Leaving the Enchanted Islands

We bade farewell to the "Islas Encantadas" this morning with an early Avianca flight from the airport on nearby Baltra. This involved a bus and short ferry trip to the island, before retracing our steps via Guayaquil to Quito.

A worryingly close fly-by of Cotopaxi revealed it to be spewing ash. Obviously there was no concern of the potentially hazardous effects of an ash cloud such as the disruption of Eyjafjallajökull in 2010.

Putting on a show

Back in the familiar territory of the Ecuadorian capital - albeit only for one more night - the strange landscape, flora and fauna of the Galapagos already seemed a world away. We took the opportunity to return to the vegetarian restaurant El Maple in La Mariscal and indulged in a milanesa napolitana, washed down with an excellent jar of Cherusker porter.

Milanesa napolitana

Darwin

Having seen a number of mentions of the islands' most famous visitor - from the orientation centre on San Cristóbal to road names and the eponymous finches - we finally visited the Charles Darwin Research Station on Santa Cruz today.

Ready, set...

Baby giant tortoises

The centre carries out programmes of tortoise breeding, perpetuating the line of the different species of giant tortoise found on each island. It also houses land iguanas, which, unlike their marine cousins, no longer thrive in the changed environment of today's Galapagos, but whose larger form and striking yellow skin make them the far more visually appealing reptile.

Land iguana

The weather was once again hot and muggy and so we sought a brief reprieve in the nearby lava tunnels. These are incredible structures, formed when hot rock from underneath the earth's surface surged through cool water, its outside solidifying to form a wall, while the centre oozed forth. The result is a network of hollow tunnels large enough for a man to stand up in. One even sheltered a sleepy barn owl.

Oh really?

Surrounding the tunnels are more examples of the famous tortoises, only this time - and for the first time - truly in the wild. Their territory is unbounded and they wander - albeit slowly - where they will. Given this freedom, it was odd to observe that they choose to frequent the fields surrounding an open-sided restaurant, built, it would seem, to entertain coachloads of visitors from cruise ships that descend on it daily for lunch.

Here be tortoises

The tortoises' heads retracted visibly into their shells as the crowds milled about their space. We were no less guilty of encroaching, having also been brought here to feed, although we kept a respectful distance from the creatures. Around the corner, the Galapagos sprung yet another surprise view - a lake carpeted in red petals.

The red carpet

VIP ducks

While the cruise passengers occupied most of the restaurant's tables, we were seated out the back and craned to see the dancing put on especially and solely for theor enjoyment. Lunch for us comprised the usual starch-heavy combination of rice, potatoes, and spaghetti standing in place of the fish.

While the cruisers were bussed back to continue their voyage, we tried to earn the "active" part of the activity trip we all had booked with a cycle ride for the 15km back to town. The activities thus far had been light on exertion and this largely downhill ride was a nice spin through the countryside on the outskirts of Puerto Ayora, but no more demanding.

With a little free time in town, we perused the souvenir shops, but took much more pleasure in watching the avian life at the harbour, especially the enormous forms of the pelicans divebombing the water in search of fish.

As this was the last night of the trip, we convened at Mauricio's request at Kiosk de Renato, on the night market, for a last dinner. Unsurprisingly, Renato's specialty turned out to be fish, so we fed ourselves up on the accompaniments of patacones, rice, and salad with some of the coconut sauce destined for the fish to make things a little less bland.

Night market

We dined happily, al fresco, under the full moon, until Mauricio appeared with a surprise cake. We were all touched and left vowing to keep in contact.

Farewell cake

Santa Cruz

After the small port towns of Islas Isabela and Floreana, we were bound this morning for the built-up resort of Puerto Ayora on the island of Santa Cruz. Having forced yet more scrambled eggs into my mouth and successfully not gagged on the familiar breakfast staple, I joined the others on the speedboat for a smooth crossing under a grey and close sky.

Diving for breakfast

A large bill

We pulled into port to the sight of blue-footed boobies diving into the water and pelicans mostly sitting calmly in the shallows. However, some of the other pelicans, together with sea lions, seagulls and other wildlife, were giving a hard time to the local fishmonger, who seemedunperturbed by their presence.

An unwanted audience

We checked into the Lobo del Mar hotel, dropped our bags and went straight to lunch. This turned out to be rice, chips, spaghetti and vegetables with an avocado salad. While containing three significant sources of carbohydrate, it was by far the most varied meal we had been served in a while and thus sparked no small amount of excitement in us.

Carbs three ways

Walking off our lunch, we took the boarded and cactus-lined route out to Tortuga Bay.

