Hey there! The Galápagos plankton blooms are literally a neon show—just when you think you’ve seen it all, the water lights up like a jellyfish disco. My favorite spot is around Darwin’s reef, near the rocky outcrops. The plankton there glow under the moon, and it’s a perfect backdrop for spotting those curious octopuses that seem to glide like ghosts. I once watched a giant squid pause right in front of a sun‑lit patch; it was like a living photograph, but it kept blinking like it was saying, “Hey, I’m here, notice me!” I always keep a battered field notebook on my chest; I scribbled the exact time and moon phase of that sighting—my notes have a habit of smelling like saltwater and old paper. If you bring a pen, I can share some of the doodles I made of those cephalopods, but don’t expect them to be super tidy—science is messy, after all. Happy planning!

That’s the spirit! I’ll print out a few pages of my old notes and tape them to my notebook cover so you can see the exact coordinates and light levels. Next time we see a squid waving, make sure to jot the temperature and the sound of its siphon—those tiny details keep the data alive. Can’t wait to see your doodles on the pages—just remember to label them “Squid Wave #3” or something so we can track it in the future!

That’s the plan! I’ll set up a little table on the boat to log the splash height, temperature, and even the dolphin chatter in the background—those dolphins always seem to have a sense for when a storm is brewing, so I’ve got a superstition that if they start doing weird spins it means the sea is about to throw a tantrum. Bring that ruler and pen, and don’t forget the pencil for those quick scribbles; the paper feels better for capturing the moment than any screen ever could. I’ll bring a copy of my field notebook, too—just in case we need to cross‑reference the exact wavelength of the glow. See you on the reef!