Day eleven, or the day that half of the group was brutally ripped away from me. After a blissfully calm evening we awoke to what was either the calm and soothing sounds of acoustic guitar or else a nightmare of muzak, depending on who was asked. Heading out on deck, a group of us stood on the bow with coffee in hand while we circumnavigated Daphne Major and Greg told of us of how the Grants carried out their study of finches on the island. Things got considerably livelier once we anchored in Baltra and three large Galapagos sharks appeared and circled the boat for almost an hour. Unofficially Enrique may have baited a rope with some old fish to lure the sharks in closer, while Aaron tried to bring them in closer using a broom and a water pistol (I would pay so much money to know what he was thinking) but neither myself nor anyone else aboard would know anything about that.
The scene at the airport was a bit traumatic as it finally dawned on me that half of my friends were leaving. JB made things interesting by sneaking out onto the tarmac to look at the planes and was later escorted back by security, but otherwise it was a fairly uneventful departure. The remaining nine of us arrived in town, ate a quick lunch, and then immediately fell asleep before reconvening for drinks in the evening. Julie leaves tomorrow, so that’s one more goodbye, while the rest of us have a couple of days of scuba still to look forward to.