Chilean Memories #8: Caracara
birds
Chilean Memories #4: Fire and Ice
Chilean Memories #2: Firecrown
Coyote
Aeropuerto Internacional Arturo Merino Benรญtez, Santiago de Chile. 18.40.
Farewells made. Suitcase packed. Rucksack slimmed down to my journal, my camera and a couple of charging devices. Now Iโm just waiting in the long line to check in my hold luggage and then – after the inevitable hurdle over my exhaustive middle names – weโre good to go.
With such a late departure, I had time to say a few last goodbyes, so I accompanied Tomรกs to school for the last time on this trip and sought out Byron, the man behind this whole Chilean exchange idea. Iโd managed to miss him on my last day, and I wasnโt about to leave the country without saying thank you to the man who made it all possible.
With that and a few other farewells taken care of, I was done by eleven, so rather than hanging around all day I decided to walk back to Las Condes. The sun was shining, I had my camera on me (just in case) and I thought Iโd try to snap some of the birds Iโve seen every day at work but never managed to get on film. Iโm pretty sure I want to come back and see Chile again someday, so itโs not the end of the world if I leave a few unfinished tasks, but I did want to seize the chance while the sun was shining. Itโs been a rare sight during my stay!
First up: the diuca! This charming slate-grey Chilean chaffinch substitute has been an ever-present companion at work but hard to find beyond the hills around Craighouse, so Iโm really happy I managed to find one on the walk down from the school! Itโs been bugging me that theyโve been at an armโs length all the time at school but never when I had my camera on me.
Also: the austral blackbird! No relation to the blackbirds of English parks and gardens, this tremendously noisy South American specialty has been, together with the austral thrush and the meadowlark, part of the soundscape of my morning commute to work.
I saw a few lapwings on the way through the fancier suburbs of Lo Barnechea, but too high up or too far to bother taking the lens out. They still remind me of enormous bats with their bouncy flight, but just like their cousins in England, theyโre utterly fearless and will attack anything they perceive as a threat. Iโve even seen them take on buzzard-eagles, which are the second largest creatures of the Andean sky after the condor.
Of course, I couldnโt leave without saying goodbye to the mockingbirds. Iโve become especially fond of these extremely characterful creatures, who have been with me from Patagonia to Santiago and even as far as the Galรกpagos. If I had a house with a garden here in Santiago, I swear Iโd try to tame one – and I donโt think it would take an awful lot of effort, either.
Equally, I wouldnโt dream of leaving Chile without saying goodbye to the Lord of the Andes. Fortunately, I didnโt have to. I took a short walk up the slope of Manquehue to see how far I could go, and as I neared the limit (thereโs a fence cutting off the road), three condors came soaring into view over its summit. At times they were so close I could see the royal white flush on the upper parts of their mighty wings.
I didnโt take too many photos. I was just happy to watch them for a while.
I have to admit – and this will come as no surprise to anyone who has been following my adventures – this has been the happiest summer of my life. I canโt remember a time when Iโve felt so alive. Thatโs especially noteworthy because the seemingly endless summer holiday is usually one of the lowest points of the year for me, made tolerable only by dedicating as much of it as I can afford to walking the Camino de Santiago. For those outside the teaching profession, it might seem incredibly ungrateful to bemoan the concept of a nine-week holiday, but for me, it has always gone on far too long.
This summer has been different. Every day has been full of light and wonder, even when it kicked up a blizzard or sent down a thunderstorm. Many years of hard work and boarding school-induced savings have finally given me the chance to do what I could only dream of as a child: to see so much of South America and its incredible wildlife. Sometimes I think I have been mad to shut myself away in a seven-days-a-week job for almost all of my twenties, but if this is what it was building towardsโฆ it was worth every lost weekend. Every single one.
On my way back down from Manquehue I saw something coming up the road towards me that I had not expected to see at all: a culpeo. This South American relative of the coyote is only a little larger than a fox, but has something more of the wolf in its face than the bin-raiding reds of London.
And it was trotting up the pavement right towards me, in broad daylight, in a perfectly twee corner of suburban Santiago, without a care in the world.
After a whole week in the Galรกpagos, where mammals larger than rats are nonexistent, I wasnโt expecting my final South American animal encounter to be anything but the feathered kind. I certainly wasnโt expecting a miniature coyote.
Iโve been bewitched by wolves since my adventures in the frozen forest of Biaลowieza National Park in Poland two years ago. Iโve still got my eye on another wolf-tracking expedition – this time in Italy – but to see one of their relatives so incredibly close is just one more reminder of how spectacular even the everyday encounters with wildlife in this country can be.
Dammit, not just this country. This whole damn continent.
Traditionally, crossing paths with a fox was considered a bad omen in the Andes. But I donโt see it that way. Iโm more inclined to agree with the Japanese, who once revered foxes as auspicious spirits and messengers of the fertility god Inari. In short, like a black cat, they can either be portents of good or ill luck, depending on your point of view.
Fur of gold and silver, eyes of honey brown and feet as silent as the night. How could such a spirit possibly be anything but a good omen?
I had 11.000 Chilean pesos in cash left over in my wallet, so I bought myself a fried chicken sandwich and a pain au chocolat to keep the wolf from the door. After all, in all of my minesweeping adventures around Manquehue today, I completely forgot to have lunch.
The way I see it, a man like me could fall in love with a country like this every single day and lose nothing in the repeated magic of that first infatuation.
I am decided. I have got to come back. I donโt know how, I donโt know when, but I will make it happen. I may need to save up again after the fauna fantasia of this summer, but when it comes around, I want to embrace it all over again.
Happiness like I havenโt known in years. More wildlife than I know what to do with. Mountains that make my heart soar. Condors that make my heart race. And speaking Spanish every day, which keeps my heart beating. Chile has done a number on me and Iโm all for it. Honestly – can you blame me? BB x
Adios Galapagos
Aeropuerto Seymour, Baltra, Galรกpagos Islands. 10.57.
What an incredible week itโs been! But like all good things, itโs finally come to an end. Iโve made it back to Baltra, not too far from where I was yesterday, and I have a good few hours until my flight departs – the last one of the day. I could have dawdled in Puerto Ayora, but if thereโs one thing solo travel has taught me, itโs not to chance the final day, especially when youโre navigating to a place you havenโt been.
