Galoping Galapagos

Sander (my nine-year old boy) and I (my thirty-nine year old self) decided to take a trip to the Galapagos Islands. For us, the Galapagos is an almost mythical place, sort of like a Neverland for nature lovers. It seems like a far off place, where only a few people have ever been (I’ve since found out that by “few” that means about 150,000 a year, which means the Galapagos is only slightly less visited than Paris Hilton). After doing careful research and factoring in the fact that the Elliott boys get sea-sick in a mud-puddle, I decided that a land based tour, as opposed to a cruise/yacht based tour, was the way for us. I like the freedom of being able to wander about town whenever I want and there’s something more connected about sleeping in a place, as opposed to near a place. However, due to a crazy business schedule I wasn’t able to book the trip far enough in advance to join a set tour. So we had to go with setting up our own tour of the islands using the same company, Adventure-Life. I was initially concerned about this route because I figured that the pre-set tour would get the “A” team, and we would get the “We’d sure love to take your money, so we took on the local ‘Will work for food’ guy, gave him an empanada, and he’ll be showing you around the place.” Actually, this is the first “tour” we’ve ever done. Historically, we just show up someplace and start exploring. But, I figure Galapagos is too big, too far, too huge to bungle through, so we went with the pros on this one. I definitely felt like I copped out a bit, and then I remembered that Lewis and Clark had a guide, Indiana Jones had a guide, and now the Elliotts have a guide. So there. So we pack up our things and head off to the most famous remote Islands on the planet. But first an aside. When packing, I was torn between a backpack and a roller. My goal was to pack enough stuff for the two of us, for about two weeks, in one carry-on bag. And yes, that does require that we wear the same clothes a few, or five times, but it is my job as my son’s father to teach him how to be a college student and then a bachelor. Anyway, I just bought this cool roller and as it sat next to my trusty back-pack, I felt like I was handing out the final rose. Katie, that would be my girl-friend, said I should take the backpack, but she’s a former back-country trip leader so I figured she was naturally biased. As we’re talking, she points at me, the room darkens, the candles flicker, and she says, “There will come a time when you are thankful for the backpack!” Having been raised by a strong Greek woman (Hi Ma!) I know better than to argue with woman pointing at me, so I chose the backpack. Now, about that omen. We had a six hour lay-over in Miami, which by the way, is a terrible International Airport; Lubbock, Texas’ airport has more services. Seriously, how do you have an international airport with so few food options? When you’re leaving the country, or coming back, you stock up on American comfort food, especially in the age of airlines not feeding you. Except in Miami, there is no American comfort food. Not even a McDonalds. I think Miami Airport is the largest parcel of land on the planet without a McDonalds, and this is a big deal when you’re traveling with a nine-year old. Anyway, where was I? Oh right, the lay-over. We arrive at 11.00 am, and don’t take off until 5.30 pm, so we head to the lounge, chill out, play games, make some calls and talk about what the Galapagos will be like. Then as I’m talking to my mom, my phone dies, so I plug it in an the time comes up on the screen. And I stare at it. 5.20. “Hmmm, that means something,” thinks I. 5.20. “Something’s happening at 5.30.” 5.20. And then it hits me, we’re supposed to be on a plane at 5.30! I grab everything and shove it into our bags, literally rip the coke out of Sander’s hand as his lips are reaching for the straw, and tell him to “RUN!” And run we do. So exactly ten hours into our trip, Katie is right; I’m able to fly through the airport with my backpack. Seriously, I’m like Good OJ running through the airport in that Hertz commercial, passing by the 30 gates to our plane’s door. No way we could have made that time with a roller. Just no way. So we sweatily settle into our seats and head for Quito, Ecuador, where we’re picked up by a nice lady who takes us to our hotel. Quito, and Ecuador were not what I expected, but mostly because I don’t do any research on things. Quito is a mountain capital and is about 6000’ (2000m to the rest of the world) and surrounded by extinct/dormant volcanoes. It’s cool at night, and the air is crisp and clear. In fact the whole city (or at least the part of the city you can see going from the airport to the hotel) is clean, uncrowded, friendly and modern. I’m not sure what I expected form Quito, but “nicer than most US cities,” wasn’t it. Tomorrow…Galapagos!

Rise and shine in Quito, use the bathroom in a normal fashion for what, unbeknownst to us, is the last time until we get back, and head out to the airport where our Quito guide points us in the right direction, and off we go to the AirGal gate. I’ve never heard of AirGal before (but I did have a buddy who had an airgal, it was a lonely period of his life, and we’ve chosen not to talk about it), but the airline gave me my first taste of the banana chips that became my obsession during our stay in Ecuador. When I’ve had dried bananas in the past, they’ve always been unbearably sweet, but these were crisp and salty and magical. Then we landed in San Cristobal, Galapagos, Ecuador and felt like we were in another world. We have this rule where airports don’t count when talking about where you’ve been, so Sander made a beeline for a tuft of land and stuck his foot on it. It was “official” we were in the Galapagos. Our guide, Filipe, met us on the plane. And by “one the plane” I mean, on the actual plane. He was flying with us, and tracked us down, and went over things while we were in the air. Now that was a nice touch (and that should get me to my daily recommended use of italics for the day). So Filipe sees us through the landing line, where they ask us questions, give us official looking paper (which I lost), took official looking paper, and then a nurse asked if we were feeling ill. Everywhere you go in the Galapagos, you see signs about the flu-the whole island is like your grandma about washing your hands and warning you about illness, which I found odd considering you cannot flush your toilet paper after you…drop the kids off at the lagoon if you get my drift. I asked Philipe if the little sign in the bathroom that says to throw away your used tp is real or a prank on the tourists (I felt it was fair question as it had to do with nature calling). He said, “Yes, they collect it and burn it.” So I spent the rest of my trip in this island paradise trying not to think about giant piles of burning tp and breathing burnt tp residue. Anyway, for a place as freaked out about the flu as Galapagos, you’d think they’d have state of the art sanitation, especially given the relatively few locals that live there. Anyway, we arrive at our hotel, take a few minutes to get organized, and head off for the nature center/hike/snorkel. It was a nice walk along a volcanic trail to Darwin Bay (the bay where Darwin landed in the G-I’m going to go ahead and call it “the G.” The Galapagos could use some ‘tude), up some (a lot) of steps to see the frigate birds, over to the Darwin Statue, and then to the beach for a snorkel. The beach is lousy with Sea Lions. It looks like the Jersey Shore on the 4th of July. We’re walking among them looking for a place to put our stuff and one charges me, which is sort of funny because they don’t move real well on land, it’s a sort of undulating waddle, again think tourist on the Jersey Shore. We find a place over by a tree to drop our stuff, put our snorkel gear on, and get into the water and begin to snorkel. And there’s just not much to see. I mean, there are some fish, but