June 10, 2016
This is it! It’s an hour past dawn, and my friend and I are boarding a taxi to our ferry to Isla Isabela. From all that we’ve heard, Isla Isabela is what most people think of when they think of the Galapagos: very small town, unspoiled beaches, lots of wildlife.
Our taxi drops two people off at their boats before bringing our group to the Destiny. She’s bigger than a taxi, but only just. We’re all fitted with lifejackets and told something complicated in Spanish about how to use the bathroom and how not to fall out of the boat. The instructions are not repeated in English.
For the first ten or fifteen minutes it’s exciting to watch the coast of Isla Santa Cruz as we motor west towards Isabela. There’s breaking surf all along the coast, hinting at rugged coastlines. After spending over a week in the limits of Puerto Ayora, it’s startling to see just how wide Isla Santa Cruz is.
The next two hours pass slowly. Once away from the shore, the waves become more choppy, and our little boat bounces up and down and side to side as we cut across the ocean. I turn to face front (why do boat seats always face each other, rather than line of travel?) and manage to avoid getting seasick.
It’s with great relief that, at long last, we pull into the bay at Puerto Villamil on Isla Isabela. Once again, we take a taxi to the dock. After paying the docking fee ($5 per person) we’re back on solid ground once more. We have 5.5 glorious hours to explore Isabela before the last ferry of the day heads back to Puerto Ayora.
We have a solid DIY plan: a tour of Islote Tintoreras in the morning, as that’s where the best penguin and sea lion viewing is to be had. Then with the time remaining, we plan to visit the flamingo lagoon, the turtle breeding station, and Concha Perla (recommended for its excellent snorkeling).
Almost immediately, our beautiful plans fall apart. There are two snack cabanas and a public restroom just off the dock, but there’s no place to purchase a day trip tour to Islote Tintoreras. Finally we ask a local man outside a snack cabana. After much back and forth, he introduces us to another man, Milton, who tells us we have to go into town to buy tickets. He also tells us that the 10:00 am tours are all full, but we can get one at 12:30 pm.
The journey into town to purchase tickets is complicated. Milton hails a taxi, and the ride into Puerto Villamil is short. The town is very small, just one main street with restaurants and a few hotels. Our taxi driver goes up and down the main street twice. We’re not sure what’s happening, but finally we are let out at a tour boutique that is happy to sell us our tickets.
It’s already after 10:00 am, and we have to be back at the tour shop by twelve. We head off to see the flamingos, and after one wrong turn, we find Flamingo Lagoon.
There are two flamingos here this morning. One is close to the far side, wading through knee-high water and having its breakfast.
The other is further west of the boardwalk. It’s bath time for this flamingo; it keeps tucking and twisting its head to reach all of its feathers.
I try to zoom in with my phone camera, but the picture is mediocre at best. Maureen hands me her camera with its telephoto lens. Up close, the pink and orange feathers remind me of a sunset. They contrast sharply with its black beak tip and wing points.
Photo courtesy of a lovely Galapagos postcard
It’s too late now to go up to the turtle breeding station and fit in some snorkeling at Concha Perla before our afternoon tour. We hail a cab back to the docks and arrange for him to pick us up at 12:15 pm.
The boardwalk to Concha Perla takes off just next to one of the snack cabanas on the docks. As we follow the boardwalk, there are sea lions galore. Some are conked out in the shade of nearby mangroves
while others are taking their mid-morning nap right on the boardwalk.
Given how popular Concha Perla is with snorkelers and tour groups, I’m surprised to see any sea lions on the boardwalk. For the most part, they seem blissfully indifferent to our passage, though we do startle one or two.
We’re feeling rushed and out of sorts; so far our brilliant DIY plan has not gone terribly well. However, our first view of Concha Perla makes up for a lot.
Aside from the French couple in the water, we’re the only ones here. As we slather on sunscreen, a shout goes up from the French couple: there’s a sea lion! They slip back into the water and begin a game of chase. It’s just like watching someone chase their dog around the back yard, although the sea lion is at least ten times as cute.
A few minutes later, the sea lion disappears out to sea and the French couple climb out of the water. Maureen takes off to swim, while I spend a long time soaking up the sunshine and watching the Sally Lightfoot crabs crawl over the stairs.
Photo courtesy of a lovely Galapagos postcard
One of the park staff arrives on the platform and strikes up a conversation with me. He speaks no English, and my Spanish isn’t great, but we have a lengthy chat for 15 or 20 minutes. He’s responsible for sweeping the boardwalks and keeping the dock area clean. He loves it because he loves being out in nature, and seeing all the wild creatures. We establish that it’s my first time in the Galapagos, and that I’m over on a day tour from Santa Cruz.
It’s frustrating because I can’t remember any of my verb conjugations, and there are so many vocabulary words I just don’t know. On the plus side, I’m not afraid to sound like an idiot in another language, as long as I’m understandable. I guess it works, because he compliments me on my Spanish. And later, Maureen tells me she was impressed to hear me chatting away in Spanish.
Soon after the park guy leaves, a flock of American tourists show up. They’re younger than yesterday’s group; maybe college age? They’re here for snorkeling, and I admire the patient way the guide helps the ladies put on their masks and coaxes them into the cool water. He’s a strikingly handsome man, and when he leans on the railing next to me and strikes up a conversation, I am hugely flattered.
