Our Galápagos adventure was aboard the National Geographic Endeavor ll, a small cruise ship that graciously accommodated the eighty-eight passengers and a crew of sixty-seven. Like all cruise ships, it was a floating hotel with cabins, a dining room, lounge, library, and an open deck on top. Also aboard were eight Zodiac landing crafts, a flotilla of double kayaks, a dozen paddle boards, and a glass-bottom boat.
So from that one paragraph, you might rightly guess that this was an active vacation. Our daily schedules were delivered to our rooms the day before, in the late afternoon, and there was a “what to expect tomorrow” briefing every evening before dinner.
My father and I participated in every activity that was offered. Well, my dad had to skip paddle boarding because he had a bandage on his entire right shin that the shipboard physician told him to keep dry.
The Endeavor ll would sail mostly at night, taking us to a different island while we passengers were gently rocked to sleep. All of the excursions were then launched from the ship via Zodiacs, big rubber rafts with an outboard motor. Each Zodiac held twelve passengers, the operator, and a naturalist.
Here is the routine for a snorkeling outing: The expedition leader would announce via intercom that we would be disembarking for snorkeling in fifteen minutes. We would then change into our bathing suits and a rash guard (a long sleeve top meant to add another layer of protection against the sun, cool water temperatures, and jellyfish encounters) and apply sunscreen. We then went to the wet-deck and donned our wetsuits and grabbed our gear bag of fins, mask and snorkel, then walked down a flight of outdoor stairs to wait in the holding area as the Zodiacs were loaded. The expedition leader let twelve passengers and a naturalist at a time go down another flight of stairs to a waiting Zodiac. Using a forearm-to-forearm grasp with the naturalist and the boat operator, we inelegantly stepped into the small boat. Then we were off, and another set of twelve guests loaded onto the next waiting Zodiac.
This routine meant that we were with a different set of passengers and had a different naturalist with each outing. On the actual excursion, we were to stay with our group at all times and not stray. While we snorkeled, our Zodiacs stayed nearby in case someone wanted to get out of the water earlier than the allotted time.
On return to the mothership, we peeled off our wetsuits, rinsed them and our equipment in a tank of clear water, and then hung them back up. We then headed to our room through chilly corridors, rinsed out our bathing suits, then returned to the wet deck to use the “spinners” to wring out the excess water.
As regimented as this sounds, we never felt rushed or prodded. All of the excursions were completely optional. For those who didn’t want to snorkel, the glass bottomed boat offered “dry snorkeling.”
There were breaks of fifteen to thirty minutes here and there between activities and meals. I chose to use that time to journal what I had seen and done. My father napped.
Some people like relaxing vacations. Others prefer to be active. When I was working, a mix of the two was my preference. Now that I’m retired, I most often choose to be adventurous.
While I generally enjoy planning my vacations, I absolutely was not in charge of this one on a day-to-day basis. And while I do like surprises, of the good variety, being told what the following day entailed was comforting. We were in uncharted waters (pun intended), so having a solid routine helped ease us into our new surroundings and activities. It was all seamless. By giving us the security of advance knowledge of the schedule, but without revealing exactly what we would be seeing, we could be surprised by the environments and creatures we encountered. We weren’t trying to remember a schedule, or the steps to take, we were shepherded. The efficiency of the ship and its crew gave us the time and space to marvel.
And what were those marvels? Stay tuned…
(You may wish to reread two previous blog posts that relate here. In this one, I explain how a routine and a set schedule can provide a type of comfort to a person living with dementia. In another one, I compare one of my travels to the adventure of caregiving.)