AMAZON AND THE GALAPAGOS DAY 8 - THE GALAXY SIRIUS

The EB Hotel is the nicest airport hotel we’ve ever experienced.  We have a 6:30 shuttle to catch our flight, so the staff has open the breakfast service early just for us.  Then walking out, the doorman takes it upon himself to make us a couple of lattes for the road.  Five stars for service.. highly recommend!

Once at the airport we are immediately greeted by our host, who gives us our tickets, our registration docs and a blue Galaxy Sirius sticker.  He explains the next few hours and gets us to the security line then reminds us to put the sticker on as soon as we land.  Again the Latam flight is efficient and uneventful and in no time at all, we’re on the island of Baltra taking our first steps in the Galapogos.  Once we’re in the terminal, the host spots our sticker and it’s VIP treatment all the way.  Ours was one of three flights that all landed within a few minutes, so there’s a crush of people in line for security.  Due to strict environmental regulations, every bag needs to be screened for prohibited items such as food and other organic material, and that long line is going slow.  Good thing we’re not in it.  The round blue sticker affords us a private lounge with the other 14 passengers we’ll be with for the next six days.  Some very kind person gathers our luggage while we have a nice snack, get a cool drink and are introduced to the cast of our very own six episode season of White Lotus Galapagos. 

We pile into a small bus, well, most of us do.  It’s a little small so we get into a waiting van with a couple from St. Petersburg, Florida.  Our caravan of two drives 15 minute to the Baltra Ferry Terminal, where we again skip the line and are loaded into our own boat, this one thankfully seats all of us, but its seaworthiness under full load may be questionable.  It only takes 10 minutes to cross the Itabaca Channel to Santa Cruz, so we figure we’ll probably be OK.  

In a recent online review of the Santa Cruz ferry/bus terminal, one sealion wrote: “why are all these people trying to sit on my bench?”  And we’re loaded into another bus.

The trip is about 45 minutes traversing Santa Cruz Island, up over the highlands and back down to Puerto Ayora, the island’s largest town and tourist hub.  Fernanda, our host since the airport, refers to it as the t-shirt capitol of the Galapagos.  She’s right.  The streets are lined with boardwalk quality souvenir shops, open air bars and kiosks for day-tour operators.  We head to the dock, long with lots of births on either side.  More sealions hang out and mug for the people.  It’s here we first board our panga, the zodiac-style inflatable dingy which will become our constant companion for the next week.  Our ship has two pangas, and our group is split and shuttled to the bow of the waiting vessel.

The Galaxy Sirius.  The 119’, 8 cabin catamaran with a crew of 10 that will be our home for the next 6 days. It’s a purpose-built yacht, specifically for exploring the Galapagos.  As a matter of preservation, you can only tour the archipelago with groups led by certified national park guides, and only groups of 16 people plus 2 guides can land at a time.  There is a fleet of similar size ships for all budgets for you to choose from when you visit, some doing basic day trips, some multi-day itineraries.  The Galaxy group has 7 ships in their fleet including this, the newest in the entire Galapagos. 

It's swank.  Sleek black exterior, modern finishes, very generous staterooms, a top deck hot tub with 360 degree views, two chefs.  It’s also billed as one of the most ecologically sound ships ever built, made to share these precious lands, not damage them.  In short, gorgeous.  In real time, we know how lucky we are to be here.

After being assigned our stateroom, we’re gathered in the common area living room for a quick briefing and safety discussion.  The group is excited to be here and starting to interact.  We meet the two couples traveling together from Indianapolis.  Lunch is served around 2, buffet style in the adjacent dining room, and it’s very good with some top notch local red snapper.  We meet more of the group, the travel agent from Quito and her young cousin, the transplanted New Yorkers now residing in New Mexico.  It’s an interesting mix and we are looking forward to seeing how the group unfolds.

Our first excursion set us back into the pangas to an awaiting bus.  We head back the way we came, up into the highlands, to visit a private farm.  We’re not here for the crops.  We’re here to see the giant Galapagos tortoises that are native and free-roaming here.   The ranches build their fences with raised bottom rungs so even the biggest tortoises can come and go as they please.  The biggest guys are over 100 years old with shells over 6 feet in diameter and weighing in at almost 900 pounds.  And they are everywhere.  And completely unfazed by our presence.

As an unexpected surprise, there is also a lava tunnel here.  This was formed during a long-past volcanic eruption when the lava was moving horizontally underground seeking a week point to blast up through.  It’s tall enough to walk through and in places it’s two levels, suggesting this tunnel was used in multiple eruptions many years apart.  We are enthralled. 

