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Rainbowed Sea Tours

Summer 1998 Newsletter

El Niño, El Schmiño

The news was grim

     We had heard the rumors and horror stories about what El Niño was doing to the Galapagos.  Weather event of the century.  Sharks all gone. Everything dead or dying.  An ecological disaster of Biblical proportions.  And so forth.  It was scary!  But we've been around long enough to take such reports with a grain of salt.  Besides, we were committed to the boat, the crew and our guests, not to mention the fact that we wanted to see for ourselves what was really going on in our favorite dive destination on earth.  We've always been incredibly lucky in Galapagos.  Would our luck hold?
 

Where were the sea lions?

     Flying from Quito into Guayaquil on our way to Galapagos, it was clear that something dramatic was affecting Ecuador.  Guayaquil appeared half underwater from rain swollen rivers.  Upon our arrival in the Galapagos, we were struck by how lush and green the islands were... more evidence of heavy rains.  The check-out dive revealed the heart of El Niño: the water temperature was in the mid-80's.  The abundant sea lions traditionally at our check-out spot were nearly absent.  My confidence began to waiver.  Then our first day's dive site lacked the drama of previous years.  The towering schools of fish, the Galapagos sharks, the rays were nowhere to be found.  Warm, clear water stretched down past 130 ft. I repacked the drysuit I unpacked only the day before.  This water was warmer than the Solomon Islands!
 

Natural selection in action

     In the afternoon a day later we found ourselves at one of our favorite land visit sites,  approaching the beach by inflatable boat. The normal cacophony of sea lions was replaced by an ominous silence.  No young pups cavorted alongside as we motored in.  Once ashore, the aroma of dead sea lions wafted through the air.  Thick vegetation choked the trails, and as we worked our way across the island, we realized many of the paths were under 6" of water.  The boobies had no dry place to nest, and most had left the island altogether.  Gee, day two, for me, this Galapagos season.  Only 28 more to go.  I was thrilled by the prospect.
 

     But Galapagos after all is the world's premier showcase of natural selection. If we weren't destined to see all we came for, it was apparent we would see how survival of the fitness bolsters the gene pool. The weak would not survive this weather cycle. The strong would live to breed another day.  A further fascinating facet of nature began to emerge as the days progressed. It is said that nature abhors a vacuum. And when some species decline in numbers, others come to fill the void. The diving we were experiencing could hardly be considered bad, but it was different in many ways. Yes, huge clouds of creole fish still filled the water column.  There were still impressive numbers of eagle rays around. But now we were also having above average manta ray encounters, far more than usual.  Huge mantas, to boot. Big-eyed jacks abounded, and we found ourselves engulfed in some massive schools.  As we worked our way further north, at last we tasted that most delicious of all treats -- our first glimpse of an enormous swarm of hammerheads.  They were deep, to be sure, and we weren't yet getting those ``in your face" encounters we hoped for.  But they were here, in spite of the dire predictions of many!  Perhaps it was just a matter of time and patience.

     At last we hit the Northern Islands, full of anticipation and hope.  At Wolf we found some very big Galapagos sharks.  We continued to be teased by hammerhead sightings, but found them to be noticeably far offshore, in the open water.  This meant we couldn't stay hidden within the large rocks of the sloping reef,  holding our breath as the schools approached, only to emerge at the last possible moment for a clear shot.  In the open water, there is no place to stay hidden, and the sharks can see you coming from a mile away.  So while we knew the hammerheads were out there, and we knew the numbers were big, getting close was a problem under these conditions.  Complicating the dilemma was the fact that on average, the schools were deeper than normal.  80 ft. to 120 ft. seemed to be common, and while that isn't extreme in itself, it did rather limit the time we could spend with them.
 

Plenty of hammerheads, if you knew where to look

     We always like to stress to our guests that, while the hammerheads may be the highlight of Galapagos diving in many people's minds, there is a wealth of marine life experiences to be had and appreciated here, with or without hammerheads.  To use the ``hammerhead count" as the only yardstick to measure the success of a dive, is to deny oneself countless extraordinary underwater experiences.  I had one dive with several dozen big Galapagos sharks, three silky sharks, a pod of dolphin, several turtles, a humungo school of yellowfin tuna, plus two sailfish, one of which had its raised dorsal fin in full display. Oh yes, I also saw a school of hundreds of hammerheads, yet the highlight of my dive was all the other stuff I ran into. To be able to experience such a lavish tapestry of exciting pelagic animals on a single dive is what makes Galapagos diving so extraordinary. Even in this El Niño year, we were already finding a wealth of dramatic marine life undreamed of in most destinations.  The mix was a bit different than normal, but there was no lack of magnificent diving.  And the most important point is this: because an individual or a group does not see a particular animal or school of animals, does not mean they are not there. More often it means the divers simply do not know how to find them.  The many reports of no hammerheads were most likely the result of those who simply didn't know where to look. With underwater visibility limited to 200 ft. or less even in the clearest waters, a minute shift in schooling pattern may place a gigantic school of hammerheads out of visual range.  While a hammerhead can cover this distance in a few seconds, a diver, not seeing them in the usual places, goes away reporting that ``there are no sharks, El Niño has driven them away."  So... if a hammerhead swims through the open ocean and no diver is there to see it, did it exist?  (Answer: yep.)

