Isla Pan de Azucar, Chile
After a full day in and around Coquimbo yesterday and the preceding travel days, our morning at sea offered a needed time of reflection and relaxation before the next leg of our journey along the west coast of South America. We took in a leisurely breakfast before gathering in the lounge for an enthralling presentation from one of National Geographic’s Explorers in Residence, Johan Reinhard, on his high-altitude archaeology in the Andes; a fascinating subject in it’s own right, but made all the better by Johan’s first-hand, expert experiences in the field. His presentation took us right into lunch and allowed the ship to position itself at anchor just off the northern shores of Isla Pan de Azucar, a small rock-strewn island just under a kilometer from the Chilean mainland. The island is part of the larger national park under the same name and represents a relatively recent endeavor by the Chilean government to protect some needed natural corridors from the Pacific coastline up into the Andes. This habitat offers some important breeding grounds for a variety of sea birds along the coast, plus includes some 45,000 hectares of natural habitat for the pumas, culpeo foxes, and Andean condors, among others, that live further inland. As we kayaked and Zodiac-cruised along the island’s shores, we were delighted by the volume of life on this small bit of mostly barren rock.
The endangered Humboldt penguin colony seemed to be doing quite well, as scores of this year’s chicks could be seen amongst the boulders in the last stages of their molt. Every so often, a raft of adult penguins would pop up from the depths below near the Zodiac only to disappear a moment later, “flying” off beneath the waves to a more secluded location; for these birds are known for being quite shy around humans. The penguins were not the lone representatives of the avian kingdom, however, for the island is a bird lover’s paradise teeming with Chilean pelicans; red-legged, Guanay, and neo-tropic cormorants; turkey vultures: and swarms of Peruvian boobies. And though there are no terrestrial mammals present on the island, the surge-filled tidal zone provides the ideal habitat for the elusive and highly threatened marine otter. This small otter is relatively new to the marine environment and doesn’t yet have the bulk of its North Pacific cousin, the sea otter. As a result, it can only stay in the water for a few hours a day. It is protected under Chilean law, but local fisherman still view the animal as a nuisance, and its numbers are unfortunately still on the decline. Some of us were fortunate to catch a few glimpses of one swimming in the heavy surf on a feeding foray. Much easier to spot, however, and by far the largest creatures to be found around the island, are the South American sea lion bulls that use the island for a little recuperation between dives and to catch the afternoon sun.
Until the mid-90s, Chile allowed an annual hunt of around 5,000 of these striking pinnipeds until international pressure persuaded the government to issue a moratorium on the yearly event. Their numbers have since stabilized somewhat on the west coast of South America, but over in the eastern extent of their range, the Falkland Islands, their numbers continue to drop to less than 2% of their original population likely due to the high volume of commercial fishing in that area. Most of the animals showed little interest in our little black boats as we cruised by, but a few of the loafers, like the inquisitive young bull seen here, did lift their heads form their naps to give us an excellent look at the thick, scruffy mane for which they are named. All in all, we felt very privileged to have had the opportunity to experience this seldom visited park, which provided all of us with a first hand natural history experience to go along with our voyage through the cultural history of this part of the world.
After a full day in and around Coquimbo yesterday and the preceding travel days, our morning at sea offered a needed time of reflection and relaxation before the next leg of our journey along the west coast of South America. We took in a leisurely breakfast before gathering in the lounge for an enthralling presentation from one of National Geographic’s Explorers in Residence, Johan Reinhard, on his high-altitude archaeology in the Andes; a fascinating subject in it’s own right, but made all the better by Johan’s first-hand, expert experiences in the field. His presentation took us right into lunch and allowed the ship to position itself at anchor just off the northern shores of Isla Pan de Azucar, a small rock-strewn island just under a kilometer from the Chilean mainland. The island is part of the larger national park under the same name and represents a relatively recent endeavor by the Chilean government to protect some needed natural corridors from the Pacific coastline up into the Andes. This habitat offers some important breeding grounds for a variety of sea birds along the coast, plus includes some 45,000 hectares of natural habitat for the pumas, culpeo foxes, and Andean condors, among others, that live further inland. As we kayaked and Zodiac-cruised along the island’s shores, we were delighted by the volume of life on this small bit of mostly barren rock.
The endangered Humboldt penguin colony seemed to be doing quite well, as scores of this year’s chicks could be seen amongst the boulders in the last stages of their molt. Every so often, a raft of adult penguins would pop up from the depths below near the Zodiac only to disappear a moment later, “flying” off beneath the waves to a more secluded location; for these birds are known for being quite shy around humans. The penguins were not the lone representatives of the avian kingdom, however, for the island is a bird lover’s paradise teeming with Chilean pelicans; red-legged, Guanay, and neo-tropic cormorants; turkey vultures: and swarms of Peruvian boobies. And though there are no terrestrial mammals present on the island, the surge-filled tidal zone provides the ideal habitat for the elusive and highly threatened marine otter. This small otter is relatively new to the marine environment and doesn’t yet have the bulk of its North Pacific cousin, the sea otter. As a result, it can only stay in the water for a few hours a day. It is protected under Chilean law, but local fisherman still view the animal as a nuisance, and its numbers are unfortunately still on the decline. Some of us were fortunate to catch a few glimpses of one swimming in the heavy surf on a feeding foray. Much easier to spot, however, and by far the largest creatures to be found around the island, are the South American sea lion bulls that use the island for a little recuperation between dives and to catch the afternoon sun.
Until the mid-90s, Chile allowed an annual hunt of around 5,000 of these striking pinnipeds until international pressure persuaded the government to issue a moratorium on the yearly event. Their numbers have since stabilized somewhat on the west coast of South America, but over in the eastern extent of their range, the Falkland Islands, their numbers continue to drop to less than 2% of their original population likely due to the high volume of commercial fishing in that area. Most of the animals showed little interest in our little black boats as we cruised by, but a few of the loafers, like the inquisitive young bull seen here, did lift their heads form their naps to give us an excellent look at the thick, scruffy mane for which they are named. All in all, we felt very privileged to have had the opportunity to experience this seldom visited park, which provided all of us with a first hand natural history experience to go along with our voyage through the cultural history of this part of the world.
