The Enchanted Isles

---

The plane touched down on Isla Baltra and we were offloaded onto the hot tarmac. A warm sea breeze hit us as we crossed to the newly renovated airport, and I nearly lost my latest hat acquired on this trip. It is made exclusively from coconut husk and wood glue and is unique enough to cut a dash (in my humble opinion) without looking like a wannabe Texas cowboy. The airport boasted at great length about its green stamp of approval for renewable energy technology, with wind turbines, manual conveyor belts and careful alignment with the prevailing winds to negate the need for air conditioning. It was nice and cool, but the wind turbines were stationary despite the strong breeze and the lack of baggage carousel caused a scramble for the bags as everyone wanted to get out and see the Galaps. With our $100 entrance fee paid and a nice juicy stamp of a Galapagos tortoise and a hammerhead shark in our passport we were ready to go. We jumped on a bus to the coast before a 5 minute boat crossing to Santa Cruz Island where we grabbed a 45 minute bus ride south to the town of Puerto Ayora. In this short trip we already scraped the surface of the enchanted isles magic. Pelicans calmly circled the strait before hurling themselves at extraordinary speeds into the azure waters and in the highlands we glimpsed very briefly through the Scalesia undergrowth a magnificent sink hole which we hope to get back to explore.



When we reach town Becks and I have one thing on our minds (or I do anyway, Becky is also no doubt thinking where the next loo is for another bout of uncontrollable luminous green diarrhoea). We want to find an incredible cruise around the Galapagos for an incredibly budget price. Unfortunately, even in the Galapagos, the conquistadores seemed to have an influence despite Ecuador only laying claim to them in 1832 (three years before the Beagle rocked up)- they love a siesta. Combined with the sleepiness of island life anyway, our boundless energy to frantically dash from tour operator to agent in the search for an affordable boat leaving NOW only seemed to attract vacant stares. Becks and I split to harangue different agents and increase our chances of hitting the jackpot. Eventually a woman heaved herself out of a hammock and called a young Equadorian chap over to chat. He went by the name of Stalin and seemed to be the big dog of the booking agent-world and spoke decent English. Before long we had handed over more money than I had ever handled in a huge stash of 20 dollar notes and had booked, what we hope, to be the cruise of our lives at a substantially knocked down price. It is not due to leave until Sunday, which gives us five whole days to do a bit more island exploring.



We knew we had to scrimp on every cent and trawled the streets of Puerto Ayora to find the cheapest room. As feared, all the accommodation is quite nice, without any rat infested, blocked drain scented, leaky tapped dives that we could call home. We considered buying some cheap hammocks and finding somewhere discreet at the edge of town to shack up each night, but did not want to risk being thrown out of the archipelago before the adventure had even begun. So we settled for 28 dorrar a night and headed out for a wander around town. We picked our way towards the shoreline across some black porous rock from ancient volcanoes and watched the colour changes in the sky as the evening drew in. Becky spotted a black marine iguana on the rocks, and then we saw a few more. We watched incredulously as they all seemed to be coming towards us. Darting across the pumice until stopping suddenly, head held high intently watching us. We knew the Galapagos animals were meant to be tame but this seemed ridiculous, and started to become a bit ominous as they crept closer and closer. We had learnt enough about them from Attenborough's Galapagos documentary (a must see) and saw how they snorted saltwater from their noses having spent the day swimming in the sea. I had never learnt that they attacked humans or were aggressive if threatened- but was starting to grow concerned. Finally one darted forward and ran inches from my toes and straight past Becky. It continued on to the base of a mangrove tree and nimbly picked its way up to rest amongst the leaves. The next one followed, and then another, each using the exact same route, which just so happened to be the route Becky and I were standing on. Peering through the branches it appeared to be a tree full of black Iguanas and must be where they roost every night, just a hundred metres from the harbour. It was amazing to see this behaviour first hand, completely by chance and we were both already totally hooked to the awe of the islands.



We continued our short walk round and watched more pelicans dive bomb a shoal of fish at spectacular speeds. An elegant stick-thin blue heron stood around nonchalantly, as a lava heron crept between the rocks, looking for crab hatchlings. Large Sallyfoot crabs contrast a spectacular red against the jet black volcanic rocks, and cling on effortlessly as the blue waves turn white and crash against the shore. We wander up along the pier, where tourists are arriving back from snorkelling trips and ignore the sealion chilling inches from the boat ramp. As darkness sets in the pelicans change tactics and float by the pier where luminous green (sorry for the previous connotation of that phrase) lights hit the water below. This attracts huge shoals of tiny fish which occasionally jump out the water to be greeted by a gaping pelican bill. Most extraordinary of all were the dozens of white tip reef sharks we could see through the clear green water, all only a couple of feet long, but constantly circling the school of fish and wreaking just as much havoc as the birds floating above.



