Galapagos: Fernandina

On the sixth day we visited the island of Fernandina. At 700,000 years old it is the youngest of these islands, and its lack of age shows. The area we landed in was quite lush. It was underwater until 1959, when an underground lava flow forced some of the shoreline above water. A Disney crew was filming in the area at the time. The returned to the area one morning to find the beach has been lifted up. Where there had been water, they found exposed ocean floor. They reported that fish were still flopping around and lobsters were crawling around on the ground.

You can still see where the old beach was. It is a bar of black sand separating the lush mangrove and poison apple forest from the forbidding a’a lava fields behind it. A’a lava comes from the Hawaiian word for pain because of its razor sharp edges. On the lava fields, only the hardiest of organisms can survive. Lava cactus is one of the pioneers on this island, finding enough to get by on from the dust and soil that accumulates in the cracks. A few trees have started to make it here, notably the incense tree – which has a delightful smell that can be used to keep the mosquitoes away.

Of course, for sea going animals, the quality of life inland is of little consequence, so the shores of the island are rich with marine iguanas, sea lions, boobys and shore birds. Despite that, life on shore can still be precarious. The volcano here is still very active. Active enough that it wiped out a breed of tortoise that once lived here. When it will erupt again is anyone’s guess.

But we can be certain it will. Fernandina is still growing, as is Isabella, the largest of the Galapagos Islands. Soon, at least by geological standards, they will be carried away from the hot spot and begin to erode back into the sea as they make the eastward journey towards Peru. Already, they are starting to be replaced. While Fernandina might well be a baby island, its replacement is already starting to gestate. Two miles off her western shore, Scientists have already discovered a new volcano starting to climb towards the surface.

Galapagos: Galapagos Underwater

Roughly 20% of the fishes in the waters around the Galapagos are endemic, meaning they can be found nowhere else. By Galapagos standards the waters are absolutely cosmopolitan, even if that number is fantastically high by the standards of most ecosystems.

Enter the waters here, and you are overwhelmed with snappers, parrot fish, sergeant majors, and star fish. Today, while snorkeling off the coast of Isabella, we met an astonishing number of creatures. Within 30 seconds of entering the water, I was greeted by the first spectacular sighting of the day – a shark. In our tellings of the story, the shark has grown to be well over 50 feet. However, it was probably about 6 feet – a white tip shark. The hammerheads have proven to be less cooperative.

About one minute and several dozen brightly colored fish after the shark swam off, a pacific green sea turtle swam into view. These endemic sea turtles are nesting at the moment, so they wait close to shore for night to come. When it does, they haul themselves up past the high tide mark and bury their eggs in the soft sand, leaving tracks that look suspiciously like truck tires. They are amazing creatures, and quite common on these islands. Already a number of my travel partners have grown bored of them. I haven't.

Later, I feel a tugging at my flippers. Malcolm, an English traveler who used to work for the Saudi royal family, point at a bunch of Galapagos penguins. They slowly approached, apparently curious about what they were seeing in their normally human free waters. After investigating for a bit, they must have decided that I was nothing of interest, and disappeared into the ocean.

This was followed by a Galapagos sea lion, an endemic species closely related to the California sea lion. They are entirely tame here. At one point, I was walking along the beach, looking at the sea when Maru, a girl with my group, pushed my chest to make me stop walking. I was about to trip over a sea lion that was walking past. The sea lion was nonplussed – it simply looked up at me, barked at me, and kept moving.

After that came a flightless cormorant. Cormorants here have lost the ability to fly. They still sun their wings, but for no apparent purpose. The wings that they have left are little more than stubs. Out of water they are awkward looking creatures, stumbling about on the rocks and getting into shouting matches with blue footed boobies like drunks on binge. Moving about the underwater rocks like mercury, searching for food hidden in the crevices, they possess a grace under water that that is utter lacking on land.

In 1998, the waters surrounding the islands were declared a marine reserve, and is protected under both Ecuadoran and international law. Despite these protections, and genuine enforcement efforts, these waters remain under siege. Poaching continues, with long lines and nets drowning countless numbers of birds, turtles and sea lions. The damage done to reefs and other underwater habitats is difficult to quantify, as is the economic damage done to people who try to support themselves sustainably on these islands. (Including the many local fishermen who play by the rules.)

