the Park policy of non-interference with the natural process (except when doing things like repopulating tortoises and shooting goats, rats and feral cats) means that tourists will pass by and watch as he eventually expires.

This island was fascinating not for the quantity of life, but rather for its scarcity, and the amazing conditions under which that life appeared.

We motored a bit further north during lunch, to Elizabeth Bay. There, we took out the dinghies for a three-hour ride through the mangroves. In the dark, quiet, mangroves, we found a “tree lion,” (a sea lion lying on a mangrove tree), many Great Pacific sea turtles swimming gracefully underwater, several rays, and penguins. Along with the gentle swish of the paddes, we heard the singing of yellow finches, warblers and great blue herons.

One fun scene was watching a group of blue-footed boobies diving together for fish. As soon as one made the move, all the others followed suit. By cooperating in this way, they gave the fish less time to disperse. And they figure that the waves produced from the first bird diving would bring other things to the surface. They nose dive from a substantial height and it was quite remarkable to see the splashes like bangs of a repeatedly fired gun, then the birds skidding across the water as though they were on waterskis. Above, the pirates of the sky, the large, black frigate birds, loomed ominously, looking for someone to intimidate or steal from.

A little ways out into the ocean stood three red rocks, made of terracotta tuff cone. These rock faces, covered with a thick layer of white guano, were teeming with animal life – penguins (the second smallest penguin in the world and the only one to live in a tropical environment), sea lions, iguanas, blue-footed boobies, flyless cormorants. Out in their own remote corner of the world, it was nice to know that once we leave, they will go on with their existence and their role in promulgating the Galapagos ecosystem.

Galapagos day 7 – Cruise day 2 – Espanola Island

Today was our first full day, and quite a busy one. We started out with a wet landing at Gardner Bay, a beautiful white sand beach lining a bay of teal water. After a stroll along the beach, during which we saw sea lions, lava lizards, marine iguanas, cactus and warbler finches and an oyster catcher, we took a swim, coming very near to the frolicking sea lions. My favorite sighting was of tunikens or annelids. They are similar to an earthworm and live inside of tunnels built on black lava rock, made from sand and mucus excreted from their mouths. They live inside the tunnels and come out to feed. Looking closely at the tunnels, I could see the grains of sand and small rocks that formed them. It was quite impressive.

After a short break, during which the crew prepared us peach juice with ice and an assortment of crackers and cookies, we went snorkeling. Nothing bit me this time, and I had the pleasure of swimming through a school of black, orange and white angelfish. Our guide brought up a starfish from the sea floor for us to examine. It looked black on the sand, but in his hand, it was a bright red. I saw little green sea urchins and a stingray hiding in a cove. While interesting, it still didn’t match the variety and quantity of some other places I’ve snorkeled, such as Belize and the Red Sea.

I left the snorkeling to try out one of the two kayaks we have on boat. I was able to paddle along the coastline of harsh black rock and enjoy the wildlife from a different angle. It was nice to be alone for once, yet have sea lions swimming around and under me, crabs scampering on the rocks, birds going about their activities, and iguanas crawling around. I then paddled myself back to the ship, arriving before the snorkelers.

The food on board is wonderful, healthy, but plentiful, filling and delicious. For lunch the chef served us lasagna with steamed beets in a nice sauce, shredded cabbage in a lemon sauce, canned peach slices and brown tamarind juice. I don’t know whether I’ve ever seen a tamarind. But Juan told us that it has several seeds in a pod and the pulp surrounding the seeds is what is used to make the juice.

After a two-hour siesta, we jetted over in our dinghy to Punta Suarez, a wonderful bird colony. The most populated areas smelled distinctively of guano, a scent of garbage and decomposition. While walking slowly along a 2-mile path, we were able to observe bird life close up. Some of the highlights including watching a juvenile hawk eat a small female iguana she’d recently caught (she had already ingested the brain and was pulling off skin to get the meat further down), watching Nazca boobies feed their young, and watching the marine iguanas squirt water with high concentrations of sat through their nostrils, like a little sneeze.

While Espanola is beautiful and rich with wildlife, it’s unfortunately the most visited island. Throughout the day, there were always a number of cruise ships nearby as well as tour groups ahead of and behind us.

One of the nearby ships was a large cruiser that holds 48 passengers. Apparently, the largest holds almost 100. I’m glad that we have a small boat. Ours holds 16, but we currently have only 13. Our guide, a really educated and high quality guide, said he only wants to work on small boats. Not only do they allow for quicker landings, Juan likes the independence he has a guide with a smaller group, and the ability for everyone to get to know each other better.

In the evening, while waiting for dinner, we watched the sun fall down into the horizon, so quickly we could see it move. Then we watched the sky turn yellow, a beautiful view over the lapis lazuli blue water.

Galapagos day 6 – The cruise begins – North Seymour

Today we began our week-long cruise on the Beluga ship. And at the end of the day, Mark and I are very happy with our choice.

We are on the top of three floors, the only room up here near the sun deck. We have two twin beds that are separated, but it’s better than having bunk beds, which was our other choice at the lower price.

Our companions include an opinionated, well-traveled older British couple, a British human resources and leadership specialist, a proper looking young Irish couple, possibly on honeymoon, a Danish cardiologist in training, an Australian woman who has been traveling for three months, a middle-aged Brazilian couple, and a French couple, one of whom is affiliated with the company who runs this ship. We felt lucky when we found out this travel agent was on board. Because we figured she’d report any problems to whoever is in charge and that the staff would be likely to be on their best behavior.

Taking care of the 13 passengers are 9 staff (an incredible ratio!), all men and all professional and helpful so far. The boat is quite comfortable. We have a beautiful view of the water, a sizeable bathroom, lots of storage space, and a shower with hot water.