Getting to the airport was a cinch. The flat rate for a taxi to the Itabaca Channel is $30, which is per cab, not per head, but as Iโm traveling solo, there wasnโt much of a chance of splitting it – and itโs not too much of a price to pay in any event. After that, a single dollar pays your fare across the channel (just get in line under the shelter) and then itโs another $5 for the bus to the airport (which seems non-negotiable – I donโt think youโre allowed to walk it).
All-in, the journey takes about an hour. Itโs a pretty small airport, but there are a few shops where you can buy last-minute souvenirs, some snacks for the journey, or grab some final photos of the finches and reptiles that live around the airport. Thereโs at least one land iguana prowling around that you might see if youโre lucky.
While Iโm waiting, I thought Iโd run down my ranking for the things Iโve done on this trip, in case you ever consider the same:
โฉโฉโฉโฉโฉ Punta Pitt ($240)
Easily the best trip on this tour and a very good substitute for Espaรฑolaโs Punta Suarez. Incredible views of all three species of booby, shearwaters, petrels and storm-petrels galore and a superb guide in Samuel Quiroz.
โฉโฉโฉโฉ Puerto Baquerizo Moreno (Free)
San Cristobalโs only town is genuinely one of the best places for close encounters with animals of all kinds. Mockingbirds, sea lions, finches, lava herons, noddies, pelicans, iguanas and crabs abound, and Iโve seen both turtles and sharks without even having to leave town. I canโt think of anywhere quite like it.
โฉโฉโฉ North Seymour ($260)
The best destination for observing frigatebirds and land iguanas in the Galapagos for sure. They also chuck in a visit to Playa Las Bachas for flamingoes, turtles and ghost crabs. The only reason itโs not higher on my list was because of the timing. It would probably be near the top spot if we hadnโt gone in the middle of the day.
โฉโฉ Galapagos Frontier ($35)
A superb spot for seeing the famous giant tortoises, so close to Puerto Ayora that you could get there on foot if you wanted to. The $35 tour doesnโt include the taxi fare there and back ($25) which is worth considering, and holds this back a spot or two.
โฉ Kicker Rock ($150)
One of the best diving spots in the world – but perhaps not as legendary for snorkeling. $150 seems a bit steep to see a few fish that you could find just as easily by snorkelling off Cerro Tijeretas, but there are tropicbirds to be seen here, and the turtles at Playa Manglecito more than made up for the snorkeling at the rock itself.
Pouring one out for the trip that never was: Punta Suarez on Isla Espaรฑola. Iโd have sacrificed both Punta Pitt and North Seymour to make that trip happen, but thanks to a malfunction with my tour operatorโs onboard motor, it was not to be. At least I got my refund. When I think about it, $260 is a bit steep to see an albatross Iโve already seen, a third species of mockingbird and a shiny version of the marine iguanas – but then, none of the tours on the Galapagos are cheap. Itโs set up to be a once-in-a-lifetime sort of destination, so people come here with cash to burn.
Iโll have to find some other way and some other place to see nesting albatrosses. This canโt be the only place in the world. Iโm sure weโll meet again somewhere, someday.
Readjusting to life at home is going to take some time after all of this. Itโs been one wildlife spectacular after another this year in an almost unbroken line since my spontaneous trip to Peru in March. Itโs been incredible falling back in love with the wild again. I donโt feel so lonely anymore and my general sense of happiness has gone through the roof. How can you be anything but happy when youโre surrounded by nature? I canโt recommend it enough. Itโs the perfect antidote to the political and technological nightmare within which we find ourselves these days.
Whatever the problem, you will always find the answer in nature. I firmly believe that.
In total, Iโve spent just shy of $700 on trips and tours. Thatโs significantly less than I expected, and ridiculously cheaper than taking the liveaboard cruise option which starts at around $3.000. Traveling the Galapagos by yourself absolutely can be done, but if youโre giving it some thought, hereโs my advice:
- Do inquire about timings of trips and tours if you can, as these do somewhat dictate the success of your tours. Morning hikes are better than afternoon hikes.
- Keep an eye out for guides with a III insignia under their badges on their left sleeves – these are park scientists and will be genuine fountains of information.
- Be patient with the weather in August. The garรบa rain can be disheartening in the morning, but it invariably clears by midday.
- Always carry single dollars in paper or coin – youโll need these more than you think for ferries, launches and helping restaurant staff to break down larger bills.
- Donโt trust the prices on the packaging in the mini markets – stuff invariably costs more than what it says because of the cost of importing goods onto the islands.
- Share and share alike! Not everybody brings a camera to the islands, so offer to share any photos you take with people on your trip so they can take away some magical memories! Iโve been asked at least three times so thereโs clearly a demand for it.
- You really donโt need to speak Spanish here as these islands live off the tourist trade, but if you can, please do – it goes such a long way with the locals.
Not too much longer to wait now. I might go and find something to eat. Itโs going to be a long and probably rather sleepless night! BB x
Luck of the Draw
Puerto Ayora, Galรกpagos Islands. 19.52.
My final Galรกpagos expedition answered a question thatโs been bugging me since I landed in Puerto Ayora two days ago: why is it perpetually cloudy here? San Cristobal had its fair share of cloudy days, but – with the exception of a few hours on Wednesday afternoon – Puerto Ayora has been shrouded in a mantle of grey and white from the moment I arrived. Well, I have my answer: rain shadow.
Itโs not that the entire island of Santa Cruz gets more cloud than its eastern neighbour. Itโs simply that all the cloud cover gets trapped behind the highlands, forcing it to build up over the south side of the island, like Tenerife in reverse. I was worried when we left Puerto Ayora that today would be a washout, but as soon as we cleared the Gemelas sinkholes, we stepped into a shining world of clear skies and tropical sun.
Itโs a good thing I brought my sun lotion today.
