When we awoke on the seventh day (this is all sounding rather Biblical), the island of Rabida was outside our cabin, with red rock, sea lions and pelicans. We set off in the panga at 8am as usual and sailed around the coast. All our usual animal, vegetable and mineral friends were there, ready to pose for us: blue-footed boobies, a lava heron, holy stick, prickly pear, fur seals and a big pile of marine iguanas on a rock, who took a moment out of their busy schedules to spit into the water.

When we came into shore, Galapagos suddenly decided to show us who was boss with a big wave that came over the end of the panga. A few people got wet bums and Glynn nearly lost his sandal to the Pacific. I had my wettest landing of the trip as Enriqué dumped me into ankle-deep water as the panga followed him up the shore.

Most of the group then helped Enriqué and Luis to get the panga back into the water. Chris, Celestine and I instead retreated further up the beach to take photos. Luis was then stuck with trying to get back into the panga from the water.

The beach on which we landed (with gusto) was red sand, like ground up clinker from our old Parkray fire at home. We saw lava lizards and our first fur seals. Ghost crabs were scurrying across the sand from hole to hole in a ridiculous fashion. I could have watched (and giggled at) them for hours.

We left the beach, stopping at a lagoon, which sea lions use as their final resting place. Further on, up a rocky red path between holy stick and prickly pears, we stopped here and there to admire the views, take photos, or to just have a breather. Enriqué took photos of me and Suzy with our cameras. Mine first - “say cheese”, he called. He took Suzy’s camera, we smiled and he called “say booby!”, making us laugh.

Further along our walk I saw a pretty flower and stopped to photograph it. Just as a bee flew into the shot, Enriqué named the flower for us, “Galapagos morning glory … with a Galapagos bee.”

Back at the beach we waited for the panga, dabbling our bare toes in the ocean. Suzy and I share a love for interesting rocks (she once brought a big blue rock back from a Greek beach for me - and then cycled 3 miles from her house to mine, carrying it on her back in her rucksack) and took photos of our feet framing a big lump of red lava rock that Suzy had found in the water. The waves were not on our side and kept trying to cover the rock and our toes with sand - and get my shorts wet too if at all possible. Not to be defeated, Suzy kicked the rock further and further up shore so I could get the shot without drowning.

When the panga arrived, it was another fight to get back into it and to then get it afloat again. A sailor’s delight, that beach. Much like me.

After lunch we headed to Bartolomé and were greeted by some Galapagos penguins on rocks near the shore. We had a dry landing and almost immediately joined a path that filled my sandals with fine grey grit. Enriqué told us that we were going to climb the mountain that lay ahead. Great. This was the hottest day of our trip so far. And that mountain looked kinda steep.

There was a wooden walkway up to the peak, with gaps between the planks just perfect for catching the toes of my sandals. The walkway turned into steps and I ploughed on, overtaken by most of the group. Every now and again there was a platform on which to catch our breath, while Enriqué - who, as usual, looked pristine, shower-fresh and betrayed no sign of having just climbed halfway up a mountain in flip-flops - told us more about our surroundings. As we got higher, I was often the last to reach these resting points, but dear Suzy was always there ready to hand me the water bottle and prop me up. Eventually we reached the top and were rewarded with stunning views of a magical, moon-like landscape. Pinnacle Rock was below us, with our boat moored nearby.

The sun was by now so hot that I could feel my skin burning despite the sun cream I had applied. I was at a viewpoint slightly below the highest point when I heard cries of “whale!” coming from those right up at the top. I went up to join them and watched the ocean for a while. I saw a couple of blows off in the distance, but it was so far away - and so surreal - that I felt as though I wasn’t sure whether I’d seen it or not.

We made our long way back down the mountain and saw more blows, one of which I managed to capture on my camera.

Suddenly, as it if it hadn’t made itself clear with the big wave, Galapagos decided to underline its earlier point by throwing me to the ground. A flat rock appeared out of nowhere in the gritty path and I was suddenly sprawled flat on my face. Ouch. I don’t know quite how it happened; I wasn’t looking at my camera’s display, or the sea. I guess I might just have lost concentration for a moment and Galapagos saw an opportunity.

But for a little bloody gash on my elbow and a few little scratches on my camera, I wasn’t hurt, but felt rather shaken. I hate falling over as it makes me feel like such a fool - though I’m sure this isn’t unique to me. I just wanted to get back onto the boat and feel sorry for myself for a little while, but instead we all got back into the panga and went whale-chasing.

At first I was just internally grumpy, still feeling a bit shaken and cursing the splashes of salt water that kept trying to decorate my lens, but as we neared the whales, these feelings faded. There were at least two whales - an adult and juvenile - swimming around our panga, occasionally blowing or breaking the surface of the water, making us all exclaim and point with increasing excitement. Somehow, despite their fleeting appearances and a full panga, I managed to get this:

Finally, we went back to Amigo and Suzy went snorkelling while I stayed on board and tried to get the grit out of my elbow. One big bit wouldn’t budge, despite repeated attempts to pull it out with tweezers. Weeks later, when the scab came off, only a tiny fragment of rock came with it, so I do think that I’ve absorbed a tiny piece of the Galapagos Islands, to carry with me for the rest of my days. Before the snorkellers set off in the panga, Enriqué came to see how I was and charmed me, making me feel much better, saying that I’d probably tripped trying to get the best photo.

That evening, everyone gathered on deck for thank yous from the crew (all done up in their smart sailor uniforms) and the briefing for the next day. Ricardo handed out delicious cocktails and, with just two left on his tray, walked straight past us. At dinner, when Suzy didn’t finish her starter, he offered her more food. When he came to collect our plates after the main course, he picked up my half-empty plate, made as if to take it back to the kitchen hatch, but instead offered Suzy what I’d left. As a treat on our last night, Virgy had made us a chocolate and prune cake for dessert.

After our meal Suzy and I went to our cabin to pack our rucksacks and write some more diario. Suzy and I had spent many happy times sitting on the floor of our cabin and chatting. I would quite often have my feet up against the sliding door, while Suzy would hang hers out of the opening onto the walkway outside. That night her protruding feet were repeatedly tickled (and miaowed at) as José walked back and forth to the bridge next door to our cabin. Our mate Virgy visited us as well and even Enriqué stopped by. He wanted us to know that people were drinking Fanta and rum downstairs and had that wonderful warm jovialness that comes over you when the alcohol just starts to hit your senses.

Click on the sunset to see the whole set