Our first stop today was at North Seymour, a small island just north of Baltra, where the airport is located. At the airport, I noticed a plane that said “United States of America.” I wondered what it was. Later I was told that George Bush and his wife were here in the Galapagos for two days. Strange to think I’m cruising the same waters as him. Our international companions on this ship all reacted negatively to Bush when our guide confirmed that he was here in the Galapagos.

“I can’t figure out who voted for him,” the English lady said. “No one I’ve ever met did.”

“It’s going to be tough for him to not believe in evolution after he sees this,” Mark said.

The schedule of events on the ship is nice. It seems to alternate – activity, rest, activity, meal, rest, activity, rest, meal, rest. So we are able to see quite a lot in one day. We also get some exercise. But we actually have more down time than we have in the past few days while we were doing everything independently.

After a very nice lunch of beef with capers, steamed cauliflower, salad, rice and watermelon, we set out for our first excursion – snorkeling off the coast of North Seymour. We went out in two dinghies, small but firm rubber rafts with 15 horsepower motors, then jumped into the water. We saw a white-tailed shark lounging on the bottom of the ocean floor. I hadn’t been too afraid of sharks until our Danish companion, Dirk, (who is also a diver) told us about a Danish man whose arm was bitten by a shark three days ago. He had to be sewn up in Puerto Ayora and flown to Quito.

I had only been in the water a matter of minutes when I felt a sudden stinging on my right hand and my upper lip. I looked and only saw what appeared to be a thin, dark hair. It felt I’d been stung or bitten and those two places pulsed with pain, but I could see neither an attacker nor a mark.

I called out to our guide, Juan. “I think I’ve been stung,” I said.

“It’s probably a jellyfish,” he said. “I got stung too.”

He led me to believe it was no big deal, so I continued on. We saw some striped fish and some bright fish. But the sharks were the best sight. The water was a little murky and the variety and color wasn’t as great as what I’d seen before in places like Belize or the Red Sea. After a while morning, the Brazilian man assumed a shocked looked on his face and began swimming, stricken, towards the dinghy. He’d been stung several times on the back, also by jellyfish. He also hadn’t seen anything.

Juan saw another jellyfish and pushed a tourist out of the way. “There seem to be many more jellyfish than normal,” he said. “If you want to get out of the water, it’s probably a good idea.” He said it was rare for tourists to be stung and that usually they don’t appear in large numbers at this time.

Half the people returned to the dinghies and half continued to snorkel. The dinghy driver kept us entertained by showing us the jellyfish (which did in fact look like a thin, vertical hair, not the more bulbous bodies I’d seen in the U.S.), a red-pouched frigate bird, another bird feeding it’s young, and some sea lions, all alone the shoreline.

After a shower and a rest we returned to the dinghies, which brought us to shore this time. The short path led along the coastline and into the island. But it was so full of wildlife in action that it was among the most impressive encounters with nature I’ve ever had.

We started out crossing paths with sea lions, which lie across the black lava rocks we landed on. We walked on top of volcano barnacles, little creatures that come out at night to feed on organic matter. They live in a hard shell made of silica and calcium carbonate that looks like bubbles in a cauldron of soup atop the black lava rocks. We had close-up views of the fascinating frigate birds. Through sexual selection by females, the male has developed a gigantic red pouch that he puffs up when he wants to demonstrate his good gene quality. Though the bird is only 6-7 pounds, this pouch, when filled with air, can weigh two pounds. It is huge in relation to the rest of its body. He waves his head back and forth, extends his wind and makes a rattling sound. When a female sees that a male can develop a bright and large pouch, and avoid having been captured as prey (since a large red pouch makes them a more obvious target), she is confident that she is selecting good genes for her offspring.

Another attraction there was the blue footed booby, a white and brown bird with bright, pale blue webbed feet. While they mate all year, this is the height of the mating period. So we were able to see many examples of their funny ritual, in which the males lift their feet, one by one, in a type of dance, in order to demonstrate the bright and beautiful color of their feet and thus make themselves attractive to females.

Another highlight was watching the frigate bird feed her young. The baby caws in a persistent begging for food. This imprinted behavior causes the mother to regurgitate her fish and allow the baby to stick it’s beak into her throat to eat it. But she doesn’t do this immediately. First, she needs to look around to see that no other birds are around to steal the fish. Then she needs some time to regurgitate it.

We watched this in process. I thought she was taking much longer than necessary. Of course, the environment was full of birds. But none were in the immediate area. Yet as soon as she brought it up and the baby’s beak entered her mouth to eat it, a frigate bird swooped down and fought with the baby to get the fish. The frigate bird failed and the baby got the fish, although it seemed to choke it down after the fright. The mother squacked a protest at the potential thief, but I don’t think he was ashamed.

The frigate birds lack a preening gland on their backs that, like most other marine birds, would allow them to produce an oil for preening their feathers. Without this, they can’t go into the water because the weight of the water would prevent them from flying. So their method of eating is by stealing. Or by intimidating other birds in flight enough that they will regurgitate the fish, drop it, and the frigate will catch it in mid-air.

Because of the lack of natural predators, the animals on the Galapagos have no fear. We were sometimes just inches away from these animals – sea lions, marine and land iguanas, birds, and they didn’t move. I only got such a sensation of being so close to wildlife during a safari in Tanzania. But then we were within the protection of a jeep. Here we are out right next to the animal. It’s a remarkable experience.

In the evening, after a welcome Baileys and a delicious dinner, Mark and I fell asleep (with our pillows and blankets) on the front deck. The brilliant starry sky rotated above us with the swell of the waves, a live planetarium, complete with shooting stars.