One thing Iโve learned in my time in the Galรกpagos is that all of the tours are something of a lottery. You can pay whatever you like, but ultimately itโs the park rangers who dictate who has access and when. Sometimes you get lucky and get the best light of the day (before 11am) – and sometimes you donโt. Today was the latter. Beach first, hike last. Itโs definitely the inferior of the two options, for at least three good reasons:
- Animals are a lot more active in the earlier hours of the day. As the midday heat approaches, both birds and reptiles become a lot more reclusive to get out of the heat
- Taking a dip in the Pacific feels a lot nicer (and a lot more earned) after stomping around for an hour or two under the sun
- The midday lighting with the sun dead overhead isnโt exactly the optimal condition for photography, especially for dark subjects like frigatebirds
In short, I was a bit miffed when we were allocated a visit to Las Bachas first – not least of all because North Seymour is one of the more expensive day trips on offer (at around $260-300 at the cheaper end). In most other parts of the world, when youโre paying that much for a day trip, you usually get some kind of say as to how to work the itinerary.
The Galรกpagos are different – and I suspect that the tourism explosion of the last ten years or so has had a lot to do with that. The upside is that the system has the animalsโ welfare at its heart – or so Iโd like to believe anyway. Controlling the daily tourist visits allows the park rangers to set limits on disturbance to the native fauna, which can only be a good thing.
Rant over. Letโs get back to some good old-fashioned awe, wonder and nature writing.
First off, whether youโre visiting in the morning of the afternoon, Playa Las Bachas is a genuine haven. After days of choppy seas, finding a calm white sand beach like El Manglecito was a major treat. Once occupied by US troops to control access to the Panama Canal during WWII, the only patrols youโll find there now are the ghost crabs that race up and down the beach, forming enormous collections of tiny spitballs as they sift through the sand for microscopic food washed up by the tide.
Iโve only seen Sally Lightfoots since I got here (and one crab that liked a lot more like the ones we have back home), so seeing so many of these beautiful ghost crabs was a major highlight.
One species I was nearly prepared to cough up another $150 to seek out was hanging around a small lagoon behind the sand dunes. The American flamingo is the fourth and final flamingo species in the Americas, meaning the only flamingo in the world that I have yet to see is the lesser flamingo of sub-Saharan Africa and west India. I thought youโd have to go all the way to neighbouring Isabela, the largest of the Galรกpagos Islands, to be in with a chance of finding one of these colourful creatures, but thereโs a small colony here at Las Bachas that regularly puts in an appearance.
Bypassing Isabella means I leave without seeing two iconic Galรกpagos species: the penguin and the flightless cormorant. However, to even have a chance at seeing the latter, you need to skip the day trips and take a cruise that explores the westernmost islands, where the elusive flightless cormorant can be found – and that can cost upwards of $4,000 before factoring in the enormous financial handicap that applies to all single travellers.
On that note, seriously, what gives? Since touchdown last Saturday Iโve met just two other solo travelers here. The rest are couples, families or groups of retirees. If you get to talking with them, a great many of them are lawyers, bankers, hedge fund managers and businessmen. I feel very out of place as a teacher here. Whatever it might once have been, the Galรกpagos does seem to have become a rich manโs playground.
Thank goodness the only riches in this world that matter are the ones that were living and breathing on these islands long before people came here.
I saw another two turtles at Las Bachas before we got back on the zodiac and returned to our boat, the Galapagos Shark. The crossing to North Seymour is substantially shorter than, say, the journey to Punta Pitt, but you have to go it slow in these waters, as there are so many turtles about. While the other passengers stretched out on the forecastle, I stayed up on deck watching the shearwaters and storm-petrels dancing across the surface of the water behind us.
North Seymour Island is a strange place. Under the right conditions, I would go so far as to say that it might even be eerie. A forest of dead-looking trees. Golden grass on a slab of sun-scorched rock, where the boulders come to life before your eyes and take the shape of gigantic land iguanas, lumbering across the path like miniature dinosaurs, while pterodactyl-esque frigatebirds cast enormous shadows as they hang in the wind. Itโs worth coming to this place if only because itโs so different to everywhere else.
The big draw of North Seymour is its huge colony of frigatebirds. These aerial pirates can be found all over the Galรกpagos Islands, but they have their primary stronghold here off the coast of Baltra. More than a thousand pairs breed here each year, accompanied by thousands more juveniles, making North Seymour probably the best place in the world to see these magnificent creatures up close.
Both great and magnificent frigatebirds can be found here. The difference between the two is only slight, but easily appreciated in the sunlight: male great frigatebirds have a green sheen on their shoulders, whereas magnificent frigatebirdsโ shoulder feathers shine a glossy purple.
This is also a spectacular place to see the males inflating their famous throat sacs to attract the attention of passing females. Weโre quite late into the breeding season, so this wasnโt as common a sight today as it was a month ago, but I did hear and see a few males displaying a fair distance from the path.
Frigatebirds are far and away my favourite birds of the Galรกpagos. They may be one of the easier creatures to spot – they were the first animals I saw as the plane came in to land and I am quite sure they will be the last I see, too – but that does not detract in the slightest from their magnificence.
I caught myself thinking more than once that if I ever got a tattoo (Ed.: I wonโt), I would consider the silhouette of one of these beautiful creatures. I seem to be drawn to the vultures of the animal kingdom, even where there are no vultures. Or perhaps itโs the fact that these aerial pirates are effectively feathered bandits – and I have always had a thing for bandits. I very nearly wrote my undergraduate dissertation on bandits.
One of the best things about the Galapagos is that the animalsโ lack of fear allows you to witness the kind of behaviour that normally goes unnoticed. This youngster called its mother to it and, after much high-pitched pleading, convinced her to disgorge her catch so that it could eat.
Frigatebirds aside, I finally managed to track down a Galรกpagos endemic: the Galapagos Dove. These tiny cousins of the Peruvian doves must have been blown onto these islands millions of years ago, adapting into the colourful, rock-patterned creatures you can see today. They avoid towns and cities, so to have a chance of finding them you have to search the more remote corners of the inhabited islands.
So far Iโve managed to neglect the other star of North Seymour: the land iguanas that have made this island their home since they were extirpated from Baltra. Only the males have the distinctive sandy-orange colouration – the females are a more uniform grey in colour.
Before we left, a scuffle in the rocks sent one of the females scurrying across the path and into the shadows of the cliff. Her spook, the alpha male, followed her only as far as the path before stopping to cast a languid and uncaring eye in our direction.
