Bartholome Island
Our week on board is rolling to a close, yet there were two full visits to absorb. In the morning we hiked up the small volcanic island of Bartholome (or “Bartolomé” in Spanish) as an optional early morning visit, pre-breakfast. One set of us decided to take the “express walk”, and literally didn’t stop until we reached the top, 359 ft above sea- level. Magnificent view, recognized already by many, as it is one of the most well-photographed locations in the archipelago. A demonic landscape lay below us, with little or no vegetation visible and short, stubby volcanic spatter cones interspersed with dry red-brown ash forming cinder and tuff. Down beneath us sat our home, the M.S. Polaris, surrounded by blue, calm but cool waters. No wonder the penguins feel at home here (T-shirts under wetsuits are a great combo by the way, and it has been suggested that wool socks to wear with flippers wouldn’t be bad either. At least until December when things should be warming up a bit). We returned hungry after dealing (and very well, mind you) with the 370 plus steps it takes to get to the top.
After a breakfast on the teak deck, dune walkers hiked over a steep sand dune to the southern beach of the island, and numerous white-tipped reef sharks were seen in the shallows…undoubtedly waiting for a case of mistaken interpretation by the uppermost “sentinel” turtle hatchling. Sometimes these low, cloudy days and low temperatures have the clutch thinking nightfall has already occurred, and therein lies their fatal mistake. Frigates circle in hopes of these kind of mistakes.
This morning, however, was benign. Penguins flitted. Sea lions pirouetted. Frigates soared. Mockingbirds chattered.
Our week on board is rolling to a close, yet there were two full visits to absorb. In the morning we hiked up the small volcanic island of Bartholome (or “Bartolomé” in Spanish) as an optional early morning visit, pre-breakfast. One set of us decided to take the “express walk”, and literally didn’t stop until we reached the top, 359 ft above sea- level. Magnificent view, recognized already by many, as it is one of the most well-photographed locations in the archipelago. A demonic landscape lay below us, with little or no vegetation visible and short, stubby volcanic spatter cones interspersed with dry red-brown ash forming cinder and tuff. Down beneath us sat our home, the M.S. Polaris, surrounded by blue, calm but cool waters. No wonder the penguins feel at home here (T-shirts under wetsuits are a great combo by the way, and it has been suggested that wool socks to wear with flippers wouldn’t be bad either. At least until December when things should be warming up a bit). We returned hungry after dealing (and very well, mind you) with the 370 plus steps it takes to get to the top.
After a breakfast on the teak deck, dune walkers hiked over a steep sand dune to the southern beach of the island, and numerous white-tipped reef sharks were seen in the shallows…undoubtedly waiting for a case of mistaken interpretation by the uppermost “sentinel” turtle hatchling. Sometimes these low, cloudy days and low temperatures have the clutch thinking nightfall has already occurred, and therein lies their fatal mistake. Frigates circle in hopes of these kind of mistakes.
This morning, however, was benign. Penguins flitted. Sea lions pirouetted. Frigates soared. Mockingbirds chattered.
