The Galapagos was on my bucket list as a photography destination, but I didn’t really know much about it beyond: 1) it has a lot of unique species that have in some ways been associated with Darwin’s theories, 2) it is hard to get to, and 3) it is the title of a Kurt Vonnegut book I enjoyed. So when a group of friends planned a trip, it was then or never… because my only other plan to get there involved winning a National Geographic photo contest, which didn’t seem to be happening anytime soon.
We were a large group–seven of us a sort of “adventure family” with Robin as the matriarch, plus five more we hadn’t met. It’s not a cheap trip, so it makes sense to share costs of logistical transfers and guides. But it also complicates things with hotels (think B&Bs), tiny charter flights between islands (6 passenger limit), and boat/snorkeling trips (some with a 10 passenger limit). This aside, it can add to the overall experience, if sometimes at the expense of a few first-world frustrations (like not always getting an ocean-front room).
I’ll skip the part about getting there, other than to note the Quito flight to our first stop in the Galapagos, San Cristobal Island, was an actual normal-sized plane. We all packed for a later inter-island flight limit of 25 lbs, so we mostly had carryon, at least if the pack could be compressed to fit in the overhead. “Security theater” was confusing, haphazard, and I’m not sure anyone would have noticed if checked bags had not been run through the x-ray machine. Carry-on had the standard security checkpoint but didn’t care about some of the stuff the US does. Lesson learned: don’t throw away water until/unless they make you.
Because the Humboldt current flows from the Antarctic region up South America and across to the Galapagos this time of year (August) and causes a shroud of clouds, after initial ascent we couldn’t see the ocean until we descended for landing. San Cristobal’s single runway hugged the coast. Out my side of the airplane, we didn’t see ground until we were just a few feet above it. Life preserver? Check.
Welcome to San Cristobal Island! Oceanfront view and endemic towel swan.
Fast forward through the $100 Galapagos Park fee and a one-dog sniff check of bags, to everyone piling in 3 trucks for a 5 minute ride past some biblical graffiti into the main part of town and the hotel. La Zayapa, a pleasant oceanfront B&B.
We had a few minutes to reorganize, notice the wildlife less than a stone’s throw from our hotel, then walk a block for a local lunch of fish (or chicken) and “lemonade”. The latter is actually squeezed from something between an orange and a lemon–not a dry powder mixed into local water that you have to worry about. It was quite good.
A quick stop for snorkel gear and a short bus ride later, we were at the interpretive center.
This was for an introduction to the Galapagos Islands; from their recent geological origins, to the migration and evolution of their limited flora and fauna, their subsequent discovery and settlement by humans, visits (and plunders) by pirates and whalers and of course Darwin, and the ongoing threats of invasive species and over-harvesting of various species. And some quirky history.
Replica of Galapagos post office barrel on Floreana, where whaling vessels, etc., left mail, and/or retrieved pieces addressed to their next ports of call. Or, in one noteworthy instance of American wartime innovation, provided pre-packaged intel to sink much of Britain’s whaling fleet. It turns out loose lips really do sink ships.
A short distance further, avian pirates patrolled “Frigate Hill” in search of other birds to harass into “coughing up” their loot. Their long flat beaks have a nasty hook at the end, making them look vicious… at least until the male puffs up the large red gular sac on his throat (which we only saw in photos)–then he just looks silly. But apparently quite hot to female frigate birds, making his big beautiful balloon a target for rivals to pop. There’s probably a good 99 luftballons joke in here somewhere that I just can’t come up with right now. Evolution, at least in pirate birds, can be ruthless.
The small cove below was our snorkeling destination of the day. You’d think, since the Galapagos Islands straddle the equator, the water would be warm. And maybe during the hot/rainy season it would be. But not this time of year. Our half wetsuits were welcome.
Darwin Cove
I was a little skeptical at first. The water was murky and the sky overcast, how much could we really see?
We were about halfway across the bay when something fast blew by us. Make that two somethings.
Sea lions darted around us and between us and played like they were aquatic dogs. Some of our group, the ones comfortable they wouldn’t inhale a bucket of salt water and that were able to maneuver despite positive buoyancy, dived down with them.
A few minutes later an algae-covered rock that looked like something out of Princess Mononoke floated up toward us.
Initially we were all bunched around it, bumping into each other, but as we spread out we realized there were several of them, half swimming, half-rocking with the waves.
Our guide, and those of our group who had by now decided a half wetsuit was just not enough, beckoned our return to shore.
Back on land, we stopped briefly to pay homage to Darwin.
Is it just me, or does he have disproportionately large thumbs, like he evolved them for hitchhiking or something? (“The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has a few things to say on the subject of towels.”)
One brief stop on the short ride back to town, to a beach owned by sea lions.
They are considerably less graceful on land. But they almost sold me on the idea warm sand and a basalt pillow could make a comfortable bed.
Town. Dinner. Local beer. “Endemic” means “native” or “restricted to a certain area”, and was the name of the local beer. Found only in the Galapagos!
Sea lions squabbled through the night, and the dock wailed as it rocked with the waves. I was too tired to care.