These land iguanas look a lot more like their green cousins back on the mainland than their hyperspecialised marine cousins with whom they share the island. A younger me would have come to the islands purely for the iguanas. I was hugely into reptiles back then. I eventually became more interested in birds, partly because the UK doesnโt exactly have a thriving population of reptiles. So it was nice to embrace my inner child today and binge on some spectacular reptiles.
I spent my last afternoon in Santa Cruz down by the mangrove-lined fishermanโs wharf watching the pelicans. There is always bycatch to be had and so both pelican and frigatebird gather at the right time of day to pick up the scraps left out for them by the fishermen.
Like so many gringos, Iโm just a visitor to these islands: here to see one of natureโs greatest marvels before returning to my normal life far across the sea. But these galapagueรฑos spend their entire lives surrounded by these beautiful creatures: pelicans, turtles, frigatebirds, mockingbirds, sea lions, marine iguanas, giant tortoises and Sally Lightfoot crabs are as much a part of their everyday as house sparrows and pigeons are for us. Thatโs absolutely mind-boggling for me, but itโs only a different reality. No wonder the rangers are so defensive of their greatest treasure.
Tomorrow, I have to make my way back up to Baltra to catch my flight back to Guayaquil, then on to Santiago via a layover in Lima. Itโs a fairly long-winded flight, but the real question is how to get to the airport as a single traveler. I might end up taking a taxi to the Itabaca channel, as itโs set at $25 and I did just find a secret stash of dollars that I forgot I had (Iโm very good at hiding my cash in different places for safetyโs sake and then forgetting where I put it).
My adventures are nearly over. Itโs been a long summer. Itโs going to sound odd, but I could use a holiday. Traveling solo means being switched on all the time, even when youโre laid out on a tropical beach. The Galรกpagos is neutral territory, but there is no place like home. Iโm looking forward to a little peace of mind – but that is still some ten days away. The journey continues! BB x
Jรถtunheim
Puerto Ayora, Galรกpagos Islands. 18.55.
Coming all the way to the Galรกpagos Islands and leaving without seeing the giant tortoises would be like going to Jordan and skipping out on Petra, or bypassing any kind of safari whatsoever on a visit to Kenya or Tanzania. You could do it, but youโd be missing out on something truly special.
As luck would have it, you donโt have to go too far to find them. Though they may not be as numerous as they once were long ago (an astonishing 350,000 were carried off the islands by sailors and scientists as a source of food and oil), there are still thousands of them to be found even on the populated islands of San Cristรณbal and Santa Cruz. The ranches in the interior will give you your best chance at seeing them, but donโt get it confused: theyโre not open-air zoos built to accommodate the surviving giant tortoises. Theyโre functioning orchards and pastoral plots that happen to sit right on the tortoisesโ migration route to and from the clouded highlands. The fact that they provide a ready supply of fruit is simply one of the reasons they can often be found lurching around the ranches.
I was picked up from my hostal at about 8.42 by a slightly irascible taxi driver. On the way out of town, I couldnโt help noticing a dollar store selling all sorts of cheap plastic tat: brainrot bracelets, a K-Pop Demon Hunters make-up kit, imitation night goggles from Lilo and Stitch and a plastic figurine of Haaland. For an island that makes such a big deal about not importing single-use plastics, thereโs a lot of single-use plastic junk on sale here for locals and tourists alike. I hope one day we learn to stop mass-producing stuff like this and give capitalism one almighty sock in the jaw, though I doubt that will happen in my lifetime.
My destination today was Galรกpagos Frontier, the closest accessible ranch to Puerto Ayora. I was going to walk there, but when the heavens opened shortly after seven oโclock, I decided to take up the ranch ownerโs offer of a taxi shuttle and save myself the hour and a halfโs hike. By the looks of things, it would have been a pretty straightforward route, as a separate cycle lane follows the highway right into the interior, but it did allow me to slow down and enjoy my breakfast, so I guess I was grateful.
The taxi driver dawdled a bit, so he made up for lost time by hurtling along the highway, narrowly missing a couple of chickens and a very fleeting glimpse of a pachay – the Galรกpagos crake, a rare and endemic cousin of the moorhen that came to these islands over a million years ago. It was some relief when he finally slowed down near the ranch gates, because I donโt like to think what would have happened if weโd met a giant tortoise around the bend.
Speaking of which, I counted at least three of the lumbering giants before weโd even arrived. At four feet tall by five feet across, theyโre pretty hard to miss.
Our guide, Julio Cรฉsar (ave!), had a lot to tell us about the ranch and its flora and fauna, so he brought along a Canadian volunteer to translate for him, as the American mother and son on our trip didnโt speak any Spanish. We butted heads a bit over travel advice for Peru as the young American fella was headed there next. She recommended Paracas and Huacachina as her highlight. I told him Iโd managed Paracas in a day and she said I was โfucking insaneโ, which seemed an odd sort of way to talk to a client, butโฆ thatโs North Americans for you. No filter. I gave them a wide berth for the rest of the tour and stuck close to Julio, bypassing the need to speak in English for the rest of the morning.
Itโs only a small boundary of mine, but I donโt take kindly to being sworn at without uttermost provocation. Priggish, perhaps, but itโs a principle I try to stick to.
Anyway. I wasnโt here to hang out with tourists. I came up here to see the giant tortoises. And see them I did.
Iโve always known theyโre incredibly long-lived creatures, but just how long has never really dawned on me. Some of these tortoises were well over a hundred years old, with at least one or two individuals over the one-hundred-and-fifty mark. Julio showed us the sun-bleached shell of a male he had found dead on the ranch at the start of the tour, adding that it was the only such cadaver heโd found in forty years working this corner of the island. That statistic alone hints at the ridiculous surviving power of these creatures, whose metabolism is so slow that they can go for as long as a year without food or drink.
Turtles may have been around since the Triassic in one form or another, but these giants really are reminiscent of the age of the dinosaurs in their almost miraculous longevity.
You can age a giant tortoise by their shells. Younger tortoises have more clearly defined grooves in their shells, which wear away with age. Ironically, the fewer the lines, the older they are. So it stands to reason that some of these tortoises individuals we saw – like the one below – were incredibly old. Old enough to have seen two world wars come and go. Old enough to remember a time before tourism on the islands. And with the record age in captivity pushing 174 years, itโs not beyond the realms of possibility that one or more tortoises on the islands remember a young Charles Darwin who came here in 1835.