Not every snorkel trip has been that eventful. Sometimes the water is murky, sometimes there is just nothing there. This isn't an aquarium, but, at least for the time being, this is one of the best places to experience some of the best underwater wildlife viewing this world has to offer.

Galapagos: Lonesome George

Today was a trip to town. We took in a bit of shopping and a spin through the Charles Darwin Research Center. The center's most famous inhabitant is Lonesome George. Poor George is the last of his kind, or at least the last of his kind known. There is a $20,000 reward out for female saddleback tortoises from the island of Pinta.

He actually isn't so lonesome. He shares his pen with two female saddlebacks from a different island. They are a different species, but scientists think that they might be closely enough related that they could be able to produce offspring.

Mostly this has gone nowhere. For twelve years, George only appears to have tried to mate with one of the females one time. He ended up falling asleep on top of the poor thing and the mating was unsuccessful. He is estimated to be about 90 years old, fairly young for a giant tortoise, but still give the guy a break. He got something done – the female laid eggs, but none of them were fertilized.

A Belgian volunteer “with lovely soft hands” (as described by Juan, our guide) managed to collect some sperm from George. It turns out that the last of his kind is not producing viable semen. And there is, so I am told, plans in the works to introduce saddlebacks from a different island to Pinta. The different species play similar ecological roles on the different islands. Their diets are roughly the same, and they play an important role in seed distribution for plants. Finches also rely on them as a source for food. The two species have a mutualistic relationship, where the finches east the pests off of the turtles. It is hoped that a similar enough tortoise will fill the same ecological niche.

However, not all hope is lost for George. The bounty is still out on a potential mate. It is hoped that once he is meets a female of his own kind, his sperm might be revitalized. And after all these years, it is still a possibility. A male from the Isabella, the main island, seems to be wild cross between a Pinta tortoise and the local tortoises found near Wolf Volcano. A brief study has found that 8 of 27 tortoises around that volcano have genetic traits suggesting that there are Pinta tortoises on the island.

Given the long life spans of giant tortoises, it is also possible that one of them is still alive in a private collection or zoo.

Even if a mate can’t be found, George might not be the last of his kind. Genetic tests on a tortoise named Tony at a zoo in Prague suggest that he might also be from Pinta. So, maybe, Lonesome George can finally have a friend he wouldn’t want to fall asleep on top of.

Travel notes: That afternoon we headed up to a private ranch with a healthy population of wild tortoises. We began the trip with a short jaunt down a lava tube, which are basically caves caused by lava flows rather than running water. Normally there is an abundance of wildlife in these caves, including bats and owls, but today there were none.

We ended up seeing numerous tortoises and learning about the moister, high elevation areas of these islands. It was fascinating. Afterwards, we gathered at the rancher's home, where we had coffee with rum and relaxed in the shade (the island was incredibly hot and humid.). After a while, Juan brought out his guitar and started singing. Another group of Ecuadorian tourists came up and joined us. Their guide tried his hand at singing as well, He had a wonderful tenor voice and bBefore long, everyone was singing and dancing and clapping.

It was incredible. I have been told that the American National Park Service used to require rangers to lead sing-alongs. Last summer we had a discussion about how few rangers could successfully pull that off. In fact, we all wanted to meet the ranger who could. Who would have suspected that it would turn out to be Juan?

Galapagos: Flamingos of the Everglades

Today we watched flamingos. They are the same kind that live in the Caribbean and Florida, they haven’t been here long enough to evolve into a new species. They aren't the strongest of fliers and were probably carried over to these islands by a strong storm several thousand years ago. They were lucky enough to find some brackish waters and thrived.

Because they are relatively recent arrivals to these shores, they still have some of their fear of people, so quietness is a must. However, they aren't that afraid. We were able to get within a few dozen feet of them while they preened and groomed themselves, occasionally sticking their heads in the water for a snack of the shrimp that thrive in these waters.

