Twenty-two years ago, I was a bright-eyed, idealistic university student learning Spanish and biology in Ecuador. As part of the comparative ecology program I was undertaking in this phenomenal country, I had the opportunity to study for eight days in the Galapagos Islands, 600 miles offshore of the mainland, living on a small boat and cruising from island to island.
The experience changed my life. It helped me to realize that I wanted to be warm, and outdoors, and studying my subject first hand on a daily basis. I also realized that I had the opportunity to share my understanding with willing students as a naturalist.
And so, it was a great privilege to return to the islands last month at such a different point in my life, but essentially living out my Galapagos fueled dream of traveling the world’s oceans and sharing my oceanic insights one-by-one.
In a weird coincidence, going through old papers today, I found my notebook from the four months I spent in Ecuador back in 1992. There are some descriptions of the Galapagos Islands in my small, studied handwriting that capture my first impressions of a few islands and some of the wildlife on each. I wish I had more of these notes, but I’ll share what I do have and indeed, had I written this from scratch tonight, instead of using two-decade-old notes; it would still go a lot like this:
From 1992:
Clear water breaking on the rocks at Plaza Sur looks like it belongs in the heart of an aquamarine gemstone. Desert cactus stand like sentinels planted in a red carpet of succulents. A swing of the head and I’m looking at an electric blue bay with organic white beaches and in the distance, long, gently sloping volcanoes. There is little green except for the cactus on top of volcanic rock full of chocolate bar bubbles.
Bright red and orange crabs hang on the astronomically black rocks, next to cobalt blue water.
Frigate birds fly past at eye level as I stand on the cliff’s edge. Struggling against the powerful wind, the birds are nearly stationary and hover with wings spread wide, forked tails wide open, and eyes boring into your own.
Galapagos sea Lions with silken bodies wave through the water like a banner in the wind. The pups, mothers, aunts and other female relatives are close and affectionate with each other. They seem to kiss in greeting and at other times cry out and hide a softly folded face against a jagged volcanic rock in an expression of emotion left open to interpretation.
I swim with sea lions, or as they are known in Spanish; Lobos del Mar – literally ‘sea wolves.’ As they twist around me and float by upside-down without effort, one will swim toward me and at the last moment before impact, somersault away, back-flipping in jest and no doubt enjoying the reaction the behaviors elicit in me.

The canine teeth on this animal explain well the literal translation of their Spanish name “Sea Wolf”
The sea lions lay around ashore looking like hung-over college students on a Sunday morning. It’s 10 am and no one is in any rush to wake up. I watched a pup alone in the surf. I watched the waves break over him and toss him around and there wasn’t anything I could do to help.
The males are huge and get offended when you come too close. They sit up and bark. The noises they all make are incredible, like burps and belches, or like someone saying, “Yuuuukkkk-allagh.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been so at peace. It takes no energy to concentrate my thoughts on the here and now – on the moment.
Saw a huge sea turtle swim by the boat yesterday as we cruised along with me sitting on the roof of the highest deck listening to Enya in my headphones. It was just me, the waves, and the distant islands. (Listening to Enya…it had to be the 90s.)
Last night I jumped off the roof of the boat at anchor. I leapt into the clear, green water and into the night. I could see rays and sea lions swimming all around me in the ring of the ship’s spotlight.
And then in my notes from 22 years ago, I wrote just this:
Vivir en la playa
Live on the beach.
Nada más.
Love your great sensitivity towards nature and wildlife. Your written words and amazing photos allow the rest of us landlubbers to live vicariously through you. It is a true privilege! Those of us frozen in time in New England this winter, especially love reading about your insights! Sandy
Kit, Love the post!
I have a 5th grader that is required to write 3 blogs a week for nearly the entire school year as part of his literacy class. We reviewed your blog together as an example of what a great blog looks like. The lesson learned for my kiddo was mainly about how you can create great imagery without being overly wordy. As we were reading your post we felt like we were next you experiencing the like. I have not commented on any of your posts previously, but I must say that I have enjoyed reading all of them and look forward to the next! Hope it’s not another 25 years before we cross paths again.
All the best, Corey
Thank you Corey for the incredible feedback! I’m flattered and honored that you’ve used my blog in such a great way — as a teaching tool. It was trial and error for me to see what works and if you look at my early posts, there’s WAY too much text. But I figured it out and love the balance now, so it’s nice to know that you picked up on that as well. Happy blogging!!! And yes, I hope we can get together again before another 25 years rolls by!
Always find the blog really interesting – these images today are particuarly stunning – almost feel like I am there and not in chilly Scotland waiting for springs return! Cheers!
The sensitivity and shear love of life that radiates from your carefully chosen words transports me to where you are. It allows me to walk with you . To see through your eyes . To smile at your discoveries. My beloved niece…what joy you bring to this world of mine!