not a lot, and there’s not much coral to see, then Filpe goes zipping by. Right as I’m thinking, “Man, that guys fast” I see that it’s not Filipe, it’s a sea lion! There’s an actual sea lion swimming within two feet of me. Then not one, but two, then three start darting around, whipping up, and turning away on a dime. They come up slowly, then all you see is bubbles and fur. Before we started, Filpe said that they would come up close, and that’s ok, but you cannot touch them. He felt it “breaks the barrier” and that once you touch them, they feel like they can touch you, and “that’s not so good.” So Sander and I are surrounded by sea lions rushing up to us, and pulling up/down/sideways at the last second. I’m going to be honest, it’s very unnerving. They can turn away faster than anything on land. It would be like running full speed at a wall, just as fast as you can run, then turning away one inch before you hit it. You couldn’t do it. Your legs would give and the momentum would carry you, but sea lions, do it like you or I would go skipping (not that I ever, under any circumstance, skip). You just can’t imagine it. Every time I thought, “Uh oh, this one’s gonna ram me” it turned away. Better yet, it’s like when that huge Labrador puppy runs at you full tilt, and tries to turn away at the last second but plows into you and you both go flailing in a tumble of arms, legs and fur, well the sea lion can pull the move off. So by this time, my boy and I are playing with a sea lion and its boy. We’re blowing bubbles at each other, doing twists and twirls, coming up and jumping out of the water, and having a blast. Then the mother starts slowing down, and following my flippers. Just easing up to them, this time, slowly pulling away, then coming back to the flippers, and I know what’s going on. She’s going to nibble my flipper. I’m not sure what to do with this, because I wasn’t told what would happen if the sea lion breaks the barrier. I’m not so much scared as very…aware. This thing absolutely pwns me in the water, and sure nibbling my flipper is ok, but what if it wants to nibble me. So sure enough it closes on my flippers, looks me dead in the eye, and gently tugs on one, then turns and zips off. Not sure what happened, but I didn’t see that one again. Maybe it got in trouble with his Human Swim Encounter Galapagos Guide or something. As dusk fell, we decided to get out of the water and head back. So we walked home, had a great dinner, and Sander and I talked in our room for a few hours before we went to sleep. We spent a lot of time talking about sea lions, blue footed boobies, frigates and what we hoped to see on the rest of the trip. A great start to a great trip. One final world on sea lions. Over the course of the trip, they became my favorite animal. First off, they’re misnamed. They should be called Sea Labs because they’re more like giant Labrador puppies than lions. All they do is play, well, play and try to get others to play with them. No matter what time you go out at night, you can find a few sea lions playing in the water with each other. Biting, tumbling, swimming, splashing and barking at each other. You can also see them annoying the snot out of the older ones. They will sleep on each other’s heads, crawl over the top of others when there’s a perfectly good swath of beach to use, bark right in the ears of sleeping sea lions, anything to get them to play. This is why they sleep all day. A sea lion colony is the noisiest, most uncomfortable, hassle zone on earth. Not one of them gets a good night sleep. But in the water? In the water they’re the only creatures who use the ocean like a playground and not a business. They explore, they bump pelicans from below, they hassle sharks, they toy with whatever they find, and they swim like you imagine you would if you were granted the “swim” superpower. In short, sea lions have fun. Don’t get me wrong, as fun as they are to watch, they have got to be the most annoying thing in the sea to the other ocean denizens. It’s just that they were blessed with abilities like no other, and they revel in it. I mean, they make dolphins look slow and stoic. I just fell in love with them.

Our second day in the Galapagos was a biggie. We went to the Tortoise reservation, we went snorkeling and saw marine iguanas, and we finished with a sea kayak and more snorkeling. The day starts with Filipe and our “day guide” who take us to the other side of the island to the tortoise center. I’m going to be honest here, the tortoises didn’t “wow” us. Yes, yes, they’re giant turtles, what did we expect? But it wasn’t that they weren’t juggling and riding unicycles, there was just something about seeing them in a reserve that had a zoo like feeling about it. The Galapagos feel wild, free, uninhabited and exotic. Seeing the turtles in a special place, no matter how necessary, just feels weird there. Having said that, they are huge, they are neat, and it is amazing how close you can get to them in the Cerro Coloardo tortoise center. It was especially neat to hear one hiss at another one and take his leaves. You just don’t expect bully vegetarian turtles. We also liked how they pull their heads and front legs in and stand up with their hind legs, lowering their fronts and protecting their heads even more when you walk by. Turns out tortoises are fairly vocal for reptiles. When then pull in, they make a fireplace bellows sound, which is almost like a warning. Also, when they… well, more on then next sound at a later time. After the reserve, the two Coloradoans left the Colorado center and went through the highlands (where we didn’t see any Scottsmen) for our local coast. Here we went on a quick hike where we saw the number one animal I wanted to see, the marine iguana. I’m not sure why I wanted to see one so badly, other than the marine iguana is an animal that I honestly thought I’d never see in real life. It’s a “Wild Kingdom” animal. You know, those animals you only see next to some guy in beige on TV with some voiceover telling you how magical the experience is. Well, that’s the marine iguana. So we’re walking along the beach, near some lava rocks, when we spot one sitting nonchalantly on a rock and I turn into every tween girl at a Jonas Brothers concert, shriek in excitement, and run over to the rocks, slow to a slow fast walk because I don’t want to spook it, try to look cool in front of Sander and Filipe, shove my camera into Sander’s hand and demand that he take a picture. It was AWESOME. Not that the marine iguana did anything other than sit there and look cool (but when you are that cool, you don’t need to do anything). Most of the free world knows James Dean from one picture, for some people it just works. I even had my “I hope he throws a guitar pick at me moment” when I told Sander how badly I want to be sneezed on by one (the iguanas expel excess saline through their noses in “sneeze” action). Alas, no iguana salt for me that day. Anyway, 516 pictures later, Philipe tells us we need to get going to the snorkel site. The whole rest of the walk, I’m giddy with excitement, stalking iguanas, looking for tracks, and imagining narrating my life in a beige shirt. We arrived at our little alcove to begin snorkeling. As far as picturesque tranquil little coves go, this one’s coffee table book quality. Nice breeze, gentle waves, and near perfect “cove” surrounded by lava rocks and reef. So you get the sound and sights of the waves crashing on the rocks, but a gentle swimming area full of sea-life avoiding the turbulence around it. In this cove we swam with spotted eagle rays, schools of fish that part around you like rain on an umbrella, and a family of sea turtles seven members strong. There were little ones as big as dinner plates and big ones as large as boulders. They were taking turns resting on the bottom and eating algae off of lava rocks. There’s an image in my head of one of the larger ones slowly swimming in the current and a large school of fish surrounding it. It was