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Published: September 11th 2008
In the words of Charles Darwin, 'Blimey.' We'd been looking forward to the Galapagos and had a feeling it wouldn't disappoint, and it didn't. Even us skinflint travellers, on one of the cheaper boats and without a zoom lens the length of a child's leg, were treated to a glut of wildlife and turquoise seas, which had us dribbling into our snorkels. It was as if David Attenborough and the good Lord on high Himself had conspired to throw at us every imaginable wonder of the world, and then some. For on top of the turtles, sharks, sea lions, whales, penguins, boobies, albatrosses, iguanas and everything else, we also had the rarest of creatures, Camillo, a guide who may very well be a unique species bred only in the Galapagos.
So, where to start? Well actually, we should begin with the few days leading up to our Galapagos trip. We didn't jump straight over the border and onto a boat, tempting though that would have been. Instead, we continued our fleeing from the Peruvian fleecers on a border crossing which seemed to go on forever. From leaving Trujillo in Peru to arriving in Guayaquil, Ecuador, our total journey ended up
Feeding Time
Pelicans and Frigate birds diving for a fish thrown into the air by a young whippersnapper.taking about 20 hours. And it seemed that with every passing hour the thermometer cranked up a degree until by the time we'd reached our destination, we were fanning ourselves and hanging out the window trying to draw breath in the new surroundings of the hot and humid tropics. Bonkers really; we'd been freezing our bottoms off just a few days before, so to be suddenly surrounded by banana plantations and the orangey-brown soil that's found in these parts was a jolly nice surprise. What we needed, therefore, was to ease into Guayaquil and into a nice cool room with cotton sheets and a fan. And it started well. The bus station in Guayaquil was so impressive it's almost worth writing home about, which is what I'm doing. It was almost certainly the most modern and well equipped building we've seen since...well, ever. It didn't just have smart, clean toilets, it had separate toilets for kids. Now, in this age of peudo-mania it makes you wonder who maintains these toilets, whether it's adults who have had a thorough police check or possibly children in mini cleaners uniforms and little mops. We decided it was kid cleaners; after all, clean toilets
Surfing Birds
Pelicans losing their cool in the surf at Puerto Lopez. might be a novelty in these parts but child labour is very much alive and kicking. Still, you probably don't need to hear about the bogs in Ecuador. This is a travel blog for cripes sake, not a hygiene report.
So eventually we managed to prize ourselves out of the wondrous bus station, and made our way to our 'budget' hotel in the middle of town. Quite how 'budget' became apparent
after we'd paid for two nights and made our way to our room. Let's just say that most of the clientele probably pay by the hour rather than by the night. The first clue was the mattresses - PVC. And PVC pillows too. Easy to clean, you see. Not so easy to sleep on....for example, when you get up for a midnight wee it´s not unusual to find the pillow still stuck to your cheek when you reach the bathroom. Then there was the strange presence of music played directly into the room. Not being the biggest fans of South American music (Tango and Salsa being the glorious exceptions) we were relieved to find a switch to turn it off in the room, meaning we could only hear
Whale Ahoy
A finsbury flopping Humpback. the muffled tones humming from the corridor. Eventually we put two and two together and realised the music was to block out the sounds coming from the rooms. Oh dear god, what had we signed up to? Still, it was cheap, and not strictly a knocking shop, more a place where people came to sample the goods. Or shag the secretary.
We made it through two nights in our easy-to-clean room, giving us time to sample the delights of Guayaquil, which at first sight was quite impressive. It had an air of Bristol about it; lots of water and a flashy new walkway along the river...what a treat! That took up half a morning and then we realised there was bugger all else to do there. We attempted eating, but alas there seemed to be no restaurants to be found. We tried shopping but gave up after Jenny vetoed Ant's attempts to buy a pair of Guns N Roses shorts. Our minds turned to a return to the wondrous bus station. And guess what, that's exactly where we went. But this time we got a bus up the coast.
We'd heard there was a place nearby where we
Like minds
Ant thinking a seal is like a puppy. could go whale watching and so off we went again, back onto a rickety bus on which nothing seemed to function except the stereo. In fact it seemed that the stereo was working so well that it was draining energy from the rest of the bus. And this time the music was Reggaetton. To the uninitiated this is music that Satan would refuse to inflict on even the most pitiful souls. Reggaetton is what happens when people with lots of libido and too much rum get their hands on music making equipment and learn how to use the easy buttons. And it certainly didn't set a suitable atmosphere for reading The Exorcist. “For blazes' sake we're British, don't you know. Turn that bloody racket down!” The strangest thing about this insistence on playing music REALLY LOUDLY on buses, trains or any public space with enough room for a speaker, is that everyone of any age, gender or music preference is assaulted with it. It's hard to imagine National Express blaring out Rammstein to young and old, just because the driver likes it. There again, it might work on trains. You could have the Vera Lynn carriage for the old 'uns,
a kids carriage playing Girls Aloud and perhaps a classical carriage if that's your cup of tea. No chance of that for us though, and we were delighted to arrive in Puerto Lopez, though a little worried that the whales might have abandoned their playful jumps and splashes and taken to grinding and dry humping for the tourists.
