Baby Sea Lion?

As Benigno helped me carry bags down from the boat, he named an animal that lives in the Galapagos that could be smuggled in each bag. With Cameron's back pack, "Sea Lion?", with Jan's small tote, "Marine Iguana?", with my back pack, "Baby sea lion?", and my heart broke just a little that the shores of my life would no longer be littered with these small fat furry weepy eyed creatures. On our last hike it must have been morning milk time as they were all nursing with their loud suckling noises, and belting out their pathetic little stuffy nosed cries when mothers turned their bodies making it hard to find a nipple. Then they would awkwardly flop around trying to find food again, or rise up blinking into the sun, or more likely the camera of a tourist. On our first day snorkeling, three baby sea lions entered the water and swam with us, coming towards us with incredible speed as if to crash, but banking a sharp left at the last moment then turning back to look at our reactions. This playfulness delighted me to no end when snorkeling on the surface, but when we encountered sea lions deeper down with scuba gear on our backs it had a different feel. Cameron thought I was tugging on his wet suit, but looked down to see the neoprene firmly locked in the teeth of a sea lion. Another swooped down and started nipping at the hair of our guide Walter. Although I think they meant no harm, I was terrified they would pull at my air hose leaving me forty feet below the surface with nothing to breathe. Even so, it was amazing to look up and see them take a sip of air from the surface, then dive down to play with us in a matter of seconds, their bodies so graceful, sure and quick, nothing like the awkward flop of land. Being from CA and listening to sea lions bark all night in Santa Cruz I did not expect these animals to get me the way they did, but they did. Even so, there was no baby sea lion smuggled in my bag, just a weeks worth of salty crusty clothes.