Lobo del Mar

While the seas came roughly crashing onto the beach, the sheltered bay on the opposite site of the peninsula was calm like a lake. Hiring a few kayaks, we ventured out in pairs to greet the herons and dodge the occasional bobbing shell of a submarine turtle.

Surfing Tortuga Bay

In keeping with the beach-side resort feel of the town, whose development seems wholly at odds with the conservationist ethos of the national park, we took some pre-dinner cocktails at The Rock. A Thai restaurant, promising a change from the usual Italian-inflected tourist fare had permanently closed down, so we dined at Il Giardino. This was given a twist by the waiter's confusion of our exuberance with a celebration of someone's birthday. His incredulous response to our denial of this fact led to the arrival of a birthday cake, which we then had to honour with a round of 'Happy Birthday' in an exercise of face saving.

Shark!

Breakfast started the day in the way to which we have become accustomed no matter where we wake up on the Galapagos: scrambled eggs, fruit, and granola.

Today saw us feast our sights on a panoply of Galapagos wildlife. First up were flamingoes, unselfconsciously preening themselves in the nearby lake, in between ducking their long S-shaped necks underwater for a quick snack.

Pretty flamingo

Next was the tortoise breeding centre. Each island is home to one or more unique species of giant tortoise, having separately evolved in their own environment, but all of them come together on Isabela for the purpose of continuing the different variants. Sadly it was already too late for "Lonesome Gorge", who was the last of his kind and died without leaving an heir a few years ago.

Ancient faces

Our next stop took us to water. Around the port, iguanas and sea lions lurked, posed , and slumped.

I see you... give me a hug

Friends together

All tuckered out

On board the boat, we observed from above the so-called "shark alley" at islote de tintoreras. Many marine iguanas, piled higgledy-piggledy on top of one another for warmth, as well as crabs with intricate patterns on their red shells, were in evidence, but sadly no sharks.

Interesting camouflage

Keeping warm

The water in the narrow stream that cuts through the rugged black "aa" lava was apparently not sufficiently warm to draw the sharks in from the sea.

Walking the aa lava

The craggy landscape presented razor-sharp nodules ready to bite our sandal-shod feet. However, it proved no such problem to the native wildlife and blue-footed boobies, little penguins, and more populated the banks.

A trio of boobies

A booby in flight

Pingu and co.

Back on the boat, we were soon donning the snorkelling gear once again to take ourselves under the surface, where we communed with the graceful giant turtles, a huge stingray and, finally, discovered the hiding place of the white-tipped reef shark.

Serenity

Stingray,  stingray!

Hiding place

Shark surprise

After lunch of some rather unexciting fried rice, a group of us took ourselves surfing. Two Australian girls, one of whom was a surf instructor, declined to join us, having presumably rated the surf as unworthy of donning the "wettie". For the bunch of beginners the conditions were perfect and I especially was eager to get back on the board after my first forays in New Zealand. After a quick induction, our instructor took a few quick videos of our attempts before heading out to enjoy the bigger waves. Lazy this may have been, but I enjoyed being back on the salty roller coaster and managed a few decent rides.

How it should be done

Pizza (again) tasted excellent after exertions even if it is not the most inspired cuisine that the islands can offer.

Isabela

Waking up in our tiny wooden hut on Floreana's coast, it was time to move on to the biggest island of the Galapagos archipelago: Isabela.

We breakfasted al fresco on granola, yoghurt and, of course, scrambled eggs, washing it down with organic, island-grown coffee, while we looked out in the direction of the island we would be heading to next.

Cheerio!

Bidding adieu to the wildlife clustered at the port as though forming the official welcoming/farewell committee, we boarded the speedboat and jetted off in a northwesterly direction.

Hanging out on Isla Tortuga

The trip was less bumpy than our inbound journey and, having passed Isla Tortuga and its resident population of marine iguanas, frigate birds with their young, and Andean seagulls, a lucky few clambered onto the speedboat's prow for a closer look at the shearwaters on the approach to Isabela's port town.

Racing the shearwaters

Puerto Villamil is a small, shore-side settlement, but still a magnitude larger and more touristy than Floreana's Puerto Velazco Ibarra.

Bienvenido a los Ingleses

Puerto Villamil

Having checked in at the Gran Hostal Tintorera, we departed after lunch for a walk up the volcano Sierra Negra. I say "up" but given that the volcanoes on the Galapgos are 'shield volcanoes', formed from soft basalt, they don't rise to the towering heights of their pointy mainland cousins.