Puerto Lopez was more like it. A laid back fishing village with muddy roads and a beach full of activity - fishermen returning with their hauls, kids throwing discarded fish up to the pelicans in the air who would fight to catch it, and a handful of chilled out restaurants and bars serving ‘Ceviche’ - raw fish drizzled with lemon and chilli. We settled into the pace and booked ourselves a place on a wee boat to go and see some whales. What whales we were going to see, we never bothered to find out until afterwards. As it turns out they were Humpbacks, and bloody massive they were too. We were amazed to see a couple within the first twenty minutes, and less surprised when the following three hours saw us pottering around the open seas, apparently heading for New
Mum and baby
It was breeding time, which meant loads of babies. Zealand. Ant was convinced the guide was asleep on the roof, biding time before heading home for a beer. Jen and the rest of the passengers were just asleep. But our cynicism was blown away like the water from a whale’s blowhole when we encountered two more Humpbacks, a mum and baby, leaping out of the water and splashing about as if they had no idea we all had our harpoons trained on their blubbery hides. Okay, so we didn't, just an arsenal of cameras and a hail of 'oohs' and 'aahhs' as yet another giant slippery thing leapt out of the water just fifty metres in front of us. It was one of those moments when all is good with the world. And as if a giant hand of animal-loving fate had placed us there, we spotted Gil and Iris, a couple who we'd worked with at the animal sanctuary in Bolivia, bobbing around on the other boat. A welcome evening of fine food and cocktails ensued, hurrah!
The next morning we boarded another bus an hour or so down the coast (this time with the film Gladiator playing at a million decibels), to Mantanita, a surfing town
1 Million Years BC
An Iguana and The Pinnacle. which had more in common with Thailand than anything we'd yet seen in Ecuador. Shifty-eyed gringos who looked like they were enjoying the party scene prowled the streets, some surfed, and we..., well we went shopping. Pathetic, isn't it? But we were still in need some beach clothes...never mind. Actually, Ant slept, Jenny shopped and before we knew it, we were heading back to the mecca that was the Guayaquil bus station. Joy unbounded!
And that was before the Galapagos...
So the Galapagos then. Well, we'd splashed out on an eight day trip on the good ship Golondrina which would send us round a figure of eight tour of a few of the eastern islands. We're not sure which trip Darwin took, but it was probably a more expensive one as he got to ride around on tortoises and stuff, a treat which we were denied. We did meet tortoises big enough to ride on though, including Lonesome George, a tortoise of some renown since he is the last of his kind. It took a while for the penny to drop, Ant scratching his head for a good hour, before realising that yes, he'd heard of Lonesome
Egg head
An Albatross egg and Jen. George before. A quick check of the Darwin Centre shop confirmed that Henry Nicholls, fellow intermittent Celeriac cricketer, is the author of Lonesome George's tragic story. Now the good news here is that after refusing the approaches of two female tortoises of nearly the same species for over 30 years, George has literally come out of his shell and got them both up them duff at the same time. Yes, gay rumours are over, George is expected to be a father of ten in the coming months. We bought a Lonesome George mug to celebrate, which will no doubt be smashed within weeks. It´s probably worth pointing out though, that Diego, the turtle in the next pen has managed to father 1000 little uns, so George has a wee bit of catching up to do.