The following day we ambled out of town to see The Charles Darwin Tortoise Breeding Center. On our way we passed the fish market which turned out to be a tourist attraction in itself. As the Ecuadorians were getting on with buying and selling the day's catch, several sea lions were standing up against the counter, their fore-flippers on the table, trying everything to grab a tasty morsel. I had the fright of my life whilst taking a photo as I felt the tickle of sea lion whiskers on my leg as one crept up to give me a good sniff! A dozen pelicans were also huddled round waiting for some offcuts and did not seem the least bit concerned with the gathering tourists coming in and snapping photos. For the locals this was just another day at the fish market. Onwards to the Tortoise sanctuary and we saw the big beautiful beasts munching on some leaves and mounting each other. We saw the enclosure where Lonesome George had resided for 40 years before finally passing away in 2012. It was quite moving as only the night before we had watched Sir David meet him in his Galapagos 3D series and identifying himself as also being in his 80's and feeling rather creeky. Being the last of his species (the only remaining survivor from Pinta Island) he arguably did as much on focussing the worlds attention on the need for conservation as Attenborough has himself. We also saw the cute little one year old not-so-giant tortoises representing the next generation which are released back into the wild at around 5 years. They reminded me of Matt and April, two baby tortoises we bred and hatched in Kenya from our adults which roamed the beautiful fertile garden.



With our big-ticket item not set to leave dock for another few days, we were determined to stick to our normal budget whilst still doing and seeing as much as possible. One of the best ways to reign the costs in was in food and drink. Our Siggs (aluminium water bottles) had been indispensable the last few months travelling. We would fill them up with tap water and chlorinate or iodinise them with tablets, meaning we saved a small fortune in water and saved a mountain of water bottles being added to the world's landfills. Occasionally though it was nice to have water that didn't taste of swimming pools so we hit the jackpot when we found our hotel lobby, cheap as it may be, had a water dispenser. The local supermarket did great pastries for breakfast and empanadas for lunch and we discovered the culinary delights of "Meriendas" a daily set menu consisting of juice, soup and main for $4 bargain. These were served up in a busy little street that was closed off and filled with tables at night. It had a great atmosphere, and although we were not stretching to the cocktails and freshly caught lobster, it was a great place to dine out none the less.



We hired a taxi for a drive into the highlands. As you will probably get a Geology and Nature overload by the time we get on the cruise I will keep it simple. But partly why the Galapagos has such a diversity of species is the uniqueness of each island. They are all volcanic, and a hotspot lies to the West, so as the Nazca plate continues to move East at the rate your finger nails grow, the islands drift away from the hotspot. Therefore the archipelago is like a timeline with the youngest, tallest islands lying in the West at 500,000 years, and the oldest, crumbly, flatter islands lying in the East at a casual 4 million years. Santa Cruz is around the middle, so although the volcanoes are extinct, it has not lost all its height and still can draw the rainclouds in and form a wet, cool ecosystem, very different from the coast of San Cristobal (further East) where we are now. I find all this stuff fascinating, so a morning spent in the highlands was not to be missed. It was cloudy and drizzly and was noticeably cooler. Scalesia forest dominated, which Attenborough tried to convince us was a direct descendant of a few dandilion seeds that drifted on the trade winds many moons ago. Becky was pretty unconvinced but I argued that these tall, spindly trees almost looked like giant dandilions that just kept on growing with no competition in their ecological niche. We walked round Los Gemelos, two massive sinkholes in the middle of the forests. They looked like volcanic craters but were actually formed where ancient magma chambers had collapsed in on themselves. The fascinating geology continued as we reached a private ranch where you paid a few bucks to explore their lava tunnels. We had no rope or torch, but were still able to go through a 400 metre section lit with blinding white bulbs. It was similar to the caves of Waitomo, but what made it special was that all the spectacular vaulted ceilings, grand chambers and narrow squeezes were formed by molten lava when the island was in its infancy. So cool.



On the way through this ranch I made a triumphant shout of "tortuga" and the driver slammed on the brakes. Ten metres from the red dirt road was a giant Santa Cruz Galapagos Tortoise, the first of many we were to meet in the highlands. I could watch them and write about them all day, but as I am sure we will see more on the cruise, I will try and control myself. What was awesome was that, although the others we saw were on a ranch, they come and go as they please, obviously being unaware of different farmers' boundaries. We saw another ten or so and our driver told us there were only around 20 up in this part, whereas in a few months there will be over 200. This is because the females trundle down laboriously from the highlands to the coast where they lay their eggs (with the sex of the batch being determined by the soil temperature) before picking their way back up the hills to get back on the job.