We end at their lodge where we get to play with the tortoise shells.  Mandy even does some push-ups in a big shell to see how heavy they really are.

Back on the bus, back to Puerto Ayora where we’re given a few minutes to shop for any essentials we may need.  These will be the last stores we see for many days, so stock up now.  Waiting on the pier for the Pangas, we’re entertained by the pelicans doing pelican things.  Diving, clumsily landing on things not made to hold pelicans, trying to swallow too big fish who do not want to be swallowed.  On board, we’re given a briefing of what to expect for the next day, then it’s a full course, Ecuador themed dinner.  My octopus is prepared perfectly, tender but not overcooked.  Mandy steak is equally as good.

Then it’s back to our lux stateroom.  There are 4 on the lower deck, 4 on the second deck.  Because Mandy has never been on a ship this size overnight, we specifically chose a lower deck cabin for less movement.  We started our night’s navigation about the same time dinner ended.  The water in the bay is choppy, not a great harbinger for the trip.  The open sea is downright rough, the boat tossed around in the big swells and it’s concerning.  And loud.  Mandy only tells me later what she thought: “What have I gotten myself in to?”  My running joke echoing in her head… “you can always walk home!”  But somehow, we don’t need Dramamine.  We’re strangely rocked to sleep occasionally woken by a particularly big lurch, but fall right back.  We’re in your hands, Gods of the Galapagos. 

AMAZON AND THE GALAPAGOS DAY 7 - GOODBYE JUNGLE

  

4:30am wake up call. This one not dictated by the jungle but by Latam Air, who insists on taking off from Coco airport at 10.  And that’s 3 hours from here on the boat plus some more time in the shuttle.  Our bags are whisked away at 5 by some magic, so the only thing that’s left is for us to be on the dock at 5:30. 

 

To our amusement, the same staff from dinner last night is not only all here, but has already prepared the entire buffet, brewed Ecuadorian cafe con leche (bless them) and even have an omelet chef at the ready.  There is no substitute for great service. 

 

Omar meets us at the dock. He’s heading home for a week of R&R after having worked for 4 straight weeks at this resort and others (he freelances).  We say goodbye to Guillermo and thank him for his time with us.  We board the canoe and start our last trip across the mirror-like lake.  As we get to the stream a pair of macaws do a Superbowl quality adios flyover in formation. A few minutes later, the big blue morpho, Mandy’s Fairy Butterfly, flaps by with a final blessing for us. Namaste.  

The Napo River is different today. Yesterday’s rain was followed by cooler temperatures, the brisk air welcome against our skin as the boat comes up on plane. We’re going upstream, the fast current adding 30 minutes to the trip despite the twin 100 horsepower Yamaha outboards.  The river is different this morning. Local fishing boats troll along the banks.  The low tide makes the sand bars look like big islands. Women from native villages are on their knees doing laundry in the river with banging rocks. In the distance, we see the active Cayambe volcano blowing steam into the air, a constant reminder to the nation that everything can change in a minute. 

There are no clouds as the sun rises and the pallet changes from shades of gray to vivid blues and greens. I’m always curious about the purpose-built boats of any area, and the story that they tell, and this is a complicated story indeed.  The native people try to maintain their heritage, but the draw of technology, even 50-year-old technology, is too strong to deny. The barges with oilfield equipment and the people movers with the roughnecks tell of liquid gold, its riches grudgingly required by the people to provide for food, shelter, education and Nikes.  

We get back into Coco and I can see it a bit differently than when we were first here. I can see the rotting carcasses of formerly nice waterfront hotel properties, the shuttered posh discotecas, the dilapidated business district. It’s all the hallmarks of an oil boom town,  inflated by the fast influx of cash then tossed aside when the bubble burst. It’s a study in economics repeated around the globe throughout history.  

Omar hosts us all the way to the airport security gate where it’s one last hug goodbye.  On the boat, he told Mandy of his plan to travel across South America from here to the Atlantic Ocean as a passenger on a cargo boat, his quarters a rope hammock in a common space. God speed, mighty adventurer!  They’ll make a movie about you one day.  

When we board the plane, Mandy reaches for her takeoff gum, now slimy and damp (she says ABC, if you remember that one from grade school 😂). Thank goodness we took the resort’s advice and stored the rest of our chocolate and snacks in their refrigerated boxes.  The half hour flight is easy, dissent starting as soon as ascent is finished.  

