Shipped(29)

I shuffle along the gravel path, bringing up the rear. Keeping Graeme’s broad shoulders and the rest of the hikers in my peripheral vision, I pull out my phone and start a pro/con chart for the advertising idea I had for my proposal.

Pfwwwth.

Water droplets sprinkle my shin and I squawk. Stumbling back, I drop my phone and it lands directly in front of a massive black lizard. Roughly three feet long from nose to tail, it’s perched on a low boulder next to the path. It slowly closes its eyes, its leathery skin wrinkling as it adjusts a clawed foot. I recognize it from our marketing brochures as a marine iguana, one of the famed Galápagos species. And it sneezed on me.

Smacking the moisture off my leg, I reach for my phone, but it’s not where I dropped it. I whip my head around. “What the…”

“Henley Rose.”

Running my tongue along my top teeth, I straighten from my crouch. Graeme is standing not three feet away, holding my phone. I extend my hand, but he doesn’t give it to me. Instead, he taps it against his palm like a disapproving schoolteacher.

I fold my arms across my chest. “Yes, Graham Cracker?”

“Get your nose out of your phone and look around. Work can wait for a few hours. You should enjoy this—who knows when you’ll get a chance to experience the Galápagos again? Appreciate where you are. Go ahead, breathe in that salty air.”

I reach for my phone again. He tilts it away from me and beckons with a lazy flick of his fingers. “Go on,” he mouths.

“Fine.” Throwing my arms out, I suck in an exaggerated breath through my nose… and immediately gag. “Oh God.” I cough. “What is that? It smells like a snail snotted on a turd.”

“That is the sublime scent of the marine iguana,” says Juan Luis.

My cheeks flame as I realize that everyone, yep, everyone, in our group just overhead my outburst. All eyes are locked on me. Graeme’s lips are pursed, but his shoulders shake with silent laughter.

Snatching my phone, I clear my throat. “I’m not sure if ‘sublime’ is the word I’d use,” I mumble.

Juan Luis chuckles. “No, you are right. The marine iguanas are quite pungent, yes? Like a mix of saltwater, fish, and manure. But they are also incredibly special. They are the only species of iguana on earth that feeds underwater, and you can only find them here, in the Galápagos. Ahhh, look at this big guy.” He strolls over to the marine iguana that sneezed on me. “He is posing so nicely for us.”

The other hikers gather around to snap pictures.

One of the younger female guests wrinkles her nose. “How is it that one iguana can smell that bad?”

Juan Luis’s deep brown eyes twinkle. “There is not only one. Come. You’ll see.”

He leads us around a bend, and not twenty yards away the path opens up to a wide cove along the shore. There are marine iguanas everywhere. Marine iguanas on rocks. Marine iguanas lying in massive piles, clumped together in the bone-strewn sand. Marine iguanas slinking into the frothy surf next to sea lions lumbering down the beach.

The smell might be overpowering, but the sight is incredible. Like something out of a nature show.

“Just remember, the wildlife may not be afraid of us, but please give them at least six feet of space so you do not disturb them. And especially watch out for tails,” Juan Luis reminds us as guests begin meandering around the beach.

Pfwwwth.

Another marine iguana lets loose a sneeze not ten feet from my foot. I jolt, and nearly drop my phone again. This time, I slip it into my back pocket for safekeeping.

“It’s the salt.” An older passenger standing nearby nods at the marine iguana, her hands clasped on top of her metal walking stick. “They ingest a lot of saltwater when they dive down to feed on algae, and they have special glands to help them sneeze the salt out when they’re back on land. Cool, huh?”

Through the chatter of guests, snapping cameras, barking sea lions, and trilling birds, I catch the sound of periodic sneezes all around the cove.

“Incredible. How did you know that?”

She gives me a kindly smile. “I was a high school biology teacher—retired now. I taught students about natural selection and the Galápagos for nearly thirty years.” She heaves a contented sigh. “I can’t believe I finally made it here.”

Gripping her walking stick, she crouches awkwardly to take a picture of the marine iguanas. Even though I can’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, I can tell by the way her lips tremble that she’s tearing up with emotion.

“Are you traveling with anyone?” I ask.

She straightens. “Nope. Flying solo.”

“I’m Henley, by the way.” I extend my hand and she grips it briefly.

“Henley By-the-Way, I’m Sharon.” Her tone is cheerful, and I can’t help but smile.

“Would you like me to take some pictures of you with the marine iguanas?” I offer. “My smartphone takes pretty decent photos, and I’d be happy to AirDrop them to you or put them on a jump drive when we get back to the ship.”

“Oh!” she exclaims. “I don’t want to put you out…”

“It’s no trouble, really. I know it can be tough to get good photos of yourself when you’re alone. My sister’s back on the ship, so I’m flying solo at the moment too.”