After Ashley was finished with school, the two of us hopped a taxi (which was a pickup truck) to the southeast corner of San Cristobal. In true Ecuadorian fashion, we sat in the flatbed and watched the countryside go whizzing by. We left the city's sanctuary for rolling hillsides and muddy dirt roads. In order to get to our destination, we had to ride up through the highlands and back down the other side, which took us through plenty of fog (really, it was low clouds) and gave us some breathtaking views of hills and valleys, and a couple of glimpses of the ocean.
The taxi dropped us off at the Galapaguera, a tortoise reserve. We were planning on walking the trail on our own, but a man who jumped in our cab just a few meters from our destination ended up being a guide, so he walked us through the park and told us about the tortoises, foliage and birds there. We saw the breeding station and some tiny tortoises, the oldest of which was about 2 1/2.
After observing some huge (and slllooooooowww) tortoises there, it was off to the lookout. We climbed scores of wooden stairs to a hilltop, where we ate lunch overlooking the Pacific. Cameras and binoculars came in handy here. And after we were comfortably satiated, we took a walk a few yards further up the hill to the lighthouse that graced its summit. Its ladders were only too inviting.
Climbing the lighthouse took us probably 15 minutes or so (Ashley has a fear of heights!), but in a sudden rush of bravery, we made it to the top for an even more incredible view of this corner of the island. Rocky coast, lush green growth, a single path to a single sandy beach--we knew where to head next, and Ashley led the way.
After the 20-minute walk down the hill and over the rocky path, we had finally made it to Puerto Chino, a tiny cove set between short black lava cliffs. A quick change and we were in our bathing suits and shorties (rashguards, or surf shirts). The water was cool, but Ashley assured me it had been much colder only weeks ago. And this swim was incredible. The water was a pure green from afar, but entirely clear when we were in it. The tide was low but beginning to come in, and we didn't have much time to swim (our taxi was returning about 45 minutes after we made it to the beach, and the last thing we needed was to be left stranded, alone, in the dark and miles from home). We did see a small family of three turtles swimming only feet from us, and were about to try to get a little bit closer when we saw what at first looked to be another turtle, but turned out to be a sting ray. We decided that was a good time to leave the water.
Just before taking off for our sprint back to where the taxi would meet us, we explored a small cave where the lobos (sea lions) live--thankfully, they must have been on an errand at the time. We also observed a bunch of lava crabs, which were invisible at first because they are the EXACT same shade of black as the rocks. It sort of terrified me when I saw the first one, because that was when I noticed the hundreds of them climbing all over the place!
We made it to the pickup point 10 minutes after we'd said we'd be there, and worried that the taxi had left without us. We had just begun to walk toward the closest town when the cab driver came around the corner, offering us an intense sense of relief.
The drive back was scarier than the drive up--more fog, less sun, and we were beat. But back in town was a waiting shower and some more delicious food. This time the meal included homemade ice cream (creamy black raspberry with some sort of fruit syrup on top), and the daughter of the host mom who was feeding us ended up quizzing us gringos on our Spanish skills. We did alright.... but still have lots to learn, it seems.
The day wore us out. It was another early night, but I'm excited to head out to a bar with Ashley and her friends to watch Ecuador take on Peru in a World Cup preliminary soccer game--definitely a part of the culture I can't wait to experience.
On an observatory note...
Reflecting back on my trip, it's amazing I didn't become overwhelmed. If you think about it, with every step of my journey, my vulnerability increased exponentially. Think about it like this:
- Boston: Alright, I'm in Boston. I work here, I go to school here, I lived here for a summer, I'm very comfortable here. No big deal. Any problems arise, I'm not far from home.
- Miami: OK, so I'm pretty far from home, but I'm in an airport, and I know airports pretty well. I won't be here for very long, and I have service with my phone, so things aren't so bad. I'm actually pretty well adapted to this sort of situation. On to the next city.
- Quito: Things are getting a little more complicated. Now I'm in South America, in an unfamiliar city, and I know nobody here. Phone's not working now, and here I am, fresh out of the taxi, standing with my luggage in front of a house that may or may not be the right one. Nobody's answering the door, it's 10:30 at night, and the taxi just drove off. Oh, and hardly anybody here speaks English. Uh oh.
- Baltra: Just landed in the Galapagos, my phone is definitely not getting any service, I'm on a rocky island and there is no way for me to contact anyone if something goes wrong--I miss my boat, the bus breaks down, a storm rolls in, etc. I have money with me, but have no idea what to do with it if something happens. There is nothing here; this place is full of tumbleweeds that haven't yet broken root. Not a good place to be stranded.
- Ferry to San Cristobal: I'm on an 18-person ferry--basically a private boat--motoring along among 6-foot swells in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I am the only one who speaks English. I am trusting that the captain and his mate are honest men. There is nothing but water on every horizon as far as the eye could see. Welcome: you've reached the pinnacle of vulnerability.
Thankfully, everything worked out just fine. This gives me tons of confidence for the trip back, but now's not the time to think about that. I have islands to enjoy.
Photo update:
I'm hoping to upload some photos tomorrow morning. Sorry! Patience, friends, patience.
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