Two Weeks in the Galápagos

In a year of many firsts, I just spent two weeks in the Galápagos Islands, the furthest destination from Canada I have visited in a decade. (See the corresponding photos.)

The last time I travelled internationally (beyond the USA) was ten years ago, to Asia. In the subsequent years, I eschewed more expensive trips in favour of exploring the mountains and coast of Western Canada. My modus operandi for this period was to spend as little money as possible while exercising as much as possible.

My vacations during this season consisted of mountain bike, climbing, backpacking, and ski trips. Surprisingly, for such an adventurous season, I took not one international or domestic flight for the entire decade, giving credence to the idea that, if you look hard enough, you can find a lifetime of adventure in your own backyard.

The reason behind this latest trip was as momentous as the Galápagos is exotic: it was my honeymoon!

After a very long run, my mountain-bachelor days are officially behind me. This June, I married my wife Leanne in a perfect outdoor ceremony, and moved to Port Moody, a suburb of Vancouver. As much as I enjoyed living in Revelstoke, the limited pool of romantic partners ultimately necessitated moving elsewhere (local single men have dubbed it “Revelbloke”).

When discussing honeymoon options, one early idea was to do the Camino de Santiago in Spain (the popular Christian pilgrimage). We decided against visiting Europe in peak tourist season, however, and opted for the Galápagos, as it was somewhere new for both of us, and July seemed like a reasonable time to visit the islands. We joked that the Galápagos held the opposite of the Camino de Santiago in terms of spiritual significance, as the Galápagos are largely accredited with birthing Darwin’s theory of evolution (more on this soon).

Given my thrifty spending habits, the six-thousand-dollars-per-person live-aboard cruises were out of the question. (Unless otherwise noted, all prices will be in USD, the local currency of Ecuador.) I designed a custom itinerary, spending roughly equal time in each of the three main islands: Santa Cruz, Isabela, and San Cristóbal, booking only airfare and hotels ahead of time. Day tours and ferries between islands can be booked a few days in advance once you get to the islands, at least in the seemingly non-peak season of July. (We kept getting mixed reports on when the busy/quiet seasons are. All the hotels we stayed at were less than half full.)

As the only flights to the Galápagos leave from mainland Ecuador (usually Quito or Guayaquil), we’d need to make a few connections. The original itinerary had us going from Vancouver to San Francisco to Houston to Quito, with an overnight layover before flying to Baltra.

On departure day, we arrived at YVR and boarded our plane. We had very tight connections in San Francisco and Houston—one was 58 minutes!—which the airline had said was fine over a phone call. My concern was justified, however, as our departing flight became so delayed that we had to deplane. This delay now had us arriving in San Francisco minutes after our connecting flight would be leaving.

In a fortunate turn of events, United booked us on a very last-minute Air Canada flight from Vancouver directly to Houston, eliminating a connection. We were well past the check-in deadline but were still allowed to board. This was only possible as we had no checked baggage. Between “personal items” (small backpacks) and carry-on suitcases, we were able to avoid bringing anything larger.

We made it to Quito airport in Ecuador without further complications. I had arranged for a taxi to pick us up and take us to a nearby hotel. I’d forgotten how welcoming it is to have someone greet you at an airport holding a sign with your name.

The taxi took us a few minutes away from the airport, then started slowing down on a major road with no obvious intersection nearby. The driver then turned right, drove up the curb, and left the road completely. This sudden exit took us along an unpaved road to the hotel, a small section of land with some suites. A sign in a common area said that you’d get a free night if you beat the owner at ping-pong.

I don’t recall paying much for a deposit when booking the hotel, but they only asked for $26 the following morning. My inner dirtbag was thrilled at such an inexpensive night in a hotel. Next time I’ll be sure to practice my ping-pong.

Another taxi took us to the airport. Leaving the hotel, we went in a new direction along the dirt road we had taken upon arrival.

We approached an intersection with the main road. There were traffic lights in only three directions; our road formed a very unofficial fourth direction. Not only did it lack a traffic light, it also dropped a few vertical metres down a steep embankment. The driver expertly maneuvered the compact car down something only 4x4s should attempt, smoothly dropped down the square curb, then darted across the intersection when a window in the traffic presented itself. His English was limited, as was our Spanish, but his grin made it clear this was routine.