like the turtle’s green, mossy back was an island to the current of flowing, silvery fish. We swam around our little lagoon for hours, just enjoying ourselves, laughing, pointing at things, and being amazed at the whole experience. A near perfect experience and that was not even the end of our day! Our last activity of the day was a sea kayak trip back to Darwin Bay. So we load up in our tandem kayak and try to proceed to the bay. I say “try,” because attempting to synchronize our paddle’s stokes proved to be beyond the mental and physical abilities of Team Elliott, so after the 36 crossing of our paddles (Alexandre Dumas couldn’t have written a more gripping sword fight), we decided that Sander would be in charge of the camera and that I’d paddle. We (I) paddled out of the bay, past the beach where we made our sea lion friends, and onward to Darwin Bay for some snorkeling. Snorkeling Darwin Bay we swam with more fish, more sea lions and made some new friends, the pelicans. They swarmed our sag boat (the boat that followed our kayaks in case we needed anything), and when we came up for air, there was a flock of them staring at us. It’s a unique way to see pelicans, in the water, with them looking down at you. One the way back we had our first close look at the famous blue footed boobie. There are three kinds of boobies (I need to be real careful here), blue-footed, red-footed, and masked, which led Sander to ask if there was a standard boobie? Meaning, what does the plain boobie look like? No one had an answer (or at least one they could share with a nine-year old), but I thought it was a good question. We finished with dinner and a walk around town. In bed that night Sander he came up with his own theory about time. We were talking (By the way, far and away the best part of a father/son trip is the nights. We share a room and at the end of every day, on every trip, we talk about the day, the night, the next day, the future, the past, family stories, dreams, fears, and any and everything else that comes up. We cover more ground, and I get more out of those nights than at just about any other moment of being a father) and Sander hits me with this, “Dad, you know how when you’re bored, time goes by really slow. Then when you’re having fun, time goes by really fast. Well, sometimes you’re having so much fun that time actually starts to slow down again. That’s what this trip is like.” I went to bed very happy that night.

The fourth Day of our trip was “boat day,” which meant we spent most of it on a nice, motorized boat. We saw Kicker Rock, Punta Pint (or something like that) and Lobo Island. The locals call sea lions “sea wolves” which is getting us closer to the sea lab name that makes the most sense, so “Lobo Island” is where the sea lions/wolves/labs hang out. But really, they’re everywhere on Galapagos, so much so, that sea squirrels also works. We loaded up in our boat and eased out of the harbor. And it was in the harbor that I noticed some really, really, I mean really, run down boats. So I asked Filipe about them and he told me that the sea lions/wolves/labs/squirrels sleep on harbor boats at night, and that they’re not the neatest creatures on the planet- they tend to stink up the boats with their morning constitutionals. Boaters try lots of things to keep them off, wood planks, barbed wire, Menudo music but not much works. So the government decided to buy some old boats and leave them for the sea lions/w/l/s to use as they see fit. Which led me to think that there has to be a Spanish insult floating around where you tell someone their boat’s so bad the government wouldn’t even buy it as a floating sea toilet (all I know is that it would end with “banyo”). As we left the harbor we moved up to the roof to get a better view and enjoy the wind. There’s a magical moment at the start of every boat trip where land lubbers feel the wind in their face, smell the salt air, hear the birds, and think, “This is the life for me” and begins fantasizing about a life asea. This usually lasts a few miles, then when you realize that the ocean never stops moving up and down, and that it gets worse the farther out you get, and that you can’t really do anything buy try not to throw-up and embarrass yourself as you pray for land to appear. Then, and you know this if you’ve been there, after a day of near vomit, not eating, and cursing the waves, you get back to port, things calm down, the wind gets in your hair, the birds and sea lions are making cool nature noises and you no longer feel like you’ll see every meal you’ve ever eaten, you think, “Hmmm, this isn’t so bad. Maybe I could do this again.” I imagine it’s like dating a stripper. On our way to our first stop, Pointa something (I think), we saw a whale! I’m telling you now, by the end of this trip we’ve seen just about every conceivable “must see” animal you can imagine. When we stop in the stormy bay of Punta Whatever, we finally see the elusive Red Footed Boobie and the not so elusive and never mentioned Masked Boobie. We teach Sander the tall boat entry and jump, again, into the cold, cold waters. I’m going to take this time for a word about the Galapagos weather. We were there during the rainy season, which isn’t a rainy season like India gets, rather more along the lines of Seattle. It’s just hazy and damp. And the nights are flat out cold. I only packed us summer clothes because as near as I could figure, Ecuador is named after the Equator, and the Equator is the hot place, so I only packed shorts and t-shirts (Plus two rain jackets I grabbed at the last second. I never, ever pack rain gear. I know you’ve all heard the saying that God protects the children and the foolish, it’s not too hard to figure you who’s who on Team Elliott). But the Galapagos are at some weird convergence of three major tides so it’s very mild year round, and cool in the rainy season (If only there was some way to find this stuff out ahead of time. Some kind of big data bank of knowledge that’s easy to get to and find stuff on ahead of time so that I’d be better prepared. Oh well, maybe one day). Our second stop was Kicker Rock. It’s a fairly famous land mark because it’s composed of a giant rock island divided by a channel. Our mission was to swim the channel and look for Galapagos Sharks. Our first foray into the channel revealed mostly chocolate cookie starfish and random fish. But, swimming around the other side of the channel we started to see the unmistakable swimming motion of sharks. Which is where you, the intelligent, discerning person think, “And then you got out of the water.” Nope, not us. We rely heavily on the afore mentioned quote about God and swam away, pointing at the sharks, following the sharks and otherwise acting like we were swimming with gold fish. At one point, a three footer came within one third of that distance to Sander, who thought that was amazingly super cool, and I thought, “Wow, I bet Sander thought that was amazingly super cool.” Ok, look, maybe that was a little close, but the way I figure, he came to the Galapagos with ten fingers and ten toes and left with ten fingers and ten toes. I feel like I hit the main points of my job description. After a short lunch break in a protected bay where we caught Galapagonian Ant Lions in the sand, the day ended with a trip to Lobos Island, where I saw what I wanted to see maybe most of all. A marine iguana eating! I don’t know why this was so special to me, other than seeing one in the water, holding onto the rocks and eating algae just felt like I was “there.” You can see something like that just lounging on the land, and it’s incredible (I have 67 photos to prove it), but it also feels a little…planned. But seeing one in the water, doing what it does, it feels somehow more spontaneous. Like you had to be at the right place at the right time, and you were. And that feeling of spontaneity gives you a feeling of connection to the event. That was seeing the marine iguana eat. And that was our day in the Galapagos.