I donโt know about you, but I found that absolutely mind-boggling.
Many of the tours on the ranches include a visit to the lava tunnels, a labyrinthine network of caves hollowed out of the mountain by ancient rivers of molten rock, long since cooled and emptied. Near the coast, these are the preferred burrows of the Galรกpagos penguin, but up here in the highlands, theyโre more commonly used as roosts for barn owls and the three endemic bat species that call the islands home.
The most amazing thing about the lava tunnels – apart from the fact that they seem to go on forever – is the way their ceilings sparkle and gleam in the torchlight. Thousands of water droplets and bacteria scintillate in silver and gold, making the long dark of the tunnels alive with light.
Back up and out in the light, we were tailed for a short distance by a flock of anis. These cuckoo/crow-like birds arenโt native to the Galapagos but were brought here from the mainland in the 70s to deal with the horsefly problem blighting the highland ranches. Now theyโre everywhere, attacking much of the native wildlife, so every few years the local community organises a major cull of the species to keep their numbers in line.
It doesnโt help that theyโre actually a very endearing kind of bird. This sort of job is much easier when the culprit is small, faceless and preferably creepy-crawly.
Living and working in Santiago this summer has, at times, felt decidedly European. Youโre never under any allusion that youโre in an entirely different hemisphere, but all the same, the roads and the streets are very western, very cosmopolitan. Up in the highlands of the Galรกpagos, thereโs something veryโฆ equatorial about the place. One-storey houses at the roadside with chalkboards selling fruit. Red earth roads leading into the distance with thick green vegetation on either side. Tarmac roads without pavements or bollards. It almost feels like being back in Uganda.
With the vegetation so high at this time of year (following the daily rains), it can be hard to encounter a giant tortoise that isnโt buried up to its neck in greenery. So I was glad to find at least one by the roadside that was wandering out in the open. It can be hard to gauge their size when theyโre on their own, but if I told you that their shells can reach a manโs waist or even abdomen in the very largest specimens, that may give you an idea.
Itโs been quite a wild ride, this summer, and spending the last few days with the giant tortoises of the Galรกpagos seems like a nice way to wind down what has been a total blur of events since I left the UK to burn under the unforgiving summer sun of July 2026. Itโs still burning now. In South America weโve had rain almost every day here since I arrived. If only I could send some of it back to Europe ahead of my return. Folk might welcome it there.
A week from today, I will be in Athens, on what really will be the last of my labours for the summer. I had originally planned to make my own way home across Europe after that, but then the Galapagos happened, so Iโm going to save both money and time and come back to the UK when the wedding festivities are over to edit my photos and rest. Lord knows I could do with the comfort of my own bed and books again.
But before that, I have one final Galรกpagos adventure upon which I must embark: the frigatebird colony of North Seymour Island. I hope the weather is kind on this last expedition. BB x
Mangrove Junkie
Puerto Ayora, Galรกpagos Islands. 21.00.
This morning I said farewell to San Cristรณbal. The easternmost island of the Galรกpagos chain has been a blissful retreat from the world, shrouded in stormclouds and sunshine. Having a cabin all to myself on the edge of town made a change from the usual hostel circuit. After several years of bunk beds of varying stages of comfort, I think I earned it.
I arrived a full forty-five minutes early at the harbour, as instructed, to be last in the queue. I should have known: the majority of the tourists on these islands at the moment are Dutch, Germans and Americans, who arenโt known for being slack when it comes to appointments. As such, when I finally did get onto the ferry, I was given a seat at the very front of the boat.
The Israeli sitting next to me was incensed. โShit, man. This fucking sucks. These are the worst seats in the whole boat.โ I smiled and shrugged it off – windowless or not, it was only a two hour boat trip across the open ocean – but he was seriously ticked off about what he saw as the rank injustice of the affair.
Fortunately, due to a mix-up involving the unexpected arrival of a family of four, the captain asked if weโd be so kind as to move up on deck so the family could sit together – so I effectively got an upgrade for free. So did the Israeli, whose response was a lot more vainglorious than mine, but I guess it takes all sorts to make a world. Up top, I had the refreshing breeze of the ocean wind, the occasional spray of saltwater and views all around – and, unlike a number of passengers, I wasnโt sick once. For somebody who isnโt exactly a sailor, I have always been surprised at my resistance to seasickness. Surprised – and very grateful!
The ferry between San Cristรณbal and Santa Cruz takes about two hours, passing the uninhabited island of Santa Fรฉ shortly before docking in Puerto Ayora, the largest town in the Galรกpagos. It was only shortly after nine, so I had a quick breakfast and then thought I might at least check in my luggage, but the lovely ladies at my hostal, the Flightless Cormorant, let me into my room right away. With my rucksack unpacked, I set out to explore and get my bearings of Puerto Ayora.
As they always are in the Americas, the fishermanโs wharf is a hive of activity. In Valparaiso, it draws gulls, terns, pelicans and the local sea lion population right up to the harbour. Here in the Galapagos, the frigatebirds add some local colour. They almost never seem to land, and the reason for that became clear when I saw one resting on the roof of a boat: their feet are tiny, almost vestigial in appearance. It seems that this was the sacrifice they made millions of years ago in order to become masters of the air, just like our swifts back home in Europe, only more than five times the size.
Here, as on San Cristรณbal, you can find lava herons, with the added touch that the mangrove trees make for a slightly more interesting backdrop. The mangroves are easily my favourite thing about Santa Cruz – Iโve only ever seen them in books and documentaries, and they are every bit as spectacular as I always thought – even here, where they start right in the heart of Puerto Ayora itself.
Obviously my turtle encounter yesterday wasnโt enough, because a short burst of breath near the boats alerted my attention to a youngster drifting near the surface, less than a stoneโs throw from the harbour. It was feeding on the algae growing on the bottom of the boats, particularly on the propellers raised just inches above the surface. The Galรกpagos Islands are famous for the close encounters you can have with the local wildlife, but I have to admit, I wasnโt expecting to see both sharks and turtles without even having to leave the larger towns.