On day two our itinerary included a stop at some volcanic craters and lava tunnels, which gave us our first opportunity to get acquainted with Camillo, our guide. Actually, it was more a case of getting tuned in. To begin with we tried to keep up with him and follow what he was saying, but we quickly realised that even if you heard him,
understanding was a whole different matter. It wasn't quite English and it wasn't quite Spanish, but after an hour or so, it began to make sense. In this new language we went looking for “mangrooies” (mangroves), “lava tunas” (lava tunnels), “sting-reyas” (stingrays) and “boovies” (boobies), we walked over “zona the lava AA” (extreme lava) and visited the “centre the interpretations” (visitor centre). We could tell the rest of the group were watching us newbies to see how we coped, and it didn't take us long before we were drifting along at the back, filling in the gaps for ourselves. But what Camillo lacked in clarity, he more than made up for in enthusiasm and charm. And once we were on the boat and hopping round the islands, this really came to the fore. As someone who was born and bred in the Galapagos, he really knew his stuff, and he knew where to find it. None more so than when he slipped into his Speedo's for our daily snorkelling jaunts. Before we were even out of the boat, Camillo would be zipping down towards a rock or a cave as he´d spotted a stingray or turtle, gliding through the water
with all the grace of mermaid. Then on day three came the ultimate chase. Heading to a snorkelling spot we spotted some whales and decided to move closer. Once we were in the open sea, miles from land and somewhere near where we'd seen the whales, Camillo jumped in the water, urging us to follow suite. And we did. Open sea, snorkelling gear, chasing whales. Now, you can't knock a man's enthusiasm, but it's one of life's certainties that whales are better swimmers than people. No matter, we gave chase, heading where, no one knew. In fact, we could have been heading to the Antarctic given that's where the whales were probably off to. Once swimming gave way to gasping, we climbed back in the boat from where we got a perfect view of one of the whales leaping out of the water...about two miles away. In the middle ground we could make out the determined splashes of the remaining swimmers, chasing Camillo who was several lengths ahead, heading in completely the wrong direction. Credit where credit's due, they didn't give up, and hours later everyone was still in the water, admiring the more localised delights of reef sharks and
Blue Footed Boobie
No matter which way you look at them, they look a bit silly. more turtles.
It was the perfect week, as by day we would land on a new island, by night we would navigate across the seas. The only downside was that the rockiness of the seas led to some sickliness in our cabin, but Jen soon discovered that sleeping on the deck of the boat under the stars was the perfect remedy. Some days would see seals and iguanas, on other days there would be boobies and frigate birds. All wondrous in their own special way, many unique and most totally tame. Naturally the word 'boobie' would be greeted with an inward guffaw from Ant, but more distracting was their very appearance. Whether blue footed or red footed (with blue beaks), the boobies were true Galapagos wildlife. Partly because they were so fascinating to look at, but also because they were utterly devoid of any grace when on firm ground. In the air they swooped with style, on land they waddled like the fat girl at hockey practice who's just been told to go in goal. And in their own way, all the animals shared this polarised graceful/buffoon-like characteristic. Seals would glide and swirl through the water, then waddle and
Fearce Creature
The incredible Camillo, getting into his role. flop onto the sand like someone who needs cutting out of their apartment. And least graceful of all, bless them, were Albatross chicks. Fattened up over their first few weeks, they then had to waddle awkwardly to the edge of the cliff to see if they could fly. Some, apparently, are so fat they break their legs!! ‘Break their legs!’
We were spoiled. Every single day was filled with wildlife, warm seas and food served by a friendly and courteous staff. It was touching that even on a small boat, the staff all took pride in their jobs, wearing starched white uniforms for special occasions. The chef had the kind of look that said he'd murder you if you criticised his spuds, but came out and milked the applause for his cake on the farewell night for some of the passengers. Over our week, Camillo also seemed to get more into the swing of things. On one occasion he brightened up descriptions of flora and fauna by suddenly bursting into a sprint, culminating in a commando roll. Then in the evening, as we sipped on a relaxing glass of wine, he'd totter round the boat with a large tequila
in one hand and a mountain of salt atop half a lime in the other, enjoying his own interpretation of an aperitif. All the while smiling his charming smile and assuring us of 'many fantastic surprises' the following day. He was an absolute star, and if we could have smuggled him into our rucksacks we would have kept him with us.
All too soon it was over. On our last full day, in fact the last moments of our last snorkel, Ant came face to face with a Galapagos Shark, significantly bigger then the reef sharks we'd been used to seeing. Fortunately it didn't recognise him as a seal, or maybe decided he was too scrawny to bother with. Meanwhile Jenny had swum to completely the wrong boat, but somehow avoided meeting the same shark on the way back. For our final stop we visited our final seal colony, our last chance to get up close and personal with our favourite creatures of the Galapagos. Since they're a cross between dolphins and labrador puppies, it was a welcome last visit. Needless to say, we were very reluctant to say goodbye, but it was a fitting place to do so.
And that was that. Back at the shed which serves as the airport, we tried to conjure up ways of stealing the identity of new arrivals and starting over again, but we'd had our time. Our next stop would be Quito, where we knew we'd need about three days to upload photos and write this blog. And that's exactly where we're up to now. And if anyone reading this has ever considered going to the Galapagos, then go. There's no two ways about it, it's paradise. Save up, sell your house, beg, steal, borrow, rob your granny if you have to, just go. You won't regret it.
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Mel
non-member comment
Stop rubbing it in
Will you two please stop having such a good time? It's rainy here, my train was cancelled, a conker fell on my head and the only wildlife I've seen today was a club-footed London pigeon. Can't tell you how envious I am - of your whole trip, but particularly this part. And well done for keeping up with the journal - you'll always have it to remember your trip (unless the site crashes and loses everything, of course...!) Keep it up, chollos - Mel xx