Today we left San Cristobal for Isabela. Isabela is completely different than San Cristobal in that it looks like another planet. If you want to start a rumor that the Mars Rover didn’t actually go to Mars, just take some pictures of Isabela with a little remote controlled car and put it on YouTube. But first, a quick description of the plane that took us there, and it will be quick because the plane was as big as a VW beetle. As we approached our plane there was a rather large fire extinguisher sitting next to it. As we all packed in the plane, Sander and I were in the rear, with only a cargo net separating us from everyone’s luggage, I noticed that the fire extinguisher didn’t make it on the plane, which led to the following philosophical question, “Which is more dangerous, flying without a fire extinguisher, or the added weight of said fire extinguisher?” It’s sort of chicken and egg right? Do you need the extinguisher to handle the emergency that having the extinguisher causes? The good news is that I was sitting next to the emergency exit. I find it comforting to sit next to an emergency exit when there’s a 67% chance that I’ll need it during a flight. Seriously, when the other passengers are making the cross symbol at take off, and our guide Filipe is the co-pilot, that’s not a good sign, right? Also, where are you in the flying decision making process when your plane has one pilot but two engines? Is that better than two pilots and one engine? How much can a co-pilot cost? Can I check the box that says I’ll pay extra for the co-pilot like I can for extra leg-room? These are the questions that I need answered when I’m taxing down the runway in a third-world country. So we land in Isabel, a nice man sprays hand sanitizer on our hands and another one checks our bags to make sure we didn’t smuggle in any tortoises or iguanas (true story-this happens every time you change islands), and we head to our hotel. After a quick lunch we meet our day guide and head to Las Tintoreras Island (Tintoreras is Spanish for shark). At the pier, getting ready for our water taxi, we spy a baby marine iguana, and, as is our custom, begin to pop pictures like nature paparazzi. Only this time Filipe gives us a mild nudge and said that we’ll see many more iguanas at the island and maybe we should chill on the picture taking. Not for the first time, I feel a bit silly, and he’s right. Las Tintoreras is overflowing with marine iguanas. I mean, they’re everywhere. But what’s cool is that one side of the island is used for nests, the other is where the young hang out, and the other is where the big boys play. It’s a lot like a school ground, with different grades having different areas. It was here that, while I didn’t get sneezed on, I did, at least catch many sneezes on video. Las Tintoreras is also home to a group of white tip reef sharks, hence the name. You walk the bizarre lava landscape; again you have to see this in person. When the lava was hot, the wind blew it so that it cooled into a landscape of stoney fire. It’s very difficult to explain, but it looks like the plastic side of a giant Velcro strip. It’s extremely cool. Anyway, the path leads past hoards of baby marine iguanas to a small cove where the sharks hang out. What struck me most about the sharks is how white the white tip of the shark’s fin is. It’s almost unnatural. If you saw a painting of a white-tip reef shark, you would think that the artist made the white too white, but you’d be wrong and those of us in the know would laugh and laugh. Wait! Did I mention that we saw penguins on the way to the island? That’s right, penguins. Apparently, these are the only penguins you can find living north of the equator. Sometimes the Galapagos seems like the island on LOST. Just too many weird things going on. So much so, that you lose track of what’s going on and just take in what you see with a shrug. “Ok sure. Penguins at the equator. Not only that, but at this one particular island where everything else cool hangs out. I mean there are lots of islands between Antarctica and the Galapagos, why here? Did the cosmic writer need a plot device?” The place is just that amazing. After our tour of the island, we crossed the bay and went for another snorkel. This time the big deal was loads of baby puffer fish. Actually, the big deal was crossing over all the lava rocks barefoot to reach the destination bay. Don’t let anyone fool you, walking barefoot on lava rock huts like a mama. And the big fear is slipping between two rocks and turning your foot into hamburger, so every time you lose your footing you just bail into the water. So everyone looks like they’re doing a funky hip-hop routine, which I’m sure amused the locals to no end. After dinner Sander and I went exploring on the beach. We took our flashlights, and much to our delight, found the beach crawling with hermit crabs. Hermit crabs are becoming a fairly popular pet in the States, so seeing them roaming wild was like stumbling into the lost valley of the hamster. We also found a group of sleeping marine iguanas. So I stood there and watched them as “Every Breath You Take” played in the background. By the way, at this point our clothes are beginning to get that “not so fresh” smell to them. The good news is that Sander’s nine and doesn’t know better, and I’m in the process of growing my “Castaway” beard so it fits my new image. Just keeping you in the know.

