Finding Saskatchewan in Galapagos
“Why are you going to the Galapagos?” my sister asked in a somewhat exasperated voice, “you don’t even like nature.” Good point as scenery usually bores me after about five minutes. And when it comes to landscapes, I tend to see similarities rather than differences. My travel checklist is to meet interesting people, try different food, find local markets, and collect travel stories.
Still, I had to go to the Galapagos simply because I was there. I had booked a ticket to Bolivia, Peru, and Ecuador, so an additional trip to the islands was a must.
The faraway islands of Charles Darwin and “Origin of Species” fame off the coast of Ecuador, Galapagos has long been the playground of the wealthy. But, being on a tight budget, I bought my ticket, booked a day cruise and booked a hostel well in advance as December is high season in the southern hemisphere.
When the plane landed at Baltra airport, I looked out the window and speculated that it might have been a farmer’s hayfield somewhere around Foam Lake. The airport is more like an indoor airstrip that you would find, for example, in Stony Rapids. Everyone lines up to have their bags hand-checked for contraband. No, it is not cocaine or marijuana that they are looking for, they are plants or animals that could disturb the delicate ecosystem of the islands. Remember that no one in Australia or New Zealand thinks rabbits are cute.
The representatives waved plaques bearing the names of those who booked on expensive cruise ships. For the rest of us, getting to Puerto Ayora, the “capital” of the island, was more of an adventure. I took the free shuttle to the pier, paid 50 cents to take the ferry across, then boarded the bus into town for $1.80. A shared cab was only $5, but I wanted to ride with the locals. Ecuador, by the way, uses US dollars as its official currency, so calculating conversion rates is not a problem.
Puerto Ayora is quite a dusty and run down town that could use a paint job and some street repairs. Sort of like the old part of Melville in the 1960s. I smelled the salty air, the shadows of Manitou beach, and enjoyed the deep cobalt blue water as compensation for the dreary architecture. Later I had lunch at an outdoor cafe overlooking the harbor and people-watched. In true island fashion, no one seemed to be in too much of a hurry. Swayed by the slow pace, I exhaled and relaxed.
A white cab anywhere in the city was $1, so I flagged one down as it passed. Fredy took me to the hostel she had booked and I rang the bell. Unanswered. So I knocked on the door. No answer yet.
What to do what to do? Fredy understood my dilemma and in my clumsy Spanish I explained that he was on a limited budget. She asked if $25 was okay and I nodded. Then she took me to the nameless hotel where I met Cecilia, who speaks English. The hotel had not yet processed the final documents, so it could not be advertised. The room with bathroom, balcony and white sheets was divine. Actually, it might have been a room in an old two- or three-story hotel on Humboldt or Swift Current.
My concern was that the pick up time for the cruise I had booked was 06:00 and it was from the hostel. Fredy promised to pick me up at 05:45 the next morning. And, true to his word, he arrived just in time. Once all the passengers from the various hotels have been accounted for, we hit the highway for the 45-minute ride to the pier. The flat landscape could have been somewhere around Regina. However, then we got into the trees and rocks, and it was more like northern Saskatchewan, maybe somewhere near La Ronge.
We precariously entered the dingy that led us to the yacht. A collection of young, old and middle-aged. And, as often happens, I was the only one traveling alone. I initially struck up a conversation with Lauren and her mother, Elody from Johannesburg.
Once on board, we ate a cooked breakfast, settled into the boat, and were taken to Bartolemo Island. There, we walk along the boardwalk to the summit to enjoy the “classic” view of the Galapagos. Yes, the sight was “nice”, but watching the way people, strangers who came on board, interact with each other was more interesting. A middle-aged woman with an old-fashioned name, Ethel or Myrtle or something, took an instant dislike to me, barely waved back and shot me dirty looks all day long. Maybe he has an aversion to redheaded women.
At our second stop we cross the island to see the penguins. Except they’re not there at that time of year, so our only wildlife encounter was a sea lion flopping down on the beach for a nap. But, yeah, it was a “nice” sandy strip with tumbleweeds like, say, Etter’s Beach in the 1970s.
After lunch, some of us went snorkelling. Stepping into the water beside me, Kaitlan looked up at the massive volcanic wall in front of us. The composition was slightly different, but closely resembled the bluffs along the Churchill River near Mission Stanley. She sighed, “You know, the scenery here is nice, but it doesn’t do much for me.” I smiled in agreement. It may have been on the other side of the world, but it was a lot like Saskatchewan, except for the weather of course, as it was over 25 in December. It was comforting to know that she wasn’t the only person on the ship who wasn’t thrilled by the scenery.
And people who want to experience some of the Galapagos scenery can do so in Saskatchewan. And, if you live in North America, getting to central Canada is considerably less expensive than flying to Ecuador and then to the islands.
The Galapagos Checklist:
Interesting people. Mark: Cecilia, Fredy, Lauren and Elody.
different meals. Tick: The fare on the yacht was recognizable, but watching the chef prepare meals in a closet-sized space was entertaining.
local markets. Tick: While waiting for the return flight, and they are always late, I found a kiosk at the airport that offers a free Galapagos passport stamp. There I bought a cute little shot glass that I use regularly.
Travel story. tick. The day on the boat is one that I have recounted a couple of times.