We then boarded the final flight to the Galápagos. Note that you need a document known as a Transit Control Card to enter the Galápagos. They cost $20 and must be done online or at Quito airport. You also need to pay $200 per person upon landing in the Galápagos, payable in cash.

Almost all vendors prefer cash. We didn’t make a single payment with a credit card while on the islands. Bring lots of cash. We severely underestimated the amount of cash we would need and had to make eight additional withdrawals¹.

I’m not entirely sure how best to handle taking money to the Galápagos. I’d hesitated at the idea of carrying thousands of dollars in cash while travelling internationally, especially with mainland Ecuador being under a regional travel advisory at the time (due to crime), though your cash gets a haircut when withdrawing it from ATMs. The Galápagos Islands are actually quite safe due to their isolation and controlled access. If I were to do it again, I suppose I would withdraw more cash in Canada before flying to Ecuador ($2,000 USD was not nearly enough).

Santa Cruz

Most flights to the Galápagos arrive at Galápagos Ecologic Airport on Baltra Island. It served as a US military base during World War II due to its strategic location for defending the Panama Canal, though it never saw action. Today, it is primarily used for funnelling tourists to and from the Galápagos Islands.

To get to Puerto Ayora, the main town on Santa Cruz Island (population 12,000), you need to take a bus from the airport to the Itabaca canal ($5), take a water taxi across the canal ($1), then take another bus ($5) or taxi ($30) to Puerto Ayora. The whole operation runs smoothly enough, especially considering that everyone has their full collection of flight luggage with them.

Taxis are quite cheap for short distances, sometimes costing as little as $2. Taxi vehicles are all pickup trucks, usually Toyota Hilux turbo diesels with manual transmissions (they are left-hand drive as in North America; if only they sold such vehicles in Canada!). One had over 670,000 km on its odometer. Many of these taxis had aftermarket infotainment systems with video screens and sometimes played movies while driving, presumably for the passengers’ benefit.

We arrived at our hotel in Santa Cruz on July 18, with a friendly, English-speaking host. He turned out to have the strongest English of any of the hotel owners we were to talk to. Google Translate and local SIM cards were indispensable.

Known as a “hostal” in Spanish, hotels like this are common in the Galápagos. They don’t have a direct Canadian equivalent—they aren’t quite hotels, motels, hostels, or bed and breakfasts; rather, they are small, affordable (~$80 per night) private rooms with bathrooms, often run by a family living in the same building. Breakfast is sometimes included (eggs, toast, yogurt, granola, fruit), or is available at nearby partnered restaurants for $5–10 per person.

We booked two tours: snorkelling at Pinzón Island the following day ($120 per person, including lunch), and snorkelling at Seymour Island on July 22 ($210 per person, including lunch).

We left around 8 AM from Puerto Ayora for the first tour. A 40-minute boat ride took us to Pinzón, a small, uninhabited island west of Santa Cruz. The tour was run by an English-speaking guide accompanied by a Spanish-speaking boat crew. The clients were a mix of nationalities—both English and Spanish speakers—including a family from Langley (Walnut Grove—not far from where I got married).

Snorkelling gear and wetsuits can be borrowed or rented from most tour operators. While renting worked on this trip, next time I’d bring my own to avoid issues like incorrect fit or janky gear.

The last time I went snorkelling was at Australia’s Great Barrier Reef in 2011, an hour offshore by speedboat. As I have never been a strong swimmer, I find open water intimidating. The snorkelling at Pinzón, however, was in slow-moving, shallow water—you could stand up in places. I practiced duck-diving in deeper areas, blast clearing my snorkel upon resurfacing, and improved my ability to remain calm in water.

We saw sharks (little reef sharks that are fine to swim with), sea lions, and many kinds of colourful fish. The wildlife really is exceptional here; even the crabs and grasshoppers have intricate—almost flamboyant—multi-coloured exteriors.

Many of the restaurants in Puerto Ayora are expensive and seem to cater toward Western tastes. Burgers, pizza, and pasta are common. Meals at such restaurants cost $20–25 per person, though you can find cheaper alternatives. Smaller restaurants are usually found a few blocks away from the tourist-trap areas, offering daily specials (often white rice with grilled chicken, beef, or pork, and a small salad) for as little as $6 per person.

The next day we walked to Tortuga Bay beach, a 2.5-kilometre walk from town. There is a beach break to surf here, if you are willing to haul your board all the way (we weren’t). Clusters of iguanas lounge around the sandy beach; we must have seen dozens. These iguanas are marine iguanas, the only ones in the world that can swim.

