“Why are you going to the Galapagos?” my sister asked in a somewhat exasperated voice, “you don’t even like nature.” Good point as the scenery usually bores me after about five minutes. And when it comes to landscapes, I tend to see similarities, rather than differences. My travel checklist is meeting interesting people, trying different foods, finding local markets, and collecting travel stories.
Still, I had to go to the Galapagos simply because I was there. He had booked a ticket to Bolivia, Peru, and Ecuador, so a trip to the islands was mandatory.
Galapagos, the distant islands of Charles Darwin, and the “Origin of Species” fame off the coast of Ecuador, has long been the playground of the wealthy. But since I was on a budget, I bought my ticket, booked a day cruise, and made a hostel reservation well in advance, as December is peak season in the southern hemisphere.
When the plane landed at Baltra airport, I looked out the window and speculated that it might have been a farmer’s hayfield somewhere around Foam Lake. The airport is more like an indoor airstrip found, for example, in Stony Rapids. Everyone lines up to have their bags checked by hand for contraband. No, it is not cocaine or marijuana they are looking for, it is plants or animals that could alter the delicate ecosystem of the islands. Remember that no one in Australia or New Zealand thinks rabbits are cute.
Representatives waved nameplates of people booked on expensive cruise ships. For the rest of us, getting to Puerto Ayora, the “capital” of the island, was more of an adventure. I hopped on the free shuttle to the pier, paid 50 cents to cross on the ferry, and then boarded the bus into town for $ 1.80. A shared taxi was only $ 5, but I wanted to ride with the locals. Ecuador, by the way, uses US dollars as its official currency, so calculating conversion rates is not a problem.
Puerto Ayora is a fairly dusty and run-down city that might need a paint job and some street repairs. Kind of like the old part of Melville in the 1960s. I smelled the salty air, the shadows of Manitou Beach, and enjoyed the rich cobalt blue water as compensation for the dreary architecture. Later, I had lunch at an outdoor cafe that overlooked the harbor and people-watched. In true island style, no one seemed to be in too much of a hurry. Influenced by the slow pace, I exhaled and relaxed.
A white cab-truck anywhere in the city was $ 1, so I pointed one out as I passed. Fredy took me to the hostel I had booked and I rang the bell. Unanswered. Then I knocked on the door. Still no answer.
What to do what to do Fredy understood my dilemma and in my awkward Spanish I explained that I had a limited budget. He asked if $ 25 was okay and I nodded. Then he took me to the unnamed hotel where I met an English-speaking Cecilia. The hotel had not yet processed the final documents, so it was unable to advertise. The ensuite room with balcony and white linens was heavenly. Really, it could have been a room in an older two or three story hotel in Humboldt or Swift Current.
My concern was that the pick up time for the cruise I had booked was 06:00 and it was from the hostel. Fredy promised to pick me up at 05:45 the next morning. And, true to his word, he arrived just in time. Once all the passengers from the different hotels had been accounted for, we headed down the road for the 45-minute trip to the pier. The flat landscape could have been somewhere around Regina. Then we hit the trees and rocks, though, and it was more like northern Saskatchewan, maybe somewhere near La Ronge.
We precariously entered the gloomy that led us to the yacht. A collection of young, old and middle-aged. And, as often happens, I was the only one traveling alone. At first I struck up a conversation with Lauren and her mother, Elody from Johannesburg.
Once on board, we had a hot breakfast, got into the dingy, and were taken to the island of Bartolemo. There, we went up the boardwalk to the top to enjoy the “classic” view of the Galapagos. Yes, the view was “nice”, but watching the way people – strangers who met on board – interacted with each other was more interesting. A middle-aged woman with an old-fashioned name, Ethel or Myrtle or something, I instantly disliked her, barely waving back and throwing me murderous looks all day. Perhaps you have a dislike for redheaded women.
At our second stop we crossed the island to see the penguins. Except they’re not there at that time of year, so our only wildlife encounter was a sea lion dropped on the beach for a nap. But, yeah, it was a “pretty” strip of sand with tumbleweeds rather like, say, Etter Beach in the 1970s.
After lunch some of us went snorkelling. With the water beside me, Kaitlan looked up at the massive volcanic wall in front of us. The composition was slightly different, but it closely resembled the cliffs along the Churchill River near Mission Stanley. She sighed, “You know, the scenery here is fine, but it doesn’t do much for me.” I smiled in agreement. It may have been the middle of the world, but it was a lot like Saskatchewan, except for the weather, of course, since it was over 25 in December. It was an affirmation to know that I was not the only person on the ship who was not enthusiastic about landscapes.
And people who want to experience some of the Galapagos landscapes can do so in Saskatchewan. And, if you live in North America, getting to central Canada is considerably less expensive than flying to Ecuador and then the islands.
Galapagos checklist:
Interesting people. Tick: Cecilia, Fredy, Lauren and Elody.
Different food. Tick: The fare on the yacht was recognizable, but watching the chef prepare meals in a closet-sized space was entertaining.
Local markets. Tick: While waiting for the return flight, and they are always late, I found a kiosk at the airport that offers a free Galapagos passport stamp. There I bought a nice shot glass that I use regularly.
Travel history. Tick. The day on the boat is one that I have recounted several times.