It was an action packed day as no sooner had we been dropped off back in town, we headed out to Tortuga bay, a beautiful sheltered bay where the sharks we had seen by the jetty now swam with you in the shallows. Galapagos is renowned for its incredible biodiversity and mosaic of endemic species and ecosystems but as a tropical Paradise in the Pacific it could give anywhere else a run for its money. As long as you don't mind sharing the beach with sea lions (that always seem to shotgun the best shade) and huge black lizards it is the perfect beach holiday in its own right. The walk back took us along a perfect strip of white sand with local surfers riding the crashing waves and then a winding couple of kilometres through arid bush with finches galore. We were so pleased that we had extra time before our cruise to really get under the skin of the islands and booked a high speed boat to San Cristobal to continue our budget adventures in paradise. Up early the next morning and three 200 horse power engines definitely woke us up as we were blasted for the 2 hour journey across to the Capital. Becky and I were on a boat full of locals and with rock and dance music blaring over the roar of the engines we found it exhilarating, hugely contrasting with the slightly bored expressions on the other passengers' faces. I guess it was the equivalent of me getting on a train from Leeds to London.



Puerto Baquerizo Moreno is the capital of the Galapagos province, although it is even more relaxed and sleepy than Puerto Ayora. The population of the island scrapes 9000 and for the sake of the national park it has been capped at that. As long as things don't change it might well be one of those few places that will stay unspoilt for good. Being the only people off the boat with backpacks we were targeted by a middle aged man who had lived in the Galapagos for the last 25 years but spoke in a subtle New York accent. He offered us a dream suite, pointing up from the port to highlight its location and sea views, explaining it had a kitchen, ensuite and all the mods and cons. It was a reasonable price, but we explained we were after the absolute budget. He surprisingly dropped the price and said we should at least look at it. Beckly politely declined and we said we were worried we would like it too much, and were severely scrimping. When he dropped the price again we couldn't refuse and are now staying in a lovely clean, airy apartment with beautiful views, the only worry being that it is too good to be true. The New Yorker drove through town and gave us a full tour in less than a minute, the town being so small. He showed us the beach where the sea lions come in at night, right in the heart of town. Our cheap eats for breakfast and lunch were pointed out and the best ceviche and grilled lobster on the island, which we have not gone for yet to give Becky's stomach a bit more time to settle. With his advice we headed off for the day to some beautiful beaches and snorkelling spots, tripping up over endless old lava flows before reaching a deserted paradise. We saw three turtles and swam with a very curious sea lion, things cannot get much better than this!



The morning breeze rushed through our open window from the highlands replacing the need for our fan. The clear blues of the previous day had been replaced by puffy mountains of darkening cloud and we put off our plans for the beach. We enjoyed a lazy morning after a fresh fruit salad and set about to find some internet for Becky to sort out her job contract that had finally come through. Despite a morning of admin the stresses of work seemed (and literally are) thousands of miles away and the rain didn't dampen the paradise outside the insular world of the internet cafe. With the scent of tropical rain still in the air we strolled along to the information centre. It consolidated what we had already learnt about the Galapagos, and introduced us to a lot of the conservation issues we had ignorantly missed. It changed my mind in some ways of how I travel. I had been annoyed that recent government inspections were closing down the cheap low-end hostels so that only places reaching a minimum, decent standard were kept in business. It meant that Becky and I couldn't find anywhere dirt cheap, and hit our budget harder than we would have liked. I felt it was good that the availability of day trips had increased meaning you didn't need to splurge out on a cruise to experience the islands- great for backpackers that were now flocking here in their thousands. 204,295 peeps came to the islands last year, up by 13% on the previous year, with the main increase being in the backpacker age group, people like us. A thought provoking display showed the risk of the continuing increase leading to mass tourism, making sustainable, eco-friendly tourism impossible. A lot of expenditure often does not even reach the islands, with boats owned by foreign companies and the benefits to the locals and Galapagean economy being limited. Galapagos needs a capped number of tourists that spend a lot of money locally per capita. If Becks and I were not splashing out on the cruise, Ecuadorian owned and paid locally, we would fit into the category of tourist that the Galapagos does not want.