Today was our second day on Isabel, and the plan was horseback riding followed by a trip to the Wall of Tears. It’s a rainy day in the Galapagos, recall, it is the rainy season as we head up the long road to the top of the active volcano where we’re going to ride horsed (again, ten fingers and toes, that’s the priority). We put on our rain gear, meet our horses and start down the muddy trail. And by muddy, I mean, melted fudge goopy. But that didn’t stop our horses, which were clearly paid by the trip and not by time because they ran as much as possible on the trial. I’ve ridden hack horses before and usually they’re more interested in the grass than walking, but these guys were acting like they were rounding the final turn at the Preakness. Sander had what can only be called a ginormous smile on his face and was laughing the biggest belly laughs you can imagine. He was talking to his horse (Crooked Eared Katie) and smiling and just having the best time. It was extremely cute, even by biased father standards. His horse was the smallest, but it was also relentless in its quest to be first. So it would go to the front, but then one of the larger horses would decide that there was no way the little horse would be the lead horse and it would start to speed up, then Crooked Eared Katie would speed up, and the this would continue until all the horses were in a full gallop (at one point, near the top, we broke into a run) until the trail would become ungallopable and the horses would slip and slide up the hill for awhile, then the trail would firm up and the horses would start jockeying (Ha!) for position again, rinse, lather, repeat all the way up the volcano. During the course of all this, Sander did learn some basic horse handling skills, how to move with the horse, and that horsed will try to scrape riders off their back. Crooked Eared Katie went for barbed wire, and mine went for trees. Good times. At the top the clouds were too thick to see the world’s second largest caldera, so we took a hike down the backside of the mountain. Again, the landscape was striking. On the way back up the hike, we found a large lava tunnel and did some impromptu spelunking. It’s a neat contrast. The outside of the tube is smooth, but you can see how the lava dripped on the inside of the tube (well, “see” is a bit of a hopeful word. Mostly you felt the 10,000 little spikes raking down your back as you tried to crawl through a tube that you were just slightly larger than. I felt like my legs during my tight jeans phase in the late 80’s). On the way back, we decided that it was too dangerous to take the horses down because it was that muddy, so we helplessly rode them as they ran along the flat part of the mountain, dismounted at the start of the hill and said good-bye to our trusty steeds. It was a nice hourish hike down to the truck through a rainforest that appeared out of nowhere. My main memory here is Sander and Filipe walking along and talking about all the things around them, the bugs, the plants and anything else about nature. As a dad, it was really touching to see Sander walking and talking in a foreign land, to someone he just met a few days ago, and moving so freely and confidently. It’s also a testament to Filipe that he and Sander got along so well. Filepe leads trips down the Amazon, and he can see things that were completely invisible to me, and his knowledge of fauna and bugs was astounding. As we made the soggy trip back to the truck, got in and started to head down the mountain, Filepe stopped the truck and told us to get out our cameras. In the trees was a Vermillion Flycatcher. Apparently these are on the way out in the Galapagos and seeing one was very rare. But, as you know by now, Sander is the animal whisperer, and things just come out when he’s around. Once we hit sea-level we were off to the Wall of Tears, or the Place Where the Brave Cry. During the late 1940’s the Ecuadorian government tried to turn Islabel into a penal island. The wall in question was built to enclose a valley, or not, as apparently sections were built and taken down, just to give prisoners something to do. Anyway, those in this Island Pokey were given approximately one liter of water a day, and a sandwich. Not only that, but they had to carry the lava rocks for miles on their backs. Again, and I can’t stress this enough, lava rocks are like giant brillo pads. Walking on them hurts, brushing against them hurts, looking at them hurts. I cannot imagine carrying a huge lava rock on my back. No way, now how. Forget The Place Where the Brave Cry, try The Place Where Anyone Would Cry. Plus, much like the Great Wall of China, if you had the bad luck to die while building the wall, they just paved over you and moved on (Actually, if you were at the island at this time, it’s safe to assume that your luck tended towards the “bad” side). Filepe told us a story that now, on the island, one of the prisoners and one of the guards are great friends. This completely blew Sander away. He just kept asking, “I mean, how big was THAT apology?” That night Filipe dropped us off at the end of the beach and Sander and I had a great walk at sunset along the beach. I would offer up pictures, but my camera broke. If anyone knows how to recover pictures off a corrupt data card, please, please let me know. Which reminds me, the Galapagos just ate our cameras. We started with four, two water proof point and clicks, one really nice camera with a dying battery and no charger, and a small hd camera I grabbed on a whim. By the end, the two point and clicks broke, the good camera finally lost its charge and we were down to the hd camera. Weird.