The following day, we rented bikes—well-used hardtail mountain bikes—and took a taxi inland to El Chato Giant Tortoise Reserve. (We put bikes in the back of the pickup-truck taxi.) From our guide, we learned that the tortoises cannot manage their temperature by sweating and thus rely on external bodies of water to cool themselves off. The commute from sea level to this inland location takes them up to a month. There are also some lava tunnels that can be walked through on the reserve.

A fully paved bike lane runs parallel to the main road back to Puerto Ayora, making for an easy downhill descent back to town.

Our Seymour tour was the single most expensive day tour we did. We caught a bus to the Itabaca canal to board our boat, which took us first to a sandy beach, then to a snorkelling spot along Seymour Island. It is actually quite close to the airport on Baltra Island; you could see onshore wind turbines from the boat.

The snorkelling was more intense here due to the deeper waters and sloshing current—I was glad to have warmed up in calmer waters first. The subsurface ocean was brimming with as much wildlife as Pinzón.

Over lunch, I talked to a Japanese lawyer. I couldn’t help but ask him about how AI was impacting his work—primarily reading and writing—and he expressed similar concerns as so many of us in the knowledge economy. I have found there to be a split between those who have existential dread about losing their job to robots, and those who are excited to leverage AI to achieve previously impossible levels of productivity.

I am more prone to belonging to the first camp. As I watch AI automate more and more of my day job—software development—it is easy to feel at least minor unease at the long-term implications of a rapidly changing technological society. Putting aside the privilege necessary for international travel, it sometimes takes a change of scenery to remember that we shouldn’t worry about the things we can’t control—aren’t vacations supposed to mean leaving day-to-day concerns behind for a while? Life will go on regardless of advances in AI capabilities—assuming that dystopian visions of the future like Skynet don’t become a reality.

(As an aside, I still write these posts manually. I spend many hours drafting and revising these words, leveraging AI only during research [it has largely obviated directly searching the web] and editing [proofreading, looking up synonyms, or reworking sentences]. While anyone can write and publish AI-generated prose now, we need to retain the humans in the humanities, a notion that will become ever more important going forward.)

The tour finished with a hike along Seymour Island. This was our first encounter with blue-footed boobies, one of the most emblematic species of the Galápagos (along with Darwin’s finches). Unlike Canada’s generally skittish and elusive wildlife, the boobies are marvellously unafraid of humans. You could walk right up to them—but you are not to touch them. Many had set up their nests in the middle of the path.

According to Lonely Planet, the Galápagos Islands were accidentally discovered in 1535 when Panamanian bishop Tomás de Berlanga drifted off course on a sailing trip from Panama to Peru. He commented that the birds were “so silly that they didn’t even know how to flee and many were caught by hand.” Presumably, this inspired their name: the word bobo in Spanish means fool, which was since Anglicized to booby. Local souvenir shops are in on the joke, selling shirts with captions like “I ❤️ boobies,” including suggestive graphics of blue feet.

The blue-footed boobies’ signature blue feet are the result of eating food rich in blue pigment. Stronger blue colouring indicates a more desirable mate. We happened to arrive just after mating season, with many boobies watching over recently laid eggs. A common behaviour is for them to perch over their nests with their heads cocked backwards, repeatedly opening and closing their beaks. They are large too, slightly taller than chickens (and much better at flying).

Note that blue-footed boobies are found elsewhere besides the Galápagos Islands, like mainland South America. As such, they are considered a native species: they occur naturally in the Galápagos but are not unique to them. Endemic species occur only in the Galápagos, like marine iguanas.

One afternoon we visited a museum called Origins: Museum of Nature. Affiliated with Seventh-Day Adventists, this museum gives an overview of intelligent-design arguments for Creation. It explores scientific topics like the electromagnetic spectrum and blood vessels, arguing against the likelihood of the spontaneous development of these. Such arguments certainly resonate with me (see my more detailed analysis, as a full discussion is beyond the scope of this piece); however, skeptical tourists are unlikely to be convinced by posters with imperfectly translated Spanish.

Upon first landing in the Galápagos, I had the thought that I was setting foot in the place that had ostensibly inspired the predominant Western explanation of reality: naturalism/evolution. From our early scientific education, most of us can recall that Darwin spent time in the islands on the Beagle, observing how environmental pressures on a closed population can cause adaptation—natural selection—over time.