 

An enthusiastic host is waiting for us at the airport with a board with our name on it (I always love that!). He sweeps us and another couple on a similar journey onto the shuttle for the quick ride to the EB Hotel. There’s a truck show and conference going on, complete with a display from every heavy equipment manufacturer right here in the parking lot. Each display is complete with a booth bimbo – well-endowed, scantily clad models designed to attract potential customers to your trade show area – a practice that fell out of fashion in the USA 25 years ago (ahhh, the good old days). But, hey, I hear the new Mercedes cab over semis are a real game changer!  Everyone at the trade show is dressed to the nines, and here come Mandy and I in our dirty hiking pants and muddy boots. Nonetheless, we are greeted as returning royalty at the front desk and checked into our room even though it’s only 10:30am. 

 

We settle, change and head into Quito for lunch. We’re in search of the elusive football sized empanada, the stuff of legends and 4.8 star reviews in these parts. We Uber to Calle de la Ronda, where we caught wind of this unicorn when we were in town last week.  Our target restaurant is closed, so we wander up the street. We peek in a few places and pass, then wander through a doorway into a charming courtyard one flight above the street.  There we’re ushered into an equally charming establishment called Restaurante Los Geranios. Mandy mentions that she’s a bit dizzy before I can say the same to her, and we realize we’re back at 9000’ elevation and have been up since 4:30.  

We order too much food because the menu looked so good and we wanted to try a bunch of things. We also order a bottle of the local house white wine. I’m not sure that’s the recommended treatment for altitude adjustment, but I’m willing to give it a try.  As we wait for our first course, we notice a table of three Americans with a local guide at the next table. Funny seeing it from the other perspective when we were the hosted ones just a week ago. First course, two types of normal sized empanadas, cheese in plantain and chicken in corn, is delivered and surpass expectations, hot and exceptionally well-seasoned.  

Another couple is seated with their local guide. Mandy wants that gig. Maybe she can take foreign couples to DiNic’s for roast pork Dalessandro’s for cheesesteaks, Termini’s for canolis, then a run up the Art Museum steps.  For just $1000 more, it’s DiBrunos for cheese tasting, Vetri Cucina for dinner, then a run up the Art Museum steps. As we develop this new business plan, our second course is served :Quito’s signature shrimp ceviche, our 4th time in a week and they’re right. It’s a thing. 

 

The plantain ball soup is another local fave, and we can’t help but wonder if this is a legacy of the country’s thriving Jewish population that migrated from Europe in the 1920s through 1950s.  We barely have room for the local trout when it’s served as our final course. 

 

We’re exhausted, buzzy and maybe still figuring out the altitude so we head back to the EB.  It’s another early adventure tomorrow. 

AMAZON AND THE GALAPOGOS DAY 6 - THE FAIRY BUTTERFLY

 

Sooooo, guess what happened in the rainforest today? Rain. Buckets of soaking rain starting last night around 9 and still going strong at 6am when we get up. Ivonne, our Aussie adventuremate for the last 2 days, had to leave at 5:30 this morning to make her flight from Coca. Going upstream, that’s about 3 hours total between the open paddle canoe and the open motor canoe. She’ll later report that she wore a raincoat and two ponchos, the entire time bailing water and thinking that they were going to capsize.  Sometimes, maybe most times, nature is not turtle-tears gentle.  

Omar, our naturalist guide, doesn’t see any sense in going out in this mess, so we chill at the lodge and indulge in too much of that great coffee. From this vantage point, the rain is lovely, romantic even, as we sit on the outdoor couch and watch the rainforest do its thing. The groups who arrived yesterday pressured their guides into going out on schedule, and it’s the only time we hear Omar question any of his peers’ decisions.  We’ve been absolutely thrilled with our safari so far, so we just leave things in our capable guide’s hands. 

When the rain slows to manageable rates, we set out on a hike to a spirit Kapok tree, one so large and majestic the natives perform spiritual rituals at its base.  We don our LaSelva branded ponchos (one size fits all, available in the gift shop!) and get in the canoe only after Guillermo finishes bailing it out with a cut off bleach bottle scooper and setting down some dry cushions.  No soggy bottoms for the guests at LaSelva!  Soggy everything else, but not your tushy!   

We paddle lake-to-creek, run the canoe aground and exit from the front. The jungle itself is the star today, a moment to watch this, the engine of the world’s environment, as it hums along.  The forest floor is flooded to the top of our boots in most places, the thin layer of topsoil saturated and the clay below filling up like a ceramic bowl.  The pure water hits the ground and is mixed with the decaying nutrients, turning it instantly black. Over the next day or so, this black water will make it to the creek, then the lake, then the stream, into the Napo river and eventually into the Amazon river, hydrating an entire continent.  We see all the individual colors of that blend, and we better understand the striations on top of the still morning lake yesterday. 