Today is our last day with Filipe. We left Isabel for the highlands of Santa Cruz, the third, and final island of our Galapagos archipelago trip. Well actually, we technically see the Island of Baltra because that’s where the airport’s located. You land on Baltra, then take a ferry to Santa Cruz. I’m not sure why it’s set up this way, maybe it gives Baltra something to do? It isn’t really fair to say that about Baltra because it was Baltra where we saw yet another animal on our list, and another that we didn’t think we’d get to see because there was no specific agenda item to seek them out. I’m talking about the Fredo to the marine iguana’s Michael, the land iguana. Nobody talks about the Galapagos land iguana, which is a real shame. We really wanted to see one, just to compare it with the marine version. So we’re sitting on the bus at the airport waiting to take a ferry to our taxi (besides seeing every conceivably cool animal the Galapagos had to offer, we also used every possible mode of transportation, sometimes in the same day), when super-eyed Filipe says “There!” and darts from the bus telling us to go with him. And there among the construction rubble is a huge, walking yellow land iguana! I have no idea why these don’t get more press (maybe they use the same firm that handles sea lions in the dolphin/sea lion debate) because they are seriously cool. They way I look at it, this is either the iguana that refused to evolve, or the iguana that’s so bad-ass it forced the marine iguana into the sea. So we ferry over to Santa Cruz where we find a boat called the Sub-Aqua. What makes this story funny to me is that the boat was half-underwater with someone standing on the deck with a power bilge. The poor guy not only had the unfortunate luck to have his boat sink at the marina next to the ferry exit to the most popular island in the Galapagos, but he had the added stink luck to name his boat “Sub-Aqua.” Yet there he was, manning up and trying to salvage a boat I would have denied owning (Like tooting in a plane. Always, always, make a scrunchy face at the person next to you and look disapprovingly at whoever’s sitting in the seat in front of you). Sure there were on lookers, sure they were making jokes, but this guy just stood there bilging out his boat (And yes, I took a picture. I felt bad for the guy, but not that bad). In Santa Cruz our mission was the highlands, and seeing wild tortoises run free. So we loaded up our truck and hit the road. Here, in the highlands, the misty dampness made sense. It also made sense to put on loaner galoshes at the park center before you head into the national forest to seek out tortoises. And at long last, we saw some wild dome giant tortoises! They’re HUGE up close. They’re so big that when they eat, they just lay there on the ground and chow down on the grass around them. I mean, this is the life, laying face down in pile of food, gorging yourself, and only moving to find the next pile of food, then plopping back down again. Ahhhh, island life. After lunch at a really neat little restaurant overlooking a valley we begin to leave the prescribed tour route. I found a tree-fort hotel in the highlands and Sander and I were sleeping there for the night rather than stay in the town of Puerto Ayora. So Filipe took us to our tree fort to drop off our bags, before heading into town for a hike to a gorge for some cliff diving and snorkeling, followed by some time in the town for some sight-seeing/touristy stuff. Once in town we head for the cliff area (I took a picture of the sign so that I wouldn’t forget it, but that picture is on my corrupted camera card, so I’m going to call them Happy Cliffs). It was about a mile walk in, and absolutely worth it. The Happy Cliffs are about 100 yards long with a rock cluster blocking on end and a path to the ocean at the other. Everyone sits on the rocky end and uses it as a staging ground for snorkeling or watching people pitch themselves off the cliffs. Obviously, they would be watching Sander and I making said pitch. We snorkeled around the coldest water yet for about 30 minutes, then it was time to jump. First, before you even get to the various jumping spots, you have to go rock climbing up a wet, slippery cliff face. For me, this was the scariest part, and I couldn’t figure out why. If you fell while climbing, you’d fall into the very water you were going to jump into once you safely reached the top. I think it has to do with the nature of “falling” vs. “jumping.” It’s all about perspective, you have the feeling of control when you jump, but you’re out of control when you fall. Either way you’re hitting the water, but, as they say, it’s about the journey, not the destination. So we start with the lowest jump, maybe 10’ up. Really fun. We learned that I like to yell, “Wooooooo” on the way down, and Sander likes to count, “One…two…” and then yell, “threeeeeeee” on the way down. After a few times at that height, it was time to go up. Way up. Our next destination was another 10-15’ up and wayyyyyyy scarier. It took Sander a bit to get going (some local types were laughing-more on this in a second), but he did the “one…two…threeeeeeeee” thing and left terra firma for terra aqua and absolutely LOVED it. We did it a few more times and it was starting to get cold so we swam for the rocks. As we were swimming towards the rocks, the local hooligans were swimming for the jump spots. We thought we’d watch them jump so we hung around a bit. Sure enough, those same two guys who were laughing at Sander while he was screwing up his courage, saw the water from up there and had several (and by several, I mean a lot) of false starts. Sander started yelling out, “UNO…DOS…TRES!” which cracked me up and unnerved the boys even more. It took them much longer to work up the nerve to jump than it did Sander, and he knew it. The lesson, again folks, is he who laughs last, laughs best. Puerto Ayora is definitely the hot-spot of the Galapgos. Where the other towns were dirt roaded, tiny, quaint and quiet, Puerto Ayora was all glitter and lights. The restaurants were different, the shops were definitely upscale (you think I’m kidding here, but one place was selling $20,000 tapestries) and after being so isolated for the last week, it had the feel and scope of New York City. So we walked the streets of the big city, Sander finally found the souvenir set up he was envisioning (he wanted a wooden tortoise and a wooden iguana, with the tortoise standing with its head over the back of the iguana, with both going on his shelf. Very specific I know, but he knew what he wanted). He had to go to two different shops and haggle mightily to be able to afford them both, but he pulled it off. In fact, he was so good that I had him haggle for my wooden iguana box. Yes, you read that right, I bought a box with a marine iguana carved atop it. You don’t understand, I saw the box, laughed it off with a “Who would buy that?” shrug, then over dinner thought, “I would, that’s who!” and became obsessed with it. So much so that I was actually concerned that someone would buy this tacky wooden iguana box before I could get back. The good news is that no one did. The bad news is now I have a tacky wooden iguana box in my house. I figure it’s a good place to store my taste. Late that evening we said good-bye to Filipe as our time with him was up. I can say unequivocally that Filipe was the best guide we’ve ever had. He knew everything about the islands, the creatures, the geography, the geology you name it, and he was more than happy to share his knowledge with us. Like I said, I’ve never done a full on tour before, preferring to show up and see what happens. I cannot imagine the trip being better without Filipe. He was a crucial and integral part of our visit. If you’re reading this Filipe, thank you from the Elliotts. So we took our taxi to the tree fort where we had a fantastic dinner and made our way to our fort (after some flashlight exploring, where we saw sleeping tortoises). And this fort was c-double o-l cool. It was up in the tree (hence the name) maybe 15’x15’, two air mattresses and a sink. Almost exactly what you imagined building when you nailed that old piece of plywood to the tree limbs when you were 12. But here was the thing, it lacked indoor plumbing. There was a community bathroom set up off to one side of the complex. Somehow my bladder knew this and I was up so often that night I could have been filming an Avodart commercial. But we were sleeping above the tortoises, in the cool misty air, and we were having fun. Again, and again, and again we were having fun in the Galapagos.