One of the big draws in Puerto Ayora is the Charles Darwin Research Centre to the east of the city. Free to visit – except for the Fausto Llerena Giant Tortoise breeding centre, which is perilously easy to stumble into (and be politely removed from) as it has no fencing! – it is worth a look-around even if just for the passport stamp you can acquire here, the only legitimate way to obtain such a stamp (as they do not issue any stamps at the airport).
The walk there takes you into the wilder country around Puerto Ayora, and you have to watch your feet: there are reptiles everywhere. I lost count of the lava lizards and marine iguanas, and Iโm almost certain I saw the looped body of a Galรกpagos snake disappear into the bushes as I turned a corner.
Follow the trail that leads east of the Charles Darwin Research Centre and youโll reach Playa Ratonera, a wild and wave-battered volcanic shoreline. It has a few sandy stretches, but itโs hardly a pleasure beach, as it gets the full force of the Pacific. Itโs mostly mangroves, carpet weed and black volcanic boulders, with the shattered white remnants of millions of years of coral taking the place of pebbles.
One huge draw is the local population of marine iguanas. There were always a few around the harbour on San Cristรณbal, but Santa Cruz has hundreds of them.
The collective noun for marine iguanas is a mess, which is about right. They are absolutely everywhere, sprawling all over each other on the path, off the path, among the weeds and atop the rocks. You really do have to watch where you step, because theyโre a lot more sluggish than the lava lizards and donโt tend to move even when theyโre only inches away.
They were attended by a massive great blue heron, the American cousin of our grey herons. Herons of this size have a Catholic diet, so I imagine the smaller iguanas form a part of that, before they become too large for even the most ambitious herons. Iโve seen these birds swallow fish that are far too large for their long necks, but they probably do go down the hatch a lot more easily than a spiky, scaly adult iguana.
Time and again here I am bowled over by how unafraid the local wildlife is of us. Herons, iguanas, mockingbirds, finches, boobies and oystercatchersโฆ none of them seem to mind one jot that they share their world with us. Only the whimbrels seem to have retained their wariness, though given their status as migrants in these islands, perhaps their behaviour may be excused.
The other beach worth visiting in Puerto Ayoraโs immediate area is Playa Tortuga, a stretch of exposed white sand to the southwest. Getting there requires registering with a park ranger and a half hourโs trek through the opuntia cactus forest, but when you see the final destination, youโll understand why so many people both local and foreign make this trek every day. Itโs a paved route, so itโs not exactly arduous, and it does have the benefit of sending you through bird country. I finally saw the largest of the ground finches, with its impressively large nutcracker bill, as well as the local species of mockingbird, noticeably different in voice and appearance to the birds on San Cristรณbal.
I believe Playa Tortuga is so named because it plays host to a breeding colony of green turtles at the right time of year, but to get there, you first have to cross Playa Brava, beaten savagely by the force of the ocean. When I got there the afternoonโs daytrippers were all heading back to town in a slow and sandy procession. The rangers close the beach at five, so as I arrived at twenty past four, I didnโt have an awful lot of time.
Time enough, though, to appreciate the strange beauty of the mangroves. On the far side of the red flag beach (where the waves are far too strong to allow for bathing) youโll find the not-so-secret mangrove-lined bay of Playa Tortuga. Itโs no hyperbole to say that it is by far the most beautiful beach in the Galapagos that Iโve seen so far: quiet, secluded and with views to die for all around.
I didnโt bring my swimming gear, and it would have been too late to pop in for a swim even if I had, but it was a hard-fought temptation not to dive right in. I confess I usually have more than a little contempt for those who travel the world just to lounge around on a beach without a care for the local wildlife or culture, but when the beaches are this good, I can begin to understand why somebody might be mad enough to empty their bank account to be in a place like this.
If you walk just a little bit further, you can see the entire bay with the mountains behind from a rocky peninsula, where the opuntia cactus grows. Tomorrow Iโll head up into those highlands in search of giant tortoises, but for now, itโs just me, the sea and the pufferfish swimming among the rocks below me.
Iโll close this post here – I had a lot more to report than I thought today. Maybe tomorrow will be a quieter one! BB x
Flippers, Fins and Feathers
Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, Galรกpagos Islands. 20.40.
The days here on the islands are falling into a sort of rhythm. Morning brings a slow and dark sunrise through the garรบa, followed by spells of gentle rain falling on the roof over my head. The clouds hug the island for most of the morning, until the sun burns through them all shortly after one oโclock, which allows for a spell of humid sunshine until the clouds swallow up the sun once again before sunset.
August is – it should be said – definitely not the sunniest time of the year here in the Galapagos. Come to think of it, nowhere in South America seems to be, whenever Iโm passing through. In fact, of the fifty-six days Iโve spent in South America this year, just under half have been washed out with rain. That could just be bad luck – I have been to each destination in its โoff seasonโ, which does usually coincide with the rainy season – but it could equally be an anomaly. Chile, for one, does not usually get as much rain as it did this winter.
Itโs not so bad here, though. It doesnโt come down in buckets like it did in Chile and the Peruvian Amazon, and it does have the added perk of keeping the beaches and trails free of day-trippers, most of whom hole up in their hotels during the rain.
After a fake-out from the sun this morning (which was only briefly with us before the rain clouds returned) I set out up the Tijeretas trail to the cove Iโd seen the other day. It was, predictably, almost deserted: just one other swimmer was there, the same one I saw when I scouted out the trail a few days ago, doing lengths of the bay.
I didnโt have a rental GoPro on me this time. Not that it really matters – some things are best remembered by memory alone. All the advice online had said the water would be much too cold to go in without a wetsuit. I suppose that advice was targeted at Americans, specifically the ones from Florida, where the daily temperature is a lot warmer. As an Englishman who has swum in the shores of the English Channel more than once, I found the water around San Cristรณbal to be blissfully warm. I could have been in there for hours.
Here, as everywhere, I was joined in both land and sea by the sea lions. They really are everywhere on these islands, but they properly come into their own underwater, where their powerful flippers help them to fly through the water like birds in the air. At least twice during my swim I was nearly clipped by one that appeared out of nowhere, shimmering like gold in the grey water.
