Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Each was lost in his own thoughts. I thought about the sweet girl I had met at the dis-
cotheque. She had been so young and innocent and open-hearted. It was as well we were
leaving; I could have fallen in love with her so easily. I thought about some of the char-
acters we had met. I was glad to have visited these islands; we were richer for the exper-
ience. I was happy to know that somewhere in this world, land and sea creatures were in
abundance and were being treated with respect and dignity. The great tortoises weren't be-
ing thrown down below in some stifling ship's hold any more. Penguins and iguanas wer-
en't being shot at for target practice, and visitors came from far and wide to enjoy these
creatures, as it should be. I should like to spend more time exploring these islands, but
without the responsibilities of a yacht and with the ability to get from one island to the
other without spending days in a sea beset with currents and light airs.
The pilot book strongly recommended that we head south to around two degrees and then,
using the current, sail east to more windy conditions. It sounded as though we would be
going out of our way, but we respected the advice and headed down south.
We motor sailed for a couple of hours and watched as Santa Cruz shrunk on the receding
horizon. The big island of Isabella was visible long after we lost sight of all the others, for
several days in fact. Was it a testament to how big the island was, or how slowly we were
traveling? A little of both, I think.
There was still every evidence of prolific marine life: noticeably the clouds of birds that
wheeled about diving for fish or sitting on the water in large flocks. They always paddled
away as we approached or flew off squawking in protest. We noticed one, however, that
did not get out of the boat's path. It made a half-hearted attempt to flap off, but we could
tell it was injured.
“Slow down, I think it's broken its wing or something,” said Gavin, leaning out to see. As
we passed, we could see that it had broken its wing, and Gavin insisted on going back.
“We must set it in a splint.”
“I don't know,” I protested. “We can't just stop willy nilly for every injured animal we see.”
“Yes, but we're not going very fast, and it won't take long.”
I reluctantly agreed and turned the boat around in a big circle. We slowed down enough
for Gavin to reach out with the boathook and gently drag it towards us. Lying down on the
deck, he leaned out and down and managed to grab a hold of the bird that, surprisingly,
came aboard without a fuss. It was exhausted and probably starving. “Shame, the poor old
thing was probably almost ready to die.” He went below to get some splint material, and I
got Déjà vu sailing slowly ahead again.