Today we wake up in our tree fort, take a tour of the grounds, and take a water taxi to hell (I mean back to San Cristobal) where we prepare to go fishing. As I mentioned, we’re off the official tour now. I want to take this time to issue a late foreshadowing alert. What I forgot to mention earlier was that over breakfast one day, I was talking to Filipe about guiding and he went through the list and as a throw away, said, “Make sure the client doesn’t get taken advantage of by the services.” I didn’t pay much attention at the time, but I should have noticed the thunder clapping and the chill enter the area, and the evil “Bwah-ah-ahh” that echoed in the background. Now back to the story. We took a nice walk around the grounds with the guy who owns the place. They have big plans for the tree –fort resort including a dining hall in a cave! Sounds like a great place to have my next Twilight theme party. As our taxi was coming at 12.00, we didn’t have as much time there as I would have liked, but there were fish to be caught! It also meant we would have to skip the Darwin Center and a chance to see Lonesome George. The last of his species. I still feel bad about this. So we meet our fishing guide and head back to Puerto Ayora. Because we’re taking the water taxi we don’t need to take the ferry to Balta, so we hang around the port waiting for the water taxi guy to decide that he’s ready to go. We kill time by eating m&m’s, looking at shops again, and talking about what it would be like to live there, all the while I’m watching clouds roll in and thinking, this is NOT going to be a fun ride. The trip to San Cristobal is supposed to take 1.5 to 2 hours; it takes us more than three. Three hours of soaking wet, stomach churning, “I wonder if we can swim from here,” agony. Remember how I said that boat trips start with that moment of freedom? Not this one. For whatever reason, even the bay was choppy this day. It was so bad that the family traveling with us had a little boy who had the foresight to start crying immediately when he got on the boat. It was like he knew. What did he know? He somehow knew that the boat would break down in the middle of the trip. I kid you not; we were bouncing along when I start hearing a loud “brack” noise. Then again, and again. Now I’m not sailor, but I know enough to know that loud popping noises should not be coming from an engine unless you are making jiffy-pop on the manifold. Then, sure enough, the boat sputters to a stop. So now we’re bobbing in the sea while the captain and the first mate try to figure out what is going on. Did I mention that neither the captain nor the first mate was driving the boat at the time? Guess who was? Yup, our guide, Ronnie. The funny part here is that Ronnie was nice enough to let Sander sit in the captain’s chair next to him, so when the boat broke down I got to look at Sander and say, “What did you do?” And he gave me the funniest eye-brow raise, hand out shoulder shrug I’ve ever seen. At this point another water taxi pulls up, there’s a long exchange in Spanish, one of our passengers gets out and says something in Spanish to our crew, everyone laughs and he hops boats. Now I’m sort of hoping that we get to do the same, but I also realize that Ronnie is now the guy in charge of fixing our boat, so it seems highly unlikely that we’ll be able to move to the working boat. We don’t. About 40 minutes later, Ronnie the guide, driver, mechanic gets the boat moving, heads back to the helm, and we’re off. We finally arrive in San Cristobal. The good news is that we’re off the boat. The bad news is that we have two days of fishing the perfect storm waters ahead of us. See, our final goal of the trip was to catch a marlin. I found a fishing company called EcuaGringo (Do NOT, under any circumstances use this charter. Ronnie’s great, I can’t stress this enough, but the charter company itself…not so great. There are plenty of options in the Galapagos, leave this one to the suckers-that’s me. This is my recommendation and opinion, do with it what you want), and we were set up for two days of marlin fishing. Excited and tired, we went to bed that night dreaming of marlin.

Today was day one of our fishing adventure. We woke up, put on our trusty anti-sea-sick ear patches and left for the pier. We met Ronnie at the boat dock, took a fun bay taxi (bay taxis are the little boats that take you to your boat which is anchored in the bay. You’re not allowed to just anchor up at the pier, so you pay one of these guys a dollar to take you to and from your boat. It’s really a neat little system) to our boat, the Blue and set out on our trip. A little over an hour of getting tossed, but not tossing our cookies thanks to the patch we see some activity and get the lines ready. For those of you who have never done deep sea sport fishing here’s how it seems to work. You put six lines in the water and the captain drives around until you get a hit. Not to disparage Sander and my spectacular fishing skills, but we were largely superfluous. You don’t even have to worry about setting the hook because the fish hit the bait so hard, and the boat is moving fairly fast that all you do, literally, is reel them in. But man is it fun to reel them in. Sure the captain does all the work, and sure they hand you the rod, but once you get that rod in your hands and you feel the fight at the end, it’s electric. We decided to take turns reeling in the fish, and Sander had first ups. So when the rod indicator popped and you hear the real go “Whizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz” you jump and the boat goes from lollygagging to purpose in a heart-beat. Sport fishing is the cliché about 95% boredom and 5% raw excitement. And for us, our first taste of 5% was four fish at the same time! So I grabbed a rod, Sander had his and we started fighting. And fight’s the right word. My arms were sore, my hands hurt, the line cut me up, and it took me at least 30 minutes to get that tuna to the surface. Sander fought his with equal vigor and landed his. Here’s what’s most challenging about the process. You work for what seems like ages to reel in 12” of line, then the tuna goes on a run and pulls out 36” of line. So you pull the rod up when the tuna’s resting and reel like mad as you lower the tip, all the while hoping that he doesn’t decide to go on another run. Sander fought one tuna (we caught 6 total as our captain found a bait ball) for almost an hour. It came to the surface no less than four times, each time getting tantalizingly close, only to go on another run to the bottom of the sea. Here’s what I found interesting about that. The fish that tuna hunt jump out of the sea when the tuna are after them, but the tuna dives down. Not one tuna we caught (which surely means all tuna) breached the water’s surface when trying to get away. Anyway, Sander sat in his chair and fought that fish with all his might. Ronnie was duly impressed with Sander’s moxie, he kept talking about how Sander wouldn’t give up, and just kept reeling. I have to say, I was deeply impressed myself. The boat’s pitching, the fish is moving all around so you constantly have to adjust, and honestly it is frustrating to work and work, only to see the fish take off again. Plus, for Sander, everyone kept offering to take over, which he didn’t want any part of, but which is obviously distracting. The upside for him was that it turned out to be the biggest catch of the trip. The tuna was about 4.5’ long and 5oish pounds, meaning it was almost as big as Sander. So that was our day, trolling along in the water, watching albatross fly, looking for bait-balls and watching tuna jump. Seeing these huge tuna jump after their prey was a weird thing. They kind of jump and hang in the air, and the way the look is so unique that it’s sort of surreal. Just boing, a 50 pound tuna’s flying through the air. As a side note, I learned that when you’re seasick, but can’t throw up, even though your body wants to, but an ear patch is putting some weird chemical in your system that prevents it, your body has to release that tension somehow. Sander naps, I get the shakes. It’s a strange feeling knowing that your body wants to vomit but doesn’t. It puts you in a weird state, and it’s definitely disconcerting. But I suppose it’s better than heaving over the side all day. Anyway, it was a good first day of fishing, but there were no marlin to be had. That night’s talk was all about the marlin.