As for the rest of the world beneath the wavesโฆ where do I even begin? Butterflyfish and parrotfish, sergeant majors and surgeonfish, hogfish and hawkfishโฆ all as wildly named and widely colourful as a Dr Seuss book. Like so many who come to the Galรกpagos, no doubt, I was especially captivated by the impressive king angelfish, one of the larger species you can find close to the shore, its dark body lined with an almost iridescent electric blue, complete with a smart shoulder stripe and a tail as yellow as a flame. What must Darwin and his men have thought when they saw these oceans full of living jewels on their voyage here, nearly two hundred years ago?
Speaking of Darwin, after Iโd done a full length of the bay and dried off, I took my time heading back to my cabin so that I could linger in the forest. Mangrove warblers are just about everywhere, but itโs Darwinโs finches that are the real celebrities. Both species of ground finch are fairly easy to spot: small and medium. About as creatively named as a Starbucks order, they are at least easy to tell apart by the size of their bills.
I had lunch for $6 at a really lovely local joint in town, el Rincรณn de Sebas. I hadnโt eaten anything since lunch yesterday, so the bowl of steaming hot shrimp soup and the breaded fish were nothing short of heavenly. Iโm not really the dieting type, but there is something to be said for delayed gratification.
I waited out the hottest part of the day in the cabin, wrestling unsuccessfully with the dry weeds that festooned one of my tops which gel from the balcony where it was drying into the rocks below. Whatever plant it was, itโs like no weed Iโve ever encountered before. Short of a professional roller, that burdock-like debris isnโt coming off easily, so Iโve had to admit defeat for the time being. Fortunately, itโs not exactly long-sleeved weather up here.
After negotiating tomorrowโs plan with Samuel, my guide from the other day, I opted for his discounted trip to Leรณn Dormido, also known as Kicker Rock. There was still a chance I could hold out for a possible opening on Espaรฑolaโs Punta Suรกrez, but that particular adventure has become synonymous with frustration on this trip, to the point where I have christened the place โImpossible Islandโ. Even if it were to appear now, I would be faced with paying double the price of the alternative – which, when you consider it would cost more than a one way flight to Peru from London, massively puts it into perspective.
Thanks, but no thanks. Iโll diversify my options and spend a day with the fish.
Thereโs always something to see in Puerto Baquerizo Morenoโs harbour, so I took my camera with me on my way into town to collect my snorkelling gear. Sure enough, the manglar and its connecting channel near the Ecuadorean naval base was a wildlife magnet, so there was much to see here. The local noddies were pestering a young pelican that was fishing in the bay. One of them continually tried to land on its head, doubtless hoping to snatch anything the giant caught before it went straight down the birdโs gullet.
A couple of boobies were drawing a small crowd – not the American family watching them (/their smartphones) but the flies around their heads. Iโve noticed that these gnats seem to pester the iguanas quite a bit, so naturally a larger and more warm-blooded creature such as a booby would make for a better target.
The oldest of the pelicans was avoiding the problem by simply burying its face between its wings. It kept one eye open, languidly watching the world go by. I didnโt get to see this particularly impressive specimen in full breeding plumage, because it took off and left while I was distracted by something else.
That something else was just a glimpse, but enough to be sure of what I was seeing: the tip of the dorsal fin of a shark. They donโt usually come this far into the shallows, so I was surprised to see the familiar Jaws-esque fin break the surface, putting the local sea lions on edge.
The channel that runs alongside the road is a heron magnet. All three species of San Cristรณbalโs small herons can be found here: yellow-crowned night heron, striated heron and lava heron. The sunbathing night heron from the other day was here, but I was more intrigued by the scruffy-looking youngsters hanging around the rocks. Head-on, they are remarkably frog-like in their appearance.
The striated heron – the same one that can be found across the Americas – is a lot like the endemic lava heron, only a lot more patterned. I tested out the cameraโs dynamic range options with this one as it hunted in the shallows. Iโm still learning as a photographer, but if I can get to the stage where my photos arenโt so blurry anymore, Iโll be a happy man.
One photo I am particularly happy with is this one. The lava herons are really hard to shoot as they are fundamentally dark birds that haunt a dark and rocky background, making conditions difficult. Fortunately, theyโre a lot less active than the finches or shearwaters who have been giving me the run-around, so I had time to frame this one nicely.
Tomorrow is a day in the water. I hope the weather is kinder. Who knows what we will find in the legendary depths of Kicker Rock? Another shark would be nice, but Iโd settle for a turtle or ray. BB x
Show Me Your Boobies
Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, Galรกpagos Islands. 18.45.
At the time of writing, I still havenโt heard back from the folks at EcoChallenger about the trip to Espaรฑola. They did say theyโd had engine troubles last week and would provide me with a full refund if they couldnโt go ahead, but also that they would keep me informed. I sent a chaser to see if if theyโd fixed their boat, but no luck.
So, rather than feeling glum about it, I found an alternative tour for today out to the other side of the island: Punta Pitt, the easternmost point of the Galรกpagos. Here, with any luck, I might be able to recreate at least some of what I would have found out on Espaรฑola.
I picked up my snorkel gear from the Kingfisher GPS agency and walked back to the marina to meet my guide. Traveling with me today were a lesbian couple from California, a couple of American missionaries, their sister and her three children and a shy Australian birder. We were due to have one more on the team, but they never showed up – but at least while we waited I had time to get a better shot of the noddy sitting in the harbour, in the same place I saw it yesterday.
The journey to Punta Pitt from Puerto Baquerizo Moreno takes you all the way along the north coast of the island, and after passing the lighthouse at Punta Carola, itโs nothing but volcanic rock on one side and the open ocean on the other. Kicker Rock looms in the distance – a freestanding volcanic cliff famous for being the haunt of hammerhead sharks in the right season – but that wasnโt part of our itinerary, so we sailed on past. Beyond Kicker Rock, some of the Galapagosโ pelagic birds picked up our trail and followed the boat: Galapagos petrels, Galapagos shearwaters and two kinds of storm-petrel native to these waters.
I donโt believe in reincarnation, but if it did exist, I should love to come back as a shearwater. The speed with which they race across the water, seemingly delighting in the thrill of itโฆ itโs magical to watch, even if they are in a mad hurry to find enough food to raise their chicks, sequestered in some burrow near or far away.
I was so busy keeping an eye out for seabirds that at least once I saw something else with wings leaping from the water: a flying fish, recently arrived in these islands, and just in time for the breeding season.
