Since returning from Isabela, we have struck a nice balance betweeen taking care of boat-related business and enjoying Puerto Ayora. I took Dallas up the mast on Sunday afternoon so he could assess the rigging, and he was pleased that everything was still in place and seemed to be secure. That night we found a restaurant that had the NBA finals on TV (with Spanish commentators). Dallas has been a Lakers fan for years (long before we moved to L.A.), so I was glad that he was able to see them clinch the championship. I was also glad to have the chance to skype with my parents that night. I am going to miss being able to see them as well as hear their voice when we are in the technologically primitive Marquesas Islands.

My parents as captured on skype

After a nice pancake breakfast that Tiff prepared on Monday morning, Dallas changed the oil on both engines. We then headed in for an afternoon at the beach. We thought we were taking a taxi to Tortuga Bay, but the taxi driver informed us that it was necessary to walk for 40 minutes. We unloaded our surfboard, snorkeling gear, backpacks, etc. and started walking. Despite the gear and the bright sun (it was the first clear day since we arrived here), it was a pleasant walk on a paved trail through the forest of cacti and deciduous trees. The beach was beautiful, and Dallas, Tiff, and I all took turns on the surfboard. The waves were great in terms of their height and frequency, but they closed out pretty quickly, so there wasn’t much time to try to stand up. I’m sure that experienced surfers could have handled it, but we are as novice as they come. Dallas seemed on the cusp of getting up, though, and I am determined to get there soon as well. After surfing we walked down to the bay, which was very peaceful but very murky, so we could have left the snorkeling gear on the boat. Some others that were just leaving told us that they had seen a big ray there, but I don’t think I would have seen anything in that green water until it brushed up against me.

Our view upon arriving

Dallas catches a wave

Marine iguana checking out the board

Monday night was girls’ night out. Tiff had been craving sushi, which doesn’t appeal to the Clow brothers but definitely appeals to me. We went to a nice place overlooking Academy Bay where the boat is anchored. While the sushi was not the best we’d ever had, it served to satisfy the cravings. Afterward we stopped at a little place called Cafe Limon where we could get a cheap drink among both locals and tourists and take up space on the dance floor. They played a nice mix of salsa and American dance music. Naturally we had some unsolicited conversations with a few friendly Argentinian and Ecuadorian men. You might think that the fact that Tiff and I do not speak Spanish might have deterred them, but think again. They just kept talking, and eventually we’d understand a key word that would help them to communicate to us their occupation, for example. It was remniscent of the game show where you can say anything except the words you want to convey, and Tiff and I were pretty amused.

I did learn one word that I really like. It turns out that “Pachamama” is not just the name of a restaurant in Kansas where my best friend works but is a term used by the indigenous peoples of the Andes to mean Mother Earth. One of the guys who was born and raised in the Galapagos (he’s one of the endemic species, LOL) used this word several times, and Dallas and I saw it on a mural yesterday. Pachamama is revered on these islands.

Yesterday we went about the business of collecting water and diesel for the 3,000 mile journey to the Marquesas Islands. This going to be the longest passage of the whole circumnavigation, and thus it requires that we are all stocked up. Typically this is no big deal–we just pull up to a dock, plug in the fuel/water hoses, and go. However, this time we have had to supply using jerry jugs. For water, we took our jugs to and from shore using the water taxi, got them filled at the local desalinization plant, and carried them three blocks to the water taxi dock. We tried to do the same for fuel by taking our jugs in a taxi to the gas station but were told by the attendant that we would have to get a diesel permit from the port captain (i.e., pay more money since we are tourists). We had some forewarning that this would occur but were trying to get around it. Oh well.

Transferring jugs from the water taxi

Today we will take care of final provisioning and savor our last minutes of internet. I have been following the situation in Iran since their presidential election and will be interested to see how that plays out, although we probably will not read about it again until we get to the Marquesas in 3+ weeks! That also means that we may not get back to those of you who email us for a while, but keep those emails coming anyway! We love to hear from you!