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Published: December 5th 2011
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Our travels to the Galapagos begin in Quito. This is the second highest capital city in the world, nearly as high as La Paz, though strangely, it does not have the same feeling of altitude. Perhaps your correspondent has become accustomed to such rarefied airs, or the beer is stronger here.
We arrived in the city (a Jam tribute to those who know) after a 12 hour bus journey through a baking hot day with a sense of trepidation. Tales of muggings and robbings abound amongst travellers concerning Quito. To my eyes, it seems safe in daylight, but after dark, a taxi should always be taken – even for the shortest journey. With this advice in mind , and especially after our scare at the border, we walked to and from hotel to restaurants and bars at night . Well, it looked a pleasant area.
Anyway, no problems were met and soon we had to go to meet the company who had arranged our trip to the islands. A man called Chris gave us a two hour scientific briefing about the forming of the Galapagos and an ecological background. It was very in depth and my fears were confirmed
when I glanced over at Wendy and noticed that her eyes had glazed over and she had not so much switched off, but had transported herself back in time to somewhere less complicated!!
Here we met our fellow intrepid explorers. Barbara and Kristen were a couple from Minnesota. Mercy, a Canadian from somewhere in the frozen wastelands north of Toronto, and then Catalina – a Columbian who is now lives in Canada. If you think the concept of a Columbian Canadian seems a bit bizarre, then just wait until you meet one.
A motlier crew had never been assembled in a long, long time.
To get to the Galapagos, one needs to fly. In order not to show off, your correspondent agreed to use a plane to get there. The trip was via Guayaquil where the aircraft refuelled. I laughed out loud when it was announced that the passengers should undo their seatbelts while refuelling took place. Obviously that split second of having to undo it would be helpful when the plane exploded with the heat of the sun if the fuel ignited. Thankfully, in situations like these, I always carry a small puppy or kitten as
a suitable replacement, thus avoiding any potential danger.
When you arrive at Santa Cruz, the plane lands. This struck me as very convenient as I was then able to get off. Was not too hot, but the colour of the sea took the breath away. Thankfully, I had my ventolin with me, so an asthma attack was prevented. We were met by a small lady with a big hat. Her name was Tamara and was to be our guide for the next few days. Indeed, the first thing she did was guide us to a bus. Things had started very well I thought.
After a brief stop to look at two big holes in the ground (volcanic craters to be precise), we then had the first of many highlights. We were taken to where the giant tortoises roam. At first sight, you wonder why such a large boulder is moving. Then you realise that the boulder has legs. Then you realise that the boulder has a neck and a head. Then you realise that the boulder has a huge shell. Then you realise that it is actually a giant tortoise. Well, that’s how I worked it out, though
the others seemed to recognise the creature without the same thought process.
Without further ado, I shall introduce you further to our fellow volunteers. Firstly, being before secondly, we have Barbara and Kristen. An American couple who were both quiet and sincere people. Kristen had a tendency to go wandering off and explore, leaving Barb to have to go and find her later. Although, most times Barb would just say “ leave her, she will find her own way back “. Secondly, being before thirdly, was Mercy. A 22 year old Canadian girl who has possibly an even dryer sense of humour than your correspondent. She developed a perfect defence to my sarcasm by just kicking me. I had not realised that Canadians were so brutal. The last member of our group was Catalina. Again a 22 year old, but this time from Columbia, although lives in Canada just now. Catalina is the biggest bundle of energy and happiness that could possibly be contained in a small human body. On top of that, she is completely mad and goes through about 200 emotions per minute. She and Mercy however had many things in common. Not least, an insatiable desire
for ice cream or cake, or both together, which happened on more than a few occasions.
Dear readers, the two of them drove your correspondent to drink on more than one occasion.
Before heading off to the highlands and our voluntary work, we were treated to a boat trip around the bay seeing sea lions, sea turtles, blue footed boobies, marine iguanas and manta rays , to name but five ( count them). It was also on this outing that your correspondent went snorkelling. After struggling over how to put on a mask and snorkel even before getting in the water, I was beginning to think that I was perhaps not cut out for this type of adventure. W and the chicas slipped effortlessly in to the ocean and were soon swimming sleekly amongst the vast array of sea life, while I was trying to work out how to get off the boat and in to the water. Eventually, I calculated that jumping in was perhaps the best way. Sadly, nobody had explained to me the dangers of breathing through my snorkel while it was under the water. Accordingly, my initial contact with the sea made me take
a sharp intake of breath and also a sharp intake of most of the pacific. As I came to the surface coughing, spluttering and drowning, I realised that this was not the most auspicious of starts to my snorkelling career. Thankfully, the rest of the day passed without further incident apart from me wondering if sea urchins would hurt if I stood on one.
All this was just the build up to starting hard work at the volunteer station. We had all read tales from previous volunteers about how difficult and challenging the work was. How they were happy just to survive the day and collapse in their bed at night. How they lost blood, sweat and tears in the process. Was this all true I pondered ? Was it hell? In total we “worked “ for a day and a half and sat around reading for the rest. The project seemed to be half a serious attempt to promote permaculture and half a hippy commune. Was quite disorganised – even for me – and to cap it all, we were put in to the care of a guide called Amelia. To call her an incompetent imbecile would be
praising her too highly. Her favourite words when we asked questions about the project or the local wildlife were “ Ehhh, gee, I don’t know”. Or even “ That’s a good question, but I have never been here before” or “ I don’t know why I have this job, as I do not have a clue what I am talking about “. I may have made the last one up, but she should have said it !!!!
It was an interesting experience there, but we were all a bit disappointed that we did not really get to do the voluntary work that we had imagined. There was a moment of excitement however, when we were planting onion seeds. A rogue giant tortoise had crashed it’s way through a fence and was rampaging through the vegetable garden, leaving a trail of havoc behind . It was obviously an animal possessed and nothing in it’s way could slow it down. Your correspondent had to throw himself heroically in to it’s path and wrestle it to the ground before manfully carrying it away. Or, there was a giant tortoise plodding along gently towards a flower bed when we arrived to work and
was not much closer when we left. The six of us had to gently pick it up and carefully move it back out the open gate. I will leave my dear readers to choose which is the more accuarate account.
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albert@jdip.co.uk
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Galapagos
Jacque Cousteau's flagship - one point (or perhaps pint) please! You'd have thought that after all of the experiences so far on this trip, Wendy would have started to come out of her shell by now!