At the start of this first night watch, the volcanic slope of Isla Isabela was still visible in the moonlit mists on Cerro Azul. Then the drifts of garua drizzle came in and mist and mountain disappeared from view. We are off!

Friday night Santa Cruz was a festival and a celebration, artisanal chocolate in the square and the centennial of the Ecuadoran Navy. The streets were closed to traffic, and traditional dancers in bright clothes lit up the plazas. We met Rick and Candy of Independence at the Santa Cruz brewery, but it was too noisy and crowded for dinner so we moved to some slick three-in-one sushi-grill-pub fare restaurant and sat on the second floor deck. We hailed Robert, of Invictus, as he passed on the street, and he joined us for a beer as we all plotted courses, currents and winds for a passage to the Marquesas.

In the morning we rose at dawn and had our usual Saturday morning pancake breakfast, with some NY State maple syrup. Then we went ashore for final provisioning. We went first to the Mercado Municipal, but a white haired woman in a flowing red robe poked at my backpack, gestured, and exclaimed “Mas grande mercado pro alla- tres quadros.” So as headed east, where she was pointing, and grew doubtful as three blocks later there were only dingy local mini-mercado shops. But there was a flow of people with bags of vegetables headed back, so we kept going, and soon saw the massive tin roof of an acre of farmers market - fruits and vegetables, fowl and fishmongers. Eight oranges for a dollar was a good deal; we bough forty. A dollar a cucumber was less of a deal but we still bought five for the passage. Green tomatoes and bananas will ripen at sea. Four cabbages will keep for a long time. Rick and Candy were there, and Robin shared a taxi-truck back to the pier with them while I made one more stop to return some beer bottles and pick up a frozen chicken.

Our departure inspection was scheduled for 1030. At 1015, several officials in a zodiac were stationed off our stern, but they did not approach, and I did not see Javier on board, so I went back to weighing the stern anchor in preparation for departure. With the stern anchor up, the launch could approach on the starboard side, where our boarding gate is, without fouling the anchor line. But when more officials and Javier arrived in a water taxi, they took the port side, where I had dropped the upper life line to make it accessible to a nimble boat person. The water taxis don't even try to come alongside in the 4 foot roll in Academy Bay - instead, they approach bow first, and drift by, allowing passengers to leap aboard (there is a hand rail on the bow deck of the lancha). Javier and one official leapt aboard and stepped over the lower lifeline. But the second official hesitated and had one foot on our toe rail and another on the lancha deck as the lancha rolled and drifted away. I had to grab her arm to keep her from falling in between the boats, and Javier helped assist her the rest of the way on board.

They did not hold the near dunking against us. The officials went below, took some pictures, commented “esta peceno, muy chico” about our accommodations (really?), gave us some forms to sign and stamp (how I love to use our official ships stamp!), and soon they were one their way and we had our zarpe to leave.

So here we are sailing out of the Galapagos mists and into the open Pacific, saying goodbye to the familiarity of the Americas, where the ATMs in every port so far still spit out US twenties. Good bye:Galapagos! On to Polynesia . . .