     From our experiences on trip #1 of this season, we were able to get a better fix on where the action was to be found. When we began our second tour, we wasted little time migrating to the areas of greatest probability.  A few stops in the Central Islands to take advantage of schooling eagle rays, abundant mantas, and dizzying schools of big-eyed jacks also produced several decent hammerhead and Galapagos shark encounters, enough to thoroughly whet our appetites for bigger things to come. Still, we tempered our expectations. After all, this was an El Niño year.

     The word for each day was ``blue".  Blue water.  The void.  And there we went. Scattering excitedly like flushed quail, we began exploring a realm with no landmarks, no signposts, only liquid blue space punctuated by drifting galaxies of densely packed life, or the random solitary voyagers.

     We grew bolder in our excursions, swimming straight out to sea only to be gathered by the currents and carried away by a will not our own.  Somehow the inflatable boat drivers would find us at the end of each dive, though we were sprinkled over countless acres of the ocean's surface.

Call of the blue!

     And what astounding experiences we were having during our innerspace walks!  Utterly stupendous hammerhead schools were found, stretching for miles. A year ago, thinking we had hit the mother lode of all time, I estimated the hammerhead schools in Galapagos at 10,000 or more.  This year, we found the ``more".  One school was so large that during our safety stop we swam for 5 to 10 minutes across the width of this living river 70 ft. beneath us, and never did reach the far bank.  If we had schools of 10,000 last season, they were 20,000 this season.  But in truth, there is no possible way to accurately estimate the numbers.  At any given time, we could only see a tiny fraction of a given school. Divers picked up miles apart would all report being in enormous schools for their entire dive. Was this one incomprehensible massing of hammerheads, or many different schools cruising sequentially through the same territory.  We'll never know.  All this being said, it has to be noted that the photo opportunities continued to be marginal because of our inability to remain hidden from view in the open sea. Thus, the real close encounters were few and far between. Yet we were seeing incredible numbers on every single dive, and this spectacle made up for a lack of captured images.

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     Silky sharks, not common Galapagos visitors in normal times, were sighted with regularity. We also began having exceptional luck with Galapagos sharks closer to the reef.  Dolphin were everywhere, and on one memorable dive, several in our group had a dozen or more bottlenose dolphin spend over 20  minutes cavorting all around them.  Reports of a whale shark at Darwin Island began filtering in, but no sooner than the whale shark itself.  While not everybody saw it (including me), a number of our guests became the chosen ones.  The schools of yellowfin tuna were as exciting to me as anything.  Never before anywhere I have seen so many, so often.  One hundred pounds each to over twice that figure, of solid muscle, speed, and determination, their yellow dorsal and anal fins flowing gracefully back as they speed through the blue, perhaps the fastest fish in all the seas.  A school of smaller bonito would rotate slowly around and beneath us forming a mirrored parabolic bowl, as if we were the centerpiece of a trophy, then peel off in an undulating silver ribbon. One sensed, as the days progressed, that there was a rising energy, that the natural forces molding the character of the ocean were flexing and stretching, gathering strength.

Marlin magic

Bottom? What bottom?

     Amidst a deluge of rainbow runners, creole fish, blue spotted jacks, wahoo, tuna, and amberjack, a large dark shape came flashing by.  Focusing then refocusing,  my mind at last assimilated the vaguely familiar form, and I shouted frantically through my regulator to my dive buddy as I pointed wildly.  A huge Pacific blue marlin, 600 pounds or more, shot before us, turned sharply, and rocketed out of view.  A fleeting and tantalizing glimpse of one of the most magnificent and rare sights in the ocean.  But this encounter did not exist in a vacuum of activity, for the same dive included dolphin, a mobula ray, and yet another huge school of big eyed jacks.  There were also skipjack tuna, snapper and several types of mackerel congregating in a kind of open ocean living bouillabaisse.  Thank goodness for Nitrox, as we begged our computers for just a little more bottom time.
 

