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Travel Story

In the wake of the Beagle

Island hopping in the Galapagos

Lonesome George looks much older than 77, although it’s hard to tell with tortoises. A trim 200 pounds and in the prime of life he should be out cavorting with the bony belles who share his luxury pad at the Darwin Research Centre. But alas, George spends his days seeking out patches of shade – wasting the best century of his life in a dissolute state of reptilian torpor.

Like most visitors to the Galapagos Islands Betty and I made the Darwin Centre our first stop and resident naturalist Heimi is showing us around. George, he tells us, was found wandering around Pinta Island in 1972 – the last surviving member of a once thriving population on that island. Isolated from one another for thousands of years on separate Islands the Galapagos tortoises evolved into 14 different sub-species, three of which are already extinct. To we humans the differences may seem subtle and unimportant but George remains steadfastly celibate – waiting in vane for Ms. Right from his home island of Pinta. If she doesn't show up in the next hundred years or so Lonesome George will leave no offspring and his death will add another extinction to the ever growing list.

Back in the days of wooden ships and iron men, before the advent of refrigeration, tortoises like George were prized as conveniently packaged rations. Able to stay alive for up to a year without food or water, thousands of them were packed, upside down, into the holds of sailing ships as a source of fresh meat for the crew. Today the tortoises are protected and, with the aid of a captive breeding program at the Darwin Centre, some populations are being successfully re-introduced to their native haunts. But feral pigs, which eat their eggs, and goats, which compete with the tortoises for their diet of prickly pear, are still a problem.

Although their name is taken from the Spanish word for tortoise the Galapagos Islands are home to a bewildering assortment of other odd-ball creatures. When he arrived on the research vessel Beagle in 1835, Charles Darwin summed up his first impression with a diary entry: "The natural history of these islands is eminently curious." Indeed an understatement, as we discovered during our week of island hopping.

We boarded the 51-foot motor vessel Moby Dick in Puerto Ayora on Isla Santa Cruz – six passengers, a crew of four, and guide Efrin. Since Ecuador made the area into a national park in 1959 all tourists who go ashore in the Galapagos must be accompanied by a licensed guide. Darwin himself could not have done a better job than Efrin. A native Ecuadorian with an intimate knowledge of the Galapagos, he made sure we were always the first boat to arrive at each site.

On our first night aboard we were wakened by the engines firing up at three in the morning, then lulled back to sleep by the gentle rocking of the boat heading for our first destination. During the next week we visited eight of the 13 larger islands and stopped to snorkel around many smaller islets – each stop a unique and fascinating experience.

At Sullivan Bay, on Santiago Island our skiff was greeted by a group of curious and playful young sealions. Just offshore the resident bull, barking a warning to others, swam back and forth, patrolling the stretch of beach where the 30-odd cows of his harem lay snoozing in the sun. The cows gave us baleful looks but their pups, using mom as a pillow, continued to sleep. None of them bothered to move as we crossed the beach and started our hike onto a hundred-year-old lava flow where the first pioneer vegetation is just beginning to take root.

As we walked across the black, ropy surface of basalt and later climbed to the summit of Bartolome Island for a spectacular view of the desolate moon-like landscape, Efrin described how the Galapagos archipelago originated. About five million years ago a volcano, spawned above a hot spot in the earth's mantle, grew above the surface of the ocean, creating the first in a string of barren, lifeless islands. The older volcanoes, now extinct, have been carried southeast by the movement of the Nazca crustal plate while those in the northwestern part of the archipelago, which now form Isobela and Fernandino, are still over the hotspot and remain active.

No one knows when these newly-formed islands were discovered by living things. Pelagic birds were probably the first to arrive, followed by rafts of vegetation washed out to sea from mainland South America. Hitching rides on the rafts a few animals survived and adapted to life where the currents washed them ashore. Over many generations the offspring of those hardy pioneers evolved into the myriad unique species that now inhabit the Galapagos Islands.

Among the strangest are the iguanas. Resembling miniature dinosaurs the Galapagos land iguanas can be over a metre long and weigh up to six kg. They thrive on the flowers and pads of the prickly pear cactus, which are devoured spines and all. Their smaller cousins, the spiny black marine iguanas, must be the ugliest animals that ever crawled. The only sea-going lizards in the world, they spend most of their time sprawled out on hot rocks, sometimes in piles several iguanas deep. Being cold-blooded they have to get their body temperature good and high before descending into the cold water for a meal of seaweed.

As we cruised along the north shore of Isla Santa Cruz Efrin spotted a commotion on Bachas Beach. We went ashore to find thousands of sea turtles emerging from their sandy nests. The tiny hatchlings, flapping instinctively toward the water's edge, covered the beach like dead leaves blowing in an autumn wind. Overhead dozens of frigate birds wheeled and screamed. The tiny, soft-shelled turtles were no match for these masters of flight, who plucked them off the beach in a wild feeding frenzy. Even the few turtles that made it to the water’s edge were immediately scooped from the surface. Efrin had us gather about 50 hatchlings into a pail of sea water. They were released into the ocean after dark.

We spent part of each day in the ocean, snorkeling with sea creatures that were as indifferent to our presence as those on land. At first coming eyeball to eyeball with a charging sealion was unnerving, but they were just playing and never touched us. Galapagos penguins darted past, feet as rudders, wings outstretched. Their streamlined bodies, leaving a trail of bubbles, seemed to be propelled by some invisible force.

On one of our dives the skiff dropped us at Devil's Crown, a submerged volcanic crater off Isla Santa Maria where the ocean literally teems with fish of every imaginable size, shape and colour. White-tippet sharks swam languidly past while hammerheads patrolled the bottom with wide-set eyes and long slender bodies. The Moby Dick was anchored about half a kilometre away and I followed a green sea turtle most of the way back. Approaching the boat I saw a group of young sealions playing with the anchor rope – holding it in their mouths and spinning round and round like kids twirling on a swing – just one of a thousand bizarre images burned into my memory of the Galapagos.

The Islands are not for everyone. Those seeking a tropical holiday on sandy, palm-lined beaches with luxury hotels will be disappointed in the Galapagos Islands. But for anyone with an interest in natural history and wildlife photography they offer the ultimate travel experience. The barren volcanic landscape, dotted with sparse clumps of low palo santo trees and prickly pear cactus has a stark, primordial beauty of its own and the creatures that live there are a source of endless amazement and surprise.