I've only seen flamingos once before, in Florida, with my dad. We were staying in the Everglades, and we had asked the ranger where we could see them. The answer involved a long boardwalk through a mangrove swamp full of mosquitoes. We made the trek, and despite covering ourselves with both clothing and repellent, we were both pretty well chewed up. We arrived at the end of the trail only to see nothing. No flamingos, not much of anything to be honest. We waited about 15 minutes, the mosquito bites turning into welts, before two finally flew over head. Close enough to be identified, but not so close that we could get any good pictures.

My father was happy enough with that – simply smiling and saying “we know they're here.”

Today was different. I know they are there because there were dozens of them on the lake. Several of them were almost within touching distance, three babies were visible, and we could hear their calls – honking like Canada geese. My group stood still and silent on the edge of the brackish lagoon. Roughly three of them preened themselves. They were so close that we could hear them ruffle their feather and splash their heads around in the water as they ate or gathered water to clean themselves with. Each pink feather was clearly visible. Silence seemed the only appropriate response. In part, this is because the birds are more easily spooked than other animals on the islands. However, it was more than that. It was like some innate part of us that understands when stillness and silence is the only proper response.

Somehow though, none of them were as satisfying as those two quietly passing over a mosquito plagued swamp in the south of Florida.

Travel notes:

Later in the day, we went to post office cove, where an 18th century whaling captain placed a barrel where people could put mail and hope that it would be delivered. Today the tradition survives. I had no postcards with me, but I did pick up a few for delivery when I return to the states.

After that, we crossed the island in bare feet, where we watched sea turtles waiting for night time to come ashore at night and lay their eggs. They were remarkably close to the shore.

The crew of the ship also took a break from providing us with luxury service and played a soccer match with the crew of another vessel. We stayed and watched – it was great fun, especially given that half the field was covered by the rising tide by the end of the match. (Literally, half the field – no exaggeration.)

After that, it was time for a bit of snorkeling. (Another reminder of my father, who loved nothing more than being in the ocean.) We went to devil's head, a place famous for hammerheads. No sharks today, alas, but lots of beautiful fishes, starfish and corals.

Tonight we are off to one of the towns. I forget exactly which one, but it will be an opportunity to do a bit of shopping and enjoy a beer at the bar.

The Galapagos.

We know the story well enough. Darwin visited here aboard the HMS Beagle, and what he saw inspired him to develop the theory of evolution. Since then, religious zealots, refusing to realize the power of metaphor over crude literal truths, have attempted to demonize this remarkable idea.


Ironic, given that this place is as close to paradise as any of us can imagine. Most of us are used to animals that run away. We approach, the move off – occasionally, they attack. There is none of that here. We approach; they look at us kindly as if to inquire if there is something we need of them.

To be certain, it isn't some blissful place where pain and death don't exist. The Galapagos Islands are a hothouse for evolution precisely because it is so tough to make a living here. Poor volcanic soils, an inconsistent climate, and a paucity of fresh water means that those species who eventually settled into this place had to adapt quickly to survive. The ones we see are the ones who made it, and for the most part, they made it by being tough or adaptive enough.

An overwhelming majority of the animals here are endemic. They arrived here as a finch, an iguana, a plant, and soon, at least on an evolutionary scale, became something else. Some iguanas learned to swim, living off of the algae that lives in the tidal zone. Others became antediluvian giants of the land, surviving off the few green plants that live here – especially cacti, which they eat with apparent relish, thorns and all. Tortoises also took hold. On the lusher islands they ate grass and developed a dome or flat shaped shell. On the drier islands, they had to reach up to get at the cactus, so they developed the famous saddleback shell, which frees their long necks.

Early visitors to the park were careless, and a number of invasive species soon took hold. Today numerous islands are populated with goats, rats, cats, as well as plants, insects and who knows what sort of microbial organisms – each doing untold damage to the islands where they have managed to establish themselves. Often these animals were brought deliberately by early settlers, such as the wild goats and cows. Others were brought accidentally, such as the rats.

Today, the regulations are strict. Luggage is inspected twice, not for drugs or weapons, but for any fruits or seeds that might establish themselves on the island, first at Quito, then again on the island. It is fumigated on the plane, and you have to walk over disinfectant mats all before you enter the park. And all that is before you pay the $100 entry fee.