We see star mushrooms and brown mushrooms glistening from the rainwater.   We stand in the gap of a strangler fig tree where its initial victim died and has now totally vanished.  We play with a fat millipede, but not the centipedes because they bite. We see a slimy, snake sized, worm like reptile who usually lives underground, but is topside today as its habitat is flooded by the rain and he needs to breathe.  

We get to the sacred Kapok, immediately understand its alure. The buttress-like roots twist to form about a dozen or so “rooms” where large mammals often make their homes. When the indigenous people seek to work out life’s more difficult situations, or just need some spiritual guidance, they come, drink a strong hallucinogenic tea, and spend the night here. They frequently report the spirit tree has spoken to them or otherwise guided their journey.  We explore the base of the tree, posing for pictures and marveling at the sheer magnitude of the thing and feeling its energy.  

By the time we’re back in the canoe, the rain has pretty much stopped. We’re going to do another loop around the perimeter of the lake. It’s here where Mandy’s Fairy Butterfly comes to check in again, flapping itself all the way over the lake to do so. The fairy is shy and doesn’t stick around for photos, but we know she has a higher purpose than a few snapshots.  

 

Omar looks up with genuine surprise.  There’s an entire flock of macaws just to our right, a rare occurrence as these birds usually travel solo or in pairs.  He speaks in fast Spanish to Guillermo, who speed paddles up onto the bank.  We charge out. The hunt is on!  Like excited children, we traipse through the thick woods, making our own trail as we point lenses of all shapes and sizes skyward.  They are far away but we can watch them lunching on the ripe palm fruit and hear the shells as they drop to the ground with repeated thuds.  For some reason, I feel like I’m in a 1800s British safari group, and we’re having quite the spot of fun! 

Back to base camp for lunch and a nap. The days follow the rhythm of the jungle - Active mornings, mid-day lulls, very active afternoons and evenings - so you rest when you can. 

 

At 3, we canoe to the motor launch, and power past the parrot clay lick (no action today) and dock at Yasuní National Park.  It’s just the 4 of us today, so Omar can bring us here for some more challenging hiking. At about one million hectares, it’s a massive place, the southern third of which is off limits as it’s home to one of the few uncontacted tribes still in existence on the planet.  The start of the 2-hour hike is long and steep, as we carefully pick our way up the slippery mountain trail.  Omar points out a neatly perforated palm leaf, the holes made by a tent bat in order to have the leaf fold to become last night’s shelter.  

It’s our last Amazon excursion and our efforts are rewarded with some fantastic parting gifts.  A few new types of monkeys are spotted but elude pix.  That makes 6 of the eight here if you’re keeping score.  We cross paths, thankfully briefly, with a wild boar, his signature funk wafting in the air long after he was gone. A straight billed hermit hummingbird perched on a branch flicking his tale as a mating call gives us the rare chance to capture this creature being still.  A scarlet macaw, in all his splendor, lands above us. Usually skittish, this male decides to chide us, teasing us with his lunch, and staring us down when the camera shutter clicks annoy him.  His cock-of-the-walk attitude is projected right through the lens.  We hang with this guy for a solid 10 minutes, a lifetime by jungle photography standards.  Another highlight reel. 

 

It’s a long, precarious hike back down, mud filling our treads as we do our best to not turn this into a slip-and-slide.  We stop often for pictures of the flowers that obviously have waited their whole lives to be photographed.  

Seconds after we push off from the dock, Omar has the river pilot stop, reverse, and bring us up close to the shoreline.  Two howler monkeys, one VERY obviously a male, are hanging out in a tree just enjoying the river view.  I’ll swear the one even waved goodbye to us.  

The motor canoe ride is fast and, in a jiff, we’re paddling back home. Mandy’s Fairy Butterfly makes today’s last appearance to say goodnight.  Back at the lodge, we shower and meet in the lobby for our farewell cocktail and closing instructions. Sean, the friendly host/desk clerk/waiter/whatever-you-need guy, makes Mandy weep with his sincere thanks and kind thoughts.  As darkness falls, tonight’s concert of pigmy owl calls, frog song, cicada chirps and flapping bat wings begins.  

Our final dinner is intimate with just us and Omar.  We discuss future travel dreams over another artfully plated meal and a bottle of Ecuadorian white.  We request to see the chef and thank him for his work over the last 4 days.  Then it’s hugs and thanks for Omar as our meal winds down. When we get up, the owner of the resort, a woman about our age, approaches us to thank us for keeping this project alive. She’s kind and loving, and our few minutes with her make the perfect ending. 

(This picture is for you, Ivonne)