The clouds had cleared enough to form a patchwork of cotton with golden rays breaking through from the setting sun. We grabbed a beer each from the beach shack on Playa Mann and sat down to watch the closing of the day. It was a stunning scene looking out over the harbour. With my arm round Becky holding her close we sat in silence savouring the moment. I reflected on all the adventures we had had on this trip, and all the adventures we still had to come together in life in general. We both felt so content in each others' company and things just felt right. A beautiful, romantic moment. Broken abruptly by a Sealion having a coughing fit. Another one sounded like it was choking on a fish bone and a third had the death rattle of a lifelong smoker. They were gathering on the beach for the night and the moment had gone with the noise from the colony kicking off a few metres away. We watched in amusement as one had been snoring and woke up sneezing sand out of its nostrils violently. A pup emerged with the swash of the next wave and went about baaing like a sheep, desperately trying to find its mum, or maybe just find a nipple. It approached each slumbering aunty in turn only to be barked at with bared teeth, and any it didn't try and feed off it would clamber over, completely oblivious to the others' personal space. They were fascinating creatures, with a complex social system that we tried to work out. Ambling back into town we passed sea lions sleeping on children's slides, conked out on the pedestrian walkway and some had even made the effort to climb up on the harbour's benches to kip for the night. These seemed to be the outcasts and mavericks, as a colony numbering hundreds were bunking down on the beach by the town centre. Despite the noise and smell, there were some really cute images, the best being the huge, scarred, bulbous-headed alpha-male having the utmost patience with his tiny brood of half a dozen Sealion pups clambering all over him trying to get comfy.



On our final night in San Cristobal, Becks was feeling well enough to be able to manage a more substantial meal than soup. Mum had very kindly transferred many pounds to get Becks a birthday present, and I suggested we treated ourselves to dinner. There was a Parillada that had been recommended to us which grilled fresh fish caught from the sea that day, with alfresco seating and nice cold beers. Becks had a delicious slab of swordfish and I went for a colossal mixed grill. A nice change from the pan and meriendas. The final day on San Cristobal was filled with an air of excitement over our impending cruise. We still wanted to make the most of it though, and booked the last boat back to Santa Cruz. This gave us time to rent some kayaks and paddle for a couple of hours around the coast, much to the curiosity of young sea lions which circled round us and had a splashing war with Becky. We also saw at least ten turtles that kept diving and resurfacing all around us, forming graceful, dynamic silhouettes as they peacefully glided through the clear turquoise waters. In the afternoon I had the chance to swim with three more of them at La Loberia beach an hours walk from town. It was around another side of the island and big waves broke up on a reef off shore, leaving the lagoon calm enough to snorkel but still pretty exhilarating. Becks was sunbathing with the lobos (sealions) on the golden sands and after half an hour when I got back having not seen a single turtle she had seen four and guided me from the land where I should swim. Soon enough I was swimming alongside a turtle and couldn't resist the urge to gently touch its deep green shell. Naughty I know, but it kept up the gentle stroke of its fore-flippers and continued not to even have a mild interest in my presence.



The boat back to Santa Cruz had no blaring tunes and diesel fumes gassed us worse than sitting in the backseat of Lisa (my van in NZ). However, nature kept on delivering and soon lifted us from our semi-conscious stupor with a spectacular display from a pod of dolphins. Just the day before Becks and I were debating whether the Galapagos even had dolphins, as they hardly seemed to feature in the war murals, posters or trips available. It would seem that there are so much rarer, more spectacular and more unique species on the Galapagos that no one seemed to bothered about advertising dolphins, that anywhere else seem to be the showpiece if the ocean. As if knowing this and not happy about it this pod put on the most spectacular display of jumps in the wake of our boat that I have ever seen. Even the dolphins in the Galapagos seem enchantedly unique, managing to jump three times higher, flip in every direction and re-enter the water like a pin drop. They got 10, 10, 10 all round and didn't fail to deliver a natural spectacle fit for their right in the Galapagean waters.





Early the next morning we reversed our journey from the airport to meet up with our group for the cruise. We were first there and had to wait in excited anticipation for the rest to arrive so we could board Yolita II, the 16 person first-class boat which would be our home for the next week. We passed the time speculating over who the other passengers were going to be, settling upon at least one friendly, obese American couple, one passenger with a dodgy hip and a throng of Chinese tourists. We ended up being pleasantly surprised as most were young and enthusiastic and those that weren't were fun and interesting. Our motley crew was made up of:



Chinese-American couple into tennis coaching and designing boxes with their 16 year old daughter. Weak swimmers, seemingly missed seeing everything when snorkelling.



Jolly Aussie woman with surprisingly non-bigoted views on current affairs and an interesting insight into aboriginal culture.



French Canadian mother with her two adult children, keen snowboarders, rock sculptors and her son is into rocks and the origin of species.



