Adventure and serenity await in the Galapagos, off the coast of Ecuador

STORY AND IMAGES BY JAMES BOHLING

My vacation in the Galapagos Islands last November was, in essence, an impulse-buy—a bored and casual perusal of airfare specials that became, moments later, a nonrefundable ticket from LAX to Quito, the capital of Ecuador. Only once before in my exhaustive travels had I done something so rash, that being a weeklong jaunt to Maui that turned out to be an unforgettable journey during which I never managed to wipe the smile off my face. Would the Galapagos provide the same tonic effect? I would soon find out.

As most of us are aware, these little islands 600 miles off the coast of South America, which have long been on many a “must-see” list (mine included), have one main draw: animals. I had known for years about these uninhabited rocks in the Atlantic where, nearly two centuries ago, Charles Darwin happened upon fauna that had never seen human beings. Thus, these critters, unlike the rest of us, had very little fear of people. Still, I wondered if it could really be true: Would I catch a ride on a wayward tortoise? Sleep among a coven of sea lions? Feel the tickle of iguana feet on my back as I filled in a Sudoku puzzle?

Let’s backtrack for a second, though. After booking my ridiculously cheap flight, I had at least a little planning to do. I got in touch with the same travel outfitters who had arranged my excellent trek through Chile’s Patagonia a few years earlier, BikeHike Adventures (888/805-0061; www.bikehike.com), booked what they termed a “multi-sport adventure” in the islands, dashed off a check, and soon thereafter boarded my plane.

A day later, I’m landing on the rocky island of Baltra, the embarkation point for all trips to the Galapagos. Not being a great fan of group travel, I am pleased to find that we’re a grand total of four: a pair of laid-back doctors from Chicago who have just performed dozens of volunteer surgeries on the mainland; our young, sultry (and straight) guide, Richar (that’s right, no final ‘d’), the nature-loving son of an Ecuadorian mother and gringo father; and myself. We plant ourselves on a quick boat to Santa Cruz, the most populous of the islands, hop into a van, and within minutes the adventure has begun.

The first thing that strikes me is the landscape; I had expected a barren mass of volcanic rock, but Santa Cruz is nothing like that. While not exactly a palm-fringed paradise like Bora Bora or the Seychelles, the island is surprisingly lush and forested. In fact, my guide tells me the highlands of Santa Cruz are well known for plantations producing rich and sumptuous coffee. Mentally, I have already made my first purchase.

The town of Puerto Ayora, population 12,000, is the largest in the Galapagos, and the point from which most independent visitors begin their travels. Aside from the half-interesting Charles Darwin Research station housing a few tortoises and a pair of bizarre-looking cacti, there isn’t much reason to linger. There are a few decent restaurants around—including the rather swish Red Mangrove (www.redmangrove.com), where we baptize our arrival with a delectable sushi meal—but aside from that, it’s just a small group of hotels, low-budget tour operators, and tacky tourist shops. I go to bed relieved that I’ve booked my trip in advance and dream of what’s to come.

The following day, I am made aware of the advantages of choosing a land-based tour as opposed to the cruises that carry most tourists around. Our quartet is alone among a misty forest where we come upon our first free-roaming tortoises. While they’re not exactly cuddly (they begin to hiss when one gets too near), they do tolerate humans up to a distance of about six feet. Looking at these creatures in their grassy and flower-strewn habitat, it’s easy to imagine you’ve stepped back—several million years or so—in time.

The coffee plantation isn’t offering tours that day, but I still snag a couple of pounds of beans in town with a bit of haggling assistance from Richar. Then the “multi-sport” aspect of our tour kicks in as we ride mountain bikes through verdant peaks and valleys down to the beach, where we swim, laze about, and munch on plantain chips (to which the three of us gringos will soon become addicted).

The next day we’re on a rather rough boat ride to the island of San Cristobal. A gentle hike takes us to an interpretation center that details the islands’ history, and then we’re snorkeling in a secluded bay. If you’ve been to Hawaii or the Yucatan, you’ll be less than impressed, but there are nonetheless a few interesting fishies hanging about.

Much more enthralling is our sea kayaking adventure the following morning. We glide along effortlessly (well, OK, Richar is doing most of the paddling for me) upon the water until our boat collects us and our kayaks, and then we hit the jackpot: Isla Lobos. So named for its colonies of lobos del mar, or sea lions, this is what I’ve come to the Galapagos for. Donning fins and snorkel, I sense I am about to experience something life-altering. And so I am.

Playing with sea lions is a near-hallucinogenic experience. I ingratiate myself with a trio of pups, and the four of us frolic together, tossing a clamshell back and forth among ourselves. They bump against me, swim inches from my mask, and for a moment I feel I am one of them. Actually, I’m with them for nearly an hour, I discover to my surprise when I finally get back aboard the boat. I crack open a beer, grinning like an idiot for the rest of the afternoon.

While nothing else matches my romp with the lobos, our last couple of days still have a lot to offer. On Isabela, the largest and most volcanic of the islands (and site of Richar’s home), we ride horseback to the rim of a huge crater and marvel at its expanse. We snorkel through an inlet among reef sharks, which are slightly terrifying, but do us no harm. And in the evening, we meet a few friends of Richar’s at an unpretentious local bar and spend the night intermittently dancing and sipping away on caipirinhas.

On my flight back to the mainland, I feel as though I’m still in a dream. Meandering through Guayaquil’s bland and modern airport, I have to ask myself: Was it all a dream? No, it wasn’t: It was one of the realest things I’ve ever known. My mood is buyoant throughout the rest of my stay in Ecuador and remains so for several weeks. Once more, acting on a whim has paid off, and I’m reminded that doing something is a whole lot richer than thinking about it.

When to go

One of the greatest things about the Galapagos is that they can be visited year-round. The water is a bit chillier in the cool/dry season (July-December) and rain is possible at any time.

What to bring

Be sure to pack a high-SPF sunscreen and wide-brimmed hat. The equatorial sun is exceptionally powerful, and ignored at one’s peril.

Getting there

Nearly every visitor to the Galapagos arrives by plane. TAME and Aerogal both fly daily from Quito and Guayaquil on the mainland. —J.B.