Gran Hostal Tintorera

Instead, the volcano spreads wide and flat over the south centre of Isabela like a failed jelly. Despite not being a taxing walk - we barely noticed the ascent - the 'summit' gave a striking view over the 10km-wide caldera at the volcano's heart, strewn with enormous black igneous boulders.

Sierra Negra caldera

Back at sea level(!), we relaxed at a most unique beach bar where the patrons could rub shoulders with the local marine iguanas -  respecting, of course, the national park regulations.

View from the bar

Lounge lizards

A most enormous pizza at Los Delfines saw out the evening quite satisfyingly. The family size arrived on a tray almost as wide as the table itself, but presented no great challenge to the two American guys that ordered it between them.

Floreana

The weather on the Galapagos archipelago - as with many island climates - is unpredictable and changeable. This morning saw a much cloudier, yet no less muggy start than yesterday.

Our purpose was to leave the island of San Cristóbal first thing, and make our way to Floreana by speedboat. The boat was only just big enough for the fifteen in our group, plus our guide, Mauricio, the captain and his mate. Heading southwest at a fairly steady 45km/h, it took around three hours to reach the smaller island of Floreana. The journey was decidedly bumpy as we drove directly into the wind and the large waves it caused. While some faces were greener than others, fortunately we all arrived without losing our breakfast (eggs again).

The island had the prestigious accolade of being named in honour of Ecuadorian President Juan José Flores when the archipelago was annexed for his country and a bid for population of the islands was made. However, the natural environment provided little water and, given time, settlements thrived much more on the more resource-rich islands of Santa Cruz and San Cristóbal. As such, the shore front is far less built up than the town we had just left and our accommodation at Lava Lodge was one of only a handful of buildings to be seen as we pulled into port. In fact, the huts bore a greater resemblance to beach chalets and our group represented a whopping 10% of the island's 150-strong population.

Lava Lodge

On arrival, the port was teeming with marine life - iguanas, black with patches of angry red, lay with fat and lazy expressions on the hot flat surfaces, while sea lions and the unusual sight of a fur seal sat on the rocks among the red crabs.

Sea lions and marine iguanas

At the Lava Lodge, bird life abounded, with plenty of Darwin's finches flitting from branch to branch. Aptly we were assigned the hut named pinzón - Spanish for finch - but it was the yellow warblers that caught our attention, as streaks of colour, motionless only for an instant before darting away.

Yellow warbler

Although the island only has a few inhabitants, the history makes for interesting reading, and could well have come from a work of fiction.

This account provides a good summary of the unusual events, which starts with a couple of reclusive and misanthropic Germans, the Wittmers, seeking a peaceful and people-free existence on the island in 1929. Free of people, however, it did not remain for long, as a copycat pair, the Ritters, followed in their footsteps, lured by tales of the remote existence chronicled by the Wittmers in a German periodical. The two couples led isolated lives until the arrival of an eccentric Baroness and her two paramours. Like a cat among the pigeons, the baroness' behaviour caused much wrinkling of the Teutonic noses until the "neighbour from hell" disappeared with one of her lovers, never to be seen again. Shortly thereafter, the jilted second lover made for the mainland, only to have his corpse turn up later on a beach. Even more mysteriously, Ritter, a committed vegetarian, subsequently died after eating a bowl of chicken soup.

Bust of Rolf Wittmer

Long before this group of bizarre miscreants arrived, Floreana was home to the iconic giant tortoises that are always called to mind at a mention of the Galapagos. These unbelievable creatures somehow made their way across the ocean to populate the islands before the arrival of Man. Whalers, as is their wont, killed much of the indigenous population for meat and oil. Sadly, in addition to direct hunting, the shelled reptiles suffered indirectly from Man's introduction of another grazing species: the goat. Unlike Aesop's fable, in The Tortoise and the Goat, the reptile lost out to its faster competitor, which ate the food source much more quickly, causing numbers to take a nosedive. As such, the tortoises currently residing on the island are domesticated, having been reintroduced presumably out of a sense of nostalgia and posthumous guilt.

I don't believe it

After lunch at one of the few restaurants on the island, Lelia's, we  ignored received wisdom and went swimming. Snorkelling, to be precise, off the black sand of the beach in the shallows that are home to stingrays and the cousin of the land-based tortoises, enormous and serene-looking giant marine turtles.

Snorkelling on Floreana

As the sun went down, we viewed it from from the old Wittmer hotel, now owned by the Cruz family with a cold beer. After dark, we trooped back to Lelia's for dinner of soup, in which fried banana 'croutons' replaced the more common popcorn, spaghetti and vegetables, followed by a tasty banana cake.