A British couple quite shy and reserved initially, but we clicked with them over the guides absurdity and our mutual fretting over the tips. She often laughed until she cried.



Polish princess married to her rich banker in New York but spending her time travelling the world alone, being spoilt and flirting with every man she meets.



A French woman turning 51 on the cruise, travelling South America for a year solo, with outrageous stories and an equally outrageous fling on the boat with the bar man.



Dutch couple who are keen electronic DJs, he had a friendly beer belly and entertained us with his peculiar humour, she was sweet with big glasses and frizzy hair.



Stereotypical lone male guitar-playing, stubble sporting, european on a year out. Also from The Netherlands, lost banter and enthusiasm for a period after getting sun burnt.



A day on Yolita II:



The whole week was solidly action packed with very little downtime. It worked really well for Becks and I, but others felt a bit differently and we were horrified as people started sitting out of activities. What?! You can't do that! A cruise around the Galapagos is a once in a lifetime opportunity (although I really hope to go back one day) and the islands are so diverse and the route so varied it seemed crazy to miss a walk or a snorkel. Generally though the structure of each day was similar. We would wake up for breakfast at 7. Then head out in the panga (technically a wooden motorboat but in this case referring to the inflatable zodiac) for a wet or dry landing onto an island. Back on the boat a snack and fresh juice would be ready as we grab our swimming stuff and snorkel off the beach/coast. The panga would bring us back for the buffet lunch with an hour maximum to chill. The Capitan would often then navigate us to the afternoon's anchor point and we would read on the sun loungers at the front of the boat. By 2pm it was back on land for another guide hike with a subsequent snorkel when the heat was still in the day. A nice hot shower and a sundowner (Becks and I smuggled a minibar of drinks on board) watching the equatorial sun race below the horizon, before the bell would ring for us to gather for the following day's briefing. Jose our guide would prepare an extravagant powerpoint each night. Invariably he would accidentally delete it or break the projector causing him to default to the whiteboard. Then came dinner, an always delicious set menu, and we would chat away of the days adventures on the communal tables. Almost everyone would be in bed by ten, if Becks and I weren't too exhausted we would occasionally manage to clamber up onto the top deck for some stargazing and a rum and coke. I would be asleep before my head hit the pillow, and got better at not waking up every time the boat rolled and rocked as it navigated through the night for the next spectacular day.



The route:

Partly why we had gone for this cruise was the unique route it took through the Galapagos. All cruises tend to go south or north from Santa Cruz, and often including a day or two at this island. In our 6 days we had to independently explore the archipelago we had seen a lot of Santa Cruz and San Cristobal in the south-east and nearly all the day trips go places on the Southern itinerary. Our cruising route was to take us to the rarely visited areas, most of the sites being impossible to visit any other way than on a long cruise. We saw Genovesa in the north-east, Santiago, all the way up the west coast of Isabela, Fernandina and Rabida islands, giving us an astounding cross-section of the Galapagos' flora, fauna, geology and landscapes.



Snorkelling:



The snorkelling was probably Becky and my highlight of the cruise. We both have our open-water PADI, and were a bit disappointed that we felt we could not afford to splash out on some diving in the Galapagos. We knew that so much of the marine life was unique to Galapagos and that the seas have such a variety of wildlife to offer. Temperatures of the oceans range by over eight degrees across the archipelago due to the three different currents coming in from the west, north-east from the Caribbean and south-east from South America. The cold upwellings from the Humboldt current hit the west coast of Isabela and bring nutrient rich waters to the surface. This results in penguins adapting to live on the equator and pretty chilly waters for Becks and I to snorkel in after refusing to pay for a wetsuit. In other places with warm currents corals and tropical fish comfortably survive in their little pockets of tropics. It makes it so bizarre that you can be following a shoal of surgeonfish only to be stopped in your tracks by a little Galapagos penguin darting towards you at incredible speed, checking you out curiously, then blasting off in another direction to chase a shoal of sardines. I have always loved snorkelling, but often feel after you see yet another orange sea anemone with a Nemo clownfish fiercely guarding it, the fish of the great barrier reef or Indonesia get a little same-y. It was impossible to think this on the cruise. We visited such a unique variety of places that there was something new to see everywhere. Apart from turtles. They were everywhere. We must have seen a good hundred in our time in the Galapagos. It got to the stage that we wouldn't even point them out we had spent so much time gently swimming with them. I could never get bored of them but it was difficult to remember how endangered they are globally when every snorkel you encounter one casually swimming along towards you.