Unlike Origins: Museum of Nature, most other museums in the Galápagos take a naturalistic stance. One poster in the Interpretation Centre (from a later visit to San Cristóbal Island) explains, “Discovered by accident, protected and enchanted, the Galápagos Archipelago was the inspiration and cornerstone for Charles Darwin to develop this Theory of Evolution.” It further elaborates:

Charles Darwin, on board the Beagle, left England on a (sic) expedition that lasted five years. For FitzRoy, the captain, Galápagos represented merely one more stop on his voyage, but for Darwin it was much more. Here he began to formulate a coherent idea about the evolution of species. In his words, “hence, both in space and time, we seem to be brought somewhat near to that great fact—that mystery of mysteries—the first appearance of new beings on this earth” It was not until years later that he explained evolution, but Galápagos was always the source for his powerful intuition.

Darwin’s impact on the islands is unquestionable, as evidenced by the mentions and statues of him everywhere. However, the influence of his time on the islands—again, supposedly the inspiration for his unifying theory—bears more careful scrutiny. Lonely Planet explains:

In the general public’s mind, the life and work of Charles Darwin is so closely connected with the Galápagos Islands that many people assume he spent a significant amount of time there. They also assume that the inspiration for ideas he sketches out in the Origin of Species came to him in a ‘Eureka!’ moment while touring the islands. Neither assumption is true.

Darwin spent only five weeks in the Galápagos, at first primarily interested in geology rather than biology. His later observations of pigeons and the methods of dog breeders in England were both much more influential than the finches that have become poster children for the shorthand of evolutionary history.

…

In 1859 the Origin of Species sold out on its first day in print. Only 1% of the book refers to the Galápagos Islands.

It may thus be an oversimplification to equate evolution with Darwin observing finches in the Galápagos, a nuance often overlooked in the discussion on naturalism.

This is but one example of the subjectivity of truth—that it varies depending on what you read. As we catapult through the AI age, rhetoric like “Because ChatGPT said so” is growing in popularity, despite large language models being known to hallucinate. Now, more than ever before, it is imperative to critically interpret different sources.

(I’d like to take another aside. Somewhat relevant to our discussion on the animal kingdom, let’s discuss an idea that, like the association between Darwin and the Galápagos, has gained widespread traction despite being oversimplified [or outright inaccurate]: alpha males. Pop Culture Detective debunks this notion in the video essay The Myth of the Alpha Male: “There’s no such thing as an ‘alpha male.’ It’s a false myth with no bases in biology or science. That fact, however, hasn’t stopped the pseudoscience behind a natural dominance hierarchy among men from spreading like a virus through our media culture.” Watch the video as homework after reading this essay—then let’s stop perpetuating this nonsensical idea.)

Despite Darwin’s extensive influence, the Galápagos has nonetheless maintained Ecuador’s dominant religion of Roman Catholicism. An outdoor service took place Saturday evening in the street next to our hotel (the hotel manager informed me afterwards). It was in Spanish, so I understood almost none of it, but you could tell it wasn’t a concert by the way speaking was interspersed with songs.

Thus concluded our first stay on Santa Cruz. We’d be back again to this island for a final night before catching our return flight to Canada.

Speedboats between islands only operate at 7:00 AM or 3:00 PM. We caught the early morning boat to Isabela Island on July 23.

Isabela

Rare on Santa Cruz, a picture-perfect white sandy beach greets you upon arrival in Puerto Villamil, the main town of Isla Isabela. It is much smaller than Puerto Ayora, with a population of about 2,200.

While planning the trip, I had asked ChatGPT which island to spend the most time on, and it recommended Isabela due to the abundance of activity options. We thus had an extra day on Isabela compared to the other islands—because ChatGPT said so!

Lonely Planet describes Puerto Villamil as “[embodying] the archetypal end of the road—in a good way, the kind that lures weary city folks to pick up and move halfway around the world.” We met someone who had done exactly that: the bartender at the Pink Iguana bar was an American woman, originally from Texas, who had moved to Isabela after living in New York. (Iguanas are indeed regular patrons of said bar, though they aren’t known for paying their tabs. They also commit that most heinous crime of bar goers—drinking only water.)

While it may seem appealing to move to a paradisiacal small town in an exotic location, know that life in such places isn’t without its challenges. Take it from someone who spent five years in a ski town: the remoteness and transient community can be fun for a time, though they may not necessarily provide the strongest fit for every season of life. Sometimes, small towns can feel too small.