Day two of the Elliott Boy’s Great Marlin Hunt 2009 didn’t go as well. I’m just going to say it, we didn’t catch a thing. Not a thing. Let me try to explain a day of deep sea fishing where you catch only the common nothing fish. First, recall the worst stomach virus you’ve ever had, then imaging watching paint dry for upwards of eight hours while having said virus. That’s deep sea fishing when you don’t catch anything. I spent my time playing a medley game I made up. The goal it link as many songs as possible though key words. I killed at least four-and-half hours doing this, which means I created a medley at least three-and-a-half hours long. I was both impressed and dismayed at how good I am at that game, and at how many 80’s song’s I know the lyrics to. I’ll put in on iTunes and you can download the Elliott Boy’s Great Marlin Hunt 2009 Soundtrack, you won’t like it, you’ll be bored, but you’ll have an idea of what the day was like. I have no idea what Sander did to pass the time, but all I know is that he kept to his post the entire day. He just would not leave that chair. Sitting there was probably a more impressive feat that reeling in the big tuna yesterday. He just sat there, never complained, never said he was bored, never did anything to show that he wasn’t having fun. We had some nice conversations here and there, but mostly it was silence. Just bobbing along, listening to the boats motor, and watching birds fly around. But that’s fishing. You take what you get, and some days you don’t get a thing. It’s still fun to be out there trying, to be in the wild, to be adventuring. It wasn’t the most exciting day on record, but it was a day where we tried. I’ll take that anytime, and we did have fun, and now we have something to continue to go after. The Galapagos kept that one bit of mystery for itself. With all that we saw and did, that’s more than fair. What wasn't fair was leaving a man behind. Somewhere along the way, we lost "Wolfie" Sander's stuffed animal (bonus points if you can guess what kind of animal it is). We figured we left him at the first hotel we stayed, which is on San Cristobal, so we kept going back to find him now that we’re back on the island. Quick aside, we've left stuffed animals across the globe, more than any other item, we lose stuffed animals. They get entangled in the sheets, so when you do the "final sweep" they're hidden in the cotton jungle, and that's that until the cleaning lady search party rescues them. Unfortunately, this search party came up empty this time, and Wolfie now resides in the Galapagos Island. A moment of silence please... Now, the best part of this story is that every time we went to the hotel, it was closed, except for "Hotel Filipe." Hotel Filipe speaks less English than I do Spanish, so it made asking for a stuffed wolf especially interesting. The conversation consisted of me talking very slow, repeating "lobo" and holding my hands about 6" apart and making a squeezing motion (I’d pay $20 to know what he thought I was asking for). To which Hotel Filipe responded by talking regular, full speed Spanish, using no hand gestures besides pointing into the horizon, and looking at me, not with wonder if I'm understanding what he's saying, but more bewilderment that I don't. Mind you, all I've said in Spanish is "wolf," slowly. At one point he walks off and gets another gentleman and I think, "OK, good. He found someone who can translate." The new guy smiles big at me then proceeds to talk at me at Angry Desi Arnaz speed, then stops, shakes my hand vigorously, and walks off. I look at Hotel Filipe, thinking that clearly that was not what he expected, only Hotel Filipe is completely non-pulsed and talking at me again. By this point, I feel like maybe I should know what he’s saying and I try real, real hard to make it out. I mean, if these two guys are so sure I should be able to understand them, well, maybe I am the problem. Kind of like one of those dreams you have where you can breathe underwater, and it’s so real you wake up thinking "Hmmmm, maybe I can breathe underwater. It wasn't that hard in the dream, maybe I've just never tried right." So now Hotel Filipe is speaking at me, and I’m standing there with the puzzled, effort filled look on my face because I desperately want to know what he’s saying (I'm going with, "Why does this crazy gringo want to squeeze a small wolf?). Then it hits me, now I know exactly what my dog, Scout, feels like. It’s the same look and mannerism from both of us. Hotel Filipe is playing me in the scene, talking normal and pointing a lot, and I’m Scout, being told something and desperately trying to figure it out, but having no earthly idea what he’s saying. So I took my cue from Scout and smiled, nodded and walked off. And yes, it’s a banner day when you realize that you’re as smart as your dog.

Our final day in the Galapagos was all about getting ready to go back to Quito. We took a final walk along the promenade, said goodbye to the sea lions and started to look forward to getting back to Quito where we remembered a key ingredient to any trip abroad, FAST FOOD. When we arrived back at our hotel in Quito we made a bee-line for the Burger King about a block away. Here’s my observation about non-US fast food joints. They treat condiments, notably ketchup, like its made of gold. I ordered a quarter pounder with cheese and a large fries. When the nice lady gave it to me I asked for some ketchup, and she reluctantly gave me exactly one packet. One packet! There’s enough ketchup in one packet for maybe three french-fries. I need someone who lives abroad to explain this to me. Not only that, but they sometimes charge you for extra packets. Sander handled this little problem by speaking broken Spanish until they break. He went up to the counter looking for BBQ sauce for his nuggets. As I watched this encounter unfold, I could tell that something was amiss. He was standing there holding up one finger, while the lady was bent over looking at him arms waving, looking like she was desperately trying to convey something to him. When he came back I asked him what was up. “I just got the BBQ sauce for free,” he said. I asked for BBQ sauce, she said ‘32’ and I said, ‘uno.’ She kept saying ‘32’ and I thought she was asking if I wanted 32 BBQ sauces, and so I said I just want ‘uno packets.’ She finally just handed it to me, but the guy behind me said that its normally 32 cents.” And that’s how we took down the Quito Burger King for 32 cents. I hope we don’t wind up with little pictures of us on the cash register under a “Do not serve” heading.

We left Quito the next day, made it to Miami, and made our connection home with no problems. We spent most of the time talking about our trip and wondering what the next trip would hold. We’ve got several ideas…