I have a new found respect for some animals which I had written off as being a bit dull and lazy. We saw sea lions in New Zealand quite regularly, and they were always lazing around on beaches or rocky outcrops, doing sweet F A. Penguins were not much better, as we saw the odd yellow-eyed penguin through the pokey window of a concealed hide. Doing nothing. I read that when they moult they sometimes don't go into the water or do anything for months. MONTHS. They just stand there. Probably with a simple monotonous tune going on in their thick little heads. Seeing them in the water I humbly eat my words. They were damn spectacular. On one snorkel Becks and I had the privilege to go on with only a couple of others (the rest sacked it off) we were following a turtle when a shout of "penguin!" was made by one of the others. We immediately swam as fast we could towards the voice before seeing a penguin chasing a shoal of tiny silveries around some shallow rocks. It then darted off out of sight and we all paddled furiously, flippers in each others faces, scratching our legs on the rocks and doing front crawl as fast as we could until catching up with it chasing another shoal of fish. It would do flips and right angle turns and tight circles all in pursuit of the fish. Although we tried to keep our distance, with my newfound penguin respect I felt the urge to help it out and used my hand to scare some of the fish towards it. I must have scared it and the penguin was gone in a flash to the next shoal. It was a big swim and I found the penguin again, this time by myself. I was completely infatuated by its elegance in the water and as I stayed completely still this time it kept chasing the fish right in front of me, inches from my face. A spectacle worthy of a BBC nature documentary. The sealions were just as impressive. The juveniles loved playing all around us and interacting with us. They definitely seemed to be playing with us as they would do a beautifully graceful backwards somersault and then seem to watch and wait for you to hold your breath to dive down and clumsily do the same. Seeing them fish though was my highlight. They seemed to blow bubbles to split the shoal and panic the fish before targeting an individual one and chase it longer than I could hold my breath and have to swim back up to the surface.



Becks and my favourite snorkelling moment is very difficult to award, so I will give the three finalists:

On one snorkel at Genovesa Island we headed out to deep water at the far side of the bay. It was a popular hang out with hammerhead sharks and we flipped in backwards off the panga in nervous anticipation to see one of their ghostly silhouettes swim beneath us. They kept hidden, but a good 2 metre long white tip reef shark did come out to play. Although by the end of the cruise we had seen several of them, often hiding under rocky overhangs, there is nothing quite like that first encounter. Through the gloomy cold water I very briefly saw the unmistakeable shape glide past us ten metres away. Jose took Becky's hand (classic South American machismo- if they don't have a ring on they're fair game) and we waited with tense anticipation. The shark circled round and reappeared a few metres directly beneath me, heading up diagonally, and what seemed deliberately to my left. I glanced across and saw the shark come to within a metre of Becky, heading straight for her before changing direction at the last minute. Wow. They are not known to be dangerous but even Jose was quite spooked at how close it got, and Becks was relieved she wasn't shark food.



The front cover of Attenborough's documentary on the Galapagos is an odd picture. You would expect nothing less, being a documentary on an area with the highest number of unique species on the globe and they must have been a lot of contenders. The second finalist goes to this particularly peculiar posterboy. It clings onto a rock with huge claws, the light reflecting off its prehistoric looking spines that travel the length of its back to its long, thick black tail. Its face reminds you of an Orc from Lord of the Rings with thick black lips and an armoured and scaled head. Out of its nose it blows bubbles for it may be over 10 metres underwater. It gazes at you with its black beady eyes before swimming off to another rock of green algae to feed off. The Marine Iguana. A most incredible creature adapted to feed in the ocean and one we were very privileged to swim with along the rocky shores of Fernandina Island. Its strange pathway of evolution means it has adapted to develop a gland in its nose which helps it get rid of excess saltwater through sneezing. I got salt-sneezed on by a marine iguana, I count myself very lucky.



The third finalist is also an evolutionary oddity for it being one of the clearest examples alive of the process of evolution. Somewhat embarassingly, in Darwin's 5 weeks on the islands, he completely missed it. He didn't even think it particularly bizarre that penguins lived at the equator, covering their black feet with their white stomachs as a clear sign of behavioural adaptation to allow them to live in such a hot environment. That may be forgivable, but not noticing the flightless cormorants pathetic little stumpy wings was a bit of an oversight. Like in New Zealand where many of the birds have evolved to be flightless, the Galapagos cormorant, normally a majestic flyer, has lost its wings. Like my misconstrued ideas of sealions and penguins being a bit shit from watching them on land, flightless cormorants may fit into that category. They were called Shags in New Zealand (a running joke, obviously) and like their kiwi cousins, they would stand with their wings outstretched to dry them after diving into the water. The problem is, when you only have a dishevelled clump of black feathers as a poor excuse for a wing, it looks quite embarrassing. In the water it's another story. Becks and I would tend to snorkel in front of the rest of the group to avoid 16 people round one turtle and have the adventure of seeing and exploring everything first. We came across a large shoal of silver fish about 8 metres down shimmering in random zig zags and circles as if a sealion was chasing them. We were surprised when up popped a cormorant from the ocean floor, practically bumping into me as it resurfaced. It then just sat there bobbing on the water, right in front of us, before it caught its breath and dived down again. We sucked in air and followed it down, watching it propel itself with its big webbed feet and sleekly glide down before reaping havoc amongst the fish again.