I took a surf lesson the following day. My instructor, known as “Exotico,” spoke little English, but I learned better arm positioning—now I look like less of a kook (surfer slang for a rookie).

The last time I surfed in warm water was in Gold Coast, Australia, in 2011 (my first time ever surfing). Since then, I’ve surfed at Tofino most winters. Even with a thick wetsuit, I usually get cold hands and feet in the frigid water. Warm-water surfing is a splendid change, requiring only a rashguard or thin wetsuit.

The next day, we hiked up a volcano, Sierra Negra. Biased from decades of hiking the mountains of Western Canada, I wasn’t sure what to expect when our guide informed us that the hike was 16 kilometres long. If there was any significant elevation to be gained, this would be a full-day affair, and how do they screen tourists for adequate fitness for such an undertaking? It turns out that the hike is mostly flat—you gain all the elevation on the drive to the parking lot—but the round-trip time of four hours suggested a distance of less than 16 kilometres.

While I’d normally balk at paying $90 ($45 each) to hike with a guide, you cannot do Sierra Negra without one. From the top—a 10-kilometre-wide caldera—you can see both the western and eastern shores of Isabela, and the rough, mostly barren volcanic rock that covers much of the island between them.

Sierra Negra, one of the six volcanoes that formed Isabela, is still active. It last erupted in 2018, with a larger eruption in 2005, though the locals didn’t seem overly perturbed about living close to it.

The next day, we did the highly recommended Los Túneles tour. It is about 40 minutes by boat from Puerto Villamil. Los Túneles—the tunnels—are an extensive series of lava rock outcroppings along the shore of Isabela. Many form natural bridges a metre or more above the ocean surface, with cacti and small green plants growing on top. It was one of the most unique natural environments I have ever visited. Seeing locations like this is such a delightful part of travel.

We snorkelled at a spot along the eastern edge of Los Túneles. We saw reef sharks, fish, and, for the first time on the trip: a seahorse. Seahorses like to latch onto mangrove roots underwater as they are not the strongest of swimmers. The water here was shallow and cold. Even with a wetsuit, I came out of the water with the worst shivers I had all trip.

Having not heard much about the tour, I wasn’t sure what to expect after snorkelling. Surely, we had stopped at the edge of the convoluted maze of lava tunnels as our boat was too large—a cabin cruiser with a top deck, two massive outboard motors, and enough room for 12 people—to navigate any deeper into the tunnels. They looked better explored by kayak.

Wrong! Our guide told us to go to the front of the boat. With a clear view ahead, we then entered into the tunnels, following a circuitous route deep into the heart of the area (a few hundred metres long). With sharp volcanic rock—it would be very unfriendly to a fiberglass hull—on both sides (and below), the captain deftly navigated through the winding channels. In tighter constrictions, there were only a few feet of clearance on either side of the boat.

We arrived at a docking spot, where a permanent rope indicated that this was a common practice. We exited the boat and walked along the tunnels, also a nesting spot for blue-footed boobies. One demonstrated their typically buffoonish behaviour by flying right at me—a collision seemed imminent—and landing a few feet from me. I had my camera out with a wide (36 mm–equivalent) lens on and managed to grab a blurry photo of him airborne, with signature blue feet splayed toward me.

The next day, we stayed closer to town and decided to see the nearby Wall of Tears. It is a few kilometres from Puerto Villamil and can be accessed by taxi, foot, or bike, without hiring a guide. We first attempted to rent e-bikes, but the store lacked a big enough bike for me (XL). We went to another rental store, where we rented non-e-bikes. The owner told us that e-bikes are not actually permitted for the Wall of Tears. He also showed us a cactus spine, a small, mallet-like object, with a long spike protruding out of a cuboid block. He warned us not to ride too close to the edges of the road as you’d likely run into such spines.

The Wall of Tears (Muro de las Lágrimas) is a pile of volcanic rock, shaped roughly into a wall. There is no adhesive material, only a stack of loose rocks. One end starts on a hillside, where you could walk onto the top of it (with the obligatory “No climbing” signs) and stretches some 50 metres out, reaching about six metres in height. It was built by prisoners under abusive conditions during a darker chapter in Isabela’s history as a penal colony.

