Find 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 Galapagos simply because it was there. I had booked a ticket to Bolivia, Peru and Ecuador, so an additional trip to the islands was mandatory.
Galapagos, the distant islands of Charles Darwin and “Origin of Species” fame off the coast of Ecuador, has long been the playground of the wealthy. But since I was on a tight budget, I bought my ticket, booked a day cruise, and booked a hostel well in advance, since December is high season in the southern hemisphere.
When the plane landed at the 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 runway that you would find in, say, Stony Rapids. Everyone lines up to have their bags hand-searched for contraband. No, it is not cocaine or marijuana that they are looking for, it is 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.
Representatives waved plaques bearing the names of those who booked expensive cruises. 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 cross on the ferry, then boarded the bus into town for $1.80. A shared taxi 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 a pretty dusty and run-down town that could use a paint job and some street repairs. Kind of like the old part of Melville in the 1960s. I smelled the salty air, the shadows of Manitou Beach, and took in the deep cobalt blue water as compensation for the gloomy 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. Influenced by the slow rhythm, I exhaled and relaxed.
A white cab anywhere in town was $1, so I flagged one down as he passed. Fredy took me to the hostel that she had booked and I rang the bell. Unanswered. So I knocked on the door. Still no answer.
What to do what to do? Fredy understood my dilemma and in my clumsy Spanish I explained that he had 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 could have been a room in an old two- or three-story hotel in 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. Freddy promised to pick me up at 05:45 the next morning. And, true to his word, he was right on time. Once all the passengers from the different hotels have been accounted for, we take the highway for the 45-minute trip 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 is often the case, I was the only one traveling alone. At first I struck up a conversation with Lauren and her mother, Elody from Johannesburg.
Once on board, we had 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” Galapagos view. Yes, the view was “nice” but watching the way people, strangers who came aboard, interacted 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 returning my greeting and shooting me dirty looks all day. 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 that time of year, so our only wildlife encounter was a sea lion plopping 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 snorkeling. Treading 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 the Stanley Mission. 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 moved by the sights.
And people who want to experience some of the Galapagos landscape 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 on to the islands.
The Galapagos Checklist:
Interesting people. Dial: Cecilia, Freddy, Lauren and Elody.
Different food. 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 flight back, 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 ship is one that I have recounted a couple of times.