     We spent many consecutive days in the Northern Islands, and dive after dive we reveled in one pelagic pageant after another. Many dives were truly spectacular, some merely amazing, and none were boring.  I can barely remember seeing the bottom, and when we did, it wasn't for long. It was more like a runway, a necessary connection with the ground serving to launch us into yet another soaring adventure, to be returned to only reluctantly. And there the metaphor ends, for often we were plucked out of nowhere, bobbing in the small waves with broad grins on our faces amused at where we found ourselves upon surfacing, and both amazed and relieved one more time that our eagle-eyed pangeras would spot us so quickly.  Our diving habits might not have passed muster with the standard-bearers of current diving prudence, but the price of such experiences is often a calculated level of reasonable risk, whether climbing a mountain or diving in the sea.
 

     When our time was up, and our journey back to port began, I knew I was not returning with my best images ever from Galapagos, but the sights, the emotions, and the fresh variety of experiences served up by nature in this season of wonders were as satisfying as any previous Galapagos experience. 

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That we were able to enjoy 86 degree water and clear visibility for a month, allowed us a level of creature comfort quite unusual to this most unique of all diving destinations.  Thinking of the many Chicken Little reports that we'd heard prior to our visit, I could only say to myself, ``El Niño, El Shimño!"
 

New Galapagos Photo Pro Tours for the Year 2000!

     2000? What happened to 1999?  You've got us psyched up, and now we have to wait `till 2000 to go with you?  Besides, isn't 2000 the end of the world or something? And what is a Photo Pro Tour?

     Okay, settle down.  Let me explain.  Firstly, 1999 will mark the first year of our ``downsizing", our new reduced tour schedule announced in our last newsletter.  That means we can't do every program in consecutive years, so we will not return to Galapagos until 2000 as a result. As for the end of the world, I know nothing about it.  My only hope for is that the IRS loses our file when the computers melt down!

Photo Pro Tours

     Regarding the new fangled Photo Pro Tours, here's the deal: you don't have to be a photo pro to join us.  You don't even have to be a photographer, or even like photographs for that matter.  However, all our future Galapagos programs will be reconfigured exclusively for the special needs of the serious photographer, and we will execute all itinerary decisions based on this criteria.

     A pro knows only too well that great pictures are not consistently made by taking one or two rolls of a subject, waltzing in one day and leaving the next.  Great shots, particularly when dealing with natural subjects, result from exceptional patience and perseverance.  A few dives are not enough to assure the perfect image.  Indeed, the great nature photographers may spend weeks, months or years in the field to get those legendary photos. Additionally, when the action is happening at one location, it makes little sense from the serious photographer's point of view to leave for another dive spot, just for a change in scenery or because an itinerary calls for a new island. Our Photo Pro Tours will be structured for the sole purpose of obtaining the best possible photo results under the prevailing conditions as we find them, without regard to covering the most extensive itinerary or necessarily offering the most variety.  If we have great pelagic action at a given spot for instance, we will stay there not one or two days, but possibly many days at a time.  Perhaps the whole trip, who knows.  Simply put, this is how it is done.  This is how the great photos are made.  The pros know this, and this is what often separates the pros from amateurs:  the patience and dedication to get it right.

     As it turns out, our experience in Galapagos is very extensive, spanning some 18 years.  This gives us a body of knowledge and experience matched by very, very few.  While every itinerary decision we make will not necessarily be successful, as nature can't be absolutely predicted, our decisions are at least based on well educated guesses.  In short, good decisions can have poor results, and often do, but that does not mean the decision was bad.  Conversely, bad decisions can have good results, for that is the nature of luck. But like a tourist in Las Vegas making wild and foolish bets, every now and then they will win big, but over the long run they will go broke.  Whereas, an educated gambler will play the odds wisely, and are far more likely to come out ahead over the long stretch.

     What am I getting at?  Simply this: our Photo Pro Tours will have a flexible itinerary that will be decided upon solely by us, based on our professional estimate of the best photo opportunities and 18 years of experience diving these waters.  As guests are quite unlikely to have a similar degree of experience in the Galapagos, their ability to make equally educated decisions must be assumed to be less.  Usually much less.  Therefore, no future itinerary decisions will be the result of a popular vote.  If you choose to sign up for one of these Photo Pro Tours, be prepared to participate in a program designed to produce the best photographic results feasible, working the way the pros do, at the possible expense of the most diverse itinerary. We still intend to include some land tours, but may skip them altogether if the diving warrants.  We will visit a wide variety of dive sites, but will not hesitate to spend extensive amounts of time whenever and wherever we feel we have found ourselves in unique situation.
 

     This new approach is not to be critical of those who wish to cover as much territory as possible, or who get bored even with hoards of hammerheads and Galapagos sharks. Those interests just happen to be at odds with the goals of the serious nature photographer, so the Photo Pro Tours are simply a way to clarify up front what our priorities will be. Get the picture?  Well, you will if you sign up for one of these tours!

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Copyright © 2000 by Chris Newbert and Birgitte Wilms

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