Climbing the nearby hill rewards you with a terrific panorama of Puerto Villamil, its surrounding coastline, and Sierra Negra volcano. This was the quintessential view of the Galápagos I had been waiting for: a quaint seaside town, waves lazily breaking against its sandy shores (the spot of my surf lesson), and boats moored in the calm turquoise waters of the adjacent harbour. The coastal land was a dramatic juxtaposition of green vegetation and dark lava rock, with clear views across the open ocean to neighbouring islands. Such a remarkable lookout was—understandably—a radar station in World War II.

The return ride to town starts with a downhill. In a careless movement, I veered toward the edge of the road, a section with a dusting of organic matter. Looking down at my tire, I noticed some bits of off-white colour and stopped to take a look.

My front and rear tires each had a dozen or more cactus spines in them!

I pulled one out and was greeted with that most unwelcome sound—pssssssss, hissing air, the eternal bane of cyclists. Fortunately, the bike had been set up with tubeless tires, and rotating the tire around so that the hole pointed downward where the internal sealant pooled, it sealed itself off within a few seconds.

Not sure that this trick would work for the remaining two dozen spines, we opted to keep pedalling, especially since we had no tube or repair kit. Riding downhill, friction yanked loose a number of the spines. In a chain of violent eruptions echoing those that formed the Galápagos Islands, both of my tires blasted a mix of air and sealant from several holes apiece. It was now a race against time: would I retain enough air pressure to keep riding, or would the return trip involve pushing my bike?

Continuing to ride, we passed two people pushing their bikes, both with flat tires from cactus spines. My tires managed to seal themselves and maintained enough pressure to finish the last few kilometres back.

I removed the last cactus spines before returning my bike to the shop. Given that they had warned us about this, it must happen all too frequently. Adding generous amounts of tire sealant and over-inflating the tires is probably the best way to mitigate this issue, thorny as it may be.

The next day was our last on Isabela. There are no direct ferries from Isabela to San Cristóbal, meaning that you must take the 7:00 AM ferry to Santa Cruz, then the 3:00 PM ferry to San Cristóbal. Alternatively, you can take a 40-minute flight from Isabela directly to San Cristóbal. We booked the flight (a few days in advance), though it was five times the cost ($330 vs $60).

Before our 2:00 PM flight, we still had a morning for activities. We signed up for a kayak tour around the main harbour, known as the Las Tintoreras Islet.

The kayaks in the Galápagos are unlike any I have used before. You sit on top of them, without any areas covering your lower body; they are almost like canoes. The tour company correctly intuited that we would want a double kayak and had one waiting for us at the waterfront.

Our guide, Rico, was terrifically friendly and upbeat: “Hello, how are you, nice to meet you, God bless you!” He explained that we should see penguins on the islet, a short paddle from the main harbour.

We paddled out, and, as promised, saw a family of Galápagos penguins: two parents and their offspring (they are monogamous). They are the only warm-water penguins in the world and looked entirely incongruous in the hot environment compared to their Arctic-dwelling cousins.

The penguins have a high risk of going extinct. They lay eggs, but if conditions get too hot, they have to leave their nests to cool themselves off in the water. This unfortunately roasts their eggs. Rico worried that the next generation will only see penguins in pictures. He suggested that while humans could intervene and protect eggs from the damaging heat, we’d need to have a strong reason to do so. Why artificially preserve them, if only for people to see them on tours?

The increased extinction threat is related to El Niño, the warming of surface temperatures in the tropical Pacific Ocean (where the Galápagos is). El Niño also affects the ski industry in North America. Generally, El Niño means a warmer winter, with less precipitation (snow) than usual. Some ski resorts on the BC coast have faced extensive closures due to lack of snowfall in recent seasons. That a natural phenomenon has implications for two locations some 6,000 kilometres apart gives me renewed appreciation for how interconnected the world is.

On the return paddle, Rico pointed to a boat moored in the harbour. “This is the last fishing boat,” he explained. Some years ago, the government changed their licensing program to allow fishing boats to become tour boats. Most boat owners took them up on the offer, as tourism confers multiple benefits over fishing. For one, the income is steadier; for another, the work is safer.

This helped alleviate some of the minor guilt I felt as a tourist. Imagine if, growing up in your home country, your best chance at employment is to learn a new language and cater to foreigners who have more money than you likely ever will—would you feel at least a tinge of bitterness? Seen from a different light, though, tourism provides ample support to the local economy—and ultimately the preservation of the islands.