The weather looked unpredictable but the sea itself was a bit easier to read, so when we reached Islote Pitt, I made the decision not to enter the water. Sure, it was a waste of $30 on the rental GoPro, but I know I made the right call. Even the guide upon his return admitted grimly that the conditions were awful. The water was cold, choppy in the extreme and visibility was limited to about 10cm. Those that did take a dip said theyโd managed to see a couple of sergeant majors, but that was about it. The qualified divers had a bit more luck with some eagle rays, but even they confessed that it was a hard and relatively fruitless dive.
I, on the other hand, was having a whale of a time. Islote Pitt is home to a ridiculous quantity of endemic species, including both Elliotโs and wedge-tailed storm-petrels, Galรกpagos shearwaters and swallow-tailed gulls – the only nocturnal gulls in the world. Iโm used to seeing storm-petrels at a distance, zooming across the surface of the open ocean and next to impossible to track with a camera, but Iโve never seen a colony before.
Iโve seen a lot of South American gulls on this trip: kelp gulls, dolphin gulls, grey gulls and lava gulls, to be precise. But swallow-tailed gulls are really rather special. Whether itโs their white wings and silver mantle, or the smart red ring around their eyes, or even their eerily haunting cry, theyโre simply unlike any other gull Iโve ever seen.
Punta Pittโs major claim to fame (as well as the explanation behind the title) is that it is the only place in the Galรกpagos Islands where all three species of booby can be found together. Each one nests in a different spot: blue-footed boobies on the ground, red-footed boobies in the trees and Nazca boobies on the cliffs.
The Nazca boobies at Punta Pitt itself nest on a cliff some distance from the path at the point itself, so your best views would be at Islote Pitt, which is home to an enormous colony of the handsome seabird, alongside the frigatebirds, swallow-tailed gulls and a legion of storm petrels.
The hike up into the cliffs from the cove at Punta Pitt takes you deep into the volcanic coastline, up a tree-lined gully that becomes a torrent in times of severe rainfall. Youโll encounter the most famous residents of Punta Pitt, the rare red-footed boobies, shortly before climbing the pass over to the other side: theyโre hard to miss, as they nest right next to the path.
Boobies get their bright-coloured feet from their choice of diet, which seems to be an evolutionary choice in the race to find a mate. Red-footed boobies primarily hunt squid and flying fish, both rich in carotenoids, which gives them their red colouring; blue-footed boobies are after the same nutrients, but their choice of catch – sardines – gives them a wholly different colouration. The brighter the feet, the more successful the bird is at finding a mate.
In August, the breeding season is already well under way, with some early partners already feeding large fluffy chicks. Others are still taking it in turns to incubate their eggs, with one partner flying in from a morningโs hunting to relieve the other on the nest.
For once, I was with a really respectful group of tourists. Once they worked out that the birds donโt like being approached too closely, they asked if we could keep our distance and move on so as not to disturb the birds further. Music to my ears!
Sometimes you didnโt have much choice but to be close, as their choice of nests catch you by surprise, in a scrape beside the path or tucked away in a tree in the middle of the road.
Theyโre not the only iconic Galรกpagos residents that breed at Punta Pitt. The enormous frigatebirds can be found here too, looking even more fluffy than the boobies, albeit at least twice the size.
Frigatebirds are absolutely enormous – you wonโt truly appreciate just how big they are until you see them for yourself. Using their swallow-like forked tail as a rudder, opening and closing their streamers to steer in the wind, they are masters of the air, perfectly designed for outspeeding the boobies and robbing them of their fish, which I have been lucky enough to witness.
I also saw a beautiful angel of a seabird here: a red-billed tropicbird, all white with long streamers and a bright red bill. Theyโre small – tern size at best – and nest in crevices in the cliffs that are impossible to reach, so you wonโt see them as well as the other denizens of Punta Pitt, but it was quite a sight to see as it set out to sea to go fishing.
The red-footed boobies come in two colours: a white morph – more common in the western Pacific – and a coffee-coloured brown morph which is more easily found here in the Galapagos. The two morphs are totally interchangeable and cross-breed from time to time: for the ladies, itโs not about the colour of their feathers but the brightness of their feet.
After a solid two hour hike up into the cliffs, we left the boobies and their ramshackle nests and climbed back down to the beach where we landed. While the captainโs boy ferried us back to the boat on a small skiff, the local sea lion alpha was busy defending his territory, chasing off a rival male that had just arrived on the beach.
I overheard a family of Americans in Puerto Baquerizo Moreno watching the sea lions lazing around the port and saying how easy life must be for them. For the dominant male, it couldnโt be further from the truth. From the moment he assumed command, he cannot hunt, eat or sleep, patrolling his territory constantly and fighting off suitors as they come. This is, of course, extremely debilitating, leaving them physically weakened after nearly a month without food, but there are cases of individual alpha males returning to reclaim their harem up to three times in a single season. So when you hear the endless barking that is such a part of the soundscape of Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, remember how long it might have been since the males have been able to eat. For sea lions, the urge to mate simply outweighs all other options on the table, including eating and sleeping.
The boat ride back to Puerto Baquerizo takes a lot less time as you ride the fast-moving current back, shaving a whole hour off the journey. In the middle of the day, thereโs not as much to see either, so most of my companions fell asleep, aided by those curious neck-braces with built-in fans that I saw some colleagues wearing back home during the June heatwave.
Samuel, our guide, was keen to know how long Iโd be here. I told him how last minute this whole operation was, and that Iโd more or less given up on Espaรฑola with no news from the folks at EcoChallenger. He said heโd ask around – after all, itโs not the agencies here that conduct the tours but rather the guides and their attendant boatmen. The agencies merely act as middlemen, sending a certain quota to the actual operators down in the harbour. So who knows? Maybe Iโll get to go to Espaรฑola after all. either way, Iโm glad I opted for Punta Pitt – it was absolutely incredible.
Iโll get an early night and have a quieter day tomorrow. I could do with some time to put the snorkeling mask to good use. I hear the bay where I saw the turtles is an almost guaranteed spot to see them year-round, so I think Iโll go there first if the weather is kind. Itโs usually rainy and cloudy in the mornings and then sunny in the afternoons here, which is an easy enough pattern to follow.
See you next time! BB x
The Book of Barnabas 