The guide:



Jose de la Cruz Fernandez was certainly a character. Short and stocky with a full head of hair like many Galapagenos he would speak taught-yourself English with a disarming enthusiasm. When he made a crude joke his mischievous eyes would crease at the corners as he erupted in laughter. He had worked as a fisherman, farmer and taxi driver before getting a degree in Biology on the mainland and volunteering at the Charles Darwin foundation for several years. He used to shoot wild pigs and goats "like Rambo" from helicopters to eradicate them and prevent the destruction of the Tortoises' habitat, food and eggs. He dreams to save up enough money to set up his own volunteer programme and hostel in the highlands of Santa Cruz where wild Galapagos Tortoises will roam free. He has a contagious love for life and is tangibly awed by nature so that despite living on the islands all his live he would always be first to the front, practically elbowing other tourists out the way to get a photo of the subject. He would refer to himself as "this crazy guy" which he never contradicted. Once when snorkelling Becks spotted a Guineafowl Pufferfish minding its own business a few metres down. Quick as a flash Jose dived down and grabbed hold of it with both hands. Before our eyes it inflated to three times its original size. You couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for it as he yelled across the surface "EVVYONNNNE, COMMMME QUIK! I HAV A PUFFFFA PHISH IN MYY HAAAND!"



Jose and I got on pretty well. I obviously asked a ridiculous number of questions, the answer to which I don't think I ever got as he would either not understand or go off on a tangent and forget what started his great speech on nature. He was amazing at imitating animals, and was like Dr Doolittle in his way to call the finches and for them to fly in from everywhere. Penguins would bray back to him and sea lions would come in for a closer look. As a bit of a show-boater he would imitate the frigate birds, blue-footed boobies and albatross mating rituals which Becks and I have found choregraph perfectly to Salsa music. I was quite touched when Jose broke the surface of the water announcing that him and I were "the most crazzzy guys on the cruizzze". I had just dived down six metres, swam through a fish-filled narrow underwater tunnel about three metres deep, and popped up out the other-side, which Jose not to be out done, promptly followed. My only qualm was the South American in him. He was constantly trying to get in the female guests' pants and jumped at the opportunity to organise a salsa disco for Catherine's 51st Birthday party. He kept pushing for girls to dance with him, and feeling bad for him and for my distinct lack of Salsa skills I pushed Becks to dance with him, who reluctantly had to agree. It started off harmless enough, but as the song wore on and Becks polite attempts to sit back down were ignored I had to step in so Becky could prize his hands off her hips. We called it a night and left the married Polish princess to lap up his attention.



Conservation:



Conservation and preservation of the natural environment and its flora and fauna is understandably a huge undertaking in the Galapagos. It would be naive to think that human impact can be stopped completely, but the $100 fee each tourist pays on entry can do a lot to minimise the damage. It does seem like the government in conjunction with the Charles Darwin foundation is trying to do a lot, some schemes more successful than others. The eradication of goats on Santiago has resulted in significant benefits to the tortoise population. However, attempts to rescue the Mangrove Finch (one of Darwin's famous 13 species of finch on the Galapagos) has so far failed. In an effort to duplicate the success of captive rearing of offspring which doubled the tortoise population from 15,000 to 30,000, the eggs of the remaining 40 mating pairs of mangrove finches were gathered. Unfortunately, once hatched, they would not feed in captivity and died from starvation or well-minded force feeding efforts. A second plan to split the tiny pocket of population at Elizabeth Bay on Isabela to make it less vulnerable and encourage breeding failed as every single finch flew the huge distance back to its original home within a couple of weeks.