Isabela had actually pushed back against tourism. Locals did not want it to become like Puerto Ayora, presumably too expensive, crowded, and developed. The $10 fee to enter Isabela—no other island has anything similar—probably reflects this attitude.

After kayaking, we arrived at the airport 80 minutes before our flight time. Not a person was in sight. Ticket counters, security—all empty. An open-air second floor in the main hall housed a number of wasp nests; this was not a high-traffic airport. As our flight time approached, passengers and airline staff trickled in.

Your first 25 pounds of luggage are free; any extra must be paid for in cash prior to boarding the plane at a rate of $2 per pound. Despite bringing no checked bags, our luggage weighed a combined 68 pounds, so we had to pay an extra $36, though the attendant rounded the fee down to $30.

Our twin-prop plane could hold eight passengers. Taking off in overcast conditions, we got a high-angle perspective of Isabela’s craggy shoreline: blue water, white sand, green vegetation, black rock. We continued to gain altitude and pushed through the cloud ceiling into clear skies.

San Cristóbal

After flying over the main harbour, we landed at the airport on Isla San Cristóbal. It was only a 700-metre walk to our hotel in Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, the main town. It has a population of 6,600 inhabitants, bigger than Puerto Villamil (2,200) but smaller than Puerto Ayora (12,000). Puerto Baquerizo Moreno is also the capital of the Galápagos. We wandered around town before calling it an early night.

The following day, we walked to the Interpretation Center north of town. It contains the aforementioned poster about Darwin as well as other historical and cultural details about the Galápagos.

There is a network of trails that start from the Interpretation Center. These provide access to some free hiking and snorkelling. We hiked up a hill with views of the area. In the bay on the far side of the hill, snorkelers and sea lions swam around together. We were without snorkelling equipment, but we made plans to return a few days later with rental gear. On the way back, we also booked surf lessons for the following morning.

At 6:30 AM the next day, I got a call on my local Ecuador number. It was the surf shop: lessons were canceled due to an incoming tsunami!

The 8.8-magnitude earthquake—one of the largest ever recorded—in Russia’s Kamchatka Peninsula could impact tropical areas across the world, scheduled to arrive in the Galápagos in a few hours. The surf shop seemed a bit surprised that the hotel hadn’t mentioned anything yet.

As waves grow in height closer to shore, all boats in the main harbour were moved to deeper waters (but still visible from town). Puerto Baquerizo Moreno slopes uphill gently from the waterfront, so the first block was closed to traffic, though buildings further inland remained unevacuated.

The tsunami was expected between 9 and 10 AM. We ascended to the roof of the four-story hotel with a number of others and waited.

As our fellow onlookers commented, nada. Nothing happened. We’d later find out from our surf instructor that the tide had behaved in subtly unusual ways. The incoming wave had fortunately coincided with low tide: a slightly higher water level and some additional sloshing were the only signs of its arrival. A previous tsunami had apparently flooded some of the lowest buildings.

On a recent surf trip to Tofino, I was out surfing with a full wetsuit, including a hood. A garbled announcement came from on-shore loudspeakers that I missed entirely. A few minutes later, airhorns started wailing. They stopped, and nobody walking the beach started dashing away, so the announcement had evidently been the “this is only a test” kind, despite a brief moment of panic.

Now, having experienced a tsunami watch, I understand that you will likely have many hours to evacuate in case of a tsunami.

Our surf lesson was rescheduled to 2:30 PM. We took a taxi across the island to Puerto Chino, a beach break. Our instructor was a local pro surfer (one of very few from the Galápagos), and explained things clearly in idiomatic English. As much as I like trying to figure things out for myself, I am still at a stage where instruction is beneficial. I only recently learned not to grab my surfboard by the side rails (too much drag) and instead place my palms on the top when popping to stand up.

The next day was our last full day in San Cristóbal. We returned to Muelle Tijeretas, the snorkelling area accessed via the Interpretation Centre. I bought a waterproof phone case in order to take underwater pictures. A small pier along the rocky shore provides access to the water. Two sea lions napped on this platform and emitted their signature cough/bark/vomit sound when you got too close. While the underwater photos turned out blurry, it was amusing to fiddle with a wholly new form of photography.