It’s not a long conversation. He speaks to me in English, and I attempt to answer in Spanish. Usually he’s a guide for cruise ships, but every so often he takes day trips like this one. He confirms what we suspected: it’s rare to find Concha Perla this empty. When he finds out I’m American, he says tells me his group is also American. “I know,” I say with a hint of annoyance, and the smile he gives me says he understands all about American tourists.
Soon enough he’s called away to get in the water with his charges. Eventually Maureen comes out of the water, and we spend a while drying off and loafing about on the platform. More people are arriving now, including a single male traveler from Chile who asks Maureen about what there is to see in Concha Perla.
Our hour seems to fly by, and sooner than we’d like we’re retracing our steps back to the dock and our waiting taxi. The next thirty minutes are very confusing. We’re dropped off at the tour agency, only to be put on a truck-bus back to the docks with some other random people. Are they on our tour? Who is our guide? Who can tell?
Finally, we are all sorted at the dock and board another small boat for Islote Tintoreras. Our first stop is another snorkeling trip. This time we pull up to a dock built onto a lava rock strand. While the rest of the group snorkels, I find a nice warm rock and dangle my feet in the water. It is cold; the longer I sit, the cooler my legs feel.
Back in the boat, we cast off from the dock and finally, finally, we see our first penguins.
Between our guide and the British couple across the aisle, I learn that there’s an icy ocean current that sweeps around Isla Isabela. Without this current, it would be too hot for penguins to live here. They’re the second smallest penguins, after the little penguin, and they’re the only ones who live north of the Equator (except for the ones in zoos).
They mate for life, and typically only lay one egg a year. In years where food is scarce, they don’t breed at all. Exact numbers are hard to find, but there seem to be around 1,000 breeding pairs in the Galapagos. They mostly eat mullet and sardines, and they’re food for any number of land and water creatures.
On this afternoon, they seem perfectly happy to hang out on shore. I love they way they lift their faces to the sky, as if doing a sun salute. They look so happy!
The boat starts to move, and we reluctantly take our eyes off the penguins as we approach Islote Tintoreras. The first thing we see is a field of brown lava. It’s not pretty, but the shear bareness and desolation is captivating.
A few minutes’ hike through the lava field takes us to a small inlet in the bay. Our guide calls it the shark canal, and it’s not hard to see why: over a dozen white-tipped reef sharks are swimming in this small ravine!
There are dozens of marine iguanas all over the lava rocks, including several young ones. Our guide says they breed from December to May, so the small ones we’re seeing now are only a few months old.
The end of our Islote Tintoreras tour is this scenic beach, which overlooks a cove full of sea lions napping in the shade.
Our guides give us about 15 minutes. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to get a good sea lion picture without a telephoto lens. Several of our group members are intrigued by the group of iguanas near the trail. Colin (half of the British couple) is particularly entranced by them, while the father of the father-son Mexican couple keeps trying to touch their tails.
It’s nearly time for us to catch our ferry back to Santa Cruz. We retrace our steps through the lava fields and past the shark-infested ravine, then board our boat back to the mainland.
When we arrive at the main dock, all is chaos. The dock itself dips wildly in the incoming tide, nearly throwing us off into the water. There are people everywhere, with no signs or instructions on what is happening or where to go. We see several people who are also wearing Destiny stickers, but the gal with the clipboard has no record of our names on the afternoon manifest.
We follow a different woman into the crowd. Somehow they make room for us, and we stand in the middle of a sea of people until we’re called onto a water taxi to take us to Destiny.
After the noise and press of the docks, it’s a pleasure to sit in the ferry as we wait for more passengers. I see a shape below me in the water, and then a penguin erupts into the air next to the boat.
Soon it’s joined by a friend, then two, then three. They dip and dive, staying above the water for only a few seconds before diving again to chase each other or catch a meal.
They are happy, rambunctious creatures. They seem to smile all the time, much like a dog, and they are supremely comfortable in the water. I’ve never been this close to a penguin in the wild. I feel as if I could almost reach out and touch them.
All too soon Destiny is pulling up its anchor and motoring out of the harbor. It’s a long 2 hour ride back to Santa Cruz. We’re near the very back of the boat this time, which helps with the seasickness. It’s still too choppy for me to read, though, and I only manage to nap for part of the time.
Tired, windswept, and overwhelmed by all that we’ve seen today, we arrive back in the Puerto Ayora harbor. As we trudge up the gangway onto the dock proper, we’re stopped short by an unusual sight: a sea lion asleep on a bench!
Several people have their picture taken standing near or sitting next to this sea lion, but it doesn’t wake or stir.
It’s a good end to a day that, while it didn’t go quite as planned, was certainly full of good memories. We ran out of time to see the turtle breeding center (reportedly much better than the one at the Charles Darwin Research Station) and felt rushed through much of the day. To properly DIY Isla Isabela, you’d want to stay overnight and catch the next ferry out the following afternoon.
On the other hand, the memory of those penguins playing in the water will stay with me for a long time, as will Concha Perla and the flamingos in their lagoon. I have one more full day on the islands, but I doubt tomorrow will be in the same league as penguins.
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