Galapagos Page 2



We pause in a lagoon with the motor off and listen to the sounds of a Galapagos mangrove swamp. Darwin's Finches sing and cluck out of sight, as does a Yellow Warbler. Tiny waves slap against the outside of the zodiac, as our bodies squeak against the rubber on the inside. No one breaks the spell.



We round a corner and a school of diamond rays, floating like ghosts, disappears into the depths. A few reappear, then vanish, only a fleeting glimpse. A small white-tipped reef shark swims into view, and circles around the lagoon.
A pelican dashes itself against the water and surfaces with a fish, just yards from the boat. The bulge of the fish disappears down its gullet.

The moon is set on its side, with the horns turned straight up. The sunset is in deep tropical color, all orange against blue-black clouds, the moon hangs above it all. It is rare that I so quickly engage with a place. Just hours off the plane, I feel all my senses are attuned and at one here.