The following day we caught the 7:00 AM ferry back to Santa Cruz. We took a water taxi from the main pier to Las Grietas, a nearby area only accessible by boat. Las Grietas is a large chasm in the volcanic rock—up to six metres wide—that forms a brackish swimming pool. It requires a guide, though it sounds like this was a recent change due to its increasing popularity. There is also a sandy beach nearby (Playa Los Alemanes), the closest such beach to Puerto Ayora.

That night we stayed in a hotel in Bella Vista, a small town five kilometres from Puerto Ayora. It was a large, three-story building, but we were one of only two parties staying at the hotel. The owner seemed thrilled to have visitors and took our picture before leaving.

The return trip to Vancouver was uneventful, if wearying due to an overnight flight.

Ah, travel. I find such a tension between being both a privileged North American but also a global citizen. On the one hand, it feels entitled to go somewhere and expect English to be spoken, food to be catered toward North American tastes, and for everything to cost less than at home. On the other, though, what better way is there to escape the quotidian, immerse yourself in another culture, and gain a broader perspective on what it means to be human?

There is also the perennial hindrance of cost: what is the right balance between indulging in short-term fun versus saving for long-term goals? An American couple we met were on a year-long trip, starting with the Galápagos. They chose this adventure over moving to the suburbs and starting a family.

With our custom itinerary, we saved money compared to the multi-day stay-aboard tours. As we did no such tour, the question remains as to whether or not you can most fully experience the Galápagos without going on one. I suspect that the answer is in the affirmative. While such tours organize everything and take you to the more remote corners of the Galápagos, I wonder if you’d hit diminishing returns in terms of places visited and wildlife observed. Island hopping is nice, but the three large ones and numerous smaller ones we saw seem like a reasonable cross-section of the whole archipelago.

In my early twenties, I had as much wanderlust as any young adult. Per the intro, I found international travel to be too expensive and boring and found the outdoors to be a more satisfying outlet for my youthful energy. (I also lacked a permanent travel partner.) “Seeing” the world wasn’t enough—I wanted richer experiences: to master outdoor skills and to push myself physically and mentally.

In the Galápagos, the many outdoor pursuits—swimming, snorkelling, surfing, hiking, biking, and kayaking—satisfied my need to be active, if at less-than-sufferfest paces. We had lots of down time too.

As life moves on, priorities change. After many years pursuing my goal of moving to a ski town—and subsequently spending five years in one—I have moved back to a city, entirely of my own volition. This isn’t defeat—it’s starting an even better chapter.

Whether through outdoor adventure, travel, or other experiences, we are all looking for meaning in our lives. This idea was aptly captured in a poster on the wall of a tour shop on Isabela: “Every person you meet, every single one, is looking for their story. There are no exceptions. You become part of it by how you treat them.” While such a statement is hardly original, it makes a stronger impression when you see it in an exotic location. It’s a good reminder not to be a jerk either.

It’s a given that the Galápagos Islands are a source of superlative natural beauty, so I won’t end with a trite conclusion like “this is one for the bucket list.” If you are fortunate enough to get there, you will undoubtedly enjoy them.

If reading this essay is the closest you’ll ever get, then I hope I’ve at least partially delivered what Joseph Conrad famously articulated: “My task which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word, to make you hear, to make you feel—it is, before all, to make you see.”

Happy travels.

Itinerary

Here is our itinerary. One optimization I’d make would be to depart directly out of San Cristóbal Airport, thus skipping the return trip to Santa Cruz.

• July 17: Flight from Vancouver to Houston; flight from Houston to Quito
• July 18: Flight from Quito to Baltra Island (GPS); bus to Puerto Ayora
• July 19: Pinzón tour
• July 20: Tortuga Bay
• July 21: Rent bikes; El Chato tortoise ranch and lava tunnels
• July 22: Seymour tour
• July 23: 7:00 AM boat to Isabela; afternoon beach walk
• July 24: Surf lesson
• July 25: Volcano Sierra Negra hike
• July 26: Los Túneles tour
• July 27: Wall of Tears bike ride
• July 28: Kayak tour 9:20 AM; flight from Isabela to San Cristóbal 2:00 PM
• July 29: Interpretation Centre and hike
• July 30: 9:00 AM tsunami watch; surf lessons 2:30 PM
• July 31: Snorkel Darwin Bay/Muelle Tijeretas
• August 1: 7:00 AM ferry to Santa Cruz; Las Grietas swim
• August 2: 8:00 AM taxi for flight from GPS to Quito; overnight flight from Quito to Houston; flight from Houston to Vancouver