Then you are here. Sea lions rest besides sea iguanas on the pier while blue footed boobys and frigate birds circle above. Normally, I am a budget traveler. To me vacations involve lumpy beds, rough roads and a strong possibility of infectious disease. This is a luxury cruise – the host wears a bow tie at dinner time, and we make toasts with lovely amaretto cocktails. Gotta love them last minute deals.

I even got to enjoy having my luggage brought to my room for me.

Our first stop was the island of Baltra, where we went for a 3 hour stroll. Normally, I would go about 5 miles in that time, but in the Galapagos we maybe went an hour and a half. This is not because my luxury traveling friends are slow or soft or lazy. They aren't. Rather it is because there is so much to see. You are practically tripping over animals.

I thought that I was spoiled by Yellowstone, but that is nothing. Animals that I thought I would be lucky to see just once are everywhere. Land iguanas, unseemly in size and appearance gracefully ignored use while munching on prickly pear cacti. Blue footed boobys relaxed and basically ignored us.

Back on the boat, I saw my first hammerhead shark. We are planning on going snorkeling in a place where they are common. Needless to say, I will talk about that once that happy day comes to pass.

Day two took us to Espanola, or Hood Island as it is known in the English. We started off the day with a trip to beach. Our guide, Juan, has degrees in ornithology and marine biology – and after twenty one years of guiding, maintains a remarkable enthusiasm. We went looking for the three finches you find on the island – the cactus finch, the warbler finch, and small ground finch. They all look alike, except for the beaks. The cactus finch has a thick strong bill used for tearing at the flesh of cactus. The small ground finch has a medium bill used for seeds, while the warbler finch has a tiny bill, little more than a pair of tweezers, used for snatching small insects.

Other birds were on the beach as well, including an oyster catcher, a Galapagos hawk, and hood mocking birds. Of course, the fun part was swimming in the ocean alongside sea turtles and sea lions. The afternoon was another walk, the highlight of which were the red green marine iguanas and masked boobies – bleached cousins of the more famous ones with blue feet.

Last Thoughts on the Amazon

I was asked before coming to the Amazon to compare what I made of the jungle to what I feel about Yellowstone.

Here is my answer. The Amazon is an amazing place. Within an hour of being here, I saw a two toed sloth, a turtle, several species of fish and monkeys, and my birding life list just about doubled.

The rain forest certainly gets into you. I understand how a person could arrive here and decide that they are never going to leave. There is just so much to learn here. As I mentioned in a previous blog, our guide knew plants for just about every purpose from a phosphorescent fungus that can be used as a lantern, to trees that can be used for birth control for these late night paramours that you use to fungus to get to. He wasn't a shaman or a botanist. He was just a guy who had a bit of local knowledge.

I understand that shamans in the area have knowledge of thousands of plants gained from over 20 years of training. It is the most biologically diverse ecosystem on earth. There are probably more species of monkey than there are species of large mammals in the whole of greater Yellowstone. The pink dolphins were absent, forced downstream by an dry spell that left the Cuybeno River unusually dry, but this same dry spell forced so many animal and birds to the banks of the river that I won't even bother to list them all.

In short, the neo-tropical rain forests of the Amazon were everything I could wish for and more. It was a magical, wonderful, beautiful place, and I loved it.

However, it wasn't home. I wasn't raised in Yellowstone, so in some way I feel like I don’t have the right to claim to it as home. However, last winter, after an absence of a few months from the area, a friend of mine came up to me, slapped me on the back and said “welcome home”. He was right; I felt it as soon as he said it. Yellowstone place was home.

The Amazon has so much to offer. It is known as the lungs of the earth because so much of our oxygen is created here. Its survival is vital to the survival of the entire planet. I suspect that I will return many times, and I know that I will be supporting charities that do good work to protect it.

But a part of me found it to be claustrophobic. It is so tight with life. Every corner was a wall of green. I saw dozens of monkeys, but most of them for no more than a few seconds.

Perhaps I am spoiled by Yellowstone, where you can sit and watch a herd of bison for hours, or enjoy watching the druid pack on a kill for the better part of a day. Maybe I just like open places where you can see for miles in any direction. Maybe, I just found the place that part of me knows is home.