My trip to Ecuador - Arrival in Galápagos

Part two of the diary of my trip (with videos).

26/4/2024

The plane to San Cristóbal is a much more enjoyable experience than the journey to Quito. Not only have I bagged a window seat, but I relish LATAM airways novelties such as the snack being ‘salted plantain chips’. I’m amusing myself thinking of Peter Kay saying ‘Savoury Bananas’ in a ‘Garlic Bread’ kind of way, when I miss my mouth and a piece finds itself inside my bra. Shit, will I render myself a bio hazard by bringing dried plantain into the precious place? Does airline food count? I have heard stories about the vigilance of the security staff on Galápagos. Will I have to be frisked by a guard or singled out by a sniffer dog for the crime of a rogue piece of plantain?

This won’t do and so I start to ‘discreetly’ fish out said piece from my bra - you know, casually smiling at my fellow passengers as I cop a feel. After a few odd manoeuvres that must look like I’m channelling Rod Hull and Emu, my hand emerges with the piece. Phew! My underwear is now vegetable free. I am no longer a hazard!

They do take these kind of things incredibly seriously though. Before we land, an odd and tokenistic procedure takes place.

The overhead compartments are opened and sprayed by a crew member. It’s all a bit low budget ‘Ghostbusters’. We are told this is done routinely to minimise the risk of harmful contaminates coming into contact with the delicate Galápagos ecosystem.

I consider the utter bullshit of this.

Because…….if we are doing this, what about handbags stored under seats, too? What about our shoes? Why are they not also puffed with this famed wonder mist?

Some of my fellow passengers cough - we are in a confined space in the air after all. Still, not to worry, the captain announces this has all been approved by none other than……drum roll……..the World Health Organisation.

Oh fucking hell! Now I’m REALLY worried……

The airport is small. As we exit the aircraft, the sun slaps my face like the opening of an oven door, its dense fug holding me fast. Not since I was in Texas have I encountered such bold, unashamed heat.

You’re on the equator, I remind myself. The clusters of huge cacti on the airport grounds confirm this.

Arrival means showing my $20 immigration card I purchased in Quito, and paying a $100 National Park fee. In August this fee will rise to $200. As a ‘World Heritage Site’, they purposely make accessing the place a bit of a palaver. Whilst I can see the point of capping the number of visitors, the industry is set up to funnel people towards expensive organised tours who will ‘sort out all the paperwork for you’. I understand the need to preserve a unique and special habitat but firmly reject the notion that nature is for a privileged few. The Earth belongs to everyone, we are all equal as both its guardians and beneficiaries. With this in mind, I have deliberately rebelled, deciding to travel independently, taking day tours as and when, and booking a modest hostel.

Outside the terminal, a line of white pick up trucks greet the new arrivals. These, it would seem, are Galápagos taxis! I climb inside one and within a couple of minutes of navigating dirt track and smooth road, I arrive at my accommodation.

It’s a simple affair, but I have my own clean en-suite room with air con and it is close to town. In my youth, I worked in both humble hostels and fancy five star hotels and most of the time these days, I prefer hostels and guest houses when travelling alone. Not only are they are they less stuffy, more sociable places, full of character, but they tend not to attract the whiny, entitled types I like to avoid.

The top floor - where an included breakfast is served - is a pretty sun terrace with a sea view and a selection of hammocks to lounge in. All this for under £40 a night!

My hosts Ivan and Trudi are kind and welcoming and provide me with a useful map. I plonk down my small case and after a much needed shower, decide to have a wander to see what delights await me!

I filmed this video (below) when out for the first time in San Cristóbal so you get a taste of what I was met with.

As I walk further into the town of Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, I notice there are many small play parks and colourful murals. There’s a strong sense here that as well as loving animals, the Ecuadoreans adore children and prize family life.

I buy a delicious vanilla ice cream for $3 from the ‘Heladeria’ and stroll the harbour taking in the beauty and life around me. I have never seen so many sea lions in my life. This colony has overtaken the entire harbour! They bark, they snort, they baa like sheep…..

They shuffle awkwardly and roll like sleepy, squidgy puppies, whiskers twitching and soft eyes agog. They heap and slop their way to the water as heavy sacks of spuds, only to transform into lithe, graceful dancers as they meet the ocean.

Large pelicans patrol the turquoise skies as vigilant cops. Their beaks change to plunging, precise daggers in an instant as they dive bomb the sea vertically to tackle their prey.

Crabs scramble, lizards lounge and sunny yellow finches chirrup and flit. I spend the afternoon contentedly observing the beautiful, abundant wildlife. How wonderful that humans and animals have found a way of coexisting here on these treasured islands. How refreshing that people do not feel the need to assert their ‘top dog’ status, to dominate and make ugly. How inspiring to see mankind treating animals with the dignity and respect they deserve. It brings both peace and hope to my soul.

I stroll to the other side of town, where a young, lively bartender is singing along passionately to the Latino music on the radio. The uninhibited joy he takes in life and his job is a tonic to watch. I know instantly he will make me the most sensational cocktail, because I am already drinking him in, tasting his contagious zest. Preparing my drink becomes a family affair as someone is called over to slice a hunk of fresh pineapple and shave coconut into a pile of stiff milky curls.

My Piña Colada is served with gusto. It has been blended with ice and hits my lips like the most delicious contradiction of tropical snow. How I savour each frozen bead, watching seal lions swim with children in the gentle, lapping ocean.

(Menu - ‘Wind pie’ anyone?

Some things just don’t translate quite the same, do they?)

A long haired woman around thirty sits on a rock carving balls from a pale green fruit that resembles both cooking apple and melon. She places them in polythene bags with ice, and hands them to a boy around 7 years old and a man I assume is his father. They then proceed to wander the beach selling them for a dollar.

“Auf wiedersehen!” the boy announces to me brightly as though he thinks it means ‘hello’. Oh bless him! Hang on…….why does he think I look German?

Finally, after hours spent gazing, grazing and amazing, I amble back to the hostel, high on open grins, rolling waves of Spanish words and embracing, ebony eyes. I decide I most definitely love this place.

Already, Galápagos is all I dreamed it would be, and so much more.