I have to admit, I am not a big fan of rules and regulations, mainly as they tend to be arbitrary and pointless in a lot of countries. Galapagos is probably one of the rare places where they actually make sense, and I tried my best to adhere to them. Sailing up the West coast of Isabela gazing out at the thousand plus metre volcanic peaks and the stunning, untouched terrain I felt a burning desire to climb them. I wanted to hike up the side of Alcedo, the crater within hosting a 5000 strong population of giant tortoises. On Fernandina I would have loved to have a bonfire on the beach and watch the huge marine iguanas come in from the sea and settle down for the night. The mangrove swamps with the crystal clear waters revealing dozens of shimmering turtles and majestic spotted eagle rays were crying out to be swum and snorkelled in. A majestic land iguana, with its yellow and orange hues would tempt you off the path for a closer look. Or a handsome frigate bird with its bizarre and striking big red balloon inflated for the ladies would make it hard to keep to the two metre rule. Understandably, the park had rules to prevent all of this. I was worried I would feel claustrophobic with the limitations for personal exploration and adventure but the truth was that the islands had so much to offer within the conservation rules it was never an issue. Every walk on the islands would have a set path which you had to stick to with the guide. They would lead over intricate, impossibly patterned lava formations, along bird roosting spots, up hills for panoramic views and skirt different habitats and ecosystems. The snorkel would be in a set area off the beach, or from the panga between A and B. The Captain would occasionally have to raise the anchor as soon as we were onboard to prevent overstaying at a certain natural harbour he is only licensed to spend 4 hours at. For most of the trip it was only the Yolita II and one or two other boats that had permission to visit the sites. And there is a cap on the yacht numbers in the archipelago with no new boats allowed.



Nature's Paradise:



Becks and I had bought each other a guidebook on the Galapagos when we first arrived. Serious guidebooks were expensive and serious, and there were plenty to use as reference on the Yolita II. Our guidebook was, without doubt, meant for children but we loved it! It has about 20 species native or endemic to the Galapagos with a page of info and a blank page for your proud photo of it. We ended up getting a snap of everything- we were very lucky. There were times when I definitely could have done with a bigger zoom for my camera, but most of the time everything was so nonchalant with human presence you could get a perfect photo. Trying to stay two metres away from everything became impossible, as the birds would often choose to raise their chicks right by or even on the path. I had to duck under an overhanging branch with a red-footed boobies nest in it and worried about accidentally knocking the eggs out as the bird looked on completely unfazed.



One of our luckiest moments came on the 6th day. Becky had spotted the ridiculous sight of a juvenile marine iguana do a spectacular vomit all over its friends. It then dry retched a bit and shook its head violently from side to side. I gazed off into the distance and sympathised with the poor iguana remember when I was sick all over the hotel lobby mid-snake show after swallowing too much salt water whilst swimming. It probably hadn't quite grasped the technique of algae eating yet. As I looked at the horizon where the sea meets the sky I noticed circling Frigate birds. Jose then said it may be dolphins. As we all gazed on we saw some large dorsal fins, too large for a dolphin, which must be a pod of Orcas hunting. We unanimously voted to cut the walk a little short and rushed back to the boat.



With a vodka, grenadine and orange in hand (I became quite the cocktail maker!) we sat ourselves at the stern of the boat and admired the beautiful silhouette of Isabela and Fernandina in the late afternoon sun. Eagle eyed Becky saw a splash at 2 O'Clock in the distance and the Captain changed track and navigated towards it. As we got closer and closer we could see the intermittent bulge of a vast black creature. Then came the characteristic spout of water from the Whale's blowhole and a curved dorsal fin. The Orcas may have gone, but this 12-15 metre Bryde's Whale was a pretty special substitute. I had never seen a whale from a boat before. I had also never seen the next spectacle. The whales were not the only animals feeding off the nutrient rich Humboldt upwellings. "Dolphin!" Someone shouted and we all gazed off East as something flashed a dazzling white reflecting the setting sun. The dolphin looked strangely different and as another jumped it appeared like a giant black and white pancake, flipping and falling back into the giant frying pan of ocean. Becks and I looked at each other in disbelieve as another jumped just by our boat. They were no flattened dolphins, but giant Manta Rays launching themselves a few metres out the water. Jose later said the behaviour is not unknown and is a cleaning behaviour, although knowing how intelligent they are we think they were just having fun after a good days feeding.





The final morning we had music blared into our cabin by Radio Jose who informed us we had an early 5:30am 'activity'. It was completed with his much revered but pretty irritating sealion impersonation. Half-asleep we made our way to the top deck to watch the sunrise as the Captain circled a small islet called Daphne Major a couple of times to watch the tropicbirds and blue-footed boobies before taking us back to Baltra. Back to where it all began a week before. It was a pensive mood all round as everyone reflected on memories that will last a lifetime. We both expected so much from the Galapagos and knew we really had to save up hard for it. She delivered. The enchanted archipelago gave us some of the most extraordinary moments of our lives. Taking off in the plane after saying our goodbyes, I couldn't help but wish